Tears And Goodbyes
Editor’s Note - With a lull on the battlefield elsewhere in Ukraine it seems Odessa has a minor reprieve. During this time many people are taking the opportunity - if they are able to - to flee the city.
This is a personal account of one of those trips.
Story and Photos By Robert Thomas
ODESSA, Ukraine
“Please can I go for less,” I overhear an obviously stressed out and anxiety wrought woman ask an agent at the Privoz bus station.
The woman looks stressed as she pleads to have the 100 Euro per person fee reduced to the 3,000 hryvinas she says is all she has.
Despite the pleas there is no movement as the would be customer on the freedom express steps out of the office to speak to her husband.
He gets on the phone pleading for help so his wife and daughter can get on what many are saying this weekend is one of the last busses out of Odessa and on to safety in Romania or even Bulgaria in the south.
The travel agent works frantically to allot and find seats on the bus - MJ Independent photo
I bought my ticket yesterday in order to take a breather from the potential developing tragedy poised to hit Odessa - Ukraine's pearl of the Black Sea.
Russia is at the gates on the eve of invasion.
If you believe the military reports within the next few days the Black Sea fleet complete with tank equipped landing craft is set to sweep in take the beach and head up the steep slopes surrounding much of the city and then take the city.
Suddenly another older man shows up at the door.
I see him and the couple walk by all of the other people waiting in line. Out of a plastic shopping bag laden with provisions I seem pull out hundreds of hryvinas.
About 10 minutes later the three walk out with the handwritten receipts which are the tickets they need to depart to safety.
People line up so as not to potentially lose their seat on the bus
My trip to join this caravan into what we have been told is a “maybe” go is set to start as more and more people queue up.
Each with a different reason to be on this trip.
Many are older.
A British citizen, who has overstayed her visa, comes with her elderly mother not able leave her behind in her 80's with a ravenous bear beating at the gates.
Others are elderly who have visas to be with family, New York and just need to get to an airport to fly away before it is too late.
Others are coming to save themselves and their three children while their husband parents stay behind. They won't be leaving Odessa.
There is even one mother who has bought two sets for herself and four children.
You can see the expressions of those left behind as you glance out the window.
But out in the bus depot there is ominous sign of an impending Russian invasion as I watch in a 15 minute span three three person combat teams dressed in camouflage uniforms and carrying kalishnikov assault rifles patrol the platform
You can tell they are Ukrainian forces as their forearms are wrapped with yellow plastic tape. The yellow tape identifying they are fight for Ukraine.
I have never seen defence forces like this in the bus station before.
They snake their way along the edges and between the busses looking like they are in a jungle.
But in reality they are intertwining with just ordinary people who fail to pay attention to them.
Outside near the bus there is a growing crowd of people standing with their luggage.
Some of it might be everything these people own. Or all they thought essential to make the trip. I’m not going to be the person to ask them.
Many of those getting on the bus were children with their mothers - fathers between the ages of 18 - 60 are not allowed to take the trip and must stay behind to potentially fight - MJ Independent photo
There's a rush to get the precious luggage stored.
And following that a crush to get a seat.
There's some tears as some of those who cannot or will not take the trip look up and perhaps see their loved ones for a long time if not at all ever again.
The emotion is so strong it brings more than a few mothers to tears as the overwhelming crush of emotion threatens to knock the bus over.
There is a brief reprieve as the driver says ten more minutes as he heads off to the toilet to do some last minute adjustments in what could turn out to be a torturous drive.
Detailed instructions are given out by the woman who was selling the tickets on how people would have to walk to cross the border.
As we leave the bus it is obvious Odessa has seemingly changed over the last couple of days since I last had the opportunity to venture in the labyrinth of the Privoz Market.
The same flower seller is out there but it seems for me as I look on her business is not as busy as it usually is but rather the meat seller just behind her is doing a much more booming business with plenty of clients.
A large selection of fresh flowers are still available in Odessa
Odessa has changed since I have been here.
The spirit which lifted the entire city high into the clouds - Odessa Mama - has so long ago left it seems.
The laughter, smiling and compassion you could find in a metropolis with the population close to that of all Saskatchewan's has rotted away in the psychological pressures everyone has faced.
Physically Odessa has changed.
As we head out onto the highway you can see what's been changed.
Where there were twists in the road there are now dragon's teeth designed and ready to take out a tank.
As I look I see no more than six laid out ready to use when in reality there should be dozens.
Most that should be here are now in the centre one pensioner quips. That’s what they do for media he tells me in his best English he knew from school over five decades ago.
As we hit the first of many checkpoints you can look out the window and see what looks like a 50 something dad wearing one of those older Iron Maiden long sleeve t-shirts waving the bus over.
His beer belly amply filling out a shirt you wonder where he got it.
He's standing wearing a tactical helmet and goggles smoking a cigarette in a way which evokes thoughts Clint Eastwood likely took lessons from this guy.
You can see him packing a Kalishnikov with a trigger finger getting stiff from not being used.
But just as they are about to enter the bus someone with more stripes waves the guy off. Just as he peaks his head up and says documents.
It’s a feeling of relief as you wonder how thorough the search would have been.
As you leave Odessa you feel the bus sway as the driver shifts up and down through the maze of fortifications still under construction.
You have just gotten the answer to the question as to why the sudden stop to construction and where have the backhoes gone.
Everywhere there is trenching.
Trenching it seems sufficient to repair most of North America's neglected infrastructure. Except this infrastructure will not be full of pipes but full of men with assault rifles ready for the Russians.
Fox holes and trench warfare with the assist of the equipment which should be continuing Odessa's building boom.
It’s a winding down main thoroughfares heading towards Iszmial, the Moldovan and Romanian borders.
As we head out of Odessa you can see people cocking their heads to look out between the curtains to see what’s going on.
While the children in some modern technological twist grab the phone to take pictures and wave at what are stone faced warriors.
A child who looks only to be six year's old tells his mom about “voinya” war and there's soldiers as if this is everyday thing.
There seems to be lost in the conversation about his dad you can hear the child say his dad will be in the war.
But then it seems as you get past 7 kilometers and it’s sprawling home renovations market the mood changes on the bus.
The dozen children making the trip lose interest as everyone starts to think about more pressing issues.
A drink of water, a cookie or grabbing the phone to play an on-line game.
I ask the woman from Britain where she lives and if course it is London. I ask where in London, she tells me but I am clueless knowing where exactly.
She tells me about how she came to Odessa to help her mother months ago.
And how there was now the opportunity to finally get her mom to be with her and her husband in England.
Sveta does know how but she keeps asking how she and her mom can use England's new policy for Ukrainian refugees to get her mom there.
“Thomas do you know about what help they have for me and my mom in Romania?”
I have to tell her how honestly I don’t but I can check.
All I can tell her is I don't but I can ask a friend who was posting about it if they do.
I ask her how long has her mother lived in Odessa?
She tells me her mother has always lived in Odessa and never been able to travel anywhere else.
They are not going as far as Varna but stopping in Romania at the first place they can find help.
Plus her mother needs to lie down and rest after such a grueling trip. Her mom cannot go all the way to Varna.
The first of many rest stops where food and paid toilets are available - MJ Independent photo
Finally the bus stops at the first of many bathroom stops.
In this small little world of hope riding on the bus the word toilet is one many people will demand while others will argue back keep going.
As I stand around stretching my legs I watch children throw bread and feed the stray dogs at the rest stop.
The 45 minutes we are here I watch the children out laughing in a world around them rapidly sliding into some mesmerizing chaos.
In reality this war has been going on psychologically for weeks.
It was here long before I showed up.
I look at the two drivers who are sitting outside eating shashlik (shishkebob) it seems like this trip is routine for them.
A street sleeps at a rest stop on cardboard someone has laid down for comfort - MJ Independent photo
After the respite it is time to get back on the bus.
As we head closer to the Danube.
The place I always dreamed of going to.
I look out the windows and I see things I have only seen in magazines.
Things like stork nests, glimpses of the great Danube, domed churches in every village vineyards and the fields.
Fields so rich they could feed the world if free of tanks.
Taking a nap as the bus heads along the Danube River - MJ Independent photo
As we work our way down the Danube I see glimpses of Romania.
Suddenly we slow down and go past what seems to be an endless line of cars - thousands.
A pensioner tells the woman from England there is no way she could ever survive that long of a wait.
The English woman tells me in shock there is no way her elderly mother could walk that far.
But the bus presses on further.
We are now six hours into this trip.
And then we reach another long line of cars but once again the bus drives right on through in the middle of the road.
Like some invincable warrior bypassing a kilometer of cars.
And then we reach a permanent checkpoint.
The driver gets up and yet we are told another delay but there is a toilet there and coffee.
We are also told you can walk around but just not in the center of the road as government traffic will not stop for people.
The short delay becomes longer and day turns into dusk and darkness
The bus does not show up when it’s expected.
People start asking me what life is in Canada.
What is it like in Canada? Where is the best place to go? What about the United States? How will they live?
And most importantly - can the husbands and fathers they left behind come and join them.
It’s a question I cannot answer.
Then after awhile a bus comes and we must carry our luggage past the checkpoint.
In the end the walk I worried about with my bad heart and so much stuff turned out to be a mere 30 meters.
As I was crossing the checkpoint with the customs office literally in sight I have three Ukrainian soldiers surround me.
I’m asked “what city are you from?”
It's obvious at this point that as the finish line is oh so close border guards think they have caught someone who is dodging going to war.
I say something I have learnt over two decades and they immediately let me through without any more questioning.
The woman and her elderly mother have their papers checked and are asked why her mother does not have all of the required paperwork.
Afterwards the woman asked me what I said to be let through so fast.
I told her I said “I don’t understand” and then look puzzled while I flashed the front cover of my Canadian passport.
The bus is loaded and we pull up to yet another toilet break.
And then back onto the bus.
We sat there for hours as the clock turned from Sunday into Monday.
The windows on bus began to fog up throughout the bus people began to complain.
The fogged up windows as the bus waits for over two hours to have people’s passports stamped at the Ukrainian - Moldova border (Punk Propusko Reni) - MJ Independent photo
Finally the driver stood up and said “we will be at another toilet in five minutes I promise.”
It quelled the riders as after three hours we finally left bumping down a noticeably pock holed road.
The next sign of civilization was a Luk Oil sign to which someone said “we are no longer in Ukraine.”
I could state that there were cheers of joy because there wasn't any.
But the riders started to say they needed a toilet break as we sat at the Moldovan exit point as everyone's passport was checked and given an exit stamp.
The driver stands up and says who wants to use the toilet here or wait until Romania.
The vote goes for Romania.
The exit check point at the Moldovan border - MJ Independent photo
The complaints and arguing continues as we pull away and finally cross the Danube.
We finally reach the Romanian border and into an unlit free toilet covered in dust.
My phone's flashlight comes in handy.
As we head into the darkness people finally start to sleep.
Others ask me if I think the stories are true there will be volunteers and help they’ve read about and been promised.
I struggle with my shotgun Russian to try to explain things to them.
All I can honestly tell them is “mojet beet no Ya ni znaiyo” (maybe, but I do not know).
There is one more break as we stop for 15 minutes somewhere it seems in the middle of nowhere in Romania.
I go into the 24 mini market and ask I English if I can buy an iced tea with hryvinas, Canadian or American dollars but I use my Canadian Tire card and it works.
I see other people with the same results - Hryvinas are not wanted.
It makes me think is their money they so carefully brought with them now worthless?
A few hours later we pull up to the Bulgarian border and there is the last pit stop until Varna.
I head out into the night and see a lineup with a sign saying 50 cents or 50 Euros, no rubles, no hryvinas.
I reach into my wallet and pulled out a single US dollar and notice the mother who sat behind with two small children so I tossed another dollar for her.
As I was leaving I saw a lineup of people - women, children and the elderly and no correct currency - I threw down $20 USD and said free.
In sleet the bus finally arrives at the entry checkpoint for Bulgaria - MJ Independent photo
Later when I got back onto the bus I was asked by the one boy if I could sell him $1 USD for 10 hryvinas for his gramma.
His mother came over to thank me.
I gave him the dollar and declined to take his money as I knew the truth about all these people's money it is worthless.
As I drifted in and out consciousness I thought I heard someone say “I told you Americans are really nice and kind people.”
I didn’t know if it was reality, a dream or a nightmare.
In the end the bus finally made it into Varna almost 24 hours after it left Odessa.
There are no volunteers, no busses or help waiting for them. Many were now penniless at a bus station in a city and a country they have never been to before.
From Varna, Bulgaria Robert Thomas reporting.
At the present time Robert is in Varna waiting for the friends he went to Kharkiv to help.