‘They Went Through Hell’

When Yuliya Golovko left her home in Mariupol, Ukraine more than 25 years ago with her family in search of prosperity, she started her life over, learned a new language and eventually rooted her family in the Flathead Valley after bouncing around the West Coast.

Even though Golovko has only returned to Mariupol twice in the last two decades, she still remembers it as a bustling European port city, full of culture, sophisticated architecture and activity.

But since Russia invaded Mariupol in February, Golovko is devastated when she looks at war footage and hears reports from family members about her home city that is now under siege, on fire and in ruins.

“It looks worse than World War II,” Golovko said. “There’s barely anything there – people say there’s nothing left.”

Until the end of March, Golovko hadn’t heard from any of her cousins, who were living in Mariupol, for three weeks. During that time period, her family on her father’s side were hiding in a makeshift bomb shelter with no cell service. Eventually, they escaped in a car, which Golovko says people in Mariupol are lucky to find access to. A vehicle with fuel in it is even tougher to come by.

“They went through hell,” Golovko said. “They said if you wonder what hell is, come here and you’ll see.”

Golovko left Ukraine with her family in 1996 when she was 15 years old, in search of a better life in the United States and landed in California where her aunt lived. She attended high school there and her mother started working as a nanny and eventually became a certified nurse assistant. Her father returned to Ukraine a few years later after he struggled to learn English and adapt to a new country. He died there in 2005.

“My whole family left – I’m glad we did,” Golovko said. “I was a teenager at the time, and it was hard to come to a different country and start with nothing and build up everything from scratch.”

Golovko moved to Marion in 2003 with her then-husband who she met in Oregon and her mother and brother, and eventually had three kids. The family owns five acres and in 2019, she opened Ylang, a coffee shop, massage and yoga studio in Marion. She says she hasn’t once thought about returning to Ukraine since she moved.

“I built up my life here,” Golovko said. “This is where my friends and my business are, there’s no reason for me to go back.”

If she didn’t have three kids to care for, Golovko says she would likely fly to Ukraine to help in some way. From Marion, she’s helping financially while checking in regularly with her family in Ukraine, who are now safe in another city.

Ukrainians and people in bordering countries are very inviting, Golovko says, and many have graciously opened their doors to people fleeing Russian-invaded cities.

“They are all really big-hearted countries,” Golovko said. “They all want to be independent of Russia. They feel the pain.”

One of Golovko’s cousins recently fled to a town bordering Poland and while she wants to stay in Ukraine, she started learning Polish in case she decides to move there. She’s already fled her home once before in 2014 when she was living in Bezimenne, which pro-Russian forces now occupy. Golovko lost an uncle during that time, a pro-Ukrainian leader who was captured and never heard from again.

Despite the conflict that escalated in 2014, the Russian invasion was surprising to most people in Ukraine, Golovko says.

“Even though there were rumors, we thought, ‘This is the twenty-first century, who’s going to do that?’” Golovko said. “It was a total surprise. Even though there was a conflict, nobody thought there would be a full invasion.”

Golovko is relieved to know her family is safe in Ukraine, but she still worries about them and the rest of the country. She says people are becoming desensitized to the violence and children no longer cry when they hear explosions. Many who have fled still hope to return one day, she said.

Before Golovko heard confirmation from her family, she remembers praying as she drove through the Flathead, asking God for a sign. She looked in her rearview mirror and saw a rainbow. It gave her a feeling of hope and in a few days, her family contacted her to let her know they were safe.

Still in shock over the situation, Golovko doesn’t watch the news and she deleted Instagram to avoid seeing footage, which is inescapable.

“I can’t watch the news anymore,” Golovko said. “There’s always anger. But you have to stop yourself at some point because it’s a destructive emotion. It locks you.”

In the Flathead, Golovko is grateful for the people who have reached out to her or who buy Ukrainian products and donate to their cause.

“People come to me and say they’re praying for my family,” Golovko said. “It means a lot that they show humanity. Maybe they don’t have anything associated with Ukraine, but they still feel the pain that others go through. I’m grateful for those people.”