It’s not war; It's terrorism

The life Sadovnik used to know is history. Since February 2022, they have endured bombings, a terrifying escape, and separation from one another. Sadovnik and Melania took refuge in Germany before relocating to Alberta, Canada, last summer. The rest of the family remains behind as citizens are killed and their cities decimated.

“If someone had told me this (in 2021), I would think of it as a surreal nightmare,” the 37-yearold Sadovnik wrote in an email last fall as the days apart from her husband and parents neared 250. “Now, it’s a part of my life. It’s a reality for millions of Ukrainian couples and families split by war.”

But she isn’t just waiting out the war. Instead, Sadovnik bears witness to her country’s agony and works to untangle the misinformation Russian authorities are spreading. Associates around the world, including those from Saint Rose and Fulbright, follow her posts an interviews and offer support. Sadovnik’s life turned upside down last year when Russia began shelling Kyiv “like a bad movie,” she says. Without a car, the family couldn’t flee quickly. And with no basement to take cover in, they blocked the windows with mattresses. Against explosions and air sirens, the family was stuck for six days, staying in interior rooms and sleeping in a wardrobe.

“You have all these invitations to go to Germany, or Australia, or California,” she recalls. “And you couldn’t get out of Kyiv.”

Unlike thousands of others, though, they had electricity, internet, and an extensive network of friends and colleagues to help them plan their exit. Their first two attempts were thwarted when they learned Russian troops had blocked, then bombed, the bridges they planned to cross.

Finally, on the morning of March 1, 2022, they opted for a southern route they understood was clear. Sadovnik, her husband, and daughter closed the apartment door, leaving her mother, who was not healthy enough to make the trip. They started the 10-minute walk to meet their ride. Air sirens sounded, then explosions.

“If we turned back, we knew we might have no such opportunity again,” she recalls. “We thought, ‘Let’s walk and pray nothing happens.'”

They made it, beginning a journey in ice and snow, through mountains and around roads that were blocked or destroyed. It took three days to get just 600 miles to the Slovakian border. There, her husband turned back to care for their parents. Mother and daughter got to Munich, then Frankfurt, staying in the apartment of an individual willing to move in with extended family to make room for them to stay.

Ever grateful for the kindness shown in Germany, Sadovnik was unable to find daycare for Melania, which she required in order to work. In July, they resettled in Calgary, in western Canada, thanks to a government initiative for Ukrainian refugees.

Sadovnik is pleased by the sunny weather and ability to speak English. Last fall, she began working with the Centre for Newcomers, helping Ukrainians find jobs. Melania, now 4, attends a daycare she loves. Sadovnik tells her they will return home when the monsters leave. They attend a Ukrainian church on Sundays as they get to know the growing migrant community.

Still, she sees that her daughter doesn’t grasp what is happening. During their 7 a.m. video calls to her husband, Melania asks her father for a hug.

“Sometimes she wonders if Daddy doesn’t want to come,” she says. “I have to explain again that he wants to see her more than anything, but he can’t. It’s unbearable.”

They also rely on the internet to make weekly calls to her parents. who are in the care of her brother.

“But as the war progresses and blackouts are more frequent, it has been more and more challenging to stay in touch,” Sadovnik says.

Nine hours behind their country, she and Melania continue their activism against the Russian assault.

“It’s not a war; it’s terrorism,” Sadovnik says, pointing out that cities and towns far from the front line are being ripped apart by kamikaze drones.

They take part in high-profile protests, and she monitors the news for stories she posts on the leveling of playgrounds and deaths of civilians at home or at school. Sadovnik does interviews with the European press to counter Russian propaganda. She calls for western countries to continue financial and political support for Ukraine.

“I want to scream as loud as I can. If miracles ever happen, it’s time for them,” read her post attached to a story about the bombing of a Mariupol theater where “children” was written on the roof.

Born in the western Ukraine near the city of Rivne, she earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in international relations. Sadovnik came to Saint Rose in 2012 as a Fulbright Scholar, to study for her master’s degree in communications. While here, she co-founded the International Student Organization, took part in the Saint Rose Model United Nations, wrote for The Chronicle student newspaper, and volunteered with refugees.

“Olena easily bonded with her classmates from everywhere,” recalls Paul Conti, her broadcast professor, now retired, who follows Sadovnik’s social media feeds. “She was serious about journalism and proud of her country.”

Among other things, Sadovnik says Saint Rose taught her the standards, role, and power of a press that serves citizens not government. After graduating, she applied her education to a Ukrainian media accustomed to Soviet control. She learned to use digital platforms.

“Before, I was holding administrative positions. But the diploma enabled me to move into managerial and professional positions,” she explains. “I was inviting journalists, photographers from The New York Times and Reuters, to share their expertise with our local media.”

Sadovnik worked in development for the United Nations, Danish Refugee Council, and Thomson Foundation. Ultimately, she found her passion helping Ukrainian media secure international grants.

Her Fulbright associates have now organized a fundraiser for Sadovnik and her daughter, who fled home with just a backpack and small suitcase. Members of the Saint Rose community also helped, among them Thomas Gorman of the College’s Career Center, who has stayed in constant touch and contributed money for Sadovnik’s ticket to Canada.

Her American community is especially important now, she says, because her future is so uncertain.

“Of course, most of all, I want to go home,” she explains. “But if hostilities continue, I might apply for refugee status in the U.S., and if I do, I am likely to come to New York State, where I am familiar with everything. I volunteered at the International Committee for Refugees for Albany in 2013, and now I am one.”

Melania, now 4 years old, protests the war in Ukraine while she takes refuge with her mother in safer territories. (Photos provided by Olena Sadovnik)