Ethiopians at crossroads as they flee Ukraine

It was 4.30 a.m. on February 24, 2022. Bethlehem Girma, an Ethiopian Jew born in Ukraine, could not rest. Her palms were sweaty. She's never experienced such a feeling before. 

Her intuition kept telling her something wasn't quite right. Then the sirens started blaring in the distance, before getting louder. It immediately hit Girma, a 33-year-old dentist-turned-musician: The Russian soldiers!

"Thank God I was awake because the first thing I did was to call my parents because my family is so close to the border and Russian tanks would be passing through our house," she told DW. Her house is the last building, 35 kilometres (22 miles) from the border with Russia.

Her father — a 60-year-old dermatologist and cosmetologist — along with her mother — a veterinary doctor — and her two younger sisters — who are co-owners of the band Fosho for which Girma sings and writes songs — were in the Ukrainian city of Kharkiv. 

Preparing to flee

Girma, being the first child, took charge but over the phone because she was about 500 kilometers away in Kyiv.

They got dressed and made their way to the train station. It was no easy ride. The streets and roads were crowded. They got to the train station at 6.30 a.m. It was worse there: almost survival of the fittest. Her parents are elderly, very religious and too polite to push others.

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours. Her family members were still at the train station at 4 p.m.

"They couldn't get in [the train] and at the same time there was bomb and rockets falling on their heads and some people [Russian soldiers] were shooting," Girma told DW. "Some people died in front of my parents."

Kharkiv is one of the cities that has been most bombarded by the Russian army since the invasion on February 24.

Girma kept screaming over the phone that they needed to put religion and niceties aside and fight for their lives. They listened to her and pushed their way through to stay alive. Then got into the train — quite ruffled. 

Most people were standing in the train, including her parents. They had a 16-hour journey ahead of them. Girma was pacing up and down her room miles away. Dad recently had two operations so was feeble.  Age was not on her mother's side either. 

"God sent them some good people who gave up their space because they knew my parents are older. They respected them and gave them a space," she said.

Nightmares 

The journey started and the train was Lviv-bound. The Girmas couldn't sleep. The toilets were bad so the whole train was oozing. No-one cared that the train was flooded with water from different toilets, all they wanted was to get to Poland's border alive. Then, it turned out, the train was passing through Kyiv which was already under intense bombing by the Russian soldiers.

"That was a nightmare. As soon as they got to Kyiv, I was already shaking and I heard the news that Kyiv railway station was bombarded by Russians. I was already having a panic attack," Girma's voice was shaky as she spoke to DW. 

Weeping, she kept calling her parents and sisters. They were not answering. Another nightmare. Girma lost count of how many times she phoned them. She freaked out. 

Six hours later, her family finally called. Everyone had to switch off their phones, even the train's light, to be less visible to the Russians. Instead of 16 hours, the journey to Lviv stretched to 26 hours.

Girma's friends welcomed them at Lviv  and drove them closer to Poland's border. Then another long journey — on foot — began.

The Girmas are supersensitive to cold but trudged on in the windy and chilly winter. Pregnant women and women with kids cried but kept moving. It was a massively crowded exodus: Human feet dragging human bodies heading to the border.

There was no way back. 

They eventually arrived in Warsaw. 

Too soon to rejoice

Girma was alone in her apartment in Kyiv when the war began. Notwithstanding the chaos outside, she made herself a good meal and — as soon as she confirmed her family had made it to Warsaw, Poland — she ate for the first time.

At first, she assumed that the Russians wouldn't be in Ukraine for long.

So, it took over 10 days for her to come to terms with the reality: The conflict was escalating and she was in the midst of a full-blown war. 

At some point, she didn't want to be alone, so phoned a friend who invited her over to her house.

Girma packed two sweaters and two trousers into a small bag, gathered some documents including her sisters', boarded a taxi and left for her friend's place.

As soon as Girma left her house, the Russians invaded her neighbourhood with intense bombings.

Due to incessant gunshots in her friend's neighbourhood, around 4 p.m. that day, the ladies got into the car and hit the highway — risking everything to drive to Odessa.

"It was the most dangerous 10 hours of my life; when we were on highway and we don't know where the military were going to hit," Girma sighed as she recalled events to DW.

"We thought these people were only interested in the military places, but these people were actually bombing everywhere. They don't care. They hit hospitals, kindergartens, random buildings," her voice increased by some decibels.

The friend with whom Girma escaped to Odessa now has a rocket in her compound.

More journeys

Girma left Ukraine with some Jews. She was heading to Stuttgart in Germany.

"The journey was long and stressful; those three days on the way to Stuttgart. Not having slept for more than 10 days and three extra days on the way, you can understand how fragile my body system was," she told DW still shaking.

She cried throughout the difficult journey from Ukraine to Germany.

"I have never seen so many tanks in my life. I have never seen so many soldiers. I have never seen destroyed places like that and I have never passed through that kind of hardship in my life," she told DW.

Trapped in Ukraine

The Girmas left their dog behind in Kharkiv. Their friends are too afraid to leave their apartments to assist with feeding it. Those who tried saw some weird-looking people in cars at the Girmas' family home, so turned back. They were too scared to ask if they were Ukrainian soldiers or Russians.

Worried that their dog would starve to death, the Girmas managed to get some police officers to help feed it.

On Sunday March 13 — when the dog was fed for the first time since its owners left Ukraine — the police officers noticed the strange cars but without the occupants.

Girma's neighbourhood still suffers so much Russian violence. She cries herself to sleep every night, though now she is far away from Russian bombings.

"This is what I hear and watch every night. They are demolishing my town. My parents were there, now my friends are there. A lot of old people, my teachers, my school,  my university; everything is there and they are destroying them," she told DW.

Some of Girma's friends have died in the war. The Girmas and some other Ethiopians with ties to Ukraine are now physically safe in different European cities but trapped in Ukraine. The future seems bleak for them.

"I don't know what's next for me. It's hard to predict what's next for me and my family. It's hard to predict the future. I don't know what's the next second." 

Her voice was softer and fear-filled.

Edited by: Keith Walker