By Elsie Kamsiyochi
Four years after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, millions of Ukrainians scattered across Europe remain suspended in a painful state of limbo—unable to return home, yet uncertain whether the countries that offered them refuge will ever truly feel like home.
Maryna Bondarenko keeps three suitcases permanently packed in her apartment in Poland, symbols of both hope and heartbreak.
The 51-year-old journalist fled Kyiv in February 2022 with her young son and elderly mother, just days after Russia launched its invasion. Like so many others, she believed the displacement would be brief—perhaps a few weeks, maybe a couple of months.
Instead, nearly four years later, Bondarenko is still in Warsaw, working in a Ukrainian-language newsroom that serves a diaspora of more than 1.5 million Ukrainians now living in Poland. E
ach time rumours of peace talks or battlefield breakthroughs surface, she finds herself preparing to leave again—boxing up belongings, visiting the post office, convincing herself that this time the return is real.
“There were so many moments when we thought, ‘This is it, we’re finally going back,’” she said. “Every time, something happened to stop us.”
Europe’s Largest Refugee Crisis Since World War Two
The invasion triggered Europe’s biggest refugee crisis since World War Two. According to United Nations data, more than five million Ukrainians are currently spread across the continent, with particularly large communities in Poland, Germany, the Czech Republic and other parts of Central and Eastern Europe.
Roughly three-quarters of those who fled are women and children, after Ukraine imposed martial law barring most men of military age from leaving the country. Bondarenko’s husband, Andrij Dudko, a former television cameraman, remains in Ukraine, serving as a drone operator on the front line. Their separation, she says, is one of the hardest burdens of exile.
Yet repeated waves of Russian missile and drone strikes—some of which have knocked out power, heating and water for tens of thousands of people during harsh winters—have convinced her that returning with a child would be too dangerous.
“We get ready to leave, and then there’s another massive attack,” she said. “I can’t bring my son back under the rockets.”
Children Growing Up Away From Home
For many children who fled at a young age, Ukraine has become less a lived reality and more a fading memory. Bondarenko’s 11-year-old son, Danylo, now feels more rooted in Poland than in the country of his birth.
“I don’t really remember anyone from Ukraine,” he said. “I don’t think that I will return.”
His experience reflects a broader trend. While the government of President Volodymyr Zelenskiy hopes that up to 70% of Ukrainians abroad will eventually come home once the war ends, surveys suggest that enthusiasm for returning is slowly declining—particularly among younger refugees who are integrating into schools, labour markets and social networks abroad.
A Life Rebuilt, But Not Fully Settled
In Turkey, a smaller but significant Ukrainian community has also taken root. Iryna Kushnir and Olga Yermolenko, childhood friends from the eastern city of Kharkiv, both fled to Istanbul at the start of the war. Like many, they assumed their stay would be temporary.
Kushnir, now 42, left behind her teenage daughter to continue studying in Ukraine. Four years later, her life has taken an unexpected turn: she is married to a Turkish man and teaches at Istanbul University’s Ukrainian department.
“Like all Ukrainians, I planned to return home,” she said. “But life turned out differently.”
Her friend Yermolenko works remotely as a financial specialist for Ukrainian clients. Though she is learning Turkish, she says she feels suspended between two worlds—emotionally tied to Ukraine, yet physically building a future elsewhere.
Her 73-year-old mother still lives in Kharkiv, and Yermolenko follows local Telegram channels obsessively, tracking missile strikes in real time.
“When I see a missile heading toward my city, it’s terrifying,” she said. “I call my mother immediately to make sure she’s alive.”
A Future Still Unwritten
Across Europe, Ukrainian refugees are contributing to their host societies—working, studying, paying taxes, and rebuilding their lives. But for many, the sense of impermanence never fades.
Suitcases remain packed, documents ready, and emotions divided between gratitude for safety and longing for home.
As the war drags on with no clear end in sight, millions of Ukrainians remain caught between a past they cannot return to and a future they are still unsure how to embrace.
Source Breitbart
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