It seemed like the worst possible scenario happened in just a matter of hours for Ukrainians. As soon as Russian President Vladimir Putin declared the country’s invasion — or “special military operation” — of Ukraine on Feb. 24, explosions were immediately heard across the Eastern European country.

“My aunt and uncle live in Kyiv — Ukraine’s capital. They woke up today at 6 a.m. from the noise of [missiles] flying near the strikes. [The Russians] were shelling the Boryspil airport,” Anna Tumanian, 29, told The Jakarta Post that day.

Anna is a Ukrainian freelancer living in Bali who, like several other expatriates, flew out of her homeland to get away from the approaching war — which, for the last couple of months, had seemed more and more likely to happen.

“There was information about the war in group chats and public pages, they have talked about the attack on Ukraine [since] the end of May last year,” Anna recalled. She has been living in Bali since then.

Like many Ukrainians, Anna knew that this issue had been brewing for quite a while. Her parents left Ukraine for Washington D.C. when the tension started in 2014 following Russia’s annexation of the Crimean Peninsula and the armed conflict in the Donbas region.

“It was obvious to me that since the war that has been going on since Feb. 20, 2014, Russia was gaining new strength and [they were] preparing for a new blow. It was only a matter of time before they carried out their plan to take over our territory,” she said.

But even so, when the invasion actually happened, it did not seem real.

“Today, [everyone] started texting me, asking how my family is,” Anna said. To which she could only reply, “They are safe, for now, because I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next minutes or hours.”

Before the storm: Anna Tumanian (far left) pictured with her friends in Indonesia on New Year's Day. (Personal Collection/Courtesy of Anna Tumanian) (Personal Collection/Courtesy of Anna Tumanian)

Dire need of communication

Other Ukrainians that the Post spoke to could not manage to tend to anything other than their phones — they were too concerned about what was happening to their friends and families back home by the minute.

“I [thought] that in March many countries would be open to tourists, flights would be affordable and I could go see my parents,” holistic health expert Lily Yavorski told the Post.

“Now I don’t know what to do, [my parents] often lose mobile communication and my heart stops beating because of it,” she said.

Many Ukrainians, both in and outside the country, rely on news from trustworthy connections and networks. Messaging applications have become a key source of information.

“We have Telegram news channels, but they are kept secret. We are afraid that there may be hacker attacks [from Russia],” Anna said. Cyberattacks from Russia have been one of the most prominent dangers, as attacks successfully took down Ukraine’s government websites earlier this year.

“Everyone has information about bomb shelters, and after the first [sound of] sirens, people are ready to hide,” Lily said. She shared that her parents had prepared a lot of things should they be required to go to the shelter.

“But my parents are almost 70 years old and my mother has sore legs, they won't be able to run to the bomb shelter,” she added.

Live news reaches them in a flurry from trusted journalists or members of parliament who keep them informed through messaging applications. As a result, they know which airports are closed, which lanes are blocked and which areas have been hit by missiles.

“We have airports and houses destroyed,” told Lily, who arrived in Indonesia in 2020 with her husband. After contacting some of her friends, another bleak truth dawned on her.

“In Ukraine, women are liable for military service, and many of my friends [will] go to defend Ukraine and their children,” she said. Thousands of women are part of the Ukrainian military forces and more civilians are joining the fight.

Hopes and expectations

Voicing the wishes of other Ukrainians who are currently stuck in Indonesia, a lot of whom protested in Denpasar, Bali, last week, Lily stated that she would like to go back if it was safe. But the situation was, of course, far from possible.

“I have no plans. I only pray that my parents, sister and my people survive,” she said.

Despite hopes that their people remain safe, everyone the Post spoke to admitted that there was no escaping the psychological effects this had on their families.

“All my friends and loved ones are alive and well physically, but not mentally,” Bali resident Yuriy told the Post. “[They] are depressed and everyone is scared because there is no understanding what could happen any minute,” he added. More than a hundred Ukrainian civilians have reportedly been killed, although the numbers differ from each source.

Sanctuary: Yuriy is pictured in a field in Bali, three months after his move to Indonesia. (Instagram/Courtesy of Yuriy) (Instagram/Courtesy of Yuriy)

Born and raised in Luhansk, eastern Ukraine, Yuriy came to Indonesia as a manager of an IT company just four months prior to the Russian invasion. Now, the best thing he could offer his people back home was consolation through back-and-forth messages.

“I write to all the people I know in Ukraine and try to support them. I ask them to talk to me so that they write about their emotions and fears. This makes them feel a little better,” he shared.

Above everything, Yuriy and others want this attack to end in any way possible.

“I adore Kyiv, its people, its architecture and it hurts me insanely to see what is happening there,” he said.

“Ukraine is a beautiful country with very kind people, like Indonesia,” Lily said, hoping to return home safely should a miracle appear. “Our people have always lived peacefully.”