Andrii Mishchenko and Olha Turska were forced to leave Ukraine after the Russian invasion and are coming to New Zealand, where their daughter is a citizen. Photo / Supplied
Andrii Mishchenko and Olha Turska were forced to leave Ukraine after the Russian invasion and are coming to New Zealand, where their daughter is a citizen. Photo / Supplied
Before the war began, the pictures and videos of home came frequently.
Her new kitchen, in particular, was the source of immense pride for Kate Turska's 68-year-old mum, as technology conquered the 16,000km separating Turska's Auckland apartment and her childhood home, where her parents still lived, in the eastern Ukrainian city of Sloviansk.
Years of renovations had been stalled after pro-Russian insurgents seized and then occupied the city for 84 days in 2014, her parents' business collateral damage as residents fled bombs, shells and the loss of basic services such as power, water and internet.
"They lost their business, and they were living in a half-built house for a long time. And they finally started [again] in the last couple of years. My mum finally got her kitchen this year.
"She hadn't had a kitchen for the longest time and she was so excited, showing me videos ... she finally got to have it and she only used it for a month or two ... now it's just been left to be destroyed."
Turska's parents, Olha and Andrii, are among almost four million refugees who have left Ukraine since the country of 44 million was invaded by Russia on February 24. Another 6.5 million are displaced within Ukrainian borders.
After a precarious three-day journey across 2000km of their country, the couple are now in the Hungarian capital Budapest, waiting to be met and brought to New Zealand by Turska under the Government's 2022 Special Ukraine Visa scheme for immediate family of Ukrainians with New Zealand citizenship or residency.
Aucklander Kate Turska is bringing her parents Olha Turska (left) and Andrii Mishchenko to New Zealand from war-torn Ukraine. Photo / Supplied
Aged 62 and 68, they'll start a new life in a country where they speak little of the language, have no friends and are completely reliant on Turska and her husband.
Her mother accepts their Sloviansk home probably won't be there in the unlikely event they ever return, Turska says.
"They don't even get to enjoy what was so much hard work to make this place a home.
"As soon as the Russians come, if there's a whiff places are empty they'll rob and destroy. That's what we've heard's happening in other territories, and that's what happened in 2014, my parents witnessed it."
Her father, who did all the work himself - right down to handmaking the kitchen chopping board - is more hopeful, albeit for reasons known only to himself.
Andrii Mishchenko and Olha Turska were forced to leave Ukraine after the Russian invasion and are coming to New Zealand, where their daughter is a citizen. Photo / Supplied
"I don't know if he means it or he's just saying it to put a brave face on, but he says, 'The house will be there, we'll go back, you'll see'."
A house is "a material thing" and never trumps survival, but it still hurt to see the home she'd grown up in abandoned to its fate as her parents fled with barely more than the clothes on their backs, Turska says.
"They left everything behind. Whatever they took, they could fit in their suitcase."
'If there's any resistance, those people disappear'
It was a challenging escape.
With trains overflowing, infrequent and travelling via fighting hotspots Kharkiv and Kyiv, and buses sometimes coming under enemy fire, her parents at first weren't sure how they'd escape Sloviansk - initially not under attack, unlike neighbouring cities, Turska says.
They could hear "remote bombings", which became more frequent in the week before they left.
"There was also the constant air raid sirens, so they knew rockets were coming, but they were being stopped [by Ukrainian defences]."
Constant sirens - replaced by fear of the unknown during any lulls - made consistent sleep near impossible, and access to food and medicine became scarce as shops closed.
Her parents were also at particular risk from invading forces, as her father helped the Ukrainian Army in 2014 and was on a "Russian list" putting him at risk of being jailed, tortured or shot, and her mother now refuses to speak her first language, Russian, Turska says.
"We know how the Russians occupy towns ... and what they expect. If there's any resistance, those people disappear."
Andrii Mishchenko painstakingly renovated the family home in Ukraine over many years, making everything himself, including the kitchen chopping board. Photo / Supplied
Despite everything, her parents refused her pleas to leave until assured they could come to New Zealand.
"They said, 'If we die here, we die here' but we're not going to be ... refugees in the middle of nowhere, or hiding in a [Western Ukraine] centre.
"At least this is home, we've survived 2014, hopefully we'll survive this'."
The breakthrough came when Immigration Minister Kris Faafoi announced the Special Ukraine Visa scheme for immediate family of Ukrainians with New Zealand citizenship or residency, and when a neighbour - having already fled - asked Turska's parents to bring his car west.
Her father began gathering fuel "bit by bit" before the couple queued three hours to fill the car's tank and left Sloviansk four days after Faafoi's announcement.
Queues, sometimes hours long, slowed their journey to safety, along with the challenge of finding safe routes around war zones and complying with varying curfews, Turska says.
"The first day they only made it 300km or 400km."
Unable to find a motel before curfew one night, they slept in their car.
By the time they reached the Hungarian border, news had arrived of bombing in Sloviansk, where an aunt and uncle remain.
The surrounded city of Mariupol has seen some of the worst suffering since Russia invaded Ukraine five weeks ago. Photo / AP
Wider family live in Mariupol, fate unknown, the 38-year-old says.
The port city 250km south of Sloviansk has been encircled by attacking Russian forces for weeks, with the city's mayor estimating 5000 residents have been killed and 90 per cent of buildings damaged, with 40 per cent destroyed.
There's also no power, food or water; desperate residents melt snow to drink.
Seventeen hundred kilometres west, Turska's parents are stunned by how "quiet" Budapest - population 1.7m - is, and how tired they are.
Before reaching safety, they were always trying to be brave, telling her, 'Everything's fine', Turska said before flying out of Auckland yesterday.
"[Now they say] 'We just keep sleeping'. They just can't get enough."
'I've helped hospitals, local defence units and animal shelters'
With careful budgeting, sales director Turska can afford to pay her parents way to, and then in, New Zealand.
Under the Special Ukraine Visa adult recipients can work, but any unable must rely on their sponsor for financial support, she says.
"When we talk about the [Government's] 4000 supposed visa allocations, it doesn't mean 4000 people will come. From what I know, and we speak to the community all the time, not a lot of people are applying for this visa."
Kate Turska is a Ukrainian New Zealander who is speaking about the experiences of her family to increase Kiwis' support for those suffering since Russia invaded Ukraine last month. Photo / Alex Burton
About 1600 Ukrainians live in New Zealand.
Turska, who helped the Mahi for Ukraine group lobby Government for the Special Ukraine Visa is "tremendously grateful" for the initial response, but wants the scheme expanded so other Ukrainians in New Zealand - such as those on work visas - can bring in family.
A Mahi for Ukraine Givealittle page has been set up to help those currently eligible for the visa pay for flights and living costs, with the group also asking Air New Zealand to help families get to safety in New Zealand.
Turska also has a Givealittle page to send money directly to those in need, responding to requests from Ukraine-based friends and family.
"I started sending my own savings, and then started a Givealittle, and I've helped a number of hospitals, blood clinics, local defence units and animal shelters."
Fingernail art, through the colours of Ukraine's national flag, is one of many ways Aucklander Kate Turska is protesting the Russian invasion of her home country. Photo / Alex Burton
Turska's also been working with World Vision New Zealand, Mahi for Ukraine and others to encourage the Government to increase humanitarian support for Ukraine - currently $6m in humanitarian aid and $5m in non-lethal military assistance.
The Government needed to reflect the generosity Kiwis were already showing, World Vision New Zealand chief executive Grant Bayldon wrote this month.
The Special Ukraine Visa should be expanded to Ukrainians with New Zealand work visas and broadened to include more family members, more financial and practical help given to get family here and settled, and the refugee resettlement quota increased, Bayldon wrote.
Turska is confident more will be done.
"Once the Government engaged, they've been very responsive ... we're really trying our best to help Ukrainians who live here, and their families back in Ukraine."
'We're your brothers and sisters'
She understands the temptation to look away from the horror.
"Nobody can handle so much destruction and human suffering ... but Ukraine is in the middle of Europe and these type of imperialistic agendas Russia has, they threaten the whole world's democracy.
"And in New Zealand ... Ukrainians are part of New Zealand society. We're your colleagues, your sisters and brothers, and we're affected."
Aucklander Kate Turska is bringing her parents Olha Turska (left) and Andrii Mishchenko to New Zealand from war-torn Ukraine. Photo / Supplied
Ukrainians have suffered centuries of oppression from Russia and "always wanted to be free", Turska says.
"They don't want to be like Soviet, they want to align with Western values ... they don't want to watch all this corruption happening and Russia dragging us back into the 20th century."
Ukraine marks its 1991 independence from the Soviet Union every August 24, and tears during celebrations are common.
"People cry. I cry every year, because it means so much to Ukraine and Ukrainian people ... to have our own culture, our own language, and to be independent."
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