Five-year-old Arina escapes war-torn Donetsk as mental health issues threaten future of Ukraine's children

Arina’s little fingers slide expertly over the brown mound of plasticine. She’s focused on her task, trying to mold it into a square foundation with a triangle roof. “I’m building a house. It is my house destroyed a year ago,” Arina says, meticulously modeling the tiny piece of plasticine.

The five-year-old girl with wide, curious brown eyes now finds herself between the vivid walls of a child-friendly space that appears to be a world away from the freezing, dimly lit basement in the Donetsk region, eastern Ukraine, where she spent the early days of the war.

She, her mother, and her sixteen-year-old brother come from Velyka Novosilka, a city that lies a precarious five kilometers from the frontlines. “When they started destroying bridges, we didn’t even have access to a single piece of bread, let alone any other food or basic goods,” recalls Marina, 43, Arina’s mother. 

“Life in Velyka Novosilka was a constant struggle for survival, like in many other eastern cities,” she goes on. Marina and her two children stayed in a cold, damp underground bunker for two weeks.

The damage to the city’s infrastructure and bridges made delivering and transporting essential supplies nearly impossible. Some of the food and medicines were brought in by boats.

Food became scarce. They had to ration whatever little they had to make it last. Heating, running water, internet, and electricity were all nearly nonexistent, as were medical supplies.

At that time, some people would use the boats to escape the city, but many were afraid to board them because of the intense shelling. “It felt as if you were betting on yourself and your loved ones whether to leave or stay. It did not matter,” says Marina. 

“Do I accept the risk of leaving now and maybe not reaching a safer location? Or should I stay here, unsure whether my children or I will be the next drone’s target?”

After only a week of shelling, the frontlines moved closer, leaving Marina’s house only six kilometers away from imminent danger. With every passing day, the troops came closer. “When we learned the frontline was only three kilometers away, we sensed it was time to leave. And it was time to leave immediately,” she recalls. 

At that time, people started fleeing in large numbers. Many of them grew desperate, willing to cover the skyrocketing costs of transportation as resources were becoming increasingly scarce, and the prospect of staying in the city became deadly.

“My children and I were evacuated with another friend of mine, who was pregnant and with two children,” shares Marina. She continues, “We paid as much as we were asked. We didn’t have many options.”

A single mother with no significant savings and having left her lifelong investments behind, she traveled west with one purpose in mind: to save her children. She had no idea where she was heading, or how she would cover the costs for the next weeks, let alone the months that were coming.

At the end of March 2022, Marina and her family settled in the suburbs of Dnipro, southeast of Ukraine, about 250 kilometers from her nearly ruined hometown. 

Two years later, five-year-old Arina still dreams of her home. She found out that the house of her dearest memories is a pile of rubble now. It was destroyed a year ago. 

Early community-led mental health assistance support could save a recovering Ukraine up to 1.6 billion USD. 

The tiny handmade building she is about to finish, made from bright colors of plasticine, stands out vividly against the drab, rubble-strewn reality she has left behind. She gazes at her craft, her brown wide-set eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and longing. 

“When I bring Arina here from noon to 6 p.m., she gets to participate in crafts, art, and learning activities, bonding with other displaced children,” shares Marina. Her daughter comes on a weekly basis to the child-friendly space in Dnipro run by NGO Girls, World Vision’s local partner, and supported by Aktion Deutschland Hilft. 

“With a psychological background, the staff here understand her needs. It’s been difficult since we were displaced; Arina has been unable to attend kindergarten,” explains Marina. 

She goes on, “This center has been a blessing to both of us. It gives me a break while allowing her to socialize, learn, and grow. Sometimes she doesn’t want to leave when it’s time to go home; she’s so happy here.”

“She’s taught rules, boundaries, values and how to treat other children with respect. These are things she didn’t previously grasp. She couldn’t sleep during the night. She was very alert and reacted to any shrill sound,” she adds. 

These were all visible signs of distress. According to UNICEF, 56% of parents in eastern regions of Ukraine say their children are sometimes or often anxious or tense. Many Ukrainian children like Arina still remain at risk of separation, violence, diseases and mental health issues. 

3.3 million children in Ukraine need humanitarian assistance. Early community-led mental health assistance support could save a recovering Ukraine up to 1.6 billion USD. Simply spending 50 USD per person today, nearly a million war-affected people could be spared from developing more serious mental health issues.

Child-friendly spaces serve as “safe space” for these children, addressing the core of psychosocial support, protection and education through designed and structured activities. 

The challenges of displacement

As stated by Marina, most internally displaced of Ukraine encounter the issue affording an accommodation. “How do I cover my accommodation costs? We are solely relying on humanitarian help now,” she explains. 

They can barely afford to pay rent or meet other basic needs. Marina’s social allowance as an IDP is 330 USD per month, with 220 USD spent only on rent. “There’s a lot of uncertainty. It can drive you to despair, and most times you feel like giving up,” shares the mother of two. 

After two years of being displaced, she considered many times returning home. “Reality is harsh there. People barely leave the basements. But as internally displaced, most of us get to a point where we simply cannot afford the bare minimum,” she explains. 

“Everything was taken away from us, and resources are limited – there are just too many of us. For how long will you rely on humanitarian help? One day you wake up and you might not get that support,” Marina worries. 

The citizens of Velyka Novosilka who still live there do not see much daylight. “They are sitting in their basements,” she says. “When you go out, you are consciously taking the risk of never coming back.”

To date, through the Ukraine Crisis Response, World Vision has reached nearly 112,000 children with protection programming. 

More than 156,000 people have benefitted from mental health and psychosocial support services.

Story and photos by Laurentia Jora, Communications Manager