Two years, seventeen days, eighteen minutes and thirty seconds have passed since Anastasiia Hoisa moved to the Czech Republic from Ukraine, according to a timer she keeps on her phone. Hoisa, a native of Bakhmut, is currently pursuing a doctorate in Slavic language at Masaryk University. Hoisa’s hometown of Bakhmut received extraordinary damage to its infrastructure when Russian forces invaded in February 2022.
“It’s a city that doesn’t exist anymore,” Hoisa said.
When the Russian invasion of Ukraine began, Hoisa was a student in Kyiv. She described the first day of the invasion as chaotic. “No one knows what’s going on, how it will be, what will be, what to do.” said Hoisa.
Hoisa recalled long lines for essentials like water, gasoline and cash. People were confused and desperate. A feeling of uncertainty blanketed the city. Panic became contagious. She recalled an encounter with a woman who became restless from an ambulance siren, shouting for everyone to go to the bunkers. The woman had confused the sound for an air raid siren. Hoisa told the woman, “When it comes, you would understand.”
“It’s unforgettable, unbelievable and indescribable.”
On 13 March 2022, she made the decision to leave Kyiv in search of safety. A family friend accompanied her; a 17-year-old girl placed in the care of Hoisa by her father. Hoisa recalls that day being the birthday of one of her friends, Crimean Tatar, from Kyiv. The two tried to stay positive. “I was congratulating him, waiting for the train, trying not to cry.”
The streets of Kyiv were barren. The bustling crowds and cars surrounding the station were replaced by an eerie emptiness, the crowded station itself the city’s only proof of life. Her journey took her next to Chop, in the far West of Ukraine. After one last chance to call loved ones, cell phones were shut down and the train lurched forward slowly in darkness for fear of being spotted by planes.
“It was really like an eternity of darkness and quietness.” Hoisa said.
Travelling through Hungary and arriving in Serbia, Hoisa stayed until 11 June, when she arrived in the Czech Republic. That same day, Hoisa completed the process for acquiring a temporary protection visa. Because she speaks Czech, the process was much smoother for her than for many other Ukrainians. Without the need for a translator, she was able to bypass the large crowd waiting for their services.
Hoisa decided to opt out of the housing programs set in place by the Czech government or other nongovernmental organizations for those in similar positions as her.
“If I now use this opportunity. someone with a lack of money, someone with a child or something like that, they would have no opportunity to find a good place to live,” Hoisa said.
Two months later, Hoisa began her studies at Masaryk University.
She hopes to return home one day soon. She hopes to visit with and mourn the family she has lost. She hopes to reconnect with the friends she’s missed.
“I had no opportunity to say my goodbyes,” Hoisa said.
