海角大神

War is generally a noisy affair, sometimes deafeningly so. But one of contributor Martin Kuz鈥檚 most enduring memories from Ukraine is the sound of silence.

He was on a train packed with women and children聽fleeing an assault on Kyiv, the聽capital. They had left behind their homes, their menfolk, and their lives as they rattled through the night into exile. They were numb with disbelief.

鈥淎s I listened to the silence,鈥� Martin recalls, 鈥渋t seemed the most human and natural reaction to their loss. No words could capture that.鈥�

The night drew in, and the 12-hour journey to Lviv stretched out. Martin walked through the train, picking his way through the suitcases that clogged the aisle and studying his fellow passengers, bundled up in winter clothes. He had聽given his sleeper berth to two mothers and their children, and 鈥渄idn鈥檛 feel comfortable just sitting,鈥� he says.

鈥淢y mind was restless and I wanted to walk around. I wanted to absorb as much as I could about the experience because I felt it was somehow essential to trying to understand how war changes everything,鈥� he explains.

鈥淚 was focusing on what these new refugees might be trying to absorb, this cataclysm, as they confronted the awful reality,鈥� says Martin. 鈥淣ow what? How do you prepare an answer for the unknown?鈥�

Those questions were particularly poignant for Martin. His own father fled Ukraine as a refugee after World War II, and 鈥渆choes of that experience were very strong for me,鈥� he says. His father鈥檚 lifelong separation from his homeland proved 鈥渁 wound that could never heal,鈥� and Martin could not help wondering how his companions on the train would mend their lives.

鈥淭hrough what I knew of my father鈥檚 loss, I had a level of understanding about some of what these women and children were facing,鈥� Martin points out.

And he found himself not only sympathizing with the refugees, but admiring them too. 鈥淎s jammed as the cars were,聽I was struck by the civility鈥� that the聽passengers showed one another, 鈥渢he shared compassion and humanity,鈥� he remembers. 鈥淭hey were a random collection of strangers ... but they had a common denominator 鈥� they were fleeing war.鈥�