The Seamstress of Mariupol

At 76, Liubov Shcherban had settled into a peaceful retirement in Mariupol. Before the war, her days had a comfortable rhythm — resting, sewing when time allowed, and recovering from a brief bout with COVID during the pandemic.

Then the explosions began.

From the moment of the full-scale invasion, constant shelling surrounded her building. Rather than descending to the basement, Liubov found refuge in her bathroom during the worst attacks. When a brief lull in bombardment finally came, she seized her chance and joined a group of strangers fleeing through Russian territory toward Riga.

The journey was harrowing. Rumors spread that evacuees were being shot, their bodies abandoned in forest belts. Fear was her constant companion, though thankfully, the checkpoints proved uneventful. Eventually, a bus carried the group through Lviv and back into Ukraine, where Liubov found temporary housing.

When the phone call came from the foundation on November 18, 2024, a wave of relief washed over her. That same day, she moved into apartment 19.3B at Senior Chudo Village. Despite her allergies and asthma, Liubov felt at peace for the first time in years.

“This is a wonderful village, “ she often tells new arrivals. The former welder marvels at Hansen’s mission, providing housing and support to war-affected people when the state cannot reach everyone. In her view, such unexpected kindness from strangers is nothing short of remarkable.

Her goal now is simple: to adapt to this new atmosphere. The wisdom she carries centers on remaining human despite hardship — preserving kindness, mercy, and compassion when the world seems determined to strip them away.

In her new home, the seamstress of Mariupol carefully stitches together the fragments of a life interrupted, creating something beautiful from what remains.