STORY 6 - Ponomarova Anastasiia
"...when I ran away from home, I put 20 of my son's 200+ books in my bag. (...) Being happy is not a matter of circumstances, but of decisions. War can take my job, my house, my possessions, but it can't take away my decision to live my life happily."
Anastasiia loves books. She adores children. She believes in the power of education. Despite living in Mariupol, where the impact of war had been felt since 2014, she stubbornly believed she could change the world around her. So, she dedicated herself to children, initiating several free projects for them. A geography and biology teacher, project manager, tireless activist, illustrator of children's books, and a mother of a 14-year-old boy, she faced a terrible reality - the need to abandon everything that constituted her life. She witnessed her city, home, school, and educational center being destroyed, but she expresses gratitude for being alive.
"What the whole of Ukraine experienced after the invasion, Mariupol had been living since 2014. I remember my first encounter with the war, a moment of maximum intensity in January 2015. On a Sunday morning, the area where I lived was shelled with the Grad, and in 30 seconds, 31 people lost their lives. It was the first time I saw houses burning from the inside, dead bodies on the street, and I understood the immense scale of suffering. I thought I would never be able to walk those streets again, but I had to overcome that. I volunteered and helped wherever needed. At some point, I realized I was no longer afraid of death. For me, Mariupol was not just the city I lived in; it was a city I was building for myself, my family and others."
She tells me how, in the proximity of war, you learn to build a safe emotional space, an intimate zone for yourself and your loved ones, which allows you to move forward. Having this mindset was a tremendous help during the invasion. On the morning of February 24, 2022, when they were awakened by bombings and felt their house shaking to its foundations, they understood that it was a new phase compared to 2014. "We raised our son in this vivid and present reality. From an early age, I read him books about war, including manuals on surviving in minefields. We had discussed possible scenarios. However, that morning, when I entered his room, I had to tell him that the most pessimistic scenario we had discussed was unfolding. We fled to my sister's and hid with the children in the basement of her house, while the men guarded the entrance to the vault so that it would not be blocked by ground and debris. We were already a fairly large group of relatives when we decided to try to save our pets, so we returned home to retrieve the dog and cat. It was a true hell around us, and despite our searches, we couldn't find the cat. He had run away, terrified by the sounds of explosions. We recovered him 6 months later. Now, looking back, I can laugh..." The entire room seems to brighten as Anastasiia shares that this story has a happy ending - the cat survived alone, under occupation, for 6 months until he was found, and now he lives with them. It's amazing how small events, seemingly insignificant compared to the immense scale of war tragedies, can bring so much joy and hope. They are, in fact, the anchors desperate people hold onto to move forward. Anastasiia laughs beautifully, joyfully savoring the moments when everything seems beautiful and happy around. Then she continues her story, starting to describe the dire situation around them but deciding to pause for another tale that now amuses her greatly.
"On the morning of February 24, 2022, at 9 a.m., I was scheduled to take a driving license exam. Around us, everything was burning, full of ruins, and my husband told me that, given these extreme conditions, it would be advisable to take the exam because I would surely receive a special permit. He's a funny guy, but I still called my instructor to ask if it was necessary for me to attend the exam. The instructor said he needed to check. That's Ukraine!" Anastasiia laughs heartily, Inna, our tireless translator, laughs along, and I revel in their joy. These two women, whom war cannot touch in these moments because they chose to color these moments with joy. "Humor saved me in many situations when I was sitting in the basement," Anastasiia tells me, by way of explanation. "Crying won't save you, but laughter might," she continues.
They learned that Militopol, the nearby town, had been completely occupied by the Russians, and they understood that things were unfolding very quickly, with Mariupol at the epicenter of the action. As an active member of a pro-Ukrainian organization in Mariupol, she realized that her name was already on the Russian blacklists, and the entire family was in danger because of it. For their safety, they decided to leave. There were already fights on the highway, and civilian convoys could only leave during periods of calm. On February 25, they managed to reach Dnipro after hours of nightmare.
Anastasiia smiles and tells me that now she is just a wandering homeless. "Of all the things I could have taken when we fled home, I packed 20 of my son's over 200 books into a bag. And the most unpretentious clothes because I imagined we would only live in trenches. When we left, I felt guilty for the volunteers staying in the city. But I knew and know that my first mission is to save my son. For teenagers, it's the hardest. All the changes inside them are already difficult, and if you add the war, you can imagine what happens. Especially because they don't know how to express their emotions, what they feel..."
Now she lives in Drohobych and works intensely for the programs she initiated. "The City of Happy People" is one of them, designed to provide psychological counseling to children traumatized by war. She has also created a system of therapeutic stories printed on postcards for children, distributed throughout Ukraine, bringing hope, encouragement, and joy.
"Now I collaborate with UNICEF to open five educational centers for children in eastern Ukraine, near the front line. The children there have not participated in face-to-face education for almost two years, and this is the first attempt to give them live communication and education. They will study in underground shelters because air alarms rarely end there. And I am responsible for the educational content of the programs in these centers."
Active, involved, responsible. Talented and sensitive. Strong and courageous. I try to describe the tireless Anastasiia. She is now placed in a new reality, as if all that she has experienced so far has not been enough. "My husband received the mobilization order a month ago, and now he is undergoing military training. I was expecting this because he has been on military registration since the beginning. But I hoped that it would not affect us because he has health issues. However, by far, the hardest is for Artem, our son. Six months ago, his friend's father was killed on the front. He was a very close friend. It's painful and traumatizing..." She speaks in a whisper now, and I realize how fragile her balance is, how much effort it takes to maintain an open attitude. "Being happy is not about circumstances but our decisions. You decide whether you are happy or not," she continues. "War can take away my job, home, belongings, but it cannot take away my decision to live my life happily. We have to learn to live in the storm because storms are a part of life, and life cannot be put on hold, it continues in any conditions.”
Anastasiia stops and stares into space for a long time. I can't tell if it's towards the past or the future, but I feel her gathering memories from every minute spent together.