Volodymyr, the farmer: Cultivating new land, cultivating hope

We fled so quickly we left even our car behind

Volodymyr remembers, his voice heavy with the loss. Gone was their two-story home, the tractor, seeder, and cultivator that had been his tools of survival.

Living on the front line prepared us for some things, but when real war comes, there’s no time to save anything.

The village school, where they were given shelter, was a far cry from the life they had built in Popasna. It was a cold, crumbling building with unreliable water and no clear future. Volodymyr was consumed by the chaos of the world he had been forced to leave behind.

For the first few months, I couldn’t stop watching the news, I felt like I was losing my mind.

The fear and uncertainty gnawed at him, but soon he realized he couldn’t go on like this. He had to do something.

So, he turned back to the one thing that had always grounded him—farming.

Despite the language and cultural barriers, the local community welcomed Volodymyr and his family with open arms. The villagers, though mostly elderly, understood the plight of the displaced and shared their resources, offering what little they had. After connecting with the village council, Volodymyr learned that there were unused fields surrounding the village, just waiting to be cultivated. For the first time since the war uprooted him, he saw a flicker of hope.

With determination, Volodymyr applied for a grant to acquire agricultural equipment. His first attempt failed, but he wasn’t discouraged. He tried again, this time with an initiative funded by the Hungarian Interchurch Aid and Christian Aid through ACT ALLIANCE. It worked. Volodymyr received a power tiller and multifunctional tools like a rotary tiller, cultivator, and potato planter. Suddenly, his dream of returning to the land was within reach.

The spring of 2024 became his rebirth. Volodymyr cultivated 30 hectares of land, planting potatoes, carrots, beets, squash, pumpkins, beans, and onions. In the yards of his neighbors, he planted tomatoes, cucumbers, and greens. The villagers, many of them elderly, shared seeds and seedlings with him in exchange for a portion of the future harvest. It was a simple barter system, but it forged a deeper connection between him and the community.

Volodymyr didn’t stop at planting his own crops. He lent his time and tools to help the village’s elderly residents.

Planting a 10-acre plot of potatoes can take a family of four up to eight hours, but for pensioners in their seventies, it can take days.

With his power tiller, Volodymyr could plow, plant, and cover the same field in just three hours, a labor-saving gift for those who had long since lost the strength for such work. His presence in the village became invaluable.

For Volodymyr, farming wasn’t just about growing food—it was about healing. Each seed he planted grounded him, helping him rebuild a life on new soil.

This work saved me, it gives me purpose, helps me stay sane.

The land became his therapy, restoring his sense of control and purpose in a world that had stripped him of both.

Though his heart still aches for the fields of Luhansk, Volodymyr knows that his old life is gone.

We'll see what this new harvest brings

he says, looking out over the unfamiliar landscape. The soil here is different—richer, darker, fed by more frequent rains. He’s had to adapt, learning to coax life from this new earth.

As the harvest season approaches, Volodymyr feels a cautious hope. He has found something resembling peace, and his work has connected him with the villagers in ways he hadn’t imagined. He’s not just feeding his family or the displaced who’ve joined him; he’s helping rebuild a fractured community, strengthening the ties between locals and newcomers. In the act of cultivating this new land, Volodymyr is also cultivating hope—not just for himself, but for everyone around him.Thanks to the grants that brought him the tools he needed, and the generosity of the local villagers, Volodymyr has found a way to keep going. He may never return to his homeland, but for now, the fields of the Carpathians offer him solace. And for the first time in a long time, Volodymyr looks toward the future with hope.

Thanks to the grants that brought him the tools he needed, and the generosity of the local villagers, Volodymyr has found a way to keep going. He may never return to his homeland, but for now, the fields of the Carpathians offer him solace. And for the first time in a long time, Volodymyr looks toward the future with hope.