“I am your home”: how community wins over isolation in displacement

It is early spring in Soroca. The cherry trees are already in bloom, and their flowers stand out against streets that are only beginning to wake after winter. Soroca lies in the north of Moldova, stretched along the Nistru River. From certain points in the city, you can look across the water and into Ukraine. In a calm area at the edge of the town the door of a small library opens and a woman step outside and waves us in.

Raisa is a 49-year-old woman with a warm laugh, a pair of blue-green eyes that meet yours with full attention and a calm presence. She is from Mykolaiv in southern Ukraine, where she was a logistics and track-maintenance specialist at the Ukrainian railway, commuting 120 kilometres a day between her home in Bashtanka and her job in Mykolaiv. Today she is not only the person everyone calls when they need help, but also the founder of the NGO Union of Ukrainian Women, one of the initiators of the UNHCR supported Refugee Council in Soroca, and a integration mediator at the woman Refugee-led organisation Female Support Force.
Like the library we are meeting in, Raisa carry more than what is visible from the outside. Her stories, memories, knowledge and experiences has travelled with her and in many ways her journey challenges common assumptions about displacement. Her story is not only about receiving support but also about creating it, and how displacement continues to shape a person's life long after the initial upheaval has passed.

The flight from Mykolaiv

When the full-scale invasion of Ukraine began in February 2022, her district fell under occupation and for three weeks, her family lived under bombardment. “It’s painful to talk about those weeks which felt like a whole life passing”, Raisa say's. “We were in a hot spot, all these bombings. I can't believe that in the 21st century, in the middle of Europe, such a thing can happen”.

Raisa is the mother of nine. Five of her children are independent and are still living in Ukraine, her four youngest children crossed into Moldova looking for safety with her back in 2022. Upon arrival, they were hosted in the house of family friends that stood empty in Soroca. “Like many who fled, we expected the displacement to be short”, she says.
Instead, Moldova became the place where they had to start all over again.
“We thought it would be a week. Two. A month at most. We were fleeing. The children were under enormous stress. The first month we arrived here in Soroca, we had to get used to the silence again. And to go to bed without being fully dressed in case of an attack”

The small local library that we are meeting her in and where she now volunteers, became a new starting point.

“The library and the people here, were one of the first spaces in Soroca that opened their doors and supported Ukrainian refugees like us. Now it’s a gathering point for Ukrainian refugees, local families, older neighbours, Roma women and children”.

From railway worker to community builder

Most of Raisa’s time before the full-scale invasion was divided between work, long commutes, and family responsibilities. There was little space for public engagement or volunteering. After fleeing Ukraine and settling in Soroca, she found herself with something unfamiliar: time. No commute. No job. No structure. And emptiness.

“I had to emotionally pull myself out,” she says. “And I needed to pull the children out.”

She began reaching out to both Ukrainians and local residents. As with many people who arrive in a new country, Ukrainians often seek out those who share their language and experiences. What started as informal conversations gradually developed into an initiative group of Ukrainians in Soroca.

However, she soon realized that an informal group was not enough to effectively engage with local authorities and institutions. To provide refugees with a stronger and more recognized voice, she established the Union of Ukrainian Women. The organization connects refugee families with local authorities, NGOs, and service providers, helping them access support and become more integrated into the local community.

As an example of her engagement, Raisa mentions her work with raising awareness about gender-based and domestic violence and supporting survivors in her community. Inspired by conversations with her daughter following a community event during the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence campaign, she became increasingly involved in encouraging others to seek support and speak out against abuse. Although she has no formal legal background, she has actively engaged with the police, department of education, the social services and community members to help break down the stigma and silence surrounding domestic violence.

“The greatest barrier is not law, but shame. Disgrace and shame are not about you. Forget these words. They have nothing to do with you. Disgrace and shame are what is done to you. Even worse than shame is to endure. It’s shameful to be silent. And it's very difficult to teach people this, because it happens generation after generation.”

She plays a central role for the community also through her activity with UNHCR’s supported network of Refugee Councils, and in particular with the one in Soroca. The Refugee Councils are consultative bodies working to improve dialogue between refugee communities and local government. “This is not about representation for its own sake, but about inclusion in decisions that directly affect people’s daily lives”. Members of this community know better what their interests are, what they specifically need and how”.

She notes that progress has been possible where persistence and cooperation meet. Over time, her work has also helped building trust between refugee communities and local actors.

Despite having become a well-known figure within the community, Raisa does not view herself as a leader. She sees herself as an active community member who enjoys bringing people together and supporting those around her. Helping others gives her a sense of purpose and energy and motivates her to continue her work.

Community as everyday support

Raisa’s engagement in Soroca did not emerge in a vacuum and her understanding of community long predates displacement. In Ukraine, before the full-scale invasion, her home was already a gathering place. Children from the neighbourhood spent time there. Some came to play, while others came from challenging family situations, where parents were often absent or struggling with personal difficulties. Raisa talks about it not as an effort or responsibility, but as a natural way of living. “With a large family of my own, it was often easier to bring people in than to go elsewhere”. Her whole life was like that, “Some of those children called me their second mother”.

For Raisa, community is necessary, a way of coping with uncertainty and loss, and a way to prevent isolation, which in her view is one of the most damaging consequences of forced displacement.

“Community is a source of strength, a source of life. It is impossible to live separately from each other, because you cannot survive that way.”

The small library in Soroca, is one of the places where this understanding has translated into a tangible reality that Raisa is a part of. Today it’s an inclusive and safe space with a simple but powerful vision. “It is a place that does not require explanation or that defines you by your passport or status. Where you can speak your language. Be silent. Sing. Make something with your hands. Or just exist”.

“The more time that passes, the more I feel like a refugee”

With the war continuing and months turning into years, displacement does not become easier with time. While children tend to adapt easier to new schools and routines, adults and especially older people often struggle more and feel more like a refugee for each day that is passing. The word ‘refugee’ is associated with pain and rejection for Raisa. To her it means being torn from her home, torn from her life. And each passing day means more distancing from her home in Mykolaiv.

“The early phase of displacement was, paradoxically, easier. Hope was intact. Now, after more than three years, as the prospect of return becomes less certain, hope is fading. The more hope fades, the more people need help and support. Mental health is as important as physical health. “And without community, people break.”

“I am your home”

Although the occasion was not one she would have chosen, Raisa says that the displacement has made her discover new sides of herself. “I have realized that I love to explore the world and to travel. Before I didn't even think that I was able to get up and leave, that I could start over, change locations, change the picture. And I like that. Today, I’m convinced that I am a very strong person, and I have a core that cannot be broken by war, by relocation, by anything”

Everything changed for Raisa. She got to know herself and she got to know her children from a different side. Raisa says her children are what keeps her grounded.” I realized that I raised some very complete and conscious personalities. My biggest recognition is when my children tell me: ‘Mom, I want to be like you.’” She pauses, then adds: “I always tell them: ‘I am your home. Let the whole world be against you, I will always be with you. Whatever you do, whatever happens in life, you are always needed.’”

In a town close enough to see Ukraine across the river, Raisa has built something that doesn’t depend on borders or timelines. Something shaped by community, presence and belonging.
In many ways the library has become a fitting reflection of Raisa's own journey. It is a place where stories, experiences and people come together; where knowledge is shared, connections are formed, and new chapters can begin.

“If I have to start life again,” she says, “I will. And I will help others do the same.”

Photo: Raisa looking across Nistru and over to Ukraine from Soroca @UNHCR Eugenia Ciurca

Raisa is a Ukrainian refugee living in Soroca, Moldova, with four of her nine children. She arrived on 21 March 2022 from Mykolaiv oblast, having spent approximately three weeks under Russian occupation. She is the founder of the Union of Ukrainian Women and is together with UNHCR currently establishing a Refugee Council in Soroca. She received multi-purpose cash assistance from UNHCR.

Interview conducted and written by Hanne Heidinger, Norwegian JPO with UNHCR Moldova, April 2026, Soroca, Moldova. Translated from Russian.