Anna was born and lived in Kyiv, where she was working as head of a sales department. Anna came to London alone from Ukraine in 2022 just after the war started, aged 27, and is working as a barista.
In July 2024 she returned for the first time for a short visit.
This is her story:
Returning to Kyiv, my hometown, was an experience unlike any other. It was not just a trip back to familiar streets and childhood memories; it was a journey into a city that had been irrevocably changed by war. Yet, despite the scars of conflict that now mark its landscape, Kyiv remains vibrant, its people showing a resilience that both humbled and inspired me.
As I arrived, the city felt both familiar and foreign. The Kyiv I knew—a city of bustling markets, lively cafés, and architectural beauty—now carries the weight of conflict. There are buildings with shattered windows, streets that bear the remnants of shelling, and a tension in the air that’s impossible to ignore. But for all the visible signs of war, the spirit of Kyiv and its people remains unbroken.
The primary reason for my visit was to see my family and friends, those who had chosen to stay despite the dangers. Seeing them again was a mixture of joy and heartbreak. My parents greeted me with the same warmth they always had, but there was a new gravity in their eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the reality they face daily. My friends, too, had changed—not in the love and laughter we shared, but in their stoic acceptance of a life that now includes air raid sirens and curfews.
Over coffee in a quiet corner of the city, I spoke with my childhood friend. We had grown up together, playing in the same streets. “It’s strange,” she said, sipping her coffee as if we were discussing the weather. “We’ve had to learn to live with the war. At first, it was terrifying. Now, it’s just part of our routine. We listen for the sirens, we know where the nearest shelter is, but we also keep going. We have to.”
This sense of adaptation was evident everywhere I went. My family’s apartment, once filled with the usual noise and bustle of daily life, now had an emergency kit by the door. My grandmother, ever the caregiver, had stocked enough food and water to last weeks, just in case. But amidst these preparations, she still found time to cook my favorite meals, to sit with me and talk about everything and nothing, just like old times.
The city itself, while quieter, is far from defeated. Schools are open, though with modified schedules to accommodate the unpredictability of the situation. Shops continue to operate, albeit with shorter hours, and the streets, though less crowded, still pulse with life. People have adapted, creating new routines that include both the necessities of wartime and the rituals of daily life that bring comfort and a sense of normalcy.
The war has also brought out a profound sense of community in Kyiv. My family and friends spoke of neighbors who had become like family, of strangers helping each other in ways that would have seemed unimaginable before.
But the war has also left deep wounds. Every person I spoke with had lost someone, whether a relative, a friend, or a colleague. The pain is a constant companion, but it is borne with quiet dignity. Grief has become another part of life in Kyiv, something to be managed as best as possible. Yet, despite this, there is also a fierce determination to continue living, to not let the war strip them of their humanity.
As I spent time with my family and friends, I was struck by their ability to find hope in the smallest of things—a blooming flower in the garden, a sunny day after weeks of rain, a call from a loved one on the frontlines. These moments of beauty and connection have become essential, a reminder that life, even in the midst of war, can still be rich and full of meaning.
Leaving Kyiv was difficult. It was not just the thought of saying goodbye to my family and friends, but the realization that they would continue to live in a place where danger is never far away. But I also left with a deep sense of pride. Kyiv is my home, and its people—my people—are some of the strongest I have ever known. They have faced unimaginable challenges with grace, courage, and an unyielding will to survive.
Kyiv may be a city at war, but it is also a city of hope, resilience, and an unbreakable spirit. My visit reminded me that even in the darkest times, the human spirit can find ways to endure, adapt, and even thrive. And as I look forward to the day when peace returns, I know that Kyiv and its people will emerge stronger, having weathered this storm with unwavering resolve.
Anna Bevza, August 2024. (All photographs by Anna Bevza)
