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05.08.2025

“If They Had Seen It, They Could Have Shot Us”: How 11-Year-Old Kira Escaped from Occupied Kherson

Kira woke up in the morning to loud explosions. It was February 24, 2022. She was only eight. Even then, her mother, Hanna, realized that the family was in danger, because she taught Ukrainian history, and such a profession could arouse suspicion among the occupiers.

Together with her family, Kira hid in her grandmother’s room. It had the fewest windows, so it seemed at least a little safer there. Now Kira is eleven, and she has lived in Lviv for over three years. Her story is one of a journey from fear during the occupation of Kherson to a new life, creativity, and helping others. 

I woke up and heard explosions. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening, but my mom was alarmed, and the explosions kept repeating. My brother, mom, grandmother, our dog, and I gathered in grandma’s room. I crawled under the table with the dog, we set up a lamp, and just sat there. I remember a missile flying over our house—we heard the whistle, and we were so scared because it could have hit the house directly,
the girl recalls.
In occupied Kherson, getting groceries meant standing in hours-long lines. On one walk to the store, they saw a Russian military vehicle. Her mother even thought about resisting, but restrained herself. She understood well: any careless move could have serious consequences—her own arrest or the forced deportation of her daughter to Russia. 
Mom kept a knife in her room by the bed, like a small hatchet [for self-defence]. Just in case. Because there was no police in the city, nobody at all, and we were scared looters might come,
Kira says.
On April 17, 2022, the family finally managed to leave. At checkpoints, their little dachshund barked at Russian soldiers wearing balaclavas, while Kira’s mother—a Ukrainian history teacher—hid her laptop with lesson materials under her feet in the car. They even had to change the language settings on their devices from Ukrainian to Russian. 
At the exit from Kherson, the ruscists [Russian occupiers] were stopping a lot of cars and searching things, but they didn’t check us. Maybe because my brother’s friend and I were sitting in the car, and we looked like an ordinary family. Mom took her laptop with her—she’s a history teacher, and it had a lot about Ukraine on it. If they had seen it, they could have shot us. It was really scary. We were also afraid they might do something to our dog, or even take him out of the car,
the girl recalls.
In the first months in Lviv, Kira lived with a sense of constant fear. Even strangers on the street frightened her, not to mention the sounds of military vehicles. After life in occupied Kherson, the habit of carefully scanning people’s faces remained—because there, you could never be sure who was in front of you: an ordinary person or someone to avoid at all costs. 
I could be walking with Mom, and the moment something rumbled, I’d grab her hand. She would say, ‘Kira, these are ours, don’t be afraid,’ but the fear stayed. In the occupation, any vehicle was a threat,
Kira shares.
Her mother found a support group for people from Kherson, through which she learned about a creative club nearby. Kira chose theater and singing classes. For three winters in a row, she performed in a vertep (a Ukrainian traditional Christmas play), visited different venues, and collected donations—first for drones for the Armed Forces of Ukraine, later for equipment for the club. 

One of the most meaningful experiences for Kira was performing at a military hospital. At first, she was scared—it was difficult to see wounded soldiers. But she wasn’t alone: Her mother and theater club teacher supported her, and gradually, she overcame her fear. Over several months, she visited the hospital about ten times, singing Christmas carols, reading Shevchenko’s poetry, and performing hayivky—spring folk songs, usually sung at Easter. 
We even performed at the military hospital. At first, I was really scared to go there. But my mom, my theater club teacher, and some familiar kids were with me, so I calmed down a bit. Some soldiers were gravely injured, lying in beds without legs or arms. They felt sad, because it’s not easy—lying in a hospital and seeing pain every day. We came to give them at least a little joy, to cheer them up,
Kira says.
After that, she started learning to play the guitar and fell in love with it from the very first lesson. She continues studying to this day, and her teacher is already preparing her for her first performance at a local club. Together with a boy from the club, she is rehearsing a duet—they will perform a Ukrainian song, “What a Moonlit Night”

Kira often visits the Voices of Children center in Lviv. Here, she has joined many activities—board games, creative workshops, and has also been part of a psychological support group. Two psychologists worked with the group, which usually included ten to fifteen participants. Teens discussed difficult topics, learned to understand themselves better, and ended each meeting by drawing on a set topic. These sessions helped her communicate more easily with people. 
I also attended the psychological support group. I never wanted to skip a meeting—it was always so interesting here. This is a great space, with kind people who will always help if something happens, or even if you just need someone to talk to,
Kira says.
From fears under occupation to the music stage—this is the path Kira has taken thanks to the support of her loved ones and the psychologists of the Foundation. When asked if the center is worth visiting, she answers without hesitation:
It really helps. For example, there are psychologists here you can talk to. These sessions helped me communicate better. I started talking more, and meeting new people became easier,
Kira sums up.
“If They Had Seen It, They Could Have Shot Us”: How 11-Year-Old Kira Escaped from Occupied Kherson — Image  1
“If They Had Seen It, They Could Have Shot Us”: How 11-Year-Old Kira Escaped from Occupied Kherson — Image  2
At our regional centers, teens can find a community of like-minded peers, receive psychological support, and take part in creative activities and games. If needed, anyone can also contact our free psychological support helpline for children and parents: 0 800 210 106.

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