Three years have passed since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Galina and her family left Ukraine in 2015, while she was expecting her second child. Though leaving her homeland was a wrench, her husband had foreseen the impending conflict and persuaded her to leave.
– I thought, okay, we'll go then; I'll see it as a vacation. Now the vacation has lasted ten years, she reflects. On February 24, 2022, Galina arrived at her job as usual, oblivious to the news.
– When I found out what had happened, I nearly fainted. A colleague caught me as I collapsed. It was devastating, she recounts.
The war brought unimaginable worry and hardship. Ukrainian refugees, mainly women and children, fled to Europe, Sweden, and Skellefteå. Among them was Shoira Orazmedova and her two-year-old son, who arrived at Byske camping, displaced and vulnerable.
– We lived in Kharkiv, and I had just started as a manager of a beauty salon when the war broke out, Shoira recounts.
It was March, and while Ukraine was awakening to spring, the refugees arrived in wintry Skellefteå, ill-equipped for the cold with only light clothing, shoes, and meagre belongings.
Their urgent needs included warm clothes, food, and safe shelter. Galina, and Anna-Klara Granstrand from Skellefteå municipality were on hand, ready to offer assistance.
– Upon arrival, I was completely lost, but as more refugees arrived, I had found my footing and could share what I'd learned. Their first question was always, "Can we work?", says Galina.
Galina and Anna-Klara then spearheaded a project to quickly get everyone who wanted to work into jobs, regardless of their Swedish language proficiency. They started as trainees while simultaneously attending language classes.
Several, including Shoira and Anastasiia Papakina, joined Galina's home care team.
– I relocated from Stockholm to Skellefteå when my husband secured a position at Northvolt. While I came here because of him, it was Galina who helped me find employment, says Anastasiia. Although lacking prior healthcare experience, and with elder care organised differently in Ukraine, she nevertheless points out the natural tendency for Ukrainians to care for their elders.
– I know and love all the people we care for. They are so kind and patient with us. Our Swedish was so limited when we started, but they were incredibly supportive. We helped them, and they helped us, and I'm very grateful for that and confident I'm making a difference, she says.
– After three years, I've come to terms with what happened and am no longer stressed. I've adjusted and thoroughly enjoy my work. My five-year-old son and I are very comfortable in our apartment. I feel safe; I appreciate my coworkers, my boss, and the residents. The language was a challenge initially, but it's becoming easier, says Shoira.
Their work has not only provided a means to learn Swedish—all three now speak the language fluently—and integrate into their new community, but it has also served as a form of therapy.
– My job is my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the constant thoughts of the war. It's therapeutic to be able to help others, Galina says. She recently returned from a visit to Ukraine in September.
– I saw my mother, my brother, and the friends who are still there. So many are dead, so many wounded. I saw young people, almost children, without limbs. Women, mothers, and wives dressed in black, mourning their losses. Seventeen-year-olds are sent to fight and die. I attended a funeral. First, a car carrying the body arrived, followed by a procession of cars and motorcycles. A special funeral song played, everyone waved flags, and people lined the roads, throwing flowers and weeping. It's heartbreaking to talk about it. I witnessed first-hand what life is like in a country ravaged by war. The best men have died, and they continue to die, she says, her voice trembling.
A heavy silence falls. The prospect of a swift end to the war seems bleak.
– Politicians may decide Ukraine's future, but they overlook the human cost, says Anastasiia. They have accepted the tragic destruction of their country.
– If the war ends, the future is uncertain. Ukraine is my homeland, where my children were born. But my city is shattered; the school and university are no longer there. We could rebuild elsewhere in Ukraine, but I've found a new home in Skellefteå and am thankful we came here. Our children are flourishing in school and preschool; we work, shop, play, and travel. We are building a new life here, says Anastasiia.
– When I arrived, I felt like a cut flower, wilting and in need of nourishment. Once I had established roots, I could then help others do the same. Having a job, an income, and the opportunity to give back empowers you and helps you overcome the feeling of being a helpless refugee, says Galina.