Over these years, the Museum has become one of the key institutions in Ukraine systematically working with the topic of children’s experiences of the Russian-Ukraine war.

The WCM Ukraine’s work includes expanding the collection based on testimonies and objects, exhibiting in the country and abroad, developing educational programs, working with youth, parents, researchers and educators. 

Working Under the Full-Scale Invasion

Four years of full-scale invasion have profoundly shaped the Museum’s internal processes. What initially required emergency adjustments gradually became a new operational reality. The team expanded, new roles were introduced, and internal procedures were formalized to ensure continuity in unstable conditions.

Svitlana Osipchuk, Program Director of WCM Ukraine, describes this period as one of institutional maturation. The organization has become more structured, while formalized processes have strengthened resilience amid external uncertainty.

For Oksana Karpiuk, Operations Director, the past years have required a rethinking of the Museum’s priorities. “Our task is to continue doing what is familiar in abnormal conditions. We follow Plan A, but we have Plans B and C ready, and we are prepared to revise them as circumstances dictate.”

War has become the permanent context of everyday work. The team often describes this period as a long-distance run, where uncertainty is constant and flexibility, prioritization, and self-care are essential.

WCM Ukraine team

Documenting and Collecting Children’s Testimonies

The Museum’s collection includes over 856 interviews and 1,476 objects. This represents the largest archive focused on childhood experiences during the Russo-Ukrainian war since 2014. Simultaneously, the Museum documents the stories of those whose childhoods were affected by World War II, building a broader historical perspective on the experience of children in conflict.

One of the key challenges is documenting experiences while the war continues. The work is grounded in a commitment to children’s right to their own stories. The team works with highly vulnerable experiences, and one of its fundamental principles is “do no harm.” Museum researchers follow rigorous procedures when conducting interviews with minors to avoid retraumatization.

“Children deserve to just live and have the space to talk about both their traumas and their joys,” says Anna Kurnytska, Digital Platforms Manager.

Collection Manager Oksana Lepesiienko says that the Museum’s collection being formed during the war must speak both now and in the future.

“Children carry an enormous burden: growing up is difficult in itself, and they have to do it during war. We emphasize that children in Ukraine are not victims by default, but they live in extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Our work helps to see them beyond stereotypes,” emphasizes Svitlana Osipchuk.

Education and Mental Health Support

Sustaining this work requires consistent attention to mental health—both within the team and in the broader community.

WCM Ukraine organizes workshops for parents and teachers focused on how to safely discuss different aspects of war with children: how to help children articulate their experiences, and how to avoid retraumatization.

At the same time, caring for the team’s own well-being remains essential. Staff members speak about daily rituals that help sustain them: journaling, reading, time with family, physical activity, therapy, community support, and consciously limiting exposure to distressing news.

For Oleksandr Voroniuk, Museum Researcher, continuing to work means “living and pulling through, even when things feel impossible.” For Andrii Borutia, Public Programs Coordinator and Researcher, it’s about maintaining hope for the future.

“Continuing to work in a state of constant uncertainty is also about daily support and understanding for me. The team gives me a reserve — a safety net I can draw strength from and keep going when it feels like I have none left,” adds Renata Chechel, the museum’s Project Manager.

Oksana Karpiuk describes the approach as working “step by step,” relying on the team and accepting adaptation as the standard condition of work in Ukraine today.

“It is not about the illusion of stability, but about readiness for change as a working mode: planning flexibly, constantly adapting, revising decisions—and accepting that, after four years of war, this has become the norm.” – she says.

Despite fatigue and uncertainty, the work continues—sustained by community, responsibility, and belief in the value of documenting the children’s experiences for the future.

“We are running a long-distance race where uncertainty has become a constant,” concludes Karpiuk.

The 2026 scholarship award amounts to 3,000.00 BAM and is granted as a one-time payment.

Eligible applicants include doctoral students who are citizens of Bosnia and Herzegovina, as well as foreign nationals conducting research in Bosnia and Herzegovina, whose work falls within the fields of anthropology, archaeology, psychology, education, history, sociology, linguistics, literature, philosophy, art history, law, political science, journalism, or related disciplines. In addition to the quality of the application and the research proposal, the evaluation will also consider how closely the research aligns with the mission and scope of the War Childhood Museum.

The recipient will be required to provide proof of research completion, as outlined in a formal agreement. There is no obligation to submit financial reports on how the funds are used.

The selection will be made by an expert jury appointed by the War Childhood Museum.

To apply, please send your application with the subject line “Application – Lejla Hairlahović-Hušić Scholarship” no later than March 6, 2026, to info@warchildhood.org.

Applications must include:

• A brief summary or proposal of the research project for which the scholarship would be used (up to 3,000 characters);

• A professional CV;

• One academic recommendation letter.

The scholarship recipient will be announced at the end of March 2026. Take a look at previous recipients here.

You can take a look at the complete application call here. For any inquiries, feel free to contact us at info@warchildhood.org.

The Visit as a Special Experience

This week, we welcomed program volunteer Dženeta Zembo and her younger brother D., who shared their experience with us. Dženeta explains that a group visit within the program had already been organized earlier, but D. was unable to attend at the time.

“I’m glad I managed to bring him this time, because he was really interested and felt bad that he couldn’t come earlier,” says Dženeta.

“This time we had the chance to come just the two of us, which was especially valuable because we had more space and time for each other,” she adds.

Interactive Spaces

D. says he actively took part in the entire museum experience — writing messages, exploring the exhibition — and that the interactive space was particularly memorable for him, where he could listen to different sounds that often mark childhood.

“The most interesting thing for me was listening to the sounds from the sports hall,” says D.

Dženeta adds that during group visits as well, the interactive part is especially engaging for children.
“It sparks their curiosity, and then they find it easier to focus on the rest of the exhibition,” she explains.

The Museum as a Space for Strengthening Relationships

Speaking about the importance of visits like these, Dženeta emphasizes that they play an important role in strengthening their relationship.

“Collaborations like this are extremely important because they allow my younger brother and me to grow closer outside of our everyday obligations. Many of these topics would probably never come up in our conversations if they weren’t sparked by visits to museums and similar institutions. After that, we continue to explore, talk, and get to know each other better, which is how we build our relationship,” she says.

The Importance of Cross-Sector Collaboration

Mirela Geko, coordinator of the Older Brother, Older Sister program, emphasizes that this partnership demonstrates the importance of cross-sector collaboration in the field of prevention and support for children and young people, as well as the potential of cultural institutions to take on an active and socially responsible role.

“This collaboration clearly shows how cultural institutions can contribute to the prevention of risky behaviors and the strengthening of protective factors among children. In addition to the professional dimension and the support itself, it is also important that free entry to the Museum allows mentors and mentees — our volunteers and children — to enjoy everything the Museum offers without worrying about whether they have enough pocket money for a visit,” says Geko.

The Museum remains open to all mentor-volunteer pairs who wish to visit, explore, and spend meaningful time together.

The delegation was welcomed by Museum staff and WCM’s Director in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Amina Krvavac. During their visit, they explored our permanent exhibition and shared their impressions with the team.

“What I’ve become more aware of is that even the simplest object can carry a remarkable story and hold immense meaning for people. It’s been great to see these objects brought together and to tell their stories in a way that is both reflective and empathetic to the experiences behind them,”

said Jack Sutton, Exhibitions and Interpretation Officer at the Imperial War Museum.

Dr. Katharine Alston, Senior Producer of Learning & Engagement, added:

“We are incredibly impressed with the inclusivity here and with how everyone’s stories are heard. As someone working in learning and engagement, I’m especially impressed with your storytelling: the accessibility of the labels and the way you’re drawn into individual stories is truly powerful.”

Exchange of Experiences

After exploring the exhibition, the delegation met with Krvavac to learn more about the Museum’s work and the context in which it operates. The meeting also provided a valuable opportunity to exchange experiences and perspectives.

“Exchanges like this between museum professionals are incredibly valuable. We appreciate the opportunity to learn from one another and to engage in a genuine two-way dialogue, where both institutions can share their knowledge and experiences,”

said Krvavac.

At the War Childhood Museum, we are committed to promoting peace by amplifying the voices of children whose childhoods have been shaped by war. Today, an estimated 473 million children live in areas affected by conflict. Our collection preserves objects and testimonies from some of these contexts, including Lebanon, Yemen, Ukraine, and Palestine.

Most recently, we have focused on gathering stories from children in Palestine, including those living in Gaza under occupation, while our office in Ukraine continues to collect testimonies from children affected by the Russian invasion.

To honor their voices and experiences, on this International Day of Peace we are sharing some of their stories. You can read them below.

My Mother’s Hair Tie 

I have lived without my parents for more than a year.

My parents are journalists. When the war started, my siblings and I stayed with our grandparents while they worked. We still got to see them every day, even if only for a little while.

As the war grew more violent and strikes happened everywhere, my parents decided to send us to Egypt with our grandparents for safety. They stayed behind to cover the war. My mother promised she would join us soon. But the borders were bombed and closed, and she became stuck there.

I will never forget the day we were taken to the border. It was very tough and emotional. Right before we left, my mother took the hair tie from her hair and gave it to me. She said, “Here, tie your hair.”

It is the only thing I have from her. But I have decided to give it to the museum.

I speak with her every day. I ask for her opinion on everything, even what outfit to wear. I miss her so much. She is my hero. She is my everything. It is impossible to live my life knowing my parents are still in danger.

Alia, b. 2011, Gaza

A Spoon of Sorrow 

Every meal is a struggle. The moment I lift the spoon, I see the faces of my friends, Ziyad and Mousa. We learned they were killed in the war through photos on social media.

We grew up together in the same neighborhood in Gaza. After school, we were always at each other’s houses, sharing meals and laughter. Food was the center of our community, a simple, daily joy.

Now, when I eat, I remember those good times with my family and friends. But those memories are now shadowed by other images—the ones for starvation and loss. The two realities collide on my plate, and I can no longer taste my food without tasting grief. The simple act of eating has become a reminder of all that was taken from us.

Khalid, b. 2014, Gaza

A Toy for My Younger Brother

When active hostilities began, dad joined a battalion. They sent me to my grandmother. One day, my mother called to tell me that my father had taken the oath. I burst into tears. My mother reassured me: “People don’t always die during military operations.” After some time, I was sent to Kyiv where they told me that my father had died. My father’s battalion was on a reconnaissance mission and got caught in an ambush. My father covered the others with his body—he was a driver.

I made this soft toy myself after my father died, to comfort my younger brother. I put all my love for my brother into it. When dad died, my brother was only four years old, so he doesn’t really remember his father. Ever since he was little, my brother has liked to sleep with soft toys, and he started to take the cow to bed with him, too.

I understand that my father gave his life for a peaceful Ukrainian sky. That he paid the ultimate price, one which we, his family, also pay. I really wish he was alive, so that we could go fishing together, take pictures, and draw the way we used to.

Mykhailo, b. 2007, Kyiv

I Am Proud of Ukraine’s Children

My little cousin Arturchik played with this cube in the first days of the war, when we were sitting in the shelter. Back then the alarms sounded for a very long time, for two or three hours, and it was difficult to sit. It was still cold–almost winter–it was very difficult. There were also other neighborhood children with whom he played.

I believe that the war in 2023 is some great absurdity of humanity. This is generally some kind of incomprehensible thing. Why does it exist? Why am I worried at the age of 17 that there is some idiot in this world who will launch a rocket at me? What is this anyway? I want to try to actualize myself, but they tell me: “No, man, we want to take over your country. Your country is artificially created.” This is a great absurdity. We want to support those children who have been touched by this war and are now sitting, hiding, and feeling it all. How strong, how motivated they are, and how much they have grown. I am proud of Ukraine’s children.

Bohdan, b. 2006, Kryvyi Rih

A Symbolic Object from Crimea

The clay bird belongs to Safiie, a girl from Simferopol, a city in Crimea that was illegally annexed by Russia back in 2014. In October 2023, she shared her story and decided to donate an object that was very special to her to the War Childhood Museum. The donation process was unusual, involving a long journey before the clay bird finally arrived at the WCM Ukraine office in Kyiv.

“My Ukraine, you are the best in the world”

There is a word in Crimean Tatar “Саткын” (Satqin), which translates as “corrupt”. That’s what we called everyone who changed after the occupation. Before 2014, they held the Ukrainian position, and afterwards, the Russian one.

Our music teacher was one of those “Satqin.” For example, we learned the song “My Ukraine,” which includes the following lines: “My Ukraine, you are the best in the world, green fields, my Ukraine, I love you.” At the beginning of 2014, we performed it with her, but after that she started giving us Russian songs to sing.

In 2016, my family and I went on a trip. One of our stops was Kamianets-Podilskyi. It was very beautiful. We went to the castle, which had a small shop attached.

We talked to the owner. She asked where we were from, and we said that we were from Crimea. My parents asked me to sing the Ukrainian song we sang at school. Everyone applauded me, and the owner gave me a whistle in the shape of a bird. The whistle still conjures up those wonderful, warm memories of our trip.

Safiie, born 2004, Simferopol

The bird first had to leave temporary occupied Crimea via Russia—the only available exit route. From there, it was transported to Tbilisi, Georgia. The next stop was Berlin, Germany, where it remained for some time before continuing on to Vinnytsia, Ukraine.

In February 2025, after almost a year and a half and a journey of nearly 4,900 kilometers, the clay bird finally reached Kyiv and was added to the growing collection of the War Childhood Museum Ukraine.

The War Childhood Museum Ukraine Collection

The War Childhood Museum Ukraine holds one of the most extensive collections documenting the impact of the Russia-Ukraine war on children’s lives—with almost 700 testimonies and more than 1000 personal objects reflecting experiences both before and after the full-scale invasion in 2022. The WCM Ukraine is currently working on securing a permanent exhibition space in Kyiv, a key objective for the near future, where these stories and objects will be presented to the public on permanent exhibition.

Exploring Educational Approaches in Museums

The visit was part of a broader study trip aimed at understanding how museums in different countries engage with difficult histories in ways accessible to younger students. The group from the Center’s educational department explored how WCM uses objects not only in exhibitions but also as tools for learning.

They emphasized how much they appreciated the interactive activities, which evoked memories from their own childhood and created a meaningful contrast with the exhibition.

“It’s been a very strong experience being here, and very inspiring, as we also teach students and work with education, to see how you can talk about these difficult subjects in a different way than always facts, numbers, but to convey the emotions, the experience,” said Cecilie Martinsen, educator at the Center.

Reflections on Contemporary Conflicts and Shared Learning

In addition to objects from Bosnia and Herzegovina, our permanent exhibition also includes items from current conflicts such as those in Ukraine and Palestine. This aspect of the collection particularly resonated with our guests.

“I really appreciate that you’ve included items from kids who are living in war right now, that we can keep both perspectives at the same time,” another educator, Hanne Krystad, noted.

The exchange of experiences and ideas is an essential part of educational innovation, and WCM is always eager to welcome visits that foster dialogue, understanding, and new perspectives.

The Global Advisory Board is designed to strengthen the Museum’s international profile and help shape its long-term vision through expertise, partnerships, and key initiatives. While not involved in governance, GAB members will contribute knowledge and experience that enrich the Museum’s global impact.

The inaugural members of the Board include:

• Marc D’Silva (Chair), worked for international relief and development for over 30 years;
• Vesna Bajšanski-Agić, Vice President of Strategic Alliances and Global Development at TechSoup;
• Mary Fitzgerald, researcher and policy analyst specializing in the Mediterranean region;
• Eric Nelson, former U.S. Ambassador to Bosnia and Herzegovina;
• Deyan Sudjic, writer, curator, and Director Emeritus of the Design Museum in London.

The first meeting of the Global Advisory Board will take place in Sarajevo in September 2025. Additional members will be selected in the coming period.

Read some of them here:

Our Skies Rain Aid

Gazans fear the sky. It is haunted by flying witches dropping bombs and reaping lives, and by drones that drive people crazy with their roaming and buzzing. Now, a new fear has emerged: planes dropping humanitarian aid.  

Late in the morning of February 29th, 2024, I was waiting for my turn at the failing water tap. Suddenly, the sky was full of shapes resembling giant birds. Planes flew so low that I could see the detailing of their hulls. They circled in the sky. They released objects—like flying umbrellas—that floated toward the earth. Shouts and screams filled the air. I looked out and saw people running toward the west, yelling, “They are dropping aid! Near the coast! Hurry!”  

We ran after the falling parachutes. Crowds formed, running west. The race ended at the coast, but the aid parcels fell amidst the rattling waves. Other boxes landed by the shore, and the people rushed toward them. Each person wanted to carry something home to their waiting family. The scene turned chaotic as crowds quarreled and fought. In the end, we did not manage to get anything.  

This is the photo I took of one of the parachutes.

Farah, 2007, Palestine

Humanitarian Aid Commissioner

When I was sixteen years old, I wanted to feel as though I was giving back to my community, so I began volunteering locally. I was assigned the role of humanitarian aid commissioner. I felt so important! My mom washed my clothes for this special occasion – I only had one outfit aside from the few ratty items that I wore around the house. It was very cold, and my clothes weren’t able to dry in time! All panic and tears, I looked for solutions. My sister’s boyfriend had just received a new army uniform and brought it for me to wear. I immortalized this moment on film.

There was already a long line of locals waiting for their rations when I reported to work. All of them were carrying bags and plastic bottles. I carefully weighed their flour and beans and measured out oil from the tin cans before pouring it [into their bottles]. They went back smiling. But alas! The line ahead of me was still long, and I had already poured the last drop of oil! I did not know that cold oil “compresses” and that I should have left it at room temperature a bit longer before distributing it. Those who were still in line were upset. Some were sad and cried, others shouted and cursed. Still, others came to terms with their fate and went home with what they were able to get. I later had to claim responsibility for my mistake in writing. At the time, it was an unpardonable offense. I was so sad! My mom banned me from doing any further work in the local community!

Medina, 1977, BiH

UNICEF Notebook

During the war, we received notebooks at school as part of humanitarian aid. They had the UNICEF logo on the cover. Although they were thin, they meant a great deal to us. We used them to write down schoolwork and what the teachers dictated during classes. 

The blue notebooks had lines, and the green ones had squares.

Amina, 1980, BiH

Cool Dude with A Guitar

One September morning in 1991, we abruptly left our Kaočine, a village next to Drniš. In all that haste, mom managed to save just a few photos and some of my toys. Just like all the others who were forced out of Drniš, we were given accommodation in Split and were then transferred to Solaris Hotel in Šibenik. As mom was in her ninth month of pregnancy, my brother Mate was born soon after we arrived. During our stay at Solaris, Caritas organized the distribution of the humanitarian gift packages, which were sponsored by families from Germany, France, and Italy. Since Mate and I were the youngest in the family, we got all the “Kinder Surprise” chocolate eggs from the packages. Getting a little toy from each egg excited us the most, and we managed to collect as many as 50 in that period! We left Solaris and returned home only in 1996, and this cool dude with a guitar is one of the toys we kept as a reminder of our life as refugees.

Jelena, 1989, Croatia

Jacket in an Ugly Shade of Green

I remember that during the war we didn’t have much to eat or wear, both in terms of quantity and of variety. The neighborhood children, myself included, would sometimes run after UNPROFOR convoys and they would throw us ration packs with plenty of nice things. Maybe their generosity was partially brought out thanks to our determined friend Ivana who shouted “hey you, bonbon!!!” each time that they passed. There wasn’t much humanitarian aid, I recall that it was distributed at school only once. These packages contained clothing, shoes, and school supplies too, possibly. I was the tiniest child and I got stuck with one not-too-appealing jacket, simply because of that. The jacket was double-sided: one side of it was green, the ugliest shade of green that was known to me, and the other was red and white plaid that resembled tablecloth. I didn’t keep the jacket, but on one occasion, I don’t recall why, I took a photograph while wearing it. This is one of my two war photographs, and one of the rare wartime items that I kept.

Sanja, 1984, BiH

Forgotten Flour Sack

My mom always made sure that there were food supplies in the house. Two years before the war she bought a sack of black millet flour and left it in a closet on the balcony of our apartment. The sack was forgotten for a long time, even during the war when it was exceptionally tough to get food. We ate that which we received in the humanitarian aid packages. In 1994, we planted our own garden using seeds from those packages. That same year, my mom “discovered“ the forgotten flour sack on the balcony! 

She mixed the forgotten flour with the white flour from the humanitarian aid packages to make bread. This is the rations card we used to pick up the white flour. Since the flour from the balcony had expired, the bread made from it was black, gooey, and smelled bad. This unappetizing recipe was my mom’s way of saving up. You would eat the homemade white bread in an instant, but my brother and I ate this one piece by piece, just to alleviate hunger.

Amila, 1976, BiH