It’s been four months since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine. These four months have changed everything.
In four months, Russians killed thousands of Ukrainians. I don’t know the exact number of civilians, but in Mariupol alone, a port city in the South-East of the country, they massacred at least 20,000 people. In Bucha, Irpin, and other places in the North, we are still discovering new mass graves.
In four months, Russians destroyed nearly one-fifth of Ukraine, which is three times the size of Taiwan. The invasion has caused Ukraine at least $105 billion in direct damages not to mention the indirect losses – such as the inability to run businesses or trade. Russians seized or destroyed more than 200 businesses, 500 hospitals, 295 bridges, and 12 airports. They destroyed tens of thousands of apartment buildings. They ruined people’s homes and they turned entire cities into deserted areas.
A worrying new global order
In four months, Russians pushed the world into a global recession, famine, and disorder. We now fear that more and more countries will violate their neighbor’s borders, will seek nuclear weapons, and will disregard international agreements following Russia’s example. The world will not be the same. There is a looming disaster and an attempt to establish a global order where the violence helps countries achieve colonialist and expansionist goals.
In four months, Russians launched a genocide and traumatized a forty-million people nation. Ukraine that I know and love will never be the same.
Respondents whose lives are uncertain
Also in these four months, I have become a war reporter. I never wanted to report on war in my home country, but here I am. I tried to be as honest and transparent as possible, giving a variety of sources and voices, and bringing light to many issues that would otherwise be overlooked. I tried to bring a human face to this terrible reality because behind the statistics, we sometimes forget the actual human being.
So I looked for stories and for people telling them. There are many, and I cannot do justice to all.
For example, my neighbor has been missing for three months already. He became a soldier in 2014 when Russia first invaded Donbas in Eastern Ukraine. He came home a few years later only to return to the army in 2022. His unit was deployed to the frontline where some of the heaviest fightings took place. Many of his comrades were killed or taken captive. But there is no word from him.
His family and friends don’t know whether he is alive or dead. The city council and the state authorities don’t know either.
There is another story of my mother’s classmate who lived in Russia for decades before the full-scale invasion. He married a Russian woman, started a business, and led a successful life back there. But on February 24, 2022, he came back to Ukraine. He became an army volunteer right away and was killed in combat. I never heard of him before, and I, like many, was surprised to hear that a man who built himself a life in Russia didn’t hesitate to defend his native Ukraine from the very Russia.
They came, went away, and scars left
There is a story of war orphans, children who shout “Glory to Ukraine” and admire Ukrainian soldiers, but who are left homeless and parentless because of the invasion.
It feels surreal to describe it. Imagine this: a street in a city under occupation for a month, where the invaders destroyed nearly all houses and roads. Then, they left, and Ukrainian forces came back, clearing the area from the mines and weapons, and volunteers brought food and helped survivors restore the life in their homes.
The same street is now free of Russian tanks and damage, and people have water, energy, food, and support. They survived, but their loved ones didn’t.
Now these locals, these survivors, rebuild their homes while carrying the memory of their relatives and neighbors who were murdered. And every street, every place reminds them of those who died. And then, there are orphans who don’t fully understand what happened, but who feel lonely and hurt because there will never be someone to love them as much as their parents did. And I feel the pain of these children of war, and I feel very helpless.
Hope, depends on our actions
But as these stories are read in Taiwan and many places around the world, I get to share a little bit of Ukraine with all of you. My job as a war report is also my shield and my motivation. I tell stories and spread the word so I don’t break down.
I sense the support and empathy from those who want to help even from far away. You can help through many different means, and your action now can stop an even bigger catastrophe tomorrow.
Russian war against Ukraine will be a long war, a very bloody war, a senseless war, and it can lead to even more global conflicts elsewhere. We already feel the dictatorships around the world monitoring what is happening in Ukraine and thinking about how they can learn and benefit from the situation. We see how democracies are declining and international treaties becoming obsolete, and we fear how famine and global insecurity may lead to a rise of authoritarian regimes and more brutality.
I hope humanity can be better than this, but hope needs to be backed by reality. That reality depends on our actions, and the actions of people in and outside of Ukraine who are committed to the victory of democracy and sustainable peace.
Thanks for reading
I want to leave you with this final story of mine, of a man who was sending me dispatches from occupation. Originally from Kherson, he lived through months of Russian control of his city in the South of Ukraine. His best friend, a local activist, disappeared, and the local community is fearful that it was another kidnapping by Russian soldiers who prosecute Ukrainians.
The man managed to flee Kherson during a very dangerous moment, and he is now in a big city nearby, which is under Ukraine’s control.
His new home is far from being safe. As I write this, he texted me that Russians launched seven missiles against the city. There is constant bombing as they are less than an hour away from the frontline. But the man is not leaving. He joined the territorial defense and hopes to be sent into the front after completing the training.
“There are partisans in my home city, Kherson, and I want to help them,” he says, “I want to be in the army when we fight to take Kherson back.”
The man is very sentimental, I think, because he kissed the Ukrainian soil when he got to freedom.
“I have everything I need, and I will fight for what I love,” he tells me.
I can only support him by telling his story, and I am grateful for your support in reading it.
Last but not least, as a reporter covering this war, I urge you: don’t get weary of it.
*中文版：我從來不想成為一名戰地記者，報導自己國家的戰爭──換日線烏克蘭特約記者，俄烏戰爭 4 個月感想
Editor: Sylvia Tien
