As Ukraine embraced its new role in the world of international education in the years before 2022, it became a sanctuary of learning for over 80,000 students who traveled from every corner of the globe. A significant portion, approximately 20%, hailed from the vibrant continent of Africa. They came with dreams of becoming healthcare professionals, engineers, and pharmacists. Yet, in the midst of unforeseen chaos sparked by Russia’s sweeping invasion, these dreams faced disruption. Thousands were forced into evacuation, seeking refuge in other countries or virtual classrooms. Despite the turmoil, a brave few have journeyed back to Ukraine, holding on to the hope of completing their studies.
Imagine being 17 again. You’re embarking on a journey into the unknown. For Fareedah Muheeb, this was literal. She stepped off a plane into the heart of Ukraine, armed only with the advice of family friends and hopeful tales of academic excellence. The challenges of adapting to new surroundings with unfamiliar languages and customs were daunting. Yet, by June 2023, she graduated from Lviv, a city now etched onto her heart as a second home—a testament to her resilience and adaptability.
Meanwhile, Edward Okyere-Darko from Ghana had his own story of unexpected adventure. His only acquaintance with Ukraine was through the legendary footballer Andriy Shevchenko. By a twist of fate and the siren call of affordable tuition, Edward found himself enrolling in International Law at Ternopil National Economic University. “Never did I envision studying here,” he chuckles in retrospect. His story is one of many that continue to paint Ukraine as a destination not merely for education but for enriching life experiences.
The draw for African students was not merely about costs but a mosaic of factors—word-of-mouth endorsements, economic sustainability, and pedagogical excellence featured prominently. Ukraine boasted robust education systems and cultural richness; “The teachers were good, and the education was actually strong,” shares Joyce Sokolayami, nodding to the reputation that supported her academic pursuit.
But beyond academics, there was an element of safety and acceptance. “People here were genuinely kind,” Edward tells me. The simple act of pulling out his phone and translating text broke down language barriers; gestures of humanity that weren’t always found elsewhere.
Despite rigorous schedules, students indulged in the joys of life—traveling, experimenting with local cuisines, and partaking in the social vibrancy that bound them to Ukraine. For Fifi Feni Coleman, the love for football converged with academic aspirations. “My friend showed me a stadium video,” he recalls, his eyes lighting up. “Experiencing a live match was unforgettable.” The echo of cheers in Kiev’s stadium still reverberates in his memory.
The unexpected roar of conflict brought an end to what had been presumed as a stable chapter for these international students. “It seemed nobody really believed a war would happen,” Fareedah confides. Yet, the reality unfolded starkly in late February 2022. The ensuing exodus saw students fleeing amidst uncertainty. Edward, once nestled comfortably within the academic structure, now found himself facilitating evacuations, bridging communities, and safeguarding peers with his organizational role.
In the aftermath, many wandered across borders, remnants of a community scattered but not diminished. Edward’s journey took him to the US on a scholarship, expanding his horizons but also implanting a desire to continue advocating for African rights amidst his academic pursuits.
While the media casts Ukraine as a symbol of perpetual conflict, the reality is nuanced—certain enclaves remained bastions of relative calm. Students like Fareedah and Fifi returned, resilient against the factual violence that characterized their homes. They chose to continue where it all began; for them, an educational degree was not just paper but a personal victory over the circumstances.
Yet not everyone could stay or return. The challenges extended beyond choosing a country. For medical students, practice in a traditional environment was non-negotiable, causing many to negotiate costly transfers or start anew, losing invaluable time in the process. The Nigerian Medical and Dental Council’s directive of non-recognition of virtual degrees added layers of complexity.
“I had one year left, and going home meant four more,” Fifi elaborates, sharing a familiar dilemma. Despite safety concerns, the yearning for their academic home outweighed the benefits of relocation.
The emotional pull of unfulfilled memories, friendships forged in adversity, drew many back to the halls they once called home. Fifi returned to Lviv, where life’s rhythm had altered but still thrummed with the undercurrent of resilience. “The dorm wasn’t as lively. Gatherings at church ceased,” he reflects—an era ended but the spirit of community thrived.
As time marches on, the numbers of students are dwindling while Ukraine attempts to reclaim its position as a beacon of educational excellence. Even under martial law, the Ministry maintains that efforts to repatriate and attract new students remain a high priority.
In a time where the world has grown to equate Ukraine with tragedy, many remember it for its dorm rooms and the warmth of its people. To them, returning is more than just resuming studies; it’s about reclaiming a way of life that was abruptly taken from them.
Oleksandr Tartachnyi is a seasoned journalist from Ukraine with expertise in investigative journalism, international affairs, military topics, and technology. His work has featured in prominent outlets including NGL.Media, Kyiv Independent, Kunsht, and Speka.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
