Debating Ideas reflects the values and editorial ethos of the African Arguments book series, publishing engaged, often radical, scholarship, original and activist writing from within the African continent and beyond. It offers debates and engagements, contexts and controversies, and reviews and responses flowing from the African Arguments books. It is edited and managed by the International African Institute, hosted at SOAS University of London, the owners of the book series of the same name.
Ternopil city is eerily silent from 10:30 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. due to a law that enforces silence during these hours. Even the booming music from nightclubs is muffled by soundproofing. So, when I heard chaos--mainly the wail of air raid sirens--between 4:25 and 4:30 a.m. on February 24, 2022, I was extremely confused and startled. I had no idea that an attack on the country had begun. Then, the realization became morbid--a chilling awareness of the danger we were in--when my neighbors, whom I rarely see because our schedules never align, banged urgently on my door, shouting for me to get to the bomb shelter in our apartment. That night marked the first of many trips to the shelter, trips that would continue until my departure from Ukraine on March 25, 2022.
My name is Edward Okyere-Darko, and I am currently a master's student at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University. I am a Ghanaian who was studying in Ukraine when the war broke out on February 24, 2022. This story is not just about my personal experience of survival and displacement--it is a call to action. While other regions prioritize the safety of their citizens, African governments have often failed to offer the same level of support to their people abroad. During the war, there was no access to official channels whether government representatives or multilateral bodies such as the African Union to reach out to for aid or advice. Instead, we had to rely on the kindness of strangers, foreign governments, and international organizations for refuge. In the heat of things, Premium Times Nigeria reported a directive issued by the Nigerian Medical and Dental Council (MDCN) that "medical and dental degrees issued by medical schools from Ukraine from 2022 will not be honoured by the Medical and Dental Council of Nigeria". This decision by the Nigeria Federal Government shattered the little remaining hopes of these young helpless war victims. African students and migrants, in times of crisis, are left to navigate these challenges alone. This is a troubling reality we Africans, must confront, one that demands solidarity, understanding, and change.
As a 19-year-old, my arrival in Ukraine was oppressive. I came from a widely English-speaking country with a tropical climate to a widely non-English speaking country with bone-chilling cold, howling wind, and zero processes for integrating international students. But those initial struggles faded as I found a second home, surrounded by friends from across the continent and the world. I soon became an executive assistant to the Head of International Students in the Ternopil region, who was responsible for all international students--from recruitment to graduation. My key roles included arranging domestic travel plans, integrating freshmen into their new environment, and helping with school registration. These responsibilities helped me build relationships with all including taxi and bus drivers over the years. Academically, I thrived with the extraordinary support of my professors, who handpicked me to represent the school in quizzes, symposiums, projects, and research. Ukraine had truly become a hub for foreign students.
My experiences and contacts came to bear when the war became apparent after I emerged from the shelter at around 7 a.m. on February 24, 2022. The second explosions were distant, almost surreal, but the immediate panic was undeniable. My phone buzzed with frantic messages from friends and family around the globe. Should I stay? Should I flee? Each decision carried unimaginable risks. Admittedly, I could have left immediately, but there were thousands of fellow students in need of help due to language barriers and their lack of connections to local systems. This is where my involvement in evacuations began. I became the man in the shadows, often executing tasks behind the scenes to ensure others could escape. I worked closely with the Head of International Students in the Ternopil region, Dr. Shahzad Nadjam, to assist with evacuations, including over 500 African students. Together, we collaborated directly with the consulates of India and Pakistan to facilitate the safe evacuation of their citizens nationwide. Most of my write-ups, prepared for student groups--mainly Indian students--were given to Dr. Shahzad, who then passed them on to the respective embassies.
Amid the fears and worries, the scariest moment came on the eve of March 14, 2022, when the attacks began targeting residential buildings, killing scores of civilians. I lived on the ninth floor of an apartment on a main Broadway--an obvious target. It was cold and completely dark night (since March 2, lights had to be out from 4pm as a safety measure), and I had sought refuge in the shelter over 75 times in just 19 days. At the shelter, chairs and wall supports were reserved for the elderly and children, leaving me to stand for hours without back support, often resorting to squats. These hardships persisted until March 25, 2022, when, with the help of my professors, landlord, and neighbors, I finally secured a bus to Poland.
My arrival at the polish border was the first real piece of joy in my journey since the war broke out. However, I was met with obstacles starting from when the first officer refused to stamp my passport, claiming the time for non-Ukrainians to cross had expired and I needed to return. Unfortunately for him, he was met with immediate backlash from everyone in the bus, mostly women and children, questioning how he expected me to go back. He was quickly rescued by his supervisor, who expressed his disapproval just as strongly. Ultimately, I was allowed to cross, and in the waiting room, I was offered sandwiches--my first real meal in more than a day. I owe a great deal to the University of Colorado Denver 2022/2023 Admissions Committee, who granted me admission within 24 hours, and to the professors who remained in constant contact with me during that difficult time. I am especially grateful to Master Clay Harmon (currently Executive Director of Association of International Enrolment Management) who, at the time, was the International Students Coordinator and went above and beyond his duties by connecting me with a compassionate Polish man who picked me up from Lublin. He accommodated and fed me until my first F1 visa interview on April 15, 2022 in Warsaw, though I got denied. These individuals were the true heroes in my story, providing me with hope when I needed it most.
I proceeded to Berlin, Germany, for my second F1 visa interview on April 29, 2022, but was similarly refused. I cried. With no clear path, I relied on an Airbnb housing voucher and moved in with my friend who had been blinded as a direct consequence of the war where we sought treatment from both Helio's Hospital Erfurt and Jena University Hospital. The experience humbled me, as I witnessed firsthand the permanent scars of conflict. I later relocated to the Netherlands due to the difficulties in extending refugee registration, securing admission to the University of Erfurt's public policy program, and overcoming the language barrier, all while recovering from food poisoning after being discharged from the hospital a few days prior.
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My paranoia didn't ease until I received registration documents in the Netherlands and started working at SuperMicro Computers. Over the subsequent months, I added two additional jobs--Netherlands Post and a bakery-- with the focus of saving towards graduate school. When I received my admission from the Fletcher School, I froze in disbelief. I immediately canceled my shifts for the two weeks ahead and began preparing for yet another F1 visa interview. On December 13, 2023, my visa was approved. The consular officer's words "I will not be the reason why you cannot attend such a prestigious school." They brought tears to my eyes. I left The Netherlands on December 21, 2023, and my new chapter began when the Customs and Border Protection (CBP) officer cleared me for entry into the United States at the Boston Logan Airport.
My journey from Ukraine to the United States was not just a test of survival but a lesson in my own resilience and the kindness of others in the face of systemic failure. While I am deeply grateful for the kindness of strangers and the unwavering support of individuals who stepped in when systems failed, this experience highlighted a troubling truth: African governments and the African Union must reassess their priorities and place the safety and welfare of their citizens--especially those abroad--at the forefront. Many of my colleagues remain stranded in Europe, and those who returned home face an uncertain future, with many still unable to resume their education. I hope this reflection sheds light on the urgency of their plight and inspires action to address the challenges they continue to endure.
Edward Okyere-Darko is a masters student at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University, with a strong interest in African leadership, policy, and global governance.
