Black beans, carioca beans, rice, cornmeal. Gathered around packages of food arranged on a table, with papers that simulate real bills in their hands, a group of Ukrainians repeat the names of foods in Portuguese, the prices and the units of measurement. The volunteer teacher’s objective is to teach them how to go to the market to shop, and they end the afternoon saying phrases like “I want half a kilo of oranges.”
There are 13 adults and 11 children and adolescents who arrived in Brazil at the end of March, refugees from the war in their country of origin. Christians, they were rescued with the help of an evangelical missionary network and are in São José dos Campos, in the interior of São Paulo, welcomed by a local church.
With the exception of a man over 60, there are only women among the adults. They left husbands, brothers and children over 18 years old in Ukraine, where they cannot leave because they can be called up to fight. The memory of what was left behind worries and hurts, but the atmosphere of the class is relaxed.
“It’s very difficult because our hearts are still there, but they [os brasileiros que receberam o grupo] always try to divert our memory to good things,” says Olga Ponomarenko, 41.
Born in Donetsk, one of the areas claimed and partially occupied by Russia in eastern Ukraine, the trader came to Brazil with her mother, mother-in-law and two children, aged 14 and 7. The oldest, 18, stayed with his father.
Olga left her home on March 4, the day after her city was bombed. “We were always monitoring the situation and researching where we could get out as quickly as possible,” she says. “So the attacks got too close and we decided to leave.”
Initially the family settled near the border with Poland, but there was an exchange of fire 2 kilometers away from where they were. “Then we understood that we would have to leave not only our city, but also Ukraine.”
Olga says that she chose Brazil because there was an organized migration program, in which she would receive support along with her children. “I was afraid because of the distance and the very different language”, she says, and laughs when she tells of the initial difficulty in pronouncing “São José dos Campos”. “But I saw that here I would not be alone and that there would be people to take care of us.”
Hosting for one year
Ukrainians are being invited by the GKPN (Global Kingdom Partnership Network), a network that brings together churches around the world. Of the dozens that have already arrived in Brazil through the initiative, most have gone to Paraná, where there is a community of Ukrainian descendants.
The rest are being sent to other regions, where local churches voluntarily commit to supporting the families for a year — providing housing, food, health care, education for children and Portuguese classes.
In São José dos Campos, the Church of the City takes care of the refugees, with the help of donations. There are 34 people, from eight families, installed in furnished apartments in a middle-class neighborhood. Their documentation is being regularized, and the children have already started to attend school.
One of the challenges of this beginning is communication, as there is almost no one in the community who speaks Russian or Ukrainian, according to Pastor Carmen Rangel. Two Ukrainians and a few Russian-speaking Brazilians have offered to help as interpreters – one of them, a churchgoer, studied medicine in Russia and does the translation for Portuguese classes.
Dealing with trauma and grief is another sensitive issue. One of the refugees, for example, received the news as soon as she arrived in Brazil that her son had died in Ukraine. “A pastor who is also a psychologist stayed with her”, says Rangel. “We hear what they want to say, but we don’t ask too many questions, so they don’t relive the trauma.”
Doctor Irina Shevchenko, 46, is from Kharkiv, one of the most war-torn cities. She is in Brazil with her 11 and 14-year-old children and follows news from there in residents’ groups on Telegram and Facebook. One day, she saw a picture of a bombed building that looked like her own. The neighbors confirmed. “Half of the building where we live was spared. The other half was destroyed,” she says. “The city is under attack from morning until night. There are a lot of people dying.”
Irina remembers waking up at 5 am on February 24, the start of the Russian offensive, to the sound of explosions. “The windows exploded, the walls shook. I understood that the war had started, I took the children and we hid in the bathroom”, she says. “We went looking for water and food, all of this in the midst of the attacks. I called my relatives, but no one knew what to do.”
Irina and her family faced the train station full of people wanting to escape. They spent 25 hours in a crammed car before reaching a town near Lviv. Her husband stayed. She knows that even when the war is over, it will take her time to get back. “There is no electricity, no water, no job, no school. We will have to wait for the mines to be removed, the city will have to be rebuilt.”
According to the pastor, the idea of ​​the project is that the men who stayed in Ukraine can meet, as soon as possible, with their relatives – either there or in Brazil, depending on the wishes of each family.
Olga Ponomarenko says she hasn’t decided what she will do. “I still can’t answer that question. We live one day at a time. We feel safe and that’s the most important thing right now.” The feeling, however, does not come without anguish. “We look out the window and we see peace and tranquility, but we look on social media and we see dead children, raped women. And we cry.”
Sitting in the front row of the Portuguese class, another resident of Donetsk, Valentina Fugol, 65, was one of the most dedicated students during the visit Sheeton Wednesday (13).
“I like to acquire knowledge. I am very eager to learn”, says she, who is in the country with her daughter and three grandchildren. In her home country, Valentina lived on a farm, where she grew flowers and vegetables. She claims that the only thing she knew about Brazil is that “it has good coffee”. It never crossed her mind to live in the country, but for now she says she feels good.
She tells, moved, that the saleswoman of a market cried and gave her a hug when she learned that she was Ukrainian. “We are receiving love, affection, attention. Brazilians have radiant faces.”
The short time in the country, however, did not allow him to feel completely at home. “I feel a bit touristy. It’s all very undefined. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”
