War Childhood Museum Ukrainian Collection

‘Apricots of Donbas’

Do you remember how many apricots we had in Luhansk? I used to collect chestnuts in the fall, in packages just like this one. They were all put into a shoe box and stored—I don’t know why. Then, in the spring, there were apricots. I remember how, when they were in bloom, all the flowers would shower down on you like rain. It was enchanting. I was delighted by the apricots, and always tried to walk near where they grew, just to be closer to them. They always seemed so bright and wonderful.

My life has been divided by the war into “Luhansk” and “post-Luhansk”. I have nothing to unite these two parts into one whole. Moreover, I understand that my memories of childhood, of Luhansk, are dying. The title of the poetry collection is one of those impressions from childhood, something I am unlikely to forget. It’s a symbol that connects me to my childhood. These are the words that echo somewhere inside me.

Oleksii, b. 2000, Luhansk 

My Father’s Gloves

My father’s gloves. I used to wear them with his military uniform, his body armor, and his helmet (a hard hat with headphones). He brought me these gloves at the beginning of the war.

They mean a lot to me. In them, I see a part of my father. He is 53 years old. He could have stayed at home, since he is in the reserves. But he decided that Article 54 of the Constitution—about the sacred duty of every citizen to protect the sovereignty and independence of our state—was a call he needed to follow. As a citizen, he went, unafraid; he did not flee abroad, did not give bribes. He set an example for me, showing me that, even in difficult moments, we all have a choice. I am proud of him.

Lorents, b. 2008, Kyiv

Big Problems

I was born in Kherson, where there are big problems now. Our courtyard was bombed. During the missile strike, the trees fell. Even the most stable ones were broken. Afterwards, barely any remained standing. Everything was in ashes. All the glass was broken. We lived on the eighth floor, and we still live on the eighth floor here in Kyiv.

One day, I saw those Z-kas driving on our roads. A month later, for our own safety, we went to Kyiv.

I made this tank with my own hands; I spent an hour making it. In Kherson, I have a whole drawer with three shelves filled to the brim with my models. I miss Kherson.

Mykhailo, b. 2014, Kherson

Displaced Dragon

I liked Poland; there were a lot of very kind people there. I saw teachers taking children around the city, telling them about the folk culture and monuments.

This toy is a symbol of Krakow. There were a ton of souvenir shops in Krakow, and every shop had these dragons. I brought him everywhere with me before I moved to Britain.

One day, after we had returned to Kyiv, we went to a store, and in the store there was a toy machine with a dragon just like this lying inside. I realized that one of the migrant dragons had moved from Krakow to Kyiv too.

Arina, b. 2013, Zaporizhzhia