Russians and Ukrainians in Frankfurt: more friend than foe
Many Ukrainian refugees are also staying with Russian families in Frankfurt. But what is the war doing to the relationship between the two peoples, which has always been good in Germany? Our author Akim Krebs reports from the inside.
Frankfurt – Nobody mourns for our Russian boys,” says Larissa, and my wife nods. In Afghanistan, fathers and uncles fought and died. In Chechnya, brothers and schoolmates fought and died. In Ukraine, boys who could be their sons are fighting, and die. And mothers in Russia are never allowed to cry publicly over their dead sons. They receive a few thousand rubles as compensation. “Cannon fodder”, the word also exists in Russia, “the boys are cannon fodder,” says Larissa, and mine Woman nods But are Russians allowed to mourn, to mention that when women who have fled the war sit across from you at the dining table, Ukrainians who fled from young Russians with their children, Ukrainians whose husbands oppose these young Russians?
“The ugliest weeks are yet to come”
A German general told the newspaper that the ugliest weeks were still ahead for the people of Ukraine. Putin will bring death and destruction to the cities to break the resistance. Our friend Larissa, 49 years old, Russian like my wife and like my wife married to a German for 20 years, folds the newspaper and doesn’t know what to say to Alina. Alina and her two children left Kyiv ten days ago, stowed the essentials in two small backpacks so that you can run on the run. Vitaly, her husband, the father of her children, defends Kyiv. Alina doesn’t say more. She and the children are locked in their fear.
For four days they have been sitting almost exclusively in the guest room in Larissa’s house, the children are drawing blocks, Alina doesn’t want to put down the smartphone, just as if she and Vitaly were only connected in this room. Vitaly sends a message every third hour, and the masts in Kyiv are still transmitting. Elsewhere, the Russian army has destroyed radio masts and harmed itself in the process. “They are not as smart and strong as they think,” says Alina. “But Putin is becoming more and more brutal as a result,” says Larissa. Alina is silent.
Masha is not silent
Masha is not silent, which is good for us. Masha is a scientist, has been widowed for three years and worries about her two brothers. She would have stayed at home, near Kharkiv, to take care of the injured, she says, but fled because of her daughter. The day before yesterday she made the long journey to us. She sits at the kitchen table and talks about her homeland as it was before Putin sent young Russians. About her garden, her cats, her daughter and her girlfriends who have girl dreams. “Go to Kyiv, conquer the world,” says Masha and laughs. She laughs a lot, and her daughter grimaces every time. What they experienced in the largely destroyed city of Kharkiv, what happened on the run, they don’t talk about. The war stays outside like a storm.
Feelings of guilt on the Russian side
Our Russian friend Larissa doesn’t understand that. She is very educated, culture, history, politics. She likes to lecture, especially about politics. As far as one can say about Alina after a few days, she is not terribly interested in Larissa’s opinion. “Larissa, it’s great that you’re helping,” Ukrainian friends said to her, “but take the people who come to you as they are. They’ve been through a lot. Hold back.”
Larissa urges to talk, to explain herself in front of Alina. The pity is great, the shame is great, maybe even the feeling of guilt. Larissa held Putin in high esteem. The mother and sister in Arkhangelsk had permanent jobs, the pension was reliably transferred. Putin war stability. “The past few years,” says Larissa, “they were strange.” The economy was not progressing, the country seemed leaden. The money went to armaments, to Crimea, to Donbass, to this war. “Putin robbed and lied to us,” says Larissa.
Soon after the Russian army invaded, Larissa offered her help on the social networks of the Russian-Ukrainian communities in Germany. Ukrainians and Russians in Germany are close to each other. You are enthusiastic, you go on holiday together, you celebrate together, the children go to kindergarten. Politics at home was hardly talked about in our circles. You didn’t want to know exactly where the other person was.
All over the world are Russians and Ukrainian brother peoples
Many Russians are now donating to the Ukraine, taking in mothers and their children like us, young people who have fled alone, the elderly and the disabled. The aid systems are well organized, Ukrainians and Russians are pragmatic, from painful experience. In Frankfurt, in Paris, everywhere far away from this war, Russians and Ukrainians are the brother peoples that Putin wants to force into one state – and thus destroy.
But please, no romance. There are Russians who see things differently, even here in Germany. They’re a tiny minority – we hope. Friendships are breaking up, the orthodox churches have been at odds for a long time, the bigots despise each other. Recently, it was said from the Jewish community in Frankfurt that the willingness to help was great, among Ukrainians anyway, as well as among most Russians. But not for everyone. The elderly watch Russian television, succumb to the propaganda. The rabbi decreed not to talk about politics.
“The war is here,” wrote one in the Berlin network. Voices of discord suddenly became loud, someone defended Putin, reviled Zelenskyy, the reactions were appropriate. Girlfriend Anna, a Ukrainian from Berlin, says some refugees don’t want to be in Russian families. “One thoughtless word is enough,” says Anna.
Aunt Tatjana in Moscow doesn’t believe the Frankfurt relatives
The ugliest weeks are yet to come. “I don’t believe what you’re saying,” says Aunt Tatyana in Moscow. “People are fleeing because Putin is destroying everything,” says my wife. “I don’t think so,” says Aunt Tatjana. “Why do you think a Ukrainian mother lives with her daughter with us?” my wife asks. “Putin is liberating Ukraine,” says Aunt Tatyana.
A calendar hangs in her kitchen with a photo of Putin on each page. Putin in the Kremlin, Putin doing judo, Putin fishing – shirtless. They all have this calendar, including Larissa’s mother, who always buys it in October because she’s afraid it might be sold out later. Larissa doesn’t even want to think about it anymore. This hard-heartedness, too, with which Russians, interviewed on state television on the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg, approve of Putin’s mercilessness. Larissa no longer watches Russian television out of consideration for Alina. “Alina, many Russians are also victims,” Larissa said to Alina. Alina nodded. “You’re a good person, Larissa,” she said.
Larissa has two children, they are a little older than Alina’s children. Russian children’s books are still on the shelves, as are Russian children’s films. The children have German and Russian passports so that they can quickly fly to the Babuschka without a visa, something is going to happen with the Babuschka. But that’s not the only reason: Russia should also be home, the Russian culture should also be theirs. Her son came home from school the other day, he was depressed. “Fucking Russian,” boys used to say to him.
What else can you say as a Russian?
Larissa and my wife are concerned. Are you allowed to say that at the moment as Russians in Germany? “We are equated with Putin,” says Larissa, and scolds the media. Ivan Rodionov was on a talk show these days, and the editors must have thought it was a good idea to set the stage for the former editor-in-chief of Russia Today, the German television channel loyal to Putin. There he sat and lied and twisted the facts until a historian could hardly contain himself. That to die Russians trusted Putin, said Rodionov, and that to die Russians are concerned about Nazi Ukraine. “Stop by cave Talking to Russians,” the historian said to him, “talk about Putin.” And Rodionov, with a stony face, remained as calm as someone who thinks he has higher truths.
The day before, a major newspaper asked two Russians and two Ukrainians living in Germany for their opinion. One of the two Russian voices belonged to a fervent admirer of Putin and anti-Ukraine, just as if she represented half of the Russians living in Germany.
The German research company puts cooperation with Russian scientists on hold, even though thousands of Russian scientists have signed an open letter against Putin, against the war.
Supermarkets take Russian food off the shelves, food that Ukrainians also love because they associate it with their childhood.
“How stupid it all is,” says my wife. “That makes mood against us,” says Larissa. It was heard that the police were in the Russian kindergarten and advised people to be careful. Russian associations and clubs appeal to common sense not to hold the Russian population responsible.
Anna, our Ukrainian friend from Berlin, put it something like this: “The Russians in Germany are suffering. The Russians in Russia are suffering more. And the Ukrainians are suffering the most.”
The war is also in Frankfurt
The war is with us. He can’t be kept out like a storm. If Alina’s husband, the father of her two children, dies, what then? If Masha’s brothers fell, then what? When the ugliest weeks come, the battles for the cities, many more children, women and old people are killed by young Russians. “What else can we say, Larissa?” my wife asks. Larissa is silent.