Escaping airstrikes in Eastern Ukraine: an 82-year-old's journey to safety

As fighting raged around her village in the north of Ukraine’s Donetsk region in August, 82-year-old Nina Ryazantseva – affectionately known as ‘Baba Nina’ – was hiding in the basement of her house.
She had been there for weeks, hungry and isolated, since rumours began spreading that Russian forces were advancing towards the village. In early August, the Ukrainian authorities began evacuating villagers, but Nina was reluctant to leave the house she had spent years building, brick-by-brick. She was still in the basement on 9 August when an explosion reduced her house to rubble. Shaken and deafened by the blast, she emerged from the wreckage and fled carrying only her documents, a few photos and a scrap of paper with her emergency contact number on it. She had written the same number on her hands and arms. "If I didn't survive and the paper was lost, I wanted anyone who found me to know who to call."
Since August, intensified aerial attacks and hostilities by advancing Russian forces have ravaged Donetsk, a region that has been partially occupied since 2014, with further areas seized since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Nina was among more than 111,000 people who have fled or been evacuated by authorities and volunteers since August. Those who remain face severe shortages of vital resources, including water and gas.
Most villagers had already evacuated by the time Nina left the ruins of her house. The streets were deserted, and the air filled with smoke. "My village, Serhiivka, was completely burned down; not a single house survived," Nina recalled, her head bowed. "It's where I planned to spend the rest of my life. It kept me connected to my past."

A nomadic life

Despite her reluctance to leave Serhiivka, much of Nina's earlier life had been defined by movement – whether for adventure or survival. Born in Zhytomyr, a region in northwest Ukraine, she grew up at a time when people roamed long distances in search of work and opportunity. At 22, she left for Kazakhstan, where she worked as a tractor driver and mechanic.
"I was one of the few women working in the field back then," she said proudly. "I remember passing those tough driving tests on tractors. But for me, it wasn't just a job, it was about pushing boundaries and living on my terms."

Nina's years operating tractors in Kazakhstan brought her pride and independence, but after two decades in a physically demanding job, she settled in Serhiivka, where she found work maintaining the heating system at the local school.
Years later, as she left what remained of Serhiivka behind, she followed the tree line and crouched low when she had to break cover and cross through the fields.
"I hunched when I walked to avoid being spotted by drones or caught in gunfire," Nina explained. "I sat down whenever I sensed a threat. There was gunfire from both sides."
When she finally encountered two men, she had already put tens of kilometres behind her. "When they asked how I'd made it this far, I said, ‘I know every field in this region by heart’."
Seeing how exhausted she was, they offered her water, bread, and chocolate. Nina was determined to continue alone, but the men insisted on contacting the White Angels, a state-coordinated relief group responsible for humanitarian interventions and evacuations in Ukraine’s conflict zones.

Better days to come

Local responders eventually brought Nina to a transit centre for evacuees in Mezhova, in the Dnipropetrovsk region, which is supported by UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency. As one of the main hubs for evacuees, the centre has provided Nina and hundreds of others with much-needed relief and support.
UNHCR and its partners have strengthened the centre's capacity by providing beds and bedding, psychosocial support, help accessing social services, and legal counselling for those who lost documents during their flight. UNHCR is also supporting other transit centres that are receiving thousands of evacuees from the Donetsk region, including one in Pavlohrad, in the Dnipropetrovsk region, that opened in September and has quickly become one of the busiest in Ukraine.
Serhii Petrovskyi, who heads up UNHCR partner, Proliska’s office in Dnipropetrovsk region, said that most evacuees from Donetsk arrive in a state of shock. “They’ve lost their homes, many are separated from family, and they don’t know what’s coming next. The stress is overwhelming, and many are struggling to cope,” he said. “Our aim is to provide immediate psychological support just to help them start thinking about what to do next.”

For Nina, the transit centre was a place where she could finally eat a proper meal, take a shower and sleep in comfort. “For the first time in a while, I felt safe and rested,” she said.
She stayed for a few days while waiting for family members to pick her up and take her to her native city of Zhytomyr. There, she planned to reunite with relatives and seek medical support.
Despite her ordeal, Nina's voice remains loud and vibrant, filling the room with the same energy she once brought to the fields. Even after her nomadic life, she never imagined she would one day have to flee on foot through the rubble of her beloved village. But a lifetime of hard work has given her a strength and self-belief that were more than equal to the task.
"Why do you think I still wear tracksuits?” she said. “I could still outrun half these young ones. I might not stand as tall anymore, but I’m still strong!”