Prelude
Wednesday evening. After work, I call into Leonard’s Garage in Gurteeny to collect An Cailín Deas – my convoy 4×4. A 2-litre diesel VW Amarok. My first task is to bring my (honorary)
nephew to football training. He has the proud place of being my first passenger.
Then it’s off to Kilchreest for a physiotherapy session.
The week before departure, I decide it is high time to get my leg sorted. It has been troubling me for the past month, with my right calf in particular giving persistent bother. The first physio session brings some relief, but it is still not right. Jeanette kindly fits in a second session to see me through. Support for humanitarian aid comes in many forms; sometimes it is accommodating a late evening booking for someone working full-time and preparing for a
week-long volunteer driving trip. Her parting words of good luck are accompanied by a warning that I will be very tired and should get an early night. Jeanette’s advice does not go unheeded.
Thursday
I wake from a heavy sleep, still in a stupor. Jeanette had not been joking about how tired I would be. Between dream and waking, I have a distinct sense that I have somewhere to go. Cinderella drifts through my mind – some subconscious link from the past two days that I cannot quite place. I do not have to go to Limerick, as I am working from home today. Then it comes to me – I am going to Ukraine. Not only that, but tomorrow I will be driving from my
home in East Galway to near Lviv.
Today is work: emails, project catch-up. Around midday, with no post arriving, I call Shannon to enquire about the jeep’s logbook. On my second call, the Motor Tax Office confirm it has
been processed and I can collect it tomorrow. This adds an unwelcome two hours’ driving to my Friday plans, but it cannot be helped.
Everything about this journey comes down to timing. The request for assistance arrived in mid-August. The jeep only arrived last Saturday. I collected it yesterday. I leave tomorrow. I
decide not to tell Tom Walston, our convoy leader in Cambridge, about my last-minute paperwork dash. He is fully aware of the schedule, and anyway I have three days to reach
the convoy start line on Monday morning.
My motivation to complete this project could not be higher. The jeep is destined for southern Ukraine, in the Kherson oblast, near the front lines. It is bound for a fire brigade whose trucks have been put out of action – by drone attacks. They need a plain civilian emergency evacuation vehicle, and this jeep is it. They know their neighbours and friends are acutely vulnerable. A house is bombed, the emergency services rush to extinguish the fire, and then
they are bombed again – the objective is maximum casualties, civilian targets. This jeep is for saving lives in rural communities like ours. For them, and for me, this is no small thing.
As I sit in my childhood home, it is difficult to imagine it reduced to a shell, or to rubble. All its stories and history gone in an instant. How protected I feel within these great thick walls my
ancestors built. How much they have withstood in its lifetime. How it stands now in a world that has changed so drastically in the past three years. World events move beyond our control. How do I deal with that? By focusing on the practical things; by choosing to act.
This will be my fifth convoy. My eighth visit to Ukraine. Not my first rodeo. Nor my first journey with the others I will meet in Dover and in Antwerp. People like you and me who also choose to act, so that good will prevail. If we want peace in our time, is there ever really any other choice?
Convoy4Ukraine
Local magazine The Stansted & District Flyer this month ran an article about our March 2025 convoy, in which “Uttlesford based Karen” took part. You can read the article online at their website.
