Escaping the ravages of war in Berdiansk, Ukraine, Dasha Zhurat and her family found themselves on a journey to safety across Europe last year. Along the way, she encountered strangers who became lifelong friends, leading her to a new home in Cambridge, where she now works in the college’s bursary as our accounts officer.
The Before
A loving husband, three children, a dream job, friends, our local church, a house near the sea and a small hotel business. My life can be divided into two parts: ‘Before’ and ‘After’. Things will never be the same again, no matter where I am. It was too good to be true, too fragile to last too long. The Before I lived near the sea in Berdiansk, a charming coastal town situated in the south-eastern part of Ukraine, surrounded by pristine sub-tropical beaches and steeped in a rich cultural heritage. As a result of our shared history most people in our region spoke Russian. But this never meant that the occupiers were welcome.
In 2021, I had just been promoted to a remote job at the main office of the FUI Bank, after over six years of service as a deputy branch manager in Berdiansk. I had long dreamt of working in the main office, but I didn’t pursue it because it would have taken me away from home. I was now able to fulfil my dream through an unexpected silver lining of post-COVID work flexibility, without having to compromise on the life I’d built already.
We did not want to believe that a full-scale war would begin. Of course, it was hard to ignore warnings. Anxiety began to grow in January 2022 when schools all over the country began receiving false reports, almost every day, of land mines being planted. We started to wonder where we could seek refuge in the worst-case scenario. My only sister had been living in Cambridge for nearly two decades — she was the closest possible option for us.
It was on 24th February — a date we will never forget — at 4:50 am, that the first explosions woke us. The powerful crashing sounds and bright lights left no doubt — it had started! My boys recall hearing other explosions later, but it is always the first ones that they remember most vividly. I started packing impulsively... but it would be three weeks before we would leave our occupied town.
Three weeks of uncertainty and despair
On 27th February 2022, Russian tanks entered Berdiansk. Piercing air raid alarms rang throughout the city while we spent the nights sleeping in cold basements, bomb shelters and protected corridors. Empty supermarkets, long queues for bread and cash, no petrol, no heating. It was so difficult having my children experience the war like this. I did not want to watch my two-year-old daughter hiding her dolls under a blanket playing ‘air raid alarm’, or more substantially, witness the decline of my children’s physical and mental health. I found myself living in hope of leaving the town, and country, that I loved so dearly. The decision to leave our hometown of Berdiansk was not an easy one, but when a green corridor was finally opened up for Mariupol residents, we knew we had to take it. With no knowledge of how long we would be gone, we packed immediately, leaving behind our summer clothes — a sign of the uncertainty that lay ahead of us. Yet, despite the urgency of the situation, my husband’s parents refused to leave. It was then that my husband faced an impossible decision.
As we left Berdiansk, the full weight of that decision became all too clear. We were leaving behind our loved ones, church, and business. And perhaps most difficult of all, we were leaving behind the country where my husband had once served in the army. The gravity of the situation was overwhelming, but we knew that we had to go.
The journey out was a harrowing experience for our car of six, including my mother and her beloved dog. The roads were treacherous, and we encountered countless disruptions along the way. However, the first day was by far the most challenging. We had to traverse 200 kilometres, passing through 17 occupied checkpoints and across the frontline.
That night, we took refuge in a church building and continued our journey the following day, driving through Ukraine until we finally crossed the border. A few nights later, after taking shelter in another church, we finally arrived in Bucharest. Thankfully, friends of my sister kindly offered us a place to stay while we waited for our UK visas, which took one month to process.
During our journey from Romania to the UK, we traversed through Hungary, Austria, Germany and the Netherlands, a four-day trip that was only made possible due to the invaluable support of various families, groups and organisations. We were fortunate to have the assistance of our Romanian friends, the warm hospitality of our hosts in Germany, a generous voucher from Airbnb, and free ferry tickets from Stena Line. Their kindness and generosity were a beacon of hope during a time of difficulty. We finally arrived in Cambridge on 25th April, having departed Berdiansk on 16th March and driven over 4,000 kilometres.
Adapting
While I was certain that leaving my hometown was the right thing to do, it took months to accept this fact. Adaptation was not easy. My sister helped fill out and submit documents to various authorities and schools. The local community church welcomed us with open arms, going as far as to raise financial aid to ease our burden. Not coincidentally, just before we arrived, they had received permission to rent out a house they owned. We did not have to look for housing, nor did we need a deposit. Unfortunately, the compensation I was receiving from my remote work— my island of stability as I moved out of Ukraine and found my roots in the UK — was insufficient for life in the UK. In June 2022, I decided to quit. It felt like letting go of a part of myself, and it was a final farewell to the life I had once known.
So, I began looking for a job.
Selwyn
Miraculously, I came across an advert for a tutorial administrator vacancy at Selwyn College, half an hour before the application deadline.
As I delved into the history of Selwyn College, I was struck by its ethos of modest living and its historic commitment to fostering Christian values — both of which strongly resonated with my own principles. The phrase, ‘Selwyn College is home to students of all backgrounds from the UK and across the world,’ which I came across frequently, only served to reinforce my belief that this institution could become my new home.
At my interview, the Senior Tutor’s sincere inquiry about my family’s settling-in process immediately made me feel welcomed into Selwyn College’s friendly and caring community. From that moment on, it became my home, and I am now a proud member of its friendly and inclusive community. I transitioned to the Bursary in January this year, where I utilise my skills to make an even more effective contribution to the college.
The After
I count my blessings every day. I have a fulfilling job, and we are fortunate enough to call a beautiful house our come. However, my heart aches for my native country and our occupied hometown.
Today, Berdiansk is a flicker of its former self: more than 70% of the population, like us, have migrated away. Every day, we pray for the restoration of Ukraine’s freedom, a cause that will lie close to our hearts forever.
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