Ukraine's elderly struggle with war upheaval

While millions of people were fleeing the war in Ukraine, Erika Haltschiy had no choice but to stay. She is 80 years old and has dementia. She forgets where she is and what she is doing. She no longer even recognizes her daughter. Attempting to flee and having to wait several days at the border were a huge risk she could not take alone.

Erika's daughter Lesja was living in Germany and worried about her mother, who has lived in the city of Kalush in western Ukraine since 1945. She has German ancestors, having been born in the city of Frankfurt an der Oder on the Polish border, and then moved to the Soviet Union after the Second World War.

After German reunification, she often wanted to return to Germany. Her daughter wanted to support her, but authorities stood in the way. When Russia attacked Ukraine at the end of February, both were desperate.

Elderly Ukrainians face a precarious situation

Many elderly people in Ukraine are currently experiencing the same fate as Erika Haltschiy. Since Russia's attack, they have been left behind; helpless and defenseless. It is unclear exactly how many people are in this situation.

According to data from 2020, about 16% of Ukraine's residents were older than 65. In a population of 44 million, that amounts to more than 7 million senior citizens. However, according to humanitarian aid organization Cap Anamur, it is mostly younger women with children who are arriving at the border near the Ukrainian town of Chernivtsi. There are only a few elderly people, Cap Anamur manager Bernd Göken said.

"In the years when we supported various small projects in eastern Ukraine, our team has taken care of many elderly people, some of whom lived in very bad conditions," he told DW. However, he could not assess what the current situation for these people was like.

Daring rescue operation

After three weeks of unsuccessful attempts and constant anxiety, Erika's daughter Lesja finally managed to get the 80-year-old out of Ukraine at the beginning of March.

The rescue mission was nerve-wracking. Lesja drove with her son to the Polish-Ukrainian border in one day. She had to cross the border. In Ukraine, she made an appointment with her mother's caregiver.

"It's incredibly difficult to keep your focus," said Lesja of the situation in the Ukrainian border region. "Everyone is crying, everyone is desperate, there are soldiers with kalashnikovs everywhere. And you drive past them not knowing if you'll even be able to get out of the country again," she explained.

When they arrived at the meeting point, Erika finally got into her daughter's car. Her legs were sore from sitting for too long. Nevertheless, the rescue squad had to join the long queue of cars at the border crossing. The soldiers offered no help, Lesja said. In the end, it was the other refugees who let Erika go ahead of them, because of her unstable condition.

In need of help

In Ukraine, the elderly are often on their own. There are hardly any proper nursing homes, and those that exist are expensive, Lesja said. In big cities such as the capital Kyiv, volunteers are trying to alleviate the hardship and provide care. The church is also a first port of call for the elderly and others in need, for example the Orthodox St. Michael's monastery in Odesa. The Christian institution has been a drop-in center for many elderly people who would have had nowhere else to go, news agency AFP reported in early March.

Despite this assistance, Major Archbishop Sviatoslav Shevchuk of Ukraine's Byzantine-rite Catholic Church made clear in a recent speech how serious the situation remains: "I think of the many of them who are being abandoned today, who are left to fend for themselves, left alone in cold apartments, who have been hit the hardest by the Russian bombing." Most older people only come to the churches to get a piece of bread. He called on all people to remember and pray for the elderly in Ukraine.

Meanwhile, Erika Haltschiy has arrived in Germany. She lives in her daughter Lesja's home in Frankfurt an der Oder. Because of her dementia, she paces restlessly back and forth, trying to orient herself. "Of course, this has completely changed our lives," Lesja said. "I simply want to give her my warmth, security and gratitude now." She is not yet sure how she will balance caring for her mother's needs with her own work. The main thing, she said, is that Erika always has someone there for her.

Edited by Ben Knight