Ukraine-Russia Support Thread

Hi…looking for a bit of advice.

We are looking into providing room for Ukrainian refugees at our house. Probably for a single person or couple.
Does anyone know if it would be better for us to do this via a refugee charity or going through the upcoming Government scheme? Or will it not make any real difference?

Thank you. This is very helpful.

I read a couple of similar articles yesterday, but this one goes into much more detail.

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Some translators have created English-language templates of Ukrainian birth, marriage and death certificates so people can fill in their details

There’s also lots of info further up the page of translators, companies and organisations offering language support, some paid and some pro bono

Yesterday in Warsaw, a short(ish) story...

We - my wife and myself - leave our guesthouse at 10, arrive in Plock at 10.35, immediately jump on a two hour bus to Warsaw. Suburban train out towards the station for the UK Visa Application Centre. An abortive attempt at finding something nice to give our hosts; wine and chocolates is nowhere near enough, but they adamantly refuse anything more. Back to the VAC we go.

The VAC is situated on the first floor of a hotel on the way out towards Chopin Airport. This is our third trip. Last time, there were a few hundred people on the first floor. Now they also have operations just past reception on the ground floor to help process the numbers. Several layers of queuing, starting with the queue to get into the right queue - collections downstairs, biometrics upstairs. We overhear a man talking to a staff member that he, his mother and grandmother were sent from the new VAC at Rzeszów and have nowhere to stay. I’m sure he’s not the only one in this situation.

Eventually, we’re asked to take a seat. Occasionally, English staff will come down with passports and attempt to read out the names. They say the names too quietly and forgo attempting surnames altogether. It takes people in the waiting area to actually volunteer to communicate whose documents have been made available. Most of them don’t have visas in them, so they’ll have to try again tomorrow. Faces visibly crumple in pain when this happens. The lucky ones with visas cry tears of relief.

At around 3.35pm, a staff member in an orange T-shirt calls out my mother-in-law’s name. We bounce up off our seats, letter of authorisation to pick up in her name on our phones and eager to glance at what should be a passage to safety, a weight off of our shoulders, a small mercy in this time of extreme need.

“There’s been a mistake, she’s been given the wrong visa.”

I hear blood roaring in my ears.

“I can check upstairs, but you might have to come back tomorrow. I’m really sorry.”

We move to another table seething whilst he runs upstairs again. Whilst he’s away, my wife’s passport comes back with a visa in it. It reads as valid until 8th June; it’s shorter than her current visitor visa. This does not inspire confidence.

Twenty minutes later, the orange T-shirted man is back again. They’re trying to get back in touch with the Home Office in Sheffield. Yes, the wrong visa has been printed. Yes, they’re trying to sort it promptly. No, he can’t confirm that it’s coming back today, because the person who was supposed to print the correct visa before is travelling. No, he can’t name names. He asks whether one of us wants to stay overnight; he’s willing to give up his bed for us to stay. We say no, we need to go back for my mother-in-law; we took a letter of authorisation so we could come together and spare her the difficulties of another six hour-plus round trip, we’re not leaving her in the guesthouse overnight. These visas are to be immediately extended at same point we pick up the IHS certificates, valid for three years. This isn’t in writing, but that’s a small worry right now. He goes back upstairs again.

4.30pm, Orange (I don’t ever catch his actual name) comes back. Not going to be printed today, the person in Sheffield is completely out of reach. That the fortunes of Ukrainians in Poland should rest on one person filling out paperwork in South Yorkshire and them out of office just makes me snap to a directness I don’t think I’ve ever had before. I explain that we’re only this far with our application because we got heard out from journalists in national papers and had people in the offices of British MPs putting in calls - if we’re getting fucked like this by the system, how bad is it for everyone else in the room? I go back to the point that I don’t want to go after anyone as individuals because they’re trying the best they can, and Jana - the Bosnian manager we’ve spoken to on our last two visits - has been especially helpful. “Do you want to talk to Jana?” FUCK YES.

Ten minutes later, Jana is down. She’s sincerely apologetic about the absolute mess and will put in a call. Hold on and I’ll let you know. We wait with as much patience as we have left, with the assurance that the best person in this building is personally fighting our corner. She comes back at 5pm.

“The document is printed, get a taxi and run to the embassy, pick it up before it closes, ok?”

We burst into tears of joy and hug Jana with all the gratitude our arms can exert. Quick taxi across the city to the embassy, ring the bell, staff member comes out with the printouts; full documents for my mother-in-law in the UK. Joy. Another three hours until we get back to lodgings. Come back absolutely exhausted.

Cat now needs an EU pet passport, which we’re sorting tomorrow in Wrocławek. Could be travelling to the UK this weekend.

TL;DR - humans in the family have visas and the whole system is still fucking atrocious.

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I’m sorry this is such a nightmare. Will be fantastic if you can all get here this weekend :heart:

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Great work TG.

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Cat's right of travel is even more of a saga - another short story...

We took Peter the cat to a vet in Włocławek yesterday. His Ukrainian pet passport would mean him being quarantined for several months on arrival to the UK, despite him being fully vaccinated in Kyiv and receiving a rabies shot plus microchip on arrival to Poland on 26th February. The plan was to get a Polish pet passport and then book our travel together for the weekend. Great plan in theory and eager to see it in practice quickly.

Vet pours cold water on that very quickly. The pet passport doesn’t come into effect for 21 days, so the cat cannot leave Poland until then. Cue a lot of bargaining and hopeless pleas that really couldn’t change anything; the system is electronic and no waivers can be made. The vet was able to backdate it by three days, so the earliest he can travel to the UK is 5th April, but to part for any length of time like this is absolutely brutal. Kitty is 11 years old and came from a rescue shelter; the amount of change he’s been through - as a cat who maybe left the flat in Kyiv once or twice a year - is excessively stressful. Really hope he comes through this ok.

The guy who owns the guesthouse we’re in have personally volunteered to look after him until then, and to help transport him on the 5th; in exchange, we’ll take him to Birmingham where his son (and the friend who started the ball rolling in terms of the logistics of the last three weeks) lives. He would never allow us to repay him in full for his kindness, and to be honest, I have no idea where we’d really begin. Got some wine and chocolates as a small gift that we’ll practically have to sellotape into his hands.

Am sneezy as fuck today. Not 'vid, luckily, but not fun either. Flights now booked for Monday. We just want to go…is home the right word?

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