Displaced by the War, Ukrainian Students Are Forced To Start New Academic Year in Russia

‘If it was up to me, I never would have come here.’ The story of Elizaveta from Donetsk

Since February 24, we all exist in a constant state of pain, haunted by what has been done to our country. As for me, I think the term “emotional burnout” best describes my overall mental state.

My parents are behind my relocation to Russia. I had very little say in the matter.

If it was up to me, I would never have come here. Initially I had planned to apply to Kharkiv National University, but now there’s barely anything left of it.

My mom always said, “I wish for you to study in Kazan.” It’s a nice enough city, so we decided to simply find the university with the highest ratings and enroll there. This turned out to be Kazan Federal University.

My mom and I traveled from Donetsk to Kazan on September 2. First we took the bus from Donetsk to Rostov-on-Don, then changed to a train, and 35 hours later, we were there. We stayed at a hostel while taking care of the paperwork, then I moved to a university dorm and my mom returned to Donetsk.

Of course, there were no exams at my school. They were canceled. How can you take tests when there’s a war going on? Children hiding in a basement shouldn’t be asked to solve math problems with shells flying above their heads.

I was admitted to my university as part of a quota set by Russia’s Ministry of Education and Science. It took a very long time. I sent in all the paperwork in the middle of July when the admissions campaign began. I followed up with a few inquiry letters. Each one got the same reply, “Your documents are being processed.” By the end of August, they still hadn’t contacted me, so I reached out myself and found out that I got in.

Recently, the university held a meeting regarding financial aid for students. While I am eligible for various aid programs, there are no special payments for Ukrainian students.

I get on well with my fellow students. They know that I am from Donetsk, but they don’t really care. No one asked me any questions. The staff aren’t interested in my background either. The only support that I was offered was a free session with a psychologist.

I’ve met different people here. Upon hearing that I was from Donetsk, some showed compassion and care, asking me how I was doing and whether I liked Kazan.

Others told me in no uncertain terms that I was not welcome. Among other things, they sang the Russian anthem to me and shouted, “Putin is a great man!” I never knew who I’d run into.

Donetsk is near the front lines. The city had no stable water supply for half of a year. In my neighborhood, we had running water just 2-3 times a week for a few hours. In other districts, people didn’t even have that. There were many moments like that. My friends and relatives are happy that I managed to escape.

It is hard to live with the understanding that people in my Homeland are dying right now while I’m sitting here in relative safety and comfort. It feels like I don’t have the right to complain about anything. It’s weird that basic necessities like food, water, and shelter now feel like a luxury to some people.

I’m definitely not going to stay in Russia. Moving is just a matter of time. I think that everything will be decided in the near future. I have a backup plan, so I can afford to wait.

‘The government hasn’t helped me in any way thus far.’ The story of Pavel from Mariupol

After the war started on February 24, I’ve lost everything. I can only hope that the future will bring some relief from this devastation. I had a peaceful life before the war: my family was well-off, we owned two apartments. I studied for the ZNO (Ukraine’s primary exam for school graduates who wish to pursue higher education — Ed.) and spent time with my girlfriend.

A week before the war started, I considered leaving Ukraine, as the situation had been very tense. Unfortunately, my parents couldn’t escape the country, so they had to stay in Mangush, a village near Mariupol, because the city itself was destroyed.

I relocated to Russia because I didn’t want to move to a country with a language I couldn’t speak. I chose Rostov-on-Don because it is located near Mariupol, and I picked the university based on reviews I found online.

I moved without any belongings, having left everything under the rubble. After being stuck at the border for 12 hours, I was in Russia. The refugee shelters in Rostov were already packed, so I moved into my future university’s dorm straight away.

I was admitted to the Environmental Design program at Don State Technical University (DSTU). I got in as part of a quota, which means I didn’t have to take the entrance exam. Coincidentally, the local occupation government conducted a Russian language and a math exam at a destroyed [Ukrainian] school. I took those tests, but the results didn’t have any impact on my admission.

I’m trying to apply for financial aid at DSTU, but each office I go to just refers me to a different government department.

University has provided me with free tuition, but I still have to pay for the dorm like the rest of the students. Moreover, my Ukrainian passport has expired: you have to change it when you turn 18 years old, but I couldn’t do that because of all the military actions in Mariupol. I’m trying to apply for asylum, but my expired passport prevents me from doing so.

DSTU even threatened a friend of mine, who is also from Mariupol, with expulsion because she “has no ID.” Despite the procedure to apply for Russian citizenship being simplified for Ukrainians, migration services are of no help. I go there everyday, but still no luck. And they always reprimand me, “Why didn’t you get a new passport while you were home?”

Essentially, the government hasn’t helped me in any way thus far, and I don’t anticipate that this will change in the future. Going through all of this is incredibly stressful, but I can rely on my friends and relatives for support. My fellow students are sympathetic, with some even offering to help me acquire art supplies. I haven’t faced any discrimination. At most, I’ve encountered harmless jokes or genuine interest in the Ukrainian language.

Right now, I’m living off the money that my stepfather earned by working at a construction site for several months. As of this moment, I only have 10,000 rubles left. Once everything settles down, I plan to find a job or work as a freelance artist, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my studies.

‘My dream is to graduate successfully and work for the [Russian] Ministry of Internal Affairs.’ The story of Konstantin from Mariupol

Since the end of February 2022, I’ve been feeling shattered. After urgently leaving Mariupol for Russia in April, I’m feeling a bit better. I can’t really explain it, but Russia simply resonates with me. I chose to come to Novosibirsk based on recommendations from my friends. Here, I met some graduates of Novosibirsk State University of Economics and Management who advised me to pursue higher education here.

Getting to Astrakhan from Mariupol was quite a challenge, but there I managed to board a train to Novosibirsk. Now I live in a nice temporary accommodation centre, and its director helped me enroll in a university. I also was assisted by volunteers and the Red Cross on several occasions.

I’m struggling to get through this, but there are people in my life who I can rely on for support and all my relatives are there for me. But none of my friends survived.

Back home, I was a first-year student at Kharkiv National University of Internal Affairs. Now, I am transferring to Novosibirsk State University of Economics and Management’s Faculty of Law. I’m not acquainted with my fellow students and professors, and I don’t know if there’s a stipend. I haven’t really been admitted yet, because there’s an issue with my citizenship, but, as far as I know, if I get into university as part of the quota, my citizenship shouldn’t be an issue. Most likely, I will get to keep the credits for the subjects that I took in Kharkiv, so I’ll just need to complete the courses that I haven’t covered there.

I have a Ukrainian passport, and I considered moving to other countries, but decided to stay in Russia. I want to rebuild my life here, the way it was before the war. My dream is to graduate successfully and work for the Ministry of Internal Affairs, if such an opportunity presents itself.

‘My sense of humor helps me cope.’ The story of Fyodor from Stakhanov

I came to Russia from Stakhanov (the town was renamed Kadiivka in 2016, but locals continue to use the old name — Ed.), having crossed the border on July 11. My mother did not allow me to get a Ukrainian passport when I was 14. Therefore I have the Luhansk People’s Republic passport, which prevents me from traveling anywhere but Russia, so the choice was obvious.

I could have gone to university in Moscow or Belgorod, since I would have been accepted anywhere due to the quotas, but I chose Kazan because I am half Tatar and I have relatives all over Tatarstan. I can count on them to help and support me during these difficult times.

The relocation process was quite peculiar. My mother bought a gigantic bag where I managed to fit my entire life. It was sad to realize that I had so few belongings, but at least it was convenient. I am a minor, so my mother took a leave from work and ordered us a minibus. These days, most public transport in Stakhanov doesn’t work because of the constant threat of bombings. We drove to Izvarino, crossed the border, switched to another minibus, and made our way to Moscow. There, we were met by one of our relatives who helped us board a flight to Kazan. When we got there, we moved on to Buinsk, to stay at my grandmother’s place. The entire journey took about 40 hours.

In order to enroll in the Institute of International Relations at Kazan Federal University, I had to take the history and Russian language exams remotely. The year prior, all exams were cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and grades were assigned based on the students’ academic records. This year, the same thing happened because the war made conducting exams impossible.

I was admitted to as part of the quota set by the Ministry of Education and Science. I started the application process way back in September 2022. As a citizen of the [self-proclaimed] Luhansk People’s Republic, I received a one-time payment of 10,000 rubles from the government. I also receive a standard 2,300 ruble monthly stipend from Kazan Federal University.

I get on well with my fellow students and professors. They know some things about me, but they don’t ask too many questions. Besides, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that I’m Ukrainian, since my accent is a dead giveaway. Regardless, there are plenty of other international students in my group, so I don’t receive any special treatment.

I currently live in a dormitory that is decent. Fortunately, I’ve never had to face homelessness or poor living conditions.

Later, I plan on renting an apartment together with some other students. My relatives are supporting me financially while friends offer moral support. Consequently, I’m doing very well.

This isn’t the first or the second time I’ve had to move cities, so having to quickly adapt to a new environment is nothing new to me. My skin is pretty thick when it comes to such things, so I don’t worry too much. On the bright side, I can make people laugh in new ways. When I hear loud noises, I joke, “It’s a bomb! Get down!” The joke is awfully insensitive, but my sense of humor helps me cope with everything that has happened.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine has been going on for more than a year now. According to the UN, more than 2.8 million displaced Ukrainians were forced to enter Russia during that time.
Several thousand applicants from Ukraine as well as the self-proclaimed Luhansk and Donetsk People’s Republics have applied to study at Russian universities, as confirmed by Valery Falkov, the Russian Minister of Science and Higher Education. However, he did nor disclose the exact figure.
According to a resolution adopted by the government in March, Ukrainian students have the right to apply to any university they want. Minister Falkov further stated that the quota for Ukrainian students has been increased by 5,000 since last year, going from 18,000 up to 23,000 open positions.