A couple’s escape: Platteville man documents how parents fled a battered Ukraine

Andrey Ivanov is rather tired, and he has been for well over a month.

He hasn’t really slept well since the night of Feb. 24, when the Platteville resident got a call from his parents — some 5,000 miles away in his home country of Ukraine — who told him the bombing had started. Explosions were everywhere, they said.

Ivanov has always felt a bit worried about his parents in Ukraine, ever since Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014. The topic isn’t just personal to him; it’s professional. He’s a history professor who specializes in Russia and the Soviet Union at the University of Wisconsin-Platteville.

But he was still stunned that February night, which was morning for his parents, Slava and Tanya, who are approaching ages 70 and 62, respectively.

“I just couldn’t believe it,” he said. “Maybe somebody blew up a gas station. Or there’s been a fire somewhere or an industrial accident. And they’re saying, ‘No. There’s just rockets.’”

So started the sleepless nights for Ivanov. He had to find a way for his parents to evacuate Kyiv, the country’s capital, which he said had “plunged into panic.”

To escape from the city, he said his parents first needed a way to reach the central train station in Kyiv for evacuation. They didn’t have a car. They were too old to walk. They needed a taxi, but there were no options. The shelling had started. The missiles had started. No taxi would go close to their home, he said.

Ivanov’s sister lived in Kyiv, but she didn’t have a car, either. A friend of hers said they had space for some in a car that was leaving the city. Ivanov’s sister chose to take her friend up on the offer to evacuate to western Ukraine, though there was only room in the car for her and her two children — her “priority,” Ivanov said. They would eventually find safety in Germany.

His sister’s decision to evacuate without their parents underscores one of the realities of war, where families are forced to split up, often with little-to-no notice or time to plan and no knowledge of when they will, if ever, safely reunite.

Ivanov’s parents, still in Kyiv, had started to pray — should they stay in their home, or should they go? In this moment, Ivanov said his mom opened her Bible. The first verse she saw was Jesus saying, “Lazarus, come forth,” in reference to the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.

That passage spoke to her, and she knew they needed to leave. Soon after, she heard about her church arranging an evacuation bus. They had no way to get there, but then someone from the church called and offered a ride. This was “their only ticket,” Ivanov said.

They only had an hour to gather what they needed most for a journey that could last any length of time and take them anywhere, any distance away from their life’s belongings.

They had 60 minutes to ask themselves: What items do they most cherish?

“What is the most important thing in your life?” Ivanov asked. “These are the meaning of life questions that sometimes come up in times of intense horror and intense tragedy.”

Through hell and out

In their attempt to escape Kyiv, Slava and Tanya had to make it through the “triangle of hell,” the area Ivanov said sits in Kyiv between three airports that were under attack. Russian troops were taking over and bombarding these airports, he said. Missiles and explosions were everywhere.

They eventually made it to Bila Tserkva, a city and rail hub south of Kyiv known as the “White Church.” Ivanov said some of the trains making their way through this city wouldn’t open their doors upon stopping. They were already packed full.

“By sheer luck,” he said his parents got tickets on a train to Kovel, a town closer to the Ukrainian border with Poland.

Ivanov’s parents got a meal at a local café. For a few days, they stayed with another family, who Ivanov said were “angels.” As nice as the hospitality was, Slava and Tanya still needed to get out of the country.

The trains, once again, were packed. Others would take buses or car rides to cross the Polish border. Some would even try crossing by bicycle or on foot, but given his parents’ age and health — his father is on a pacemaker — those weren’t options.

It was challenging to navigate the crowds at the train station. When the train doors would open, people would just storm in, he said. With more luck, however, Ivanov found tickets online for his parents through a Latvian bus company Ecolines.

“I found out this was the last bus Ecolines were operating in Ukraine,” he said. “After that day, they stopped operating in the country.”

‘We’ll find a way’

As he followed developments from Platteville, Ivanov was sitting. Waiting. Not sleeping. Ready to get on a flight immediately to meet his parents.

He learned his parents made it to Poland and booked a flight to meet them.

Ivanov’s research and his recent book helped link him with a professor of early and modern Ukrainian history from Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland, who could facilitate getting his parents to the major city.

“We never met before, but because of the academic connections, I reached out to her,” he said. “She immediately just said, ‘Oh, don’t worry. We’ll pick your parents up. We’ll find a way to get them to Kraków.‘”

Once there, Slava and Tanya got warmer clothes and toothbrushes — items they did not pack during that one hour in Kyiv.

Some of the best ways to help from afar is through people-to-people networks, Ivanov said, adding that Wisconsinites who want to give their support should look for local churches, groups or families with Ukrainian ties.

Generosity and sacrifice can come from anywhere. It can be a church friend offering a ride, a border town offering a home or a stranger sharing clothes. Altogether, several people brought Slava and Tanya to safety in Kraków, where they could finally hug their son.

What was that moment like?

“Joy,” Ivanov said. “Lots of joy.”

When he joined WPR’s “Central Time” from Kraków, he said his parents were OK. They were resting. They needed lots of rest.

Not every refugee could get a warm bed. During the March 15 interview, he said many people were sleeping on mattresses on the cold basement floors of a local train station.

Fortunately, Ivanov said he found a place he could rent for his parents to stay while in the city.

“I was very happy to see them,” he said. “I was very happy to see that they were very comfortable, and they were really satisfied with where they were despite all this stuff they went through. They were very cheerful, lots of humor going around. Just really in good spirits.”

What you bring

Waiting for his order at Badger Brothers Coffee in Platteville on Thursday, Ivanov tells one of the owners, Austin McCourt, “My mom likes a little cream.”

“Right here, Andrey,” McCourt responded.

Slava and Tanya flew back with their son to the United States the weekend of March 19, and they have since been resting. They’ve gone to the dentist and to stores to shop for needed items. They’ve spent time with Ivanov’s four kids, their beloved grandchildren whom they hadn’t seen in a few years because of the pandemic.

They are adjusting to living in peace. If they hear a siren, Ivanov has to reassure them that it doesn’t mean bombs are exploding.

The Platteville community has stepped up for Ivanov’s family. People are bringing meals, babysitting and doing yard work for them. He even got a free oil change.

Ivanov is still tired, though. He has a lot of work to catch up on.

As for his parents’ plans?

“We don’t know,” he said.

Given the uncertainty of the war, they can’t make plans for the summer. They could officially immigrate to the United States. But they had a comfortable life in Kyiv that they never wanted to abandon. They want to go back to their home, but it’s unclear if there will be a home to return to.

“If there is no hope for any improvement, then of course their home will be here,” he said. “It’s not looking good … We just don’t know when it’s going to end.“

Speaking in Surzhyk — a hybrid Ukrainian and Russian language — and through her son as an interpreter, Tanya said the last month or so feels like a dream. She still doesn’t believe she’s in Platteville. It all happened so fast.

Slava doesn’t say much. He wonders if they are the only Ukrainians in Platteville. It’s a small town, which Tanya likes. The people are friendlier.

When asked what she misses the most from Kyiv, it’s hard to figure out. There are so many parts she misses. And frankly, she hasn’t had the energy to really think much about it.

In the one hour they had to pack, they brought medication, documents, the clothes on their backs, pajamas, socks and some food. Tanya also took her Bible, the same one that gave her the message to leave Kyiv. In that Bible were a few family photos. She didn’t have room to take their full photo album. There was no time to remember simple conveniences like nail clippers, either.

But when Slava and Tanya shuffled out of Badger Brothers Coffee last week, they held each other’s hands.

They had what was most important.

If you go: Andrey Ivanov will be part of a virtual panel on the humanitarian crisis in Ukraine hosted by the UW-Madison Center for the Humanities. The panel is at 7 p.m., Wednesday. More details, including how to register online, are available here.