From food and clothing to medicines and even jobs -- a charity centre in Kiev tries to offer a warm welcome to thousands fleeing the conflict in Ukraine's east as temperatures drop below freezing.
The courtyard of a decrepit former textile factory in the historic quarter of Kiev is buzzing with people.
"Mothers of young children, your attention please: we have baby carriers here," shouts one volunteer, as several dozen people gather around containers stocked with bedding, cooking utensils and canned goods.
Others look hopefully at lines of coats and winter shoes inside the building.
They have become vital as snow starts to fall. Temperatures can drop to 20 below freezing in the Kiev winter.
Still, one small boy is more interested in the soft toys and children's books he can see in the back of a truck.
The families here have all fled places such as Lugansk and Donetsk in eastern Ukraine, where fighting between government and rebel forces has claimed more than 4,300 lives since April and displaced 930,000 more.
"They have helped us a lot here. We left Lugansk with just a small bag. If that wasn't bad enough, they shelled our train," said Olga, 53, who has managed to procure some note books and other school items for her eight-year-old granddaughter.
Most are unwilling to talk.
"I'm embarrassed to be seen in this state," said Galina, a pensioner from Donetsk.
- 'Like a drug' -
Lessia Koval, one of the coordinators, is a television director who launched the centre with a group of friends three months ago, despite having a six-month-old daughter to care for.
"I ask myself sometimes how all this stays standing," she says. "The residents of Kiev help enormously. People from all over the country -- and even abroad -- send us things."
The centre also brings in doctors and psychologists, with a military truck and old minibus serving as makeshift examination rooms.
The bus is also a place where new arrivals are registered and volunteers try to find jobs for them.
To keep things under control and help the maximum number of people, the organisers have been forced to impose strict rules.
Food and household items are only given to those who have arrived in the past 45 days. The number of visits they make to the centre -- and how long they stay -- are also kept to a minimum.
But everyone can get a hot lunch provided by Malteser International, a Maltese charity, in a large military tent on the site.
A total of around 8,000 families have already passed through the site, says organiser Oksana Lazebnik, who accuses the government of "doing nothing" to help those displaced by the conflict.
Around 30 volunteers -- some of them displaced from the east themselves -- are currently working at the centre, sometimes late into the night.
"It's like a drug. We have a good team and we can no longer stop," laughs Olga Vorobiova, a Russian professor from Kiev.
The centre's next goal is to organise a New Year's party for up to 3,000 displaced children.
That thought keeps the volunteers warm as they try not to think about the plunging temperatures.
"I'm very scared of winter," says Koval. "We're not in a position to keep everyone warm."
From food and clothing to medicines and even jobs — a charity centre in Kiev tries to offer a warm welcome to thousands fleeing the conflict in Ukraine’s east as temperatures drop below freezing.
The courtyard of a decrepit former textile factory in the historic quarter of Kiev is buzzing with people.
“Mothers of young children, your attention please: we have baby carriers here,” shouts one volunteer, as several dozen people gather around containers stocked with bedding, cooking utensils and canned goods.
Others look hopefully at lines of coats and winter shoes inside the building.
They have become vital as snow starts to fall. Temperatures can drop to 20 below freezing in the Kiev winter.
Still, one small boy is more interested in the soft toys and children’s books he can see in the back of a truck.
The families here have all fled places such as Lugansk and Donetsk in eastern Ukraine, where fighting between government and rebel forces has claimed more than 4,300 lives since April and displaced 930,000 more.
“They have helped us a lot here. We left Lugansk with just a small bag. If that wasn’t bad enough, they shelled our train,” said Olga, 53, who has managed to procure some note books and other school items for her eight-year-old granddaughter.
Most are unwilling to talk.
“I’m embarrassed to be seen in this state,” said Galina, a pensioner from Donetsk.
– ‘Like a drug’ –
Lessia Koval, one of the coordinators, is a television director who launched the centre with a group of friends three months ago, despite having a six-month-old daughter to care for.
“I ask myself sometimes how all this stays standing,” she says. “The residents of Kiev help enormously. People from all over the country — and even abroad — send us things.”
The centre also brings in doctors and psychologists, with a military truck and old minibus serving as makeshift examination rooms.
The bus is also a place where new arrivals are registered and volunteers try to find jobs for them.
To keep things under control and help the maximum number of people, the organisers have been forced to impose strict rules.
Food and household items are only given to those who have arrived in the past 45 days. The number of visits they make to the centre — and how long they stay — are also kept to a minimum.
But everyone can get a hot lunch provided by Malteser International, a Maltese charity, in a large military tent on the site.
A total of around 8,000 families have already passed through the site, says organiser Oksana Lazebnik, who accuses the government of “doing nothing” to help those displaced by the conflict.
Around 30 volunteers — some of them displaced from the east themselves — are currently working at the centre, sometimes late into the night.
“It’s like a drug. We have a good team and we can no longer stop,” laughs Olga Vorobiova, a Russian professor from Kiev.
The centre’s next goal is to organise a New Year’s party for up to 3,000 displaced children.
That thought keeps the volunteers warm as they try not to think about the plunging temperatures.
“I’m very scared of winter,” says Koval. “We’re not in a position to keep everyone warm.”
