By Rome
I have a dream life. I have no house or apartment. I live on a sailboat, currently in French Polynesia. I am free – my children are grown, I am physically and financially healthy, I have no obligations whatsoever. I have sailed, mostly alone, from the Aegean to the Pacific, aiming in theory for Japan. But as I said, I am free to go where I please. It is a freedom which few people know, and many never imagine.
I write these words from Lviv, where I am finishing my last week of volunteer work to support the war effort. I have come to Ukraine each year since 2022. I will come back again.
Why?
To relieve the pain in my soul.
My grandmother was born in Odessa, but she always called herself Russian. I studied Russian in university, with a term at Leningrad State U. The film Dr Zhivago changed my life. One of my daughters is named Lara. Despite all this, and two earlier visits to Ukraine as a tourist, I never felt a special connection to this region.
Since Putin’s army invaded Ukraine in 2022, however, I have felt great pain. Even on the other side of the world, with winds pushing me across dark or sparkling seas, I still feel it.
It is the pain of injustice. Of violation, violence. Maimed bodies, lost lovers. Homes burned, cities destroyed.
Why does this war touch me more than others? We know it is not the only one.
Isn’t this Europe, the birthplace of Western civilization? Have we not evolved from the last century? Can we tolerate such aggression in our own home? Do we accept, in Europe, the violent destruction of international borders, boastful government lies, and creeping totalitarianism?
This is theory.
In my heart, I feel a closeness with the Ukrainian people. Not because of any prior connection. Because they fight.
They fight what I want to fight. What I thought no longer existed. What I cannot accept.
They fight with used clothing for camouflage nets, scrap metal for weapons, donated potatoes and onions to feed their soldiers.
Here in Lviv, with its old world streets and innumerable restaurants, one could easily miss that this country is in a desperate war, losing territory and lives every minute.
As a volunteer, does my contribution make a difference? Definitely. It makes a difference to me. Perhaps like you, my reader, I am part of a collective consciousness, an individual who takes action. Our actions will never be enough. But not acting is not acceptable.
Does it help Ukraine? I believe so, but the effect is not measurable.
The deceased Alexander Navalny’s wife wrote that he told her there was no shame in doing even a small bit for a great cause. The shame, he said, is in doing nothing.
I discover that international volunteers here have a range of motivations. Sometimes, especially with the younger ones, I cannot even understand them. There are humanitarians, attention seekers, would-be soldiers, and some just seeking a purpose. Some stay for a few days, some have become permanent residents. I admit that I am not always proud of them, particularly when they drink too much. But many are just like me – we want to help correct a situation we believe is terribly wrong.
Strangely, perhaps naïvely, one of my own motivations for volunteering in Ukraine comes from my intellectual, and somewhat emotional, connection to Russia. The invasion of Ukraine Is a blot on modern Russian history that will never be erased. Russia, through its leadership, has betrayed me. I want Russia to get on the right path, as soon as possible. I support Ukraine to end, or limit, the errors of Russia. I want peace, and justice, for everyone.
Family and friends are rightly, though overly, concerned about my safety. Of course, they have no concept of what daily life is like in Ukraine during wartime. The air raid warnings, ritually ignored, would fit into a play by Ionesco. They also cannot conceive how I feel at home here. The warmth of Ukrainian people. Their appreciation for foreign support. Their generosity to persons who cannot speak their language. Their belief in their cause. Their courage.
In my dream life, I never imagined I would be involved in a war effort. Now I am.
I fly the Ukrainian flag from my mast in every port.
Even in dreams, there is pain. Even in dreams, one can act.