A Belarusian woman fled to Poland in 2021, survived cancer and divorce in emigration. Now, alone with two small children, she is asking for help.
"My husband turned out to be a good worker, but no father."
Aliaksandra with her daughters Yaroslava and Uladzislava. Photo from the heroine's Facebook.
Aliaksandra left Belarus pregnant with one child in her arms and one suitcase. In Poland, she started life from scratch, gave birth to her second daughter, survived oncology, divorce, and a protracted struggle for alimony from her ex-husband.
Today, Aliaksandra Kruk lives in Gdańsk with her two young daughters. She works, tries to get back on her feet, and simultaneously battles depression.
Now Aliaksandra needs help to cover the costs of a forced relocation, new housing, and to give herself time to recover. Here is her story.
In Belarus, I built roads
"My name is Aliaksandra. I come from Biaroza, in the Brest region, but in recent years before leaving, I lived in Minsk.
By profession, I am a civil engineer; I studied at the Belarusian National Technical University. I worked in the road construction sector — I was a technologist at a concrete plant. We built roads, including the second ring road around Minsk and the airport runway.
The Second-to-Last Plane
We participated in the protests in 2020, like everyone else. When the repression and arrests began, we decided to leave and started preparing for it. I sold my apartment in Biaroza, and a car I had bought before marriage, so we would have a financial safety net in a new place.
I became pregnant with our second child, and doubts began. Maybe wait, give birth in Belarus? My husband had already left for Poland, and I still had certain things to resolve. But in May 2021, I realized: waiting was no longer an option. When my classmate's door was broken down at night, and he was taken to a detention center for appearing in a protest video, it became clear – they would come for us too, it was only a matter of time.
I packed up literally in one day – that was when the Ryanair plane with Protasevich was forced to land. We flew to Warsaw on the second-to-last flight. The next day, the skies over Belarus closed.
I was leaving in my fifth month of pregnancy, holding my one-and-a-half-year-old daughter's hand. So, with one small suitcase and a big belly, I found myself in Poland.
A Blow I Didn't Expect
The first two years in Gdańsk seemed like the start of a new life. We received international protection, I gave birth to my second daughter, took care of the children and household, and my husband worked as a welder. We lived like everyone else, without grand plans, just trying to get on our feet.
But then I fell ill. I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. I couldn't afford to just lie in the hospital; I was an outpatient. My schedule looked like this: drop the children off at kindergarten, rush to IVs and chemotherapy, and then – back to kindergarten, be a mom, cook, play. No matter how bad I felt. Today, that stage is behind me; I am in remission, but this victory came at a high price.
I advise everyone to get the HPV vaccine — human papillomavirus. In Poland, this is already common practice, and I would really like mothers to also consider it for their daughters. This vaccine exists, it really works, and it's a real chance to prevent this type of cancer.
Loneliness for Three
Emigration and illness became a test for our family, which we failed. During the illness, financial problems began, and then — divorce.
This is a long and very difficult process. The last year we lived together with my husband was, frankly, hell. He has his own vision of the situation. The fact that I was ill supposedly doesn't matter to him, as if it never happened. He also doesn't take into account that we arrived with very small children. It often happens like this: first, a man says, "stay home, don't work," and when a difficult moment comes, suddenly another question is asked: "Why aren't you working?".
When my husband left, I felt relief. But along with that came another realization: I was left completely alone, without money and without work.
Now I live in Gdańsk with two little ones — they are 6 and 4 years old. I have no relatives or close friends here. I have acquaintances, but that's not the kind of help you can rely on daily.
I did everything to survive and to ensure it affected the children as little as possible. For a while, it worked, but at the cost of my health. The result — depression, antidepressants, and a state where it's simply difficult to function.
My husband turned out to be a good worker, but no father. In the last year, he saw his daughters only four times, even though he lives a ten-minute drive away. I hardly see any money for the children. But I want him to fulfill his obligations towards the children.
I filed a lawsuit for alimony, but I was warned that it wouldn't happen anytime soon. In the Polish system, it's possible to receive payments before the trial, a so-called "security" payment. I was told it would take a month. I filed the application last June. The decision was made only at the end of October. Then the letter from the court was simply not delivered to me — the postman returned it. I waited, called, went to various authorities, and consequently received this document only three months later, at the end of January.
Immediately, I contacted a bailiff to collect money from my ex-husband. But, unfortunately, so far I have received only one payment — 595 zlotys (about 470 rubles — NN). This is a drop in the ocean when you have rent, kindergarten, and two children to clothe and feed.
I handled everything myself: I looked for information, studied the Polish judicial system. Attorney services here are very expensive; I cannot afford them.
Breaking Point
I am an engineer by education, but in Poland, I haven't worked in my specialty: I arrived pregnant with a small child, then got sick, then divorced. As a result, I mastered a new profession — SMM. Thanks to acquaintances, I learned to edit videos and build strategies, working with marketing. This helped me survive because I can work from home. But this is not yet enough to fully provide for myself and my children.
Now I am trying to nostrify my engineering diploma to return to the profession. I am looking for work, but everything comes down to the schedule and the fact that there's no one to leave the children with. And also — my psychological state. This year, I simply burned out. My body failed. Chemotherapy and constant stress resulted in a severe anxious-depressive state. They tell me: "You need to go to the hospital," and I answer: "I can't, I have no one to leave the children with."
I have no relatives in Poland. I have a sister; she lives in England. She has her own family, her own children, she can't come, but all this time she has supported me financially. Essentially, she is supporting several families at once: hers and me with my children. And if it weren't for her, it would be much harder for us; we could have been left with nothing.
A Step into the Unknown
Now I face a new challenge. The landlady of the apartment where we've lived for five years is asking us to move out — she has her own plans. I urgently need to find new housing, and in Poland, that means huge money: a deposit (security), payment for the first month. Plus, I need to cover debts for the current apartment. Just the move will cost 8000 zlotys (6300 rubles — NN), which I simply don't have.
I don't like asking for help. It's a very difficult decision to talk about such personal things. But I have children. And if I can't do something myself, I must overcome my reluctance.
I don't want anything extra. I just want to reset: move the children to a new place, heal my nerves, and go to work. I need a little time and resources to recover and once again become the mother who can live normally and provide for her children. My daughters, Yaroslava and Uladzislava, are my only motivation not to give up.
I am already very grateful to Belarusians. Over the past year, I haven't been abandoned in a difficult situation. People supported me, even offered to take the children for a while so I could get treatment. This is incredibly touching.
I believe I can manage. Thank you to every Belarusian who didn't pass by. Your support is what keeps me from falling.
How to Help
If you have the opportunity to support, even a small amount makes a difference.
Blik: +48 791 547 275
Aliaksandra Kruk
Revolut: LT60 3250 0370 8648 5162
Aliaksandra Kruk
PayPal: [email protected]
Comments