At Berlin's main railway station, Germans offer their homes to refugees fleeing Ukraine

From Ukrainian families to Arab students, Hauptbahnhof is flooded daily with people seeking safety

Laura Lange, 32, said she, her partner and their two-year-old daughter have a “comparatively large flat” and are happy to offer a room to a family in need of shelter. All photos: Daniel Bardsley for The National

Jonas Herzer, left, is offering accommodation to Marouane Assila, centre, and Ilias Elhayani.

Kristina Eberhartz, 73, and her husband, Wolfgang, 75, have taken in Halyra Yaremchuk, 37, her husband, Daniel Gerongo Zamara, 28, and the couple’s children, Nattia, 3, and Nicholas, four months.

Signs at Berlin's main strain station offer help and accommodation for refugees fleeing Ukraine. Passengers said trains from Ukraine were packed with people trying to leave the country.

Volunteers are offering free food, transport and accommodation for families of all nationalities.

Berliners hold up signs offering arrivals a place to stay.

A free market offers goods, basic meals and snacks.

Refugees fleeing Ukraine are being given accommodation in Berlin.

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The cardboard signs held up at Berlin’s main railway station speak volumes about the city’s generosity.

One says, “Room for 1 mother and 1 — 2 children,” while another reads, “One room free — baby, kid.”

More than six years after it experienced a surge in arrivals from Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq, Germany is once again opening its doors to people fleeing war. And as was the case before, the warm welcome comes as much from individual citizens as from the state.

When I went to the train station, there were bombings. And it was really, really busy – a train for 1,000 people had 2,000 people

Ilias Elhayani,
Moroccan student at Kharkiv university

Dozens of residents in the German capital have lined up to offer beds to those who have left Ukraine in terror after the Russian military attacks began, while there are ample supplies of hot drinks, food, clothes, toys, mobile phone sim cards and pet provisions for the newly arrived. It offers a striking example of the kindness of strangers.

Laura Lange, 32, a teacher who lives nearby, said she, her partner and their two-year-old daughter have a “comparatively large flat” and they were happy to offer a room to a family in need of shelter.

“The majority of us live a good life,” she said. “We have a place to live. We have work.

"We have enough money to buy food. In times like this we feel the need to share what we have, especially with people who suddenly have nothing.”

For many, she said, Ukraine feels “very close” and no further away than, say, Italy, a popular holiday destination for Germans.

“We have all the clothing, all the toys, all the supplies for a baby and a small child,” she said. “It’s a small room, but we have a mattress, we have shelves, people could stay for longer.”

One volunteer helping to co-ordinate assistance estimates that thousands of people who fled Ukraine are arriving in Berlin each day on trains sent to Poland by the German national operator, Deutsche Bahn.

Fleeing Arab students a long way from home

Berliner Jonas Herzer (left) offered to take in Moroccan students Marouane Assila (centre) and Ilias Elhayani, who attended university in Kharkiv. They escaped war torn Ukraine via Hungary and Slovakia. Photo: Daniel Bardsley for The National

Other refugees have followed more circuitous routes, taking whichever buses or trains were heading west in Ukraine as Russia aims at key eastern cities.

That was the case for two Moroccan students who fled Kharkiv, the city in north-east Ukraine, which has faced heavy Russian shelling.

Marouane Assila, 21, a medical student, took four days to reach Berlin, going through Hungary, while his friend Ilias Elhayani, 20, who was studying architecture before being forced to leave, travelled through Slovakia.

“When I went to the train station, there were bombings,” said Mr Elhayani, who was two years into his studies in Ukraine.

“There were no tickets. No timetables. We just had to wait for the trains. They said for security reasons they didn’t announce when the train was arriving. [It came] after six hours of waiting.

“It was really, really busy — a train for 1,000 people had 2,000 people. We didn’t know if it would be safe and the destination was unknown.”

Mr Assila’s journey lasted four days and was no less stressful. He had to sleep in train stations or in the corridors of the carriages while looking after his three-year-old ginger cat, Leo, who he gave water through a syringe.

Both students face an uncertain future, as they may need to find scholarships if they are to continue their studies outside Ukraine.

“All of our documents regarding our study are still there [at the university in Kharkiv], probably destroyed,” said Mr Elhayani.

'My family were once refugees, it's time to give back'

For now, they are staying with Jonas Herzer, 31, a big-hearted technology consultant who felt particularly moved to help out those escaping strife.

“In my family there were also refugees — my grandmother came from Romania in the Second World War, also [fleeing] from the Russians. It’s time to give back,” said Mr Herzer, who has temporarily given up his own bedroom so that he can accommodate refugees.

While still a subject of contention, Angela Merkel’s decision, in 2015, to make it easier for people to reach Germany and apply for asylum is seen as one of the most significant moments of her 16-year stint as chancellor, which ended late last year. It is the key reason why Syrians are now Germany’s third-largest minority, after Turks and Poles.

At the time, local people were filmed clapping the new arrivals as they disembarked the trains that brought them to Germany, and there is now also much to welcome those who have arrived after fleeing Ukraine.

A large concourse at Berlin Hauptbahnhof, the main station, has been taken over by first aid tents and stalls offering the refugees all the essentials they need for free.

Part of the volunteer effort includes matching those in need of accommodation with people who offer rooms in their own home. It complements emergency accommodation being provided in Berlin by the authorities.

Kristina Eberhartz, 73, and her husband, Wolfgang, 75, have just taken in former Kyiv resident Halyra Yaremchuk, 37, a university lecturer, her Congolese husband, Daniel Gerongo Zamara, 28, an IT student, and the couple’s children, Nattia, three, and Nicholas, four months.

“It’s absolutely necessary in this moment,” Mrs Eberhartz said of the decision to offer a bed to the family. “What is going on — we have to help. We have the possibility — we don’t work any more and we have room enough and we can take them for a while.”

While there is no doubting the generosity of those in Berlin offering a room, there have been concerns that reaching the city has sometimes been more difficult for those who are not Ukrainian.

Ukraine is a major international education destination and, before the conflict erupted, was known for its highly diverse student population.

There have been reports of border guards making it harder for non-white people to leave Ukraine, while an Afghan doctor who reached Berlin from Vinnytsia in west central Ukraine, where he had been studying, said he sometimes struggled to get onto trains and had been charged for journeys leading to Germany that had been offered free of cost to Ukrainians.

“The conductors we not allowing us to enter. They only [allow] Ukrainians,” said the doctor, who asked for his name not to be used.

Alex, a Berlin-based filmmaker originally from Russia who asked for his full name not to be used, is among the team of volunteers in Berlin helping the new arrivals. He has heard of similar incidents, although a “women and children first” policy may explain some cases.

But in Berlin the welcome for everyone has been warm: Alex estimated that at least 200 local volunteers are running the services offered to those who have fled Ukraine. He is arranging onward transport for refugees heading further afield, with many aiming for Paris.

“Part of the reason I’m here every day for five hours is because I feel bad,” he said. “There’s no just war.”

Ukraine's Tunisians and Moroccan return home safely: in pictures

Tunisian citizens who fled to Poland following Russia's invasion of Ukraine are welcomed by their relatives at Tunis airport in Tunisia. Reuters

A Tunisian arrives with his cat in Tunis. EPA

Tunisians leaving a plane upon their arrival at the airport. Reuters

The foreign ministry estimates there are 1,700 Tunisians living in Ukraine, most of them students. Reuters

Tunisians who took off from Bucharest after fleeing to Romania following Russia's invasion arrive in Tunis. EPA

After early evacuations of several hundred students on military planes, the Tunisian government has struggled to co-ordinate with those still fleeing the war. EPA

The mother of a Moroccan student who was studying in Ukraine holds a flower to give her as she arrives at Casablanca airport in Morocco. AP Photo

Relatives of Moroccan students wait outside the Mohammed V airport in Casablanca. AFP

Moroccan students embrace their relatives after arriving at the airport. AFP

For those who managed to flee, reunions with family and friends are joyful, but bittersweet. The uncertainty of interrupted studies, the lives and friends they leave behind, all remain ingrained in their minds. AFP

A Moroccan student holds his dog after arriving at Mohammed V airport. AFP