Invasion Day +25 Did you see the amazing 'Tulips of Kyiv' yesterday? Incredible! Slava Ukraini! Ukraine, like democracy, can never die.
Tomorrow Hoggy will try and post photos. If you have one 'live' dear readers please send it in and we will publish it. One of today's correspondents echoes the experiences of the refugees of the new Ukrainian diaspora. The embrace of all those who have opened their doors so willingly and so selflessly across the world is a lesson to those countries who are still being slow, self-absorbed and confused by their own bureaucracy. Or simply poorly led? And may the power of words be ever recognised for the hope they bring. Especially for all the separated families of Ukraine. When the butcher's axe is blunted his bloodstained trade is gone.
On the front line, the cynical and desperate Putin continues to manipulate and distort the truth; each lie he tells diminishing him. He has seemingly confused 'respect' with 'fear'.
'No, Mr Putin, it is our belief that no-one, absolutely no-one, anywhere in the whole world respects you. But many fear you. To be the most isolated, the loneliest and the most reviled man on the planet is some achievement. Do not be fooled into thinking the mass of those government workers you bussed into the stadium on Saturday, actually like or respect you. Many, if not most, of them almost certainly do know, despite your lies, what is going on. They are intelligent people. They can work it out. But they are so afraid of you and losing their jobs and their country, you are right in that one, that they would rather be herded around the roads of Russia like cattle than be jailed. You are clearly failing to impress the free, but your oppression continues to silence the oppressed.'
It is probable now only the Russians can depose Putin. Therefore we must keep up our dialogue with all the millions of Russians who do know they are being lied to but live in a state of perpetual fear. Somehow our words have to reach them, to give them as much hope as the Ukrainians. Soon the war will become one of insurrection, a years-long struggle of attrition with the danger of brutality and barbarism being 'normalised' for all those witnesses such as us who have not been so barbarically brutalised. Brutality and barbarism must never be 'normalised'. We must continue to fight, as the Ukrainians themselves are still fighting three weeks on, against all the evil of this one man and his frightened minions.
'Hoggy' had promised to embrace the hope of the future in this blog and today's post was indeed to be about that future but the power of today's correspondent has seen 'hope' postponed until tomorrow. Yes, please do take a second with that one. Please keep reading and writing. It is making a difference. And please keep sending your poems in: today's, 'The Wages of War ' appears in 'Today's Letters'.
(This blog might not seem much of a contribution, but if only one person in despair over this war, 'Putin's War on the World', anywhere, is given a glimmer of hope then the effort of all our writers, correspondents and readers will have been worth it. It is the sum of all the contributions, however miniscule they may seem, which will win out in this war and in the other war; the war against despair. Please promote 'Hoggy' wherever you feel you can. It is vitally important. Thank you all. Your writing is powerful in both these wars. It is making a difference. Hoggy.)
Today's Letters:
From Ulrike Neuhoff, Germany
Dear Hoggy,
The Tyrant Has Sent His Butchers
Maria looks around while she is holding onto her passport. No, she doesn’t want the German to take a picture of her passport. Why would he take a picture? To whom is he going to show it? Where will he send it to?
Very slowly she takes the explanation in. For registration. For financial support. She doesn’t want any of this. She just wants to go back to Chmelnyzkyj. Back to uni, to her friends, maybe to Juri of whom she had been so fond. For whom she turned vegan, starving herself to a size eight.
All this no longer matters. The tyrant has sent his butchers. Maria has fled the Chmelnyzkyi. Has put her belongings in plastic bags. Is on the mercy of others.
Late summer she had left home in Ternopil to go to uni, leaving her annoying father, her strong mother, her sister, and her little brother behind.
The tyrant has sent his butchers. They bring death. Natascha, Diana and Andreijko have fled Ternopil. Have fled the country. Have put their belongings in plastic bags and a heavy suitcase. Only a strong woman like Natascha can carry a suitcase like this.
Natascha loves spring and summer in the countryside. Looking after her parent’s garden, working as a secretary for the magistrate. Andreijko is the happiest child on earth, playing with the children in the village, bathing in the little pond.
It is all gone. The tyrant has sent his butchers. Natascha had to leave Vitalij behind. He is forty-five. He is strong. He must fight. Natascha must make the children safe. She puts Andreijko’s favourite toys in plastic bags. What else?
Diana investigates her wardrobe. Takes out her favourite sweater. “Here comes the sun” it reads on the back. She puts it in a plastic bag. What else?
The tyrant has sent his butchers. No more school. No more meeting up with friends at the club. No more skating. Setting off into the unknown. Andreijko is excited. He annoys everybody with his restlessness. He cannot sit still for a moment. When he gets off the train after a thousand miles there is a woman waiting. She wants to take his little blue rucksack off him. Andreijko bursts into tears. And keeps the rucksack.
They escaped the tyrant’s terror. They are safe. They have pillows to lay their heads on. It’s all about tomorrow now. About being registered. About getting allowances. About attending language classes. Maria feels tears well up. She fights them back. Concentrates. The Russian speaking lady explains. Maria hands over her passport. The German takes a picture.
While the tyrant’s butchers bring more war and destruction to the country, millions try to escape.
Maria looks at the plastic bags, the heavy suitcase, looks at Andreijko, at her mother and sister. From now on they are registered refugees. They will get allowances. They will attend language classes. They will have a small flat of their own. Andreijko will go into day-care. He will speak German as quick as a flash.
What will the tyrant do to her country?
Will they go back one day?
Will Vitalij be there...?
Ulrike Neuhoff
Bonn, Germany
Dear Ulrike,
Your words have such power for the dispossessed. We all thank you here for bringing this story of refugees, perhaps all refugees, so humble, so vital, to the world's attention. And thank you for taking in refugees, so many refugees. These and others. I hope this true story, engaging and heart-moving in turn, can be seen by all who are moved by the power of great writing. It is awesome.
Our thoughts and hopes go out to them all. And especially to Vitalij. May he be safe and strong for Maria and Natascha, and Diana and Andreijko.
And for us all.
With very best wishes to you all in Germany,
Hoggy
Dear Hoggy,
Thank you for this opportunity to write, and show support for Ukraine and for peace. It is important we do what we can isn't it? I offer this poem for all those who are in the basements you talk about in the blog. I hope it helps.
H.E. London
Plymouth
The Wages of War
The red toll of battles are the wages of war,
A debt dutifully settled as often before.
A mother’s child, a father’s pride,
Courage a companion to stand by their side,
As joining with others to protect and defend
Their rightful soil that will begin the end
Of a life once shared with all they held dear,
The taste of freedom, and the smell of fear.
Returning the wages of war they have claimed,
One side victorious, the other side shamed.
The soil will run red from the true and the brave,
Democracy refusing to lay in the grave.
H.E. London March 21st 2022
Dear Miss London,
Yes. It does help. A powerful poem. Thank you for it. It will be read. We have many readers who are unable to communicate back with us easily but our reporters in the field are telling us that the posts are all eagerly read and brings them a sense of community and reassurance that they are not being forgotten in their suffering and distress.
I thank you sincerely on their behalf.
Best wishes to you all in Plymouth,
Hoggy
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