Cleveland Ukrainian-Americans Race Against Clock to Send Aid

A catechist for kids at St. Andrew’s in prewar times, Kosc-Harmatiy’s day-to-day duties have intensified since Validmir Putin marched 190,000 Russian troops into Ukraine last week. Seven days into the unprovoked invasion, 752 Ukraine civilians and counting have died in the crossfire, and more than a million Ukrainian refugees are now dispersing across Europe as Stinger missiles fall behind them. And, as Ukraine President Volodymir Zelensky notified the United Nations, they’re direly in need of assistance. As soon as possible.

Since then, she’s helped the association raise roughly $500,000 in Ukrainian aid and ship nine ambulances and over 500 parcels of clothing. She’s currently assembling pallets full of supplies — from tourniquets to hemostatic gauze and mylar blankets. 

“If you’re not reading the news, if you’re not doing anything, you feel at fault for not doing more.” she says. “That’s probably the same way all Ukrainians feel.”

The weight of the future prospect overwhelms Kosc-Harmatiy: “Unfortunately,” she says, “we’re going to be uncomfortable for a while.”

“Last Sunday people came that weren’t Ukrainians,” he said, amid heavy breaths of contemplation. “They come to the service. I can’t describe it; I just want to cry.”

The invasion has reminded many local Ukranian-Americans of their deep, patriotic roots and led to a desire to be closer to those brandishing Molotov cocktails, pitching tents in subways, kneeling in front of Russian tanks. In other words, their family.

“All my cousins, aunts and grandparents are there — everybody’s on edge,” Petriv says. “My grandma’s seen the Soviet Union, Russian oppression. She’s seen a lot — and to see it again at 92?