Marek, Adrien, Magda and Mariusz, left Olsztyn (North of Poland, when I said it is spelled like Austin, Texas, they didn’t look excited) at 3am to pick us up at 6am in Warsaw. They would have driven the entire day, literally around the clock, to reach Przemysl and, from there, L’viv. our first stop was in the outskirt of Kielce, where the Polish Food Bank have their biggest warehouse which they share with Caritas. We loaded the truck with rice, pasta, canned meat, hygiene products, cereals and hit the road again.
We tried to meet our Franciscan friend Nicola in L’viv, but this is what he said when we called him: “I am very sorry that I cannot meet you today, unfortunately. I have been called up by the army, and although I cannot carry a rifle, I will serve as chaplain. The thing is that I have to finish everything, because I have to hand over the direction of the school before I leave. I’m a bit worried”.
We arrived at a big parking lot appeared surrounded by tents and flags, with a big structure at the end of the carpark, “This used to be a mall, but since the war broke out it has been transformed into a welcoming centre.” Mariusz explained to us. An enormous sign waved on the roof: Przemysl. As I opened the car door to drop off, a gust of wind hit me strongly. Temperatures have been rising lately, but the Polish wind can blow a chilly breeze, even when the sun is shining. Now the place is not as crowded as it was only a fortnight ago, there are still refugees going back and forth, but the car park is almost empty. Yet, it is as if you can still see all the millions of refugees who have passed through here, millions of elderly people, mothers, and children, arriving at this car park, in the freezing winds, snow and ice.
We met with Magda’s sister, who works with Caritas, and started following her van towards the border.
We proceeded through customs and entered the Ukrainian part of a region once called Galicia: home to ochre hills and vast valleys. If you go down that long road from Poland to L’viv these days, you’ll see two things mostly: the splendid golden domes of the orthodox churches and the high batteries of sand pillows piled up as checkpoints outside each village.
It was in one of these churches that we stopped to pick up a priest from Mostys’ka, who would drive the Caritas van with Magda’s sister. We were fools to think the driving would have been slow and moderate… the priest was totally devoted to the mission of delivering food donations in time, and the speed was a vital factor.
We arrived at a huge storehouse, right outside L’viv. From there, Ania and the volunteers of Food Bank Ukraine, working side by side with other organisations, resupply Ukrainian cities with food. They are all united for the same cause, and do not seem willing to give up any time soon.
Back on the road to L’viv, we stopped many times along the way, to meet families, friends, or relatives, who are in contact with Caritas or Banki Zwnosci, each time with a package, a letter, a smile.
At dusk we finally reached L’viv, where Caritas would done the final delivery. Standing in front of the city hall, for a moment, I heard a tram bell and I thought I was in Milan. Same paved streets, same Austrian imperial buildings, heard the same sounds and noises. Then the people suddenly disappeared, the shops and restaurants closed their shutters, and the only young people left on the sidewalk were wearing a uniform. We grabbed something to eat in a small shop and got on the van again to return to Poland and rest after a very long day.
