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Natalia Bloch

Painting by Poznań-based artist Ola Winnicka titled "Two Girls Playing Home and One Is Crying", created after the outbreak of the full-scale war in Ukraine

27 March 2025

38 sqm. Migrants Hosting Refugees

In Luhansk, near the Russian border, the internet connection was too weak to turn on the camera and show his daughter the bombs falling on the city. Instead, Ania’s father switched to speakerphone mode, allowing Ania to hear the whistling rockets and explosions. Thus, sitting in her rented apartment on a peaceful, leafy housing estate in Poznań, early in the morning on February 24, 2022, Ania learned that war had erupted even before the global media reported it. She couldn’t believe it: “How is this possible? We’ve already had one war – now another one?”


After the "first" war in 2014, Ania, her husband, and their tiny son fled Luhansk, occupied by pro-Russian separatists, and moved deeper into Ukraine, to Myrhorod. They became internally displaced persons, often overlooked by statistics and research. In Myrhorod, they lived with Ania’s mother-in-law and her husband's younger sister. Four years later, following in the footsteps of Ania’s mother, who had married a man from Poznań, they decided to seek a better life in Poland, like thousands of other refugees from eastern Ukraine. In Polish statistics, however, they were simply labour migrants. Their careers are typical examples of migrants working below their qualifications: Ania’s husband, holding an degree in power engineering, became a welder, while Ania, a Master's graduate in food technology, found employment in a hotel kitchen. Yet, they were satisfied – Poznań was safe, and their son was thriving at a sports school, excelling in his volleyball class.


When the airport in Myrhorod was bombed a few days after the outbreak of war, discussions about staying or fleeing came to an end. Ania’s husband's mother and her 14-year-old daughter put their cat into a backpack and boarded evacuation trains heading towards Poland. “I don’t know how they managed to get that cat out, as it had no documents,” said Ania. ‘Didn’t it meow?” – she asked. ‘It was in shock, so it didn’t meow,’ replied her mother-in-law.


Their 38-square-metre apartment on a Poznań’s housing estate came to house five people and a cat (“and cockroaches,” adds Ania). Ania’s family was one of hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian families who hosted refugees fleeing the full-scale war in Ukraine – not only relatives, friends or acquaintances, but also complete strangers. Such hospitality often escapes notice as it seems “natural” and “simpler,” without language and cultural barriers. But was this really the case?


Hosting refugees placed an enormous financial strain on migrant families. Polish families who hosted refugees could assess whether they could afford it; Ukrainian families felt morally obliged to host, regardless of their precarious situations. Their daily struggle for survival was compounded by concern for the refugees’ well-being. Ania lists the material costs involved in hosting: 1) renting a larger apartment (it was impossible to live with only 7.5 sqm per person); 2) increased utilities usage (water, electricity, heating); 3) buying a car (second-hand, costing 5,000 PLN – previously unnecessary but now needed to drive her mother-in-law to doctors and the cat to the vet); 4) dental and gynaecological care (war refugees from Ukraine were granted temporary protection and thus free access to healthcare, but specialist waiting times were long, forcing them to use private services for urgent matters; moreover, "Dental costs are shocking. Why does everyone in Poland use private dentists?," wonders Ania); 5) veterinary expenses (when the refugee is also a cat).


Ania’s family benefited from a government programme providing refunds of 40 PLN per person per day for hosting refugees in private homes, but this support lasted only up to four months.


Neither her mother-in-law, who was retired, nor the 14-year-old girl could support the household budget. Ania’s husband took on overtime at work and was hardly ever home. Thus, daily care for the older woman, teenager, and cat fell entirely to Ania. She also took on gigs – creating illustrations for children’s books at night for a publishing house. Yet, she wondered, “How long can someone survive on coffee and energy drinks?.”


Financial burdens were accompanied by emotional strain. Ukrainian hosting families were concerned daily not only about the refugees they hosted, but also about relatives remaining in Ukraine. The war was now present not just in their homeland, but also in their adopted country through the presence of refugees.


After a year, Ania’s mother-in-law decided to return to Ukraine – she missed her neighbours, friends, and home. However, she left her daughter in Poland: “She will have a better, safer life here.” Ania and her husband assumed legal guardianship of the girl. While Polish families’ hosting of refugees eventually ended, hosting by Ukrainian families sometimes never did.