It was around 2 a.m. I was playing baker, sifting flour for doughnuts. Middle of the night, Fat Thursday. CNN was showing the UN Security Council. Everyone thought “this won’t happen”, but it did. The meeting was interrupted by the information about bombs falling on Kyiv. The apocalypse began. The apocalypse is no time for doughnuts.
In the morning at the Good Factory, there were no doughnuts. Instead, we planned our first trip to Ukraine. We spent the next weeks in the border zone, on the Ukrainian side. Every night we brought tea, coffee, warm clothes, provisions, and fuel to the freezing and frightened people. Every morning, we brought back to Poland a sense of gloom. We witnessed fathers saying goodbye to their families, the helplessness of mothers, the crying of children… such moments etch memories as deep as in stone. Ones that last for years, forever.
In Poland, two years of war have managed to first spark and then douse our spirits, to lull us and to draw out all our emotions again. Even those we should be ashamed of. During this time, Ukraine has been fighting patiently. Enduring increasingly stronger attacks. The sense of injustice does not allow them to retreat.
Today I am in Mauritania and I am remembering that horrible Thursday. The consequences of the explosions in Ukraine are felt even here. The world has become poorer. Lost some gene of wisdom. Burkina Faso has welcomed the Wagner Group, Russian flags now hang at every crossroad of the capital. Across Africa, food prices soared two years ago and to this day are a torment for the poorest. One is lucky to be able to feed their child today, but will there be enough food tomorrow? Not everyone in Mauritania knows where Ukraine is, but everyone feels that the world has lost its way. Mauritanians know well that such mistakes cannot be made. One cannot say that all is well when one is lost. In the desert, such a mistake can cost your life.
Mateusz Gasiński