The Jewish Home | APRIL 7, 2022
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World
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From the Diary of an Israeli EMT on the Ukrainian Border Vitali and Me by Dvir Adani
Dvir with Vitali and another Ukrainian refugee in a refugee center in Moldova
Dvir Speaks
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OctOber 29, 2015 | the Jewish Home
Hi, my name is Dvir. I live in Israel in the center of the country and am a father of two children aged 10. My life is very busy, and I maneuver between life’s
chores while making time to volunteer at United Hatzalah. Lately, the countries Russia and Ukraine have made headlines more than once, but for me, they are so identical and similar, and I tried to un-
derstand who was fighting with whom and what about. “War in Europe.” This is how the headline appeared on the computer screen. The topic became the talk of the day, even taxi drivers began to discuss it. But for me, it felt different. “United Hatzalah delegation to Ukraine” was the title of the message I received on my cellphone a few weeks ago. I hurried to sign up without thinking twice. Obviously, we need to be there. We cannot just sit idly by while others need help. It took a few days for the organization to have a space for me as volunteers who were already in Moldova were cycling out for newer volunteers going from Israel to assist. At the airport, I met other volunteers who would be joining my contingent, and together we loaded medical equipment and humanitarian aid supplies onto the plane. We were on our way to Moldova, a country that shares a border with Ukraine to the west. It is a poor country without much infrastructure to help the refugees and without many other organizations on the ground assisting. As we set off from Israel to Moldova, I looked at my fellow volunteers and thought, “May we be privileged to do good and put a smile on the faces of as many people as possible who have fled the inferno.”
Vitali’s Story Hi, my name is Vitali. Just a few days ago, I celebrated my 10th birthday. In recent days, my mom and dad were frequently whispering in the kitchen, and
when they came back, they’d pretend that everything was fine. Dad always walked out with a smile, and we’d sit down to eat dinner. This continued to happen until, one day, my classmates told me that the Russian army had invaded a nearby town. A war had started. I did not understand what a war was. My mother said that we couldn’t go out to play because it’s too dangerous. We stopped going to school and heard the sounds of ambulance sirens sounding non-stop from the main street. Then, one morning, I woke up in a panic. Our whole building was shaking. I heard screams from my friend Sasha’s house, who lived opposite ours. We were all scared. The war began to approach our neighborhood; we were bombarded with shelling and trembled with fear. I remember Dad’s hug. He hugged, and hugged, and then hugged me again with all his might. He said that men are not allowed to leave the country and that Mmom will take care of me until it’s all over. I saw Dad and Mom wiping away tears from their eyes. Mom quickly packed me a bag with some clothes, and we fled. We drove non-stop on broken roads and unofficial paths and switched cars once. Night came and we continued our journey. The whole time, I was really cold. I remember my mom taking off her sweater and covering me with it. I missed Dad a little. A day passed, and another day, and we were still traveling. Every time I got hungry, my mom would buy me some food,
