Safety hidden in everyday things
Safety hidden in everyday things
Iryna B and her sons from Kherson, Ukraine enjoy walking in a park in Bucharest, Romania where they live since 2022 when they fled the war in their country, June 2026
On World Refugee Day, as the international community also marks the 75th anniversary of the 1951 Refugee Convention, refugees in Romania are reflecting on something many people rarely think about until it is gone: safety.
Seventy-five years ago, in the aftermath of the Second World War, countries came together and made a promise—that people forced to flee war or persecution would have the right to seek protection and rebuild their lives in safety. For millions of refugees around the world, that promise remains as important today as it was then.
For Iryna B., a refugee from Kherson, Ukraine, safety has become the most precious thing she owns.
“Before the war, I had a very general understanding of this word: safety,” she said. “Most people don’t even think about it in their daily lives. Having gone through war, I came to appreciate feeling safe more than anything else.”
Iryna fled Kherson after spending two months under Russian occupation. She travelled with her elderly mother and her two young sons, Timotii and Ivan. Like many Ukrainians, she did not immediately believe that war would reach her home.
“Our town was occupied in the first days of the invasion, but we stayed,” she recalled. “I kept telling myself that this couldn’t be happening in the 21st century.”
Yet the war quickly became impossible to ignore. Air raid sirens regularly forced the family into a nearby basement.
“It wasn’t really a shelter,” she said. “It was just an underground space beneath an old house that gave us hope of staying alive.”
Above ground, fear shaped every aspect of daily life.
“We slept on the floor because all our beds were near the windows and we were afraid of being injured by an explosion. Our life was a nightmare.”
One day, while walking outside with her older son Ivan, a nearby blast shattered what little sense of normality remained.
“We heard a loud explosion and ran into the house. Ivan was trembling. He said, ‘I will never go outside.’”
At that moment, Iryna knew they had to leave. The journey to safety was far from simple. „Along the way, we passed through multiple checkpoints where phones, documents, luggage were inspected. At the last checkpoint, we were turned back,” she said. “Our gas tank was already half empty, but we decided to try again. I felt it was our last chance to bring my children to safety.”
Iryna B and her sons, originally from Kherson, Ukraine, are resting after a walk in a park in Bucharest, Romania, where they have been living since 2022, when they fled the war in their country.
Today, that safety has been found in Romania.
Back home, Iryna left behind a large apartment, in a newly built family house.
“Here we pay rent,” she said. “But my country can no longer give us the feeling of safety.”
The difference, she explains, is visible in the ordinary moments many people take for granted.
“In Kherson, my children were confined to a basement. Here they go to a Romanian school, and I don’t worry about whether it has a good emergency shelter. We sleep peacefully in our beds, even during storms, because we know it is only thunder and not an explosion. This means the world to me. Safety is my main concern.”
Before the war, Iryna worked as a television journalist. Starting over in a new country brought new challenges, especially the language barrier. Determined to build a future, she learned Romanian alongside her sons, who are enrolled in local schools.
“I speak and understand Romanian, but it is not so easy for me,” she said with a smile.
Today, she works with JRS Romania, a humanitarian organization supporting refugees and other people forced to flee. “Being a refugee myself, it is amazing to be part of a team that helps refugees like me.”
Iryna B and her sons, originally from Kherson, Ukraine, are enjoying a ride on the mini cars in a park in Bucharest, Romania, where they have been living since 2022, when they fled the war in their country.
On a recent afternoon, Iryna watched her sons play in a park near her office. The tree-lined alleys, the ice-cream stand, the merry-go-round and the laughter of children seemed unremarkable at first glance. But for her, they are powerful symbols of something deeper.
“Safety is hidden in everyday things,” she said.
Still, memories of war remain close. One memory, in particular, continues to haunt her. As the family crossed a dangerous grey zone while fleeing Ukraine, an explosion sounded nearby. In that instant, overwhelmed by fear, Iryna faced an impossible thought. “I asked myself: if I have to jump out of the car, which one of my two sons would I save first?”
The question still disturbs her. “That moment left me drained of emotions. No one should ever be forced to think about something like that.”
“For Iryna, and for millions of refugees around the world, safety is not an abstract concept or a political principle,” said Pablo Zapata, UNHCR Representative in Romania. “It is the ability to let children play outside, to sleep through a storm, to plan for tomorrow without fear. On World Refugee Day, her story is a reminder of why the promise made 75 years ago through the Refugee Convention still matters: because everyone deserves the chance to live safely, and to rebuild their lives with dignity, hope and peace.”