Growing up, Hagit Krakov remembers her grandmother often saying nichochesh nienada! (“If you don’t want it, don’t take it!”). But she never imagined the situation in which she would utter these words herself – albeit, as a joke.
It was March 2022, and Hagit was sitting in a tent in Palanca, a Moldovan town, a mere 27 miles from Odessa, Ukraine. The tent had been pitched a few days earlier by IsraAID, an international non-governmental humanitarian aid organization, and Hagit was there heading IsraAID’s mission to Moldova in the immediate aftermath of the Russian invasion.
Snow was flurrying outside, but the tent was nice and warm, offering a few hours of respite. Hagit sat with a group of women, mostly mothers, while the children participated in activities nearby. One little boy came over to his mother, agitated, but nothing she did calmed him. Hagit leaned over and whispered into her ear: nichochesh nienada! The mother burst out laughing and the little boy relaxed. Amid the tensions, he hadn’t seen his mother smile or laugh in days.
Moldova wasn’t Hagit’s first humanitarian mission. In 2015 she had just graduated from the Hebrew University’s Glocal program with a master’s degree in international development and was taking her first steps into the professional world when a 7.8 magnitude earthquake struck Nepal. She was desperate to get to the field, but by the time she reached fellow Glocal alumna Naama Gorodischer (today IsraAID’s Program Director), they didn’t need any more people on the ground. “But,” Naama ventured, “a tropical cyclone just devastated Vanuatu. Want to go there?” Hagit located Vanuatu on a map, packed her bags, and left. Over the next nine months, she worked with the World Health Organization, the World Bank, and other partners to develop programs focused on water, hygiene, and mental health – which continue to run until this very day.
"At every step along the way, I must ensure that I’m working with the community, through the community.”
Two days after returning to Israel, Hagit’s phone rang. It was Naama. Refugees from Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq were making their way to Europe – risking everything trying to reach Greece on flimsy boats. The next day, Hagit boarded a plane. Over the course of the next month, she set up IsraAID’s emergency response in northern Greece, developing programs that ran continuously for six years.
In the years that followed, Hagit travelled to Fiji after cyclone Winston and to Italy following earthquake Amatrice – developing long term recovery programs. In between, she managed IsraAID’s growing number of long-term development programs from the Tel Aviv office. Around the outbreak of the pandemic, Hagit and her partner were preparing to move their young family to London. But when disaster calls, Hagit picks up the phone. She began developing a local emergency response to the pandemic, working with seven local organizations to serve Sudanese and Eritrean asylum seekers and refugees in Israel.
In early 2022, Hagit’s phone rang again. It was Naama – of course. She inquired whether Hagit knew any Russian or Ukrainian speakers in London, who might be of assistance. (She didn’t and suggested hiring locals). The next day, Hagit called Naama back – this time offering to help.
“Humanitarian work is always a long-term project. When disaster strikes, we quickly develop an emergency response. We then work with the community, listen to their needs, and plan together the next steps: recovery, rehabilitation, and, finally, community development."
Two days later, Hagit was standing at Moldova’s border with Ukraine with a small emergency response team. Over the course of three intense weeks, Hagit led them in building partnerships with the Palanca municipality, the Moldovan Ministry of Interior and other governmental entities, teachers, social workers, and even the Library Association of Moldova, an extremely civic-minded organization dedicated to preserving Moldovan culture and heritage. The logistics team scouted stores and assembled winter, baby, and resilience kits. IsraAID began training volunteers and professionals, developing their capacity to deal with the short- and long-term effects of the massive influx of refugees, ranging from emotional support, working on a transitional education plan for children, and so much more. All the while, Hagit would watch the constant stream of Ukrainians crossing the border, taking their first steps into Moldova – and into their new life as refugees.
And that’s how Hagit found herself sitting in a tent in Moldova, whispering her grandmother’s words into the ears of a Ukrainian mother.
Photograph by Mickey Noam Alon