5,035 miles from the bustling capital of Ukraine sits an unassuming ranch-style home in tranquil American suburbia. Its placement in Stoughton, Wisconsin, amongst rows of shriveling corn stalks in early Fall, is not unordinary, however, the Ukrainian flag hanging near the door is a less common sight.
On the 24th of February, 2022, the Babych family awoke to the sound of falling bombs in Kyiv. Discussion of Russian presence in the East had been a topic of conversation in previous weeks, however, hope that Putin’s claims were merely a threat trumped intensive preparation.
Kay Weeden, a resident of Stoughton Wisconsin, has had experience working with victims of unforeseen loss during her time volunteering with the Red Cross. As American media broadcasted images of dark smoke on the Ukrainian cityscapes, humanitarian-minded individuals such as Weeden knew aid would be needed. It would take radical collectivism.
“I wanted it to be something that could benefit a few people, but I had no idea that it would turn into this,” said Weeden, founder of Stoughton Resettlement Assistance Program.
“Boom,” voiced Jenya, father of two and former car parts salesman in Kyiv. “Boom,” he repeated in intimidation of Russian artillery. Sitting at a table within his Stoughton home, Jenya expanded his hands over the wooden tabletop surface in an attempt to gesticulate the magnitude of the morning explosions. The dining room was silent as his description evoked painful memories of abrupt violence.
Around 4 AM, an apartment building crumbled as flames seeped through its pours in the morning’s darkness. The ghostly wail of sirens echoed through a city whose civilians were rising earlier than usual. The nation’s attention turned to the television and social media for answers.
In the following hours, similar explosions were reported across the country indicating a synchronized network of aggression. The Ukrainian Ministry of Defense made an announcement via telegraph that Russian aerial strikes were targeting airports. The Health Minister reported that hospitals were being targeted. President Zelensky appeared on televisions screens urging citizens to stay within their homes, stating, “we will not put down weapons, we will defend our state”
As city officials urged citizens to stay away from windows, Jenya and his wife Katya grabbed what they could. The couple gathered their children, Nazar and Dianna, and made phone calls to friends and family, equally overcome by the imminent implications of martial law.
Katya recalled observing her husband pack one pair of clothes, and feeling the bitter necessity to remind him that their departure from the city could last more than one night. Katya wondered if her advice was conceived by pessimism or rationalism. Nevertheless, unanswerable questions lingered as the family shut the door to their home behind them.
Where will we sleep tonight? How long will this last? Why is this happening?
Civilians asking similar questions filled the streets of Kyiv on the 24th of February. Individuals boarded trains, checked bus schedules, and loaded what they could into cars in an attempt to desert the city. A collective tension heightened as pressure to leave increased. Russians fired weapons in the East.
Jenya nodded in agreement as Katya set the scene from across the table. Brief intermissions, as she searched for the appropriate translation, were followed by passionate descriptions. She described traffic stretching throughout the city, cars at a standstill, and the feeling of discomfort while being stuck. The emergence of tanks was a distressing sight that evoked cynicism. Meanwhile, petrol stations and grocery stores became ghost towns as preparation for potential lockdown began. It seemed the issue at hand would last longer than one day.
500 kilometers to the West, on the Polish-Ukrainian border, a line began to form at border control. Automobiles filled with Ukrainain’s fleeing their homes with the possessions they could carry stretched 5 miles in length. Some abandoned their cars and took to foot.
Jenya and Katya explained that the trip took nearly a day due to traffic, rather than the usual eight hours. After great length, immense patience, and suffocating anxiety, the family was turned away.
“We cried, we didn’t understand what was next,” said Katya Babych, acting as the representative for her family due to her impressive proficiency in english.
Ambushed by an unforeseeable reality, Jenya and Katya spent countless hours researching and making phone calls to potential places of refuge. Google Maps became littered with tiny green pins across Eastern Europe indicating temporary options. However, as the UN announced over 100,000 Ukrainian citizens had fled their homes, the number of available beds diminished rapidly.
“One month ago we have work, home, friends, food, but now we don’t have,” said Katya as she described the unimaginable feeling of abandoning home. Even now, while living in Stoughton, an inability to process the immediate loss remains. However, as material possessions have proven to be replaceable, separation from family remains the most difficult. Katya was able to travel to the US with her mother, however due to poor health conditions, her father was forced to remain in Ukraine.
As news coverage documented a progressively worse conflict, Ukraines neighboring country Moldova became an alternative, temporary, host country for the Babych’s. This was followed by a period in Poland with 25 Ukrainian families at a private Christian camp. In Czechia, Jenya found temporary work, while Katya helped teach the children, reminiscent of her job in Kyiv as a teacher at a private Christian school.
During this time, Stoughton Resettlement Assistance Program was conceived nearly out of thin air. In the process of working with Afghan refugees at Fort McCoy, Weeden attempted to help resettle an individual. When the plan fell through, Weeden was left with two empty apartments. Soon after, a Ukrainian family seeking a home arrived in the Madison area, and the apartments were filled .
As Czechia’s winter dissipated into Spring, the Babych family again began to question what was next. The recurring realization of uncertainty was exhausting. Every place they called home had unignorable impermanence.
Katya reflected on the difficulty of explaining to her children their inability to return home, see friends, or remain in one place. The mother’s voice cracked thinking about her daughter Dianna’s question, “where is the next place where I can sleep?”
Hope came on April 21, 2022, when President Biden committed to granting temporary residence in the United States to 100,000 Ukrainian refugees.
The State Department of the United States requires that Ukrainians gain sponsorship, follow health requirements and that they pass various background screenings. The permission to live and work within the United States will be re-evaluated in two years upon arrival. In the meantime, the Babych’s were connected with a host family in Oregon, Wisconsin.
Soon, Weeden became connected with the family and prepared to, once again, take a family under her belt. Katya and Jenya moved into their Stoughton home with their children, Katya’s brother, her sister-in-law, and her mother. The room’s void of decoration mirrored the uneasy feeling of beginning again. Yet, the Ukrainian flag, unpackaged, and hanging next to the front door deemed the residence a home.
“It’s given a real dose of what it’s like to try to manage somebody’s life from the moment they step into the country until they can become self-sustaining,” said Weeden.
Through self-starter fundraising, charitable donations from Stoughton residents, and organized events such as Ukrainian night, SRAP has been able to successfully aid the Babychs and other families in their transition. Five leases and eight families later Weeden’s life has become fully occupied with her resettlement program. A goal amongst Weeden and her team has been to make the families feel as if their culture is welcome within the community.
“We want to get to know their traditions, their history, their art, their music, the food they enjoyed, and vice versa, but it was really for us to get to know them,” said Sharon Mason-Boersma, founder of SRAP among Weeden, who has helped to organize fundraising events in the community.
In the process of settling, the Babych family adjusted to the oddities of American culture. Katya wondered about the mysterious tradition known as Halloween and its grim decorations, how to make the ‘th’ sound in the English language, pondered the invention of canned soup, and the abundance of frozen meals within America’s grandiose supermarkets.
Since its conception, SRAP has gained 501(c)(3) status, giving the non-profit the ability to receive tax deductible donations and apply for grants. Weeden said that gathering donated clothing, food, and even automobiles emitted “positivity in a world where everything was going South fast.”
The process, however, has not been free from difficulties. Immigration to the US is not a simple or generally friendly process. Weeden said that working with the Ukrainians has illuminated the lack of resources available for individuals seeking a new start in the states. For this reason, the Babych’s, among other families, are thankful for the community’s aid.
“It’s been fabulous, it’s been encouraging, it’s been rewarding, and it’s been absolutely overwhelming for those reasons,” explained Weeden.
While the Babych family have experienced momentary relief, in their home country Ukrainian flags still fly half-mast. Russian attacks on the Ukrainian power grid have caused the normalization of electricity blackouts and water shortages. While speaking with foreign leaders in an attempt to garner international aid Zelensky asserted that generators are now “as necessary in Ukraine as armored vehicles and bulletproof vests.”
According to the UN, 6755 civilians have been senselessly killed in Ukraine. Mykhailo Podolyak, an adviser to Ukrainian President Zelensky, said between 10,000 and 13,000 troops have died defending the country. “In these times of suffering and darkness, it is so important to bring light to Ukraine,” said European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen.
Many Ukrainains still seek refuge abroad. Tanya, Katya’s sister-in-law, is in the process of finding an affordable apartment for her family who is set to come to the US within the coming months. For the Babych family, this news was light in an era of darkness.
Six-year-old Dianna now knows where she will be sleeping tonight, however, the Babych family is continually reminded of the looming uncertainty manifesting in their future. A weight reserved for two parents attempting to remain strong for their children. For now they wait, grasping onto stability where they can find it.
Learning English has been something to hold onto. Spending five to six hours a day studying at the Wisconsin ESL Institute in Madison, the adults in the family have gradually increased their fluency. Now with work permits, Jenya and Katya plan to seek work within the new year.
Katya explained that it has been amazing to watch her five-year-old daughter Dianna pick up the language as she entered kindergarten. Nazar, in 6th grade, has also been tasked with the daunting goal of starting a new school, making new friends, and playing team sports while communicating in a second language.
“It’s a very interesting time, my kids go to school and we go to school. They help me with my homework and I help my kids with their homework,” said Katya. Her optimism, and ability to maintain a sense of humor is admirable. “I hope, I pray, but I don’t know,” is a recurring conclusion when considering the unknown hurdles that lie ahead, when imagining her children’s future, when thinking about her father in Ukraine. For now, the Babychs wait, with a Ukrainian flag masted proudly on their front porch, an ever-present reminder that their only option is hope.
Projects by JT Schultz 