Imagine being forced to choose between abandoning your home forever or staying in a war zone. This is the heartbreaking reality for thousands in Ukraine, where the conflict with Russia rages on. The lives of those on the frontline are hanging by a thread, and the decision to flee or remain is anything but simple. But here's where it gets even more complex: while many are leaving, a significant number, particularly the elderly and disabled, are choosing to stay, despite the constant danger and hardship.
In the past year alone, over 250,000 residents have fled the Donetsk region, a southeastern Ukrainian area near the Russian border that has become a focal point of attacks. Evacuations are also underway in neighboring regions like Dnipropetrovsk, Kharkiv, Sumy, and Zaporizhzhia. The UN refugee agency, UNHCR, is on the ground, offering support to both those who leave and those who stay behind. But this is the part most people miss: the decision to evacuate isn’t just about physical safety—it’s deeply tied to emotional and practical considerations.
Federico Sersale, head of UNHCR’s office in Dnipro, explains that many who stay are elderly or have disabilities. Some fear they’ll never return to their homes, while others simply can’t evacuate without assistance. Is it ethical to pressure someone to leave their lifelong home, even if it’s for their safety? This question sparks debate, as the choice to stay often comes at the cost of enduring harsh conditions—constant attacks, disrupted services, and limited mobility due to security risks.
For those who do leave, UNHCR and its partners provide essential aid, from blankets and shelter materials to psychosocial support and legal assistance. Transit sites, government-run facilities, serve as temporary havens where evacuees receive basic services before moving on. Interestingly, 46% of those passing through these sites are elderly or have limited mobility, a trend that highlights the unique challenges faced by vulnerable populations. But here’s where it gets controversial: are these transit sites a bandaid solution, or do they truly address the long-term needs of displaced individuals?
Take Svitlana, for example, an elderly woman from Zaporizhzhia who, along with her husband, initially refused to leave despite living without electricity and under constant drone surveillance. When the frontline shifted and conditions worsened, she finally evacuated. After a brief stay at a transit center, she was moved to “An Ocean of Kindness” in Dnipro City, a UNHCR-supported facility for internally displaced people (IDPs) with limited mobility. Her story is a testament to resilience, but it also raises a critical question: what does it take to rebuild a life after such upheaval?
Finding long-term solutions for vulnerable IDPs like Svitlana remains one of the biggest challenges. Assisted living facilities, home-based care, and permanent housing are desperately needed, but is enough being done to address these gaps? While UNHCR continues to provide support, the search for sustainable solutions persists. Svitlana’s journey—her hope and energy despite her circumstances—serves as a powerful reminder of the human cost of war. But it also leaves us with a thought-provoking question: how can we better support those caught in the crossfire, both in the immediate crisis and in the long road to recovery? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation about what more can be done.
