Visiting Ukraine Shattered Me—Air Raid Sirens Were Everywhere

It was 3 o'clock in the morning and I was on a train heading to a war zone. I asked myself why I was going to Kyiv to perform in the first-ever "Ukraine Fringe" Festival at the Les Kurbas Center not far from Maidan Square.

My answer was because I had to.

In the last 18 months, I had heard so much both in Berlin and Washington about the war in Ukraine and the suffering that the people had undergone. It took on a surreal aspect. I wanted to do something because I had to do something. But, what could I do? With all the media reports and inundations, it was easy to feel helpless.

As a "witness to our times" to quote Xenophon, I decided to contact the Ukrainian Embassy to host a fundraiser in Washington, but that fell through when they didn't answer the phone.

Finally, I saw that one courageous theaterman, Alex B., was launching his Festival in Kyiv. This became a way for me to help. Americans and other volunteers were helping the Ukrainian people fight this ferocious Russian aggression and I wanted to be there.

At the time, I was in a play called "Report to An Academy" that had started touring the U.S. and Europe. It is the companion piece to Franz Kafka's far better-known "Metamorphosis." It is about man's inhumanity, viciousness, and hatred of freedom.

The play was directed by my now late wife and artistic partner, German director Gabriele Jakobi, and I knew she would want me to do this. The play features an ape who is forced to choose between his freedom or the zoo, representing a slow, lingering death, much like what President Putin is offering the Ukrainian people. "Marry me, or I'll kill you."

Sound familiar?

That quote comes directly from the pages of a book called "Mein Kampf" which is ironically banned in Russia to this day.

This play might resonate.

At 3:00 a.m. after riding three trains over the course of 23 hours, I emerged at Kyiv train station to be met by my hosts Veronika and Polina. On my way into the train, I heard my first of many air raid sirens. Later, they told me that a Russian missile hit a Kyiv suburb the day before that killed two residents.

I thought about how far away I was from the insular world of American theater safe in Washington, where concerns were not like these. The petty squabbles over money and the types of plays that are now considered unacceptable to produce are symptoms of a new illness that has afflicted the American theater. A proud institution that used to carry weight worldwide.

Before I'd left Washington, I had to take out an international travel policy for two million dollars. I could have laughed at the thought.

First of all, my new colleagues and friends in Kyiv were lovely people. We saw makeshift exhibitions on the road leading to Maidan Square, with flags and flowers placed for every fallen Ukrainian soldier. This was heartbreaking.

It was nothing less than mind-blowing to be here.

That night, I met other artists from around the world representing France, Hong Kong, the U.K., and Switzerland who were there to support Ukrainian artists.

I had a day off before my next performance so I walked around the beautiful city and visited Saint Sophia. Outside was a permanent memorial with photos on banners of fallen Ukrainian soldiers. Their faces had names. It was a shattering experience. Men and women with some smiling, others with their call names or nom de guerre. All of them died fighting to keep their country free and safe from the ogre in Moscow.

That night at the opera named "Carmen," I met Aleksandr, a soldier from Luhansk, and his wife Olga. These are the people of the Ukraine. This is their homeland.

When I had my last day in Kyiv at the Hotel Ukraine, where I went for lunch, I met a lieutenant from Zaporizhzhia. We chatted, he smiled, and we shook hands when I told him that I was from Washington and said "You have a lot of friends there." Then, I heard another air raid siren in an underground shopping arcade in Maidan Square where the Orange Revolution began. I kept reminding myself I was in a war zone.

It is a shock to realize that Kyiv in 2023 could be like 1940 London, 1939 Warsaw, 1945 Dresden, or 1995 Sarajevo.

I left on Sept 6th after my last performance. As I was leaving, my new friends couldn't. I felt guilty and wanted to stay, but I couldn't.

They asked me to come back next year and I agreed to bring Scena Theatre's production called "War of the Worlds" there which is the only play I could think of that would speak to anyone who walked off the street to see it.

We must stand firmly in support of the Ukrainian theater community recognizing its invaluable role in preserving cultural heritage, fostering creativity, and promoting meaningful dialogue.

Robert McNamara is the founder and artistic director for Scena Theatre, a Washington, D.C.-based international theatre.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.

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