From Chernihiv to Kyiv to Mukachevo: A Journey of Resilience

Chernihiv usually greets us with its beautifully illuminated church, a quiet sign of continuity. This time, the city was wrapped in darkness. No streetlights, no glowing windows – the entire city without electricity. After the seminar ended, even the common spaces where we had gathered for the exchange of good practices among Resilience Centres went dark. And yet, inside the room where we worked, there was warmth – not only physical, but human. The seminar itself was exceptional. Specialists from different Resilience Centres in Chernihiv reigon, many of whom had never met before, spoke, listened, reflected – and gradually realised that they were no longer separate initiatives, but one team.

Inviting centre managers to learn about youth methodologies from Latvia proved to be a powerful decision. Their enthusiasm was immediate and genuine. With shining eyes, they encouraged their youth workers to pilot youth groups. Three centres had already done so. In Gorodnia, despite plans to start later, massive shelling at the end of last year, with people killed and homes destroyed, pushed the team to invite young people immediately. The response was overwhelming. By the second session, each participant brought three or four friends. Life insists on itself, even in the darkest moments.

During a coffee break, one woman quietly shared her story with me. She is internally displaced from Donetsk region. During shelling, shrapnel hit her neck, a place where survival is rare. The fragment could not be removed, but by a miracle, it does not affect her vital functions. For a long time, she could not speak. Listening to her now – articulate, strong, inspiring – feels almost unreal. She had spent years saving lives as a paramedic. Today, she studies social work and supports others at the Resilience Centre, using her own survival as proof that giving up is never the answer.

Participants repeatedly emphasised how crucial MARTA’s support has been – not only through methodologies and study visits, but through building real teams, trust, and shared professional identity across Ukraine. Not everything was easy follow, much was said in Ukrainian, but the essence was unmistakable. The next day would bring deeper discussions on warm grain therapy, other therapeutic approaches, and what truly works in helping people heal.

That same day, we visited the newly renovated Ombuds Office in Chernihiv - the space we had supported. It brought deep satisfaction. Despite all the difficulties, it has become a welcoming, dignified place where people can seek information, receive support, and gather for small workshops and meetings. We also visited a newly opened youth centre, only a week old, established with the support of the First Lady’s Foundation. We cherish every warm room, every moment of electricity, every drop of running water. Ukrainian people are extraordinary.

The journey continued under the constant presence of war. One night, sounds reminiscent of war films woke us abruptly. In the morning, we learned that a special drone targeting critical infrastructure had been shot down nearby.

After earlier tensions between social workers, police, and judges in Chernihiv, we had reached out to the National School of Judges in the end of 2024. Together, we developed training materials and a methodology adapted to Ukrainian law and reality. In September 2025, we delivered a seminar for judges. Just now, the first full training cycle using this methodology concluded. Judges described the training as deep, professional, transformative. Interactive methods and game elements allowed them to truly understand the complexity of domestic violence cases, fostering empathy and reflection without emotional overload. Many called it one of the most meaningful trainings of their professional lives.

One of the co-creators, Vadym Kulibyakin, stood out with his creativity – developing a board game instead of a test, and illustrating different forms of violence through comics. This is something we ourselves will take back to Latvia.

Darkness followed us everywhere. Electricity was rare. When it appeared, people rushed to wash their hair – “while we still have a head,” they joked. Heating came and went. Shelling has severely damaged infrastructure. A representative from the Ministry of Social Policy told us that in her 20th-floor office building, water reaches only the 9th floor, heat only the 11th. Important meetings happen in cafés powered by generators. Sitting there, drinking tea while drones fly overhead, has become routine – and at the same time, a reminder of how precious every human encounter is.

Our final days took us to Zviahel – a military city, where 25% of residents are at the front line. Many families have lost loved ones, killed or missing. The city leadership awaited us with sincerity. Although no meeting with the mayor was planned, he invited us in, offering tea from his thermos – there was no electricity. Like so many Ukrainians, he emphasised how important our presence was, how much it matters simply that we come.

With Japanese support, a centre for women and children that where we support activities has been renovated, currently offering psychosocial support, speech therapy for children, and economic empowerment for women.

We also visited active veterans’ and youth centres, located in a former cinema building. Everywhere – Chernihiv, Kulykivka, Kyiv, Zviahel, Mukachevo – it felt as if Christmas was still ongoing. Decorations and lights remain, especially meaningful in the absence of heat and electricity. As Anzhela, our close partner from Chernihiv Network said, “Christmas will last until spring.”

In Mukachevo, the morning began with a moment of silence in the city centre to honour those killed in the war. The entire city froze. These collective commemorations happen twice a week. We visited the Resilience Centre we have supported for years, working with a large community of displaced women and children from Donetsk region – many of them women who once built strong social services in Mariupol. Their determination is impossible to resist, as the building manager told us.

Meeting the full team – social workers, psychologists, art therapists – was deeply moving. Grain therapy, they said, has been transformative for war affected children and their mothers. Over dinner, one psychologist shared how she arrived in Mukachevo with her children having lost everything, even family photos. Another story stayed with me: a woman who survived solely because the centre offered tea and biscuits, buying her time to stabilise her life. Many displaced women, after receiving training, have opened cafés, hair salons, or found employment.

None of this would be possible without supportive local leadership. The deputy mayor – young, bright, committed – welcomed us warmly. Mukachevo is the only place in Ukraine where a programme for perpetrators of violence is functioning effectively. One man openly admitted he could not control himself, received support, and now attends couples counselling with his wife at the centre. So far, the progress is positive.

Travelling together – with Natalia, Anna, Dita, and even our driver Jānis, who has now come with us to Ukraine for the second time – we all agreed: this journey brought profound satisfaction. Ideas that once existed only on paper are now living realities. Support systems work. People are helped. Lives are rebuilt. And this gives us strength to continue.

The project is implemented with funding from the state budget of the Republic of Latvia.