The Sky Is Now the Battlefield.

View this post on the web at [link removed] Everything feels very different from my last visit in February. The war has entered another phase, in which the sky increasingly dominates the battlefield, and Russia, appallingly, attacks schools, hospitals and humanitarian facilities. The places that were built to teach, heal and help are no longer spared, and the drone war no longer belongs only to the front. From the roads of the east to the heart of Kyiv, the threat now reaches deep across the country. And this charming message screams out from our phones numerous times throughout the day. Amory has come with me this time, his fourth visit to Ukraine. And my tenth. Through these journeys, my adult boys have supported me completely, never questioning why I keep returning, only understanding that I feel I need to. Our first stop on this trip was the Global Empowerment Mission [ [link removed] ]headquarters. I have always felt inspired walking into these offices and seeing the warehouse, which is vast and heavy with aid. In the past, I would photograph it proudly. I would post the rows and rows of supplies, sharing the scale of the work being done here. It felt important to show what generosity looked like when it became something tangible: pallets, boxes, trucks, people, movement. We no longer do that. Location services stay off. Exact whereabouts are never shared. Movements are kept deliberately vague, and the warehouse is now something we feel we must hide. Humanitarian organisations can no longer assume that being humanitarian offers any protection. At the headquarters, I meet again with the Ukrainian team and the leaders who, week after week, drive into the most dangerous parts of the country to deliver aid. These used to be called Red Zones. Now they are called Kill Zones. The team leaders report on what they saw the previous week and what needs to change before they go out again. Michael Capponi, GEM’s founder, is there this Monday morning, with Alina, his wife, also a heartbeat of GEM. Michael carries enormous responsibility on his shoulders. These are not abstract decisions. Human lives depend upon them. Wisely, though, he gives the team leaders considerable authority over the day to day decisions. They are the people who know the roads, the villages, the signals, the risks. We then hold hands and the team prays together before heading out for the week. Amory and I linger with Michael and Andrew, the operational manager. At what point does delivering humanitarian aid become so dangerous that trying to help one group of people puts another, the teams themselves, at unacceptable risk? We debate this and decide it is an almost impossible moral dilemma. With Vitaly, our team leader and now close friend, Amory and I head east. The 18 wheeler trucks carrying the main aid deliveries have gone on ahead. Almost immediately, I begin noticing the physical evidence of how much has changed. Petrol stations in the areas we travel through are now shrouded in anti drone netting. They have fireproof cladding covering the doors and exterior walls. Fuel pumps are protected. Shelters have appeared. Other petrol stations where we stopped on previous trips, for a hot dog with a mayonnaise smiley face, are simply bombed out. Along the roads there are new warning signs showing the silhouette of a creepy drone overhead. Imagine passing a road sign that tells you, quite simply, that you may be a target. Over the course of this week, we move between large distributions serving several hundred people at a time, with water and food boxes, to smaller, more targeted deliveries, using armoured Sprinter vans to reach communities where the risk is greater. The Sprinter vans now have drone detectors fixed to the dashboard. We squeeze ourselves into the van, already packed with boxes. Vitaliy and our driver sit up front. Amory sits beside me in the back, bringing his much needed sense of humour. We drive to vulnerable villages under miles of drone netting. Most of the time, the little screen on the dashboard is just blurry static, like an old television. Then, suddenly, it might clear. Our hearts sink. Our breath stops. Because if the detector has picked up an FPV drone, somewhere nearby that drone is looking back at us, and somewhere on the Russian side, someone is deciding whether or not to kill. The driver needs to react immediately. Stop. Find cover. You cannot outrun these drones. INDIA HICKS. An Unexpected Journey. is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Around us, the Ukrainian landscape remains heartbreakingly beautiful. We pass miles and miles of sunflowers, just beginning to turn. I think of the Ukrainian flag, blue for the sky, yellow for its golden fields. But even harvesting those fields now carries risk. Farmers are exposed to attack too. The simple act of bringing in a crop is no longer safe. And increasingly, we notice another flag hanging beside the blue and yellow. Red and black. Amory asks Vitaly what it means. Black for the Ukrainian earth. Red for the blood spilled upon it. Even further east there are roadblocks. Passwords are exchanged. Permissions checked. Authority granted. There are many more trenches now, stretching for miles. Coils of razor wire. Deep anti tank ditches carved into the earth. Defences built not in some distant military landscape, but beside ordinary roads, villages and fields. At the larger GEM distributions, hundreds of people arrive. Old and young. Mothers. Grandmothers. Men who have remained behind. We unload boxes of food and essential supplies. We deliver water. Vitaly shouts out to the crowd, introducing us and explaining that we have travelled here from Great Britain. As a member of GEM’s board, I am thanked far more than I deserve to be. People come over to us. ‘Dyakuyu,’ they say, holding out their hands. ‘We haven’t forgotten you,’ I want to say in return. One afternoon, in one of the cities, we join a party for children who have been evacuated from their homes. Internally displaced People. IDPs. Another abbreviation that has become ordinary here. The children are jumping up and down, delighted by the entertainment. Amory and I notice one of the grown ups is dressed as a cartoon dog and wearing what at first looks like a funny black furry waistcoat. Then we understand what it is meant to be. Body armour. A bulletproof vest. Even the cartoon characters of childhood are ready for battle now. Every night the sirens go. And now we hear gunfire too, Ukrainian forces defending the sky, trying to shoot down the drones circling above. Wars become familiar when they last this long. What once horrified us has nearly been normalised. But nothing is normal about a child beginning school beneath an air raid siren. Nothing is normal about driving beneath miles of anti drone netting because the sky itself has become dangerous. And nothing should become normal about humanitarians having to decide whether delivering food to hungry people is worth the possibility of being killed on the road to reach them. For more information about GLOBAL EMPOWERMENT MISSION click here [ [link removed] ]. They are operating all around the world. And if you felt you wanted to make a contribution towards their work having read this post pls click HERE. [ [link removed] ] Unsubscribe [link removed]?