For many living in times of war, it can be difficult to explain the fear that accompanies day-to-day life – enemy drones and missiles could rain down at any time whether day or night. From the outside there appears to be flashes of normal life, trips to the store, buying groceries or taking a coffee. But how could we who are not there really understand – the psychological distance is perhaps too large. A recent meeting between the publishing house Helion and one of its new authors Kostia, illustrates the point. My role was as an interlocutor.
‘The Russians are willing to endure much hardship. They can live with almost nothing,’ Kostia said.
Kostia and I were alone on the call now, as technical issues had disconnected the others.
‘What about Ukrainians? My thought is that you are also willing to endure a great deal’, I said, as I watched my phone light up. It was Duncan who sent a message saying that he was trying to get back online.
‘Yes we are’, Kostia said.
An accomplished man in business and politics, he exudes confidence but in a laid-back way– like a CEO surfer he is direct but cool. His T-shirt has the brand name ‘Management in Times of War’; he holds back his smile as his dark eyes scan the virtual room. We waited for Duncan the owner of Helion to rejoin the call; we had a moment of silence.
It is not awkward at all. In fact, the opposite. His deep, raspy voice breaks the quiet, his accent wraps up his English with intrigue.
‘What is next for you Tony’, Kostia asks. Almost an impossible question, he opens up an unending possibility of answers.
I hesitate for a moment.
‘For now, I have to complete my current project which has been 18 months in the making. It is separate from my work in research and writing’ I said.
‘Tell me about this project’.
‘It is a digital project where we will make a social security benefit accessible to many more people’, I said.
‘Tell me more’.
I continued, ‘Well it involves…’
‘Hi Folks, sorry I got cut off there’, Duncan came in. ‘Where did we leave the discussion’.
Roman joined the call a moment later. ‘Hello’, he said, with a small wave.
‘We will be happy to collaborate with Helion for the UK and international edition of ‘Management in Times of War’, Kostia said. ‘Roman will deal with the detail’.
Roman nodded ever so slightly.
‘Good we are in agreement in principle’, Duncan said. ‘I will tie up some of the details offline with Roman.’
‘Let me show you two important things’, Kostia said, and a few seconds later he was sharing his screen.
While trying to make sense of some of the technical detail, the screen in front of us changed, in an instant. It was a new window; an air raid warning came up.
‘Are you okay?’, Duncan asked.
I felt a surge of adrenaline. I could only imagine what Kostia and Roman must have been thinking.
Somehow Kostia looked relaxed and said, ‘no don’t worry’. His accent gave a firmness to the sentence.
He went on, ‘My wife and children are in a bunker and that is most important. I have work to complete.’ His strength was contrasted with something softer – something I couldn’t place.
Roman, Kostia’s friend and owner of the Ukrainian publisher of ‘Management in Times of War’, was taking the meeting from his car. His dark features were framed by stubble, the start of a beard that was long enough to be stylish –calm and controlled. The corner of his mouth pulled up ever so slightly and he chimed in, ‘We cannot go to the bunker. We have a lot of work, and so it is that we must be brave to finish our work’.
Duncan and I couldn’t help but laugh at the stoic comedy.
Duncan added, ‘As soon as we finalize the paperwork we will be ready with the UK and international editions’.
A moment later my oldest son appeared at my study’s door. It was playtime for him and me.
I said goodbye, and so did Duncan. We left behind two colleagues and friends who continued a very different life to ours in Ukraine; but somehow they were managing in times war.
