WHY AM I IN UKRAINE?
"Of all the isms in the world, they each have their merits and pitfalls—except nationalism. That one’s a steaming load of bollocks."
The Lecture That Started It All (2014)
Right, so picture this: It’s 2014, I’m sitting in a drab university lecture on political ideologies when my laptop—yes, the one I definitely shouldn’t have been fiddling with—starts buzzing like a jackhammer at a Wimbledon match. The screen blares, “Russia Invades Crimea!” Complete with exclamation marks. The entire classroom collectively leans forward, eyes bulging like frogs on a barbecue grill.
My professor immediately morphs into Don Cherry on Coach’s Corner, bouncing around (literally) and declaring that this is a political, social, and cultural meltdown of epic proportions. Meanwhile, I’m just a naïve second-year student who figured the biggest drama this semester would be the cafeteria running out of lukewarm chips. Instead, I get a cosmic smack in the face about geopolitics. I even write my final paper on this budding conflict, complete with references, footnotes, and the occasional “What on earth is going on?” scribbled in the margins. I earn a B+, which in student code is “almost but not quite,” and walk away remembering precisely one thing my professor said:
“Of all the isms in the world, they each have their merits and pitfalls—except nationalism. That one’s a steaming load of bollocks.” - Dr. David Koyzsis
Okay, fine, perhaps he didn’t exactly say it like this—yes, yes, I’ve added my own cheeky little flourishes—but you get the general idea. His book, Political Visions and Illusions (2003), is a cracking read if you’re into political ideologies and all that brainy stuff I am into —though I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been translated into Ukrainian yet.
Anyway, at the time, I stuffed that nugget away like leftover pizza. Tasty if reheated, but hardly the main course. Ukraine wandered in and out of the headlines, overshadowed by flashier stories about celebrities’ questionable outfit choices and cats playing piano on YouTube. The big story was that Russia pocketed a cozy port in Crimea, and the rest of the world shrugged. I, however, learned a bit of Cyrillic on the side—just enough to ask for directions and a pint—telling myself I’d visit the Balkans or Ukraine someday.
From Hong Kong to Hospital Wards
Then came 2019, when half the world decided umbrellas weren’t just for rain, and started waving them as flags of protest in Hong Kong. My family hails from there, which made the whole thing rather personal. Mainland China flexed its biceps and bellowed, “You’re Chinese, therefore you’re ours,” an idea about as charming as a wasp crawling up your trouser leg. The protests ended with arrests, gloom, and the global crowd politely took a half-interested peek before turning the channel to see who got voted off Strictly Come Dancing.
Ring any bells? Ukraine could have sued for trademark infringement, given the “you belong to us” rhetoric echoing straight from Russia’s playbook.
Around that time, I pivoted careers—because if I was going to get up in the morning, it might as well be to help people rather than shuffle legal documents. I retrained for career in healthcare. Then boom, 2020 arrived, and the world caught a pandemic like a cold at a wet market. My horizon shrank to hospital corridors, the beep-beep of ventilators, and the sort of gloom Soviet hotels would charge extra for.
By the time the pandemic receded (like my hairline, if you believe my mates), I finally looked up at the news and—surprise, surprise—Russia had done a lot more than pinch a peninsula. They’d launched a full-on invasion of Ukraine in 2022, leaving the planet to respond with a collective shrug and a few outraged press conferences. Will Smith slapping Chris Rock, Wordle mania, and Kate Bush’s comeback on the Stranger Things soundtrack somehow became more pressing news. Meanwhile, actual people in Ukraine were running for shelter.
I’ll admit it: I was happily gallivanting through the English countryside while Ukraine burned. Guilt gnawed at me like a ravenous ferret in a sandpit. I remembered those Ukrainian letters I’d studied, my professor’s rant about nationalism being the root of all idiocy, and the scenes of Hong Kong protests. And I thought, “Am I the world's biggest buffoon for standing by?”
A Blunt Realization in Liverpool (2024)
So, we fast forward to 2024. I’m in Liverpool, of all places, attending a physician associate conference—because clearly, I can’t stop accumulating job titles. Between PowerPoints about the latest stethoscope features, my phone starts blinking ominously. It turns out that with the political shifts in the U.S., Canada, Germany, France—and now even Georgia—the world seems positively giddy for another grand meltdown. Some well-coiffed talking head on the telly starts muttering about the possibility of a global war. Lovely.
With the planet teetering on the brink, I decide it’s now or never. Might be my last chance to see Ukraine before someone hits the big red button and turns it into a crater. So I make some phone calls, do a bit of cloak-and-dagger rummaging, and next thing you know, I’m knee-deep in Ukrainian mud. Doing…well, let’s just call them “things.”
Why Ukraine’s War Matters More Than You Think
Which brings us neatly to this photo essay you’re about to see (if you keep reading, that is—if not, I suppose you can scroll back to cat memes). It’s my attempt to show what life in Ukraine looks like when the world’s on a knife’s edge.
And no, it’s not just about me being some adrenaline-fueled tourist. It’s also about understanding that war in one corner of the planet doesn’t politely stay in its lane. We live in a hyperlinked world. When Ukraine gets bombed, your grocery bills, your energy prices, your job prospects—they all feel the aftershocks. This is about ordinary people fighting to have a voice in their own future, instead of being told they “belong” to some larger state.
The Grim Reality (And Why I’m Here)
Standing in Ukraine—lingering sarcasm in tow—I see firsthand that war isn’t the stuff of neat headlines. It’s cold, messy, heartbreaking. Yet there’s resilience here too—tiny sparks of hope flickering through the chaos. When people ask, “Why the hell are you here?” the answer is simple: I’d rather do something, however small, than stroll off with my head in the clouds while a nation gets pounded into the dirt.
Because if there’s one thing my professor got right, it’s that nationalism is a load of rubbish. That concept of “You’re ours by birthright” is the same nonsense that turned Hong Kong upside down. It’s the same nonsense that tears families, regions, and entire nations apart. And it’s up to the rest of us to call it out for the bollocks that it is.
Putting My Money (and Yours) Where Our Mouths Are
So yes, I’m here, offering what little compassion I can in a place battered by bombs. It’s not about medals or a hero’s welcome; it’s about moral clarity. Now, if you want to do your bit—if you’re tired of seeing these headlines and feeling powerless—there are ways. Donate a few quid to a reputable charity (or, here’s my shameless plug, buy one of my coffee-table photo albums; all proceeds go straight to on-the-ground relief efforts). Spread the word, share stories, rally your friends.
Nothing changes without people—ordinary, everyday people—stepping up and deciding enough is enough. Doing nothing is still a choice; it’s just the wrong one.
A Harsh Reality
At this point, you might be expecting me to crack another joke about how I’d single-handedly wrestle Russia’s war machine into submission with a sarcastic one-liner and a can of diesel. But the truth is, by now the jokes run dry. This is deadly serious. The people here aren’t a footnote on some global report—they’re mothers, fathers, children, and neighbors who simply want to live without fear.
One day, folks might look back and say, “Remember how most people scrolled on, unconcerned, while a nation fought for its existence?” If you’ve read this far, maybe you’ll be the exception. Maybe you’ll be the one who cared enough to realize that Ukraine’s fight is part of a bigger story—one that affects all of us.
And yes, I’ve got more mud on my shoes than I ever planned for, but if that’s the price of standing with others in their darkest hours, I’ll pay it gladly. Because when the world teeters on the brink, you don’t wait politely for it to topple—you do something.
If you’re still with me and want to see the images that go with this madness, flip to the next page for the full photo essay. If you want to keep your head in the sand, well, don’t say you weren’t warned when the consequences land on your doorstep.
