Tetiana Kravchuk welcomes me into her small apartment in Passau — cosy, warm and bright. On the sofa, balls of yarn are neatly stacked next to a half-finished pair of knitted socks. The furniture is covered with little notes bearing German words. There is a gentle tiredness in her voice, but also an unbreakable strength. She has experienced a great deal, lost a great deal, but she has also preserved much: the ability to love life, people, learning and the small joys of everyday life.
Her story is a journey through unbearable pain, through years of work and dedication, through war and loss — and into the beginning of a new life.
— How does your day begin?
— I wake up at seven in the morning. I drink a glass of warm water with apple cider vinegar, then have some coffee and plan my day. Sometimes I stand by the window and look towards the Alps in the distance. When there is no fog, the view from my balcony is so beautiful that I start my day with joy. I think about my grandchildren and my daughter — we often talk throughout the day. I like going for walks, and I attend German classes. We laugh a lot there and support one another.
— Tell us about your life before the war began.
— We lived in Pokrovsk. I got married there, we bought a house and had two children. I graduated in mathematics from Donetsk National University and became a teacher. I worked in a kindergarten for a while, but mostly in schools.
For more than 35 years, I was a mathematics teacher. I taught different classes at different schools, but always with love for the children. My students were good at mathematics because I found an approach to each of them. Even when I was at school myself, I knew that I wanted to become a teacher. I loved working with children and used to look after the children from our neighbourhood.
This profession saved me at one point in my life. In the 1990s, when times were difficult and salaries were not being paid, I earned money by tutoring. My husband and I worked, the children went to school, and in my free time I knitted a lot of clothes for the children because we did not have enough money to buy them.
— You talk a lot about your children and grandchildren. Are they your greatest source of strength?
— Yes. Supporting my family is my strength and the meaning of my life. I always told my children: set a goal and work towards it. Life should be filled with love.
During our conversation, Tetiana repeatedly mentions her former students. Her years at school are a huge part of her heart. She remembers a boy who was bullied by his classmates. One day, she stayed with him during school duty and discovered that he could ride a motorcycle, milk a goat, drive a tractor and operate a combine harvester. His grandfather had taught him everything.
During a class meeting, she told the class:
“Look at him. He may never become a great mathematician, but he knows how to do things that are important in life. You should learn from him. Knowing mathematics is not the most important thing. The most important thing is to be a good person.”
Throughout her life, fate has tested Tetiana's strength more than once. Today she talks about everything calmly, but every memory contains pain and struggle.
In 2001, I had a stroke. I lost the ability to speak and could only cry. I spent 21 days in hospital. I remember coming home, peeling a single potato and becoming so exhausted that it felt as if I had worked all day. I did exercises and went for evening walks with my husband because I couldn't sleep. Little by little, I began to speak again. I read children's books — that was what the doctor recommended. A year later, I was speaking normally again, and eventually I returned to school. My workload was reduced, and I taught only the specialist classes. I continued working like that until retirement.
Then another tragedy happened. On 12 July, the feast day of Saints Peter and Paul, I went into the attic to get a swing for my granddaughter. The ladder slipped and I fell. I fainted from the pain. I had six broken ribs and a fractured pelvic bone. But by September, I had gathered my strength again and was sitting on a bench pulling weeds at our country house. Because I wanted to live.
In 2020, my son died from COVID. He was a programmer in a hospital, did not believe in the virus and did not wear a mask — and became infected. Five days later, he was hospitalised and died there. I don't know how I survived it. My husband and I distracted ourselves with the country house, repairs and work.
Then came 2022. My husband became ill — he suffered a stroke. I ran back and forth between the hospital and home until he, too, passed away. On the day of his funeral, Pokrovsk came under attack. Many people came to say goodbye, but only a few went to the cemetery because they were afraid of the shelling.
— Where do you get so much strength from?
— The women in my family are strong. My grandmother had 15 children. In 1937, the NKVD took her husband away — and he disappeared without a trace. My grandmother raised all the children alone. My mother grew up in an orphanage. Both of them were very strong women. That strength was passed on to me.
— When did you decide that you had to leave?
— The war continued. Our homes and my daughter-in-law's home were destroyed. We packed everything and loaded the car. She mainly took things for the child, I took one backpack, and we drove across the whole country.
We reached Warsaw and stayed there for ten days. Then we went to Germany, and later to France. It was very nice there. Eventually, everyone I knew moved on and I was left alone. I worked, cleaning floors in a bank. In France, I sang in a choir in German, French, English, Ukrainian and even Czech. I don't actually know all those languages, so I translated things myself and learned my parts. I had my circle of friends, my little life. The places around us were beautiful … but I was lonely. My niece suggested that I move to Germany — she and her family have lived here for 21 years. I feel good here. This is my place.
In Germany, I have many acquaintances, and many Ukrainians have become friends. Whenever possible, I volunteer — we make trench candles. I like going to these gatherings because, above all, there is sincere and warm communication there.
I started knitting again. People bring me yarn, I buy some myself, and I knit socks. I have already sent them to the boys at the front twice. For the second year now, I have been selling my handmade items at the Christmas market, in the Ukrainian hut. Every year, we try to surprise the visitors: delicious food, souvenirs, songs and sincere conversations.
— You have a beautiful combination of colours in your knitted pieces. Where do you get your ideas?
— From my head. I have been knitting since I was 14 — my grandmother taught me. I can even knit without looking at my hands. I watch television and knit. Lots of practice.
— What do you dream about today?
— My own house.
— In Germany or in Ukraine?
— I don't know. I am an international woman now. But I want to return to Ukraine. I love it.
I dream that my grandchildren will achieve something in life. I want to see them more often. I dream of being surrounded by people.
— What do you do in your free time?
— I love discovering the world. I cannot sit still. I know almost every little town in Bavaria: I get on a bus and go somewhere. I exercise at home — I cannot afford to go to a gym, and at home it is free. I am learning German. At first, I understood nothing, but now I understand the structure of the language. The most important thing is that I want to build my life here.
— What would you advise women who are forced to rebuild their lives from scratch, brick by brick?
— I always told my children: life is long. There is good and bad in it. If you fall, get up and keep going. Look for what inspires you.
— And what inspires you?
— The sea inspires me. When I feel bad, I imagine it: evening, a quiet sea, a gentle wave touching my feet, a path of moonlight on the water. And it calms me. Whatever happens — you are alive today. And you have to keep living.
Interview and editorial editing:
Slava Onufryk, Ukrainian journalist and volunteer
