‘If you are afraid to become a stormtrooper, it doesn’t mean you have to continue sitting in a hole.
You will do everything possible and impossible in order to join the team that destroys the enemy.
Shooting is one of the types of destruction.
You do not know how to shoot? Learn.
You can not shoot? Make cartridges.
Today it is not the government that is fighting; today it is the Ukrainian f*ing people who are fighting.’
Ivan Lenyo – Kozak System
SUNDAY AUGUST 24, 2025
It is 21:00 in the evening, the day is Independence Day. We are currently out of water because something broke.
Instead of a hot shower, people are calling around to find some power cords, and we set a bucket of water next to the toilet for flushing.
I can’t speak for the other volunteers, but I have a distinct idea all of us have one thing in common: we all feel in our core the need to do something; anything to help with whatever it is we can help with, to resist the enemy. I strongly suspect most of us also feel that our national governments should do more to support Ukraine.
Being a volunteer in a country at war is a very humbling effort. Unless you are a soldier, a medic, or support at the frontline, to me it feels the amount you can contribute is limited. You are also a foreigner, to an extent a guest in another country. Having said that, I’ll try to share a little on everyday life here, what we do here and why I do it.
Today we celebrated Independence Day in the community where we reside. At the fair, produces were sold to gain money to support the soldiers at the front. We watched as local singers, dance groups and artists told the story of Ukrainian Independence. Of their love for the land, the yearning to be free to live meaningful lives, to explore, to love. We cried as they brought the portraits on stage of the local men who lost their lives in the front, protecting their country against the aggressive invaders. We felt their pride when they showed to the community their camouflage nets, their first-aid kits, their food packages – made & sent to support the army divisions their children, parents, brothers, neighbours fight in.
Evening. Coffee is set to go in the morning. Lights off. Load phones. Check the air raid map. Sleep.
MONDAY AUGUST 25, 2025
Morning. Make coffee. Try not to wake the still sleeping. Check news. Make breakfast. Start the net.
There is both order and organized chaos in all our days. Fortunately, no drones or missiles last night, so today we started off with the ever-returning effort of weaving camouflage nets for the front. During the summer holiday, which will end in one week, we have scheduled visits twice a week to engage with the local youth. While we have prepared several activities to engage in, we usually take them loosely and just do those things the kids enjoy on the spot, be it volleyball, football, drawing, baking cookies, or playing games. Last week it was playing ‘hide and seek’, ‘melt the snowman’ and ‘bingo’. This week the teacher is sick, so no visit today.
At the core of these visits are two things: making fun together, and to get the kids to practice English. The latter usually turns out into some goofy Ukrainian- English language exchange and maybe it is us who learn more Ukrainian than them English.
Back at the house we start working on another batch of energy bars for the front. These are produced and packaged from scratch: mix the ingredients and make the bars. The packaging needs to be cut to size, the bars cut to size, packaged and vacuum sealed. This easily takes up several hours of work and before you know it, it is dinnertime again.
Still no permanent running water, though with a cable and some tweaking, we do have running water in the daytime.
Evening. Shower. Coffee is set to go in the morning. Lights off. Load phones. Check the air raid map. Sleep.
TUESDAY AUGUST 26, 2025
Morning. Make coffee. Try not to wake the still sleeping. Check news. Make breakfast. Start the net.
Package day today. Sending clothes and several goodies to injured soldiers. The articles need to be sorted, packed per person, stacked, boxed and delivered to the mail service. New goods arriving in the mail service are taken back home. Quick grocery shopping for dinner and breakfast ingredients.
One of the things I didn’t really realize before coming here, is the disconnect between what life looks like in our part of Ukraine; away from the front, and the images I had on how it would look like. I am Dutch, I have never been in an active war zone. Only in one country I ever saw farmland adjacent to minefields. I knew that it would not look like a destruction site, as you can see at the front of the war, but somehow I guess, I had imagined that a lot of products would be unavailable.
No such thing. I learned the first time I was here, anything is available here, and usually at much lower prices than in The Netherlands. The most notable exception is electricity, which is crazy expensive (like in The Netherlands, and European readers should know we have the highest electricity rates in the Union). Unfortunately, while the prices of almost everything else is much lower than I am used to, those are high for local people and are still increasing while this war lasts.
So, you don’t really notice the war? Not quite.
The war is visible everywhere, but not as the grizzly war pictures we see on the news.
The war is visible in the people walking in the street: in the absence of a lot of men in a certain age group. It is visible in all the portraits of deceased soldiers in every maidan in every village. It is visible in the young boy whose father is fighting at the front. In the drawings the kids make for said soldiers. It is visible at the supermarket in all the collection boxes for small cash. It is visible in the man walking with a prosthesis. In all the billboards recruiting for the army. It is visible when you tell people you are here to do something, anything, whatever small, to help them. To show Ukraine there are people in Europe, in Australia, in New Zealand, in Japan, that care and will stand beside them as long as it takes. However small our contribution may be.
Evening. Water pump is fixed. Coffee is set to go in the morning. Lights off. Load phones. Check the air raid map. Sleep.
WEDNESDAY AUGUST 27, 2025
Morning. Make coffee. Try not to wake the still sleeping. Check news. Make breakfast. Start the net.
One of the volunteers is going back home, so we had good food and lots of laughter at a small goodbye dinner in town yesterday evening. The weather is slowly growing colder again, but the next few days will be nice. While the others are cutting fabric for the weaving of the net, handle the never-stopping communication, order stuff, plan the upcoming weeks and do laundry, I spent time readjusting the skeleton on which the net is attached. To put it simple: measuring and fixing screws at the right distance (new net with different square size).
Drive our friend to the bus stop, saying goodbye and until next time (a fair share of volunteers come back a second and more times), and we don’t cry but hug and laugh and are grateful for yet another person to have come to know. Shopping for the house; for a fundraiser; for boxes. Dinner is ready when we return. The sunflower I planted in spring was blooming when I arrived here (for a second time) two weeks ago and still has some days in it. The garden needs some work, but that is free time, so maybe this weekend. Even the weeds here are fighting against invaders, in this case, unfortunately, me.
Evening. Need to clean the fridge. Coffee is set to go in the morning. Lights off. Load phones. Check the air raid map. Sleep.
Dorri te Boekhorst is a Dutch volunteer who is in Ukraine for the second time in 2025.
She decided it was better to try do something productive in the country instead of
being angry in The Netherlands. She used to work as policy advisor on agriculture,
food security and climate change research & policy in the European Union context,
but had to take a break in order to support her ageing parents and after decided to
not stay silent anymore on the Russian aggressive invasion in Ukraine.
