Ambulances for Ukraine: seeking discomfort so others can find comfort

We did it! What a week!

Emotions, intensity, discovery, understanding, learnings and lots of human care.

Last Friday Stephanie Stasey ???? Nick Fulford Tom Knight Tomasz Sagal Charlie Phipps-Bennett ???? Fynn W. and I embarked on an expedition driving four ambulances and much needed medical kits from London to the battered land of Ukraine.

Little did we know about what rollercoaster journey was ahead of us. As a matter of facts, little did we know each other. Some of us had previous connections and interactions, but most of us were strangers: some of us met for the first time enroute.

United by a single noble spirit, we wanted to do something beyond donations and thoughts – something tangible. Peculiar how strangers can embrace such an adventure and support each other by acting as a team from the first minute.

Trust development was redefined into a spontaneous act of confidence. Relationship building was accelerated. Resiliency was enforced through relentless driving. And all of us enjoyed the ride, not stopping for a second to think about the second trip ahead: crossing the border of a country at war.

The United Kingdom, France, The Netherlands, Belgium, Germany and Poland, all danced in front of our eyes with the occasional funny chatter on the walkie talkies, the pitstops to fuel and feed ourselves, the driver changes and the disco dancing of the ambulances alarms demanding attention along the way (sometimes appearing to be spoiled by flagging false alerts).

We looked after each other and we babysitted those precious vehicles, for once not a simply means of transportation, but the purpose of the trip: it may have seemed we were being carried by them, whilst in reality it was us carrying the Queens and the Kings of the show. Three full driving days, with all the challenges of a respectful long trip – wrong ways, broken convoy, undistinctive radio chatter, the occasional queue for a car accident, the quick mechanical fix, stops for food, gas and bio needs and also misplacing a camera and having to drive back and forth four additional hours without even questioning it (thanks Charlie Phipps-Bennett ???? for insisting to be my buddy for our crazy trip extension). Three pretty much uneventful days, if it weren’t for the increased intensity and quality of our interactions - becoming more comfortable and excited to feel the belonging to a team - and the people around us giving thumbs up, waving whilst driving, talking to us during the breaks. All appreciating what we were doing and being grateful and sharing a lot of positive energy, reinforcing the purpose.

And then, the moment of the second trip came. The motorway started to be less busy until we found ourselves in a magnificent desolation: who would go to a country at war after all? Well, apparently a lot of people. Each one with their unique story. People visiting relatives, freight delivering goods, buses with all walk of lives. And us, delivering ambulances in Ukraine. Crossing a proper border: high fences, armed guards, soviet era concrete and lots of signs of warning.

Add a two boring hours paper show at customs, with decadent efficiency (and spoken English). And then we were given the stamps on passports and documents and off we went into the land of Ukraine. To my surprise, there was no visible difference, no indication, no clue that anything was different: brand new gas stations, lively adverts, decent roads, clean cars, villages, churches. And people.

We drove to Lviv and we noticed some glitches along the road (sand bagged schools, statues and churches being caged thus protected against explosions, a few military checkpoints) but nothing would have prepared us for the unimaginable: a military cemetery with stunning colours - flowers, flags and lots of caring people. Behind the scenes of course an eerie, dark and cold place: pictures of young people, with recent dates on the tombs as much as a week before, or ten days before. And a lot of free land ready to be used – hopefully not – because nobody really knows when all this is going to end.

This clashed with nearby open shops, traffic jams, people eating and students visiting museums: a punch in the stomach. A society with scars, a drama unfolding and many many neighbours at war.

We eventually delivered ambulances and medical kits to our final destination, with a soldier welcoming us and – whilst consulting via videochat a doctor at the front - going through all the medical donations box by box, picking what could provide immediate relief: time works against good intentions and ticks faster for those less fortunate who live closer to an increased timezone towards the east. It just all became so real: the visual descriptions on why those kits were needed, the stories of the situation there, the ambulances being camouflaged, the understanding that as I speak those kits and those cars are in a world I cannot even imagine to serve a noble purpose.

A lot of things still go through my head: 1307 miles across seven countries in five days. New friends. The potential risks of driving. The unknowns on the other side. The fate of where a pin drops on a map. Committed to deliver and with a mission. Most importantly, the feeling that what we have carefully delivered will mean a lot to humans who simply happened to be on the wrong side of a border: it was emotional, intense, surreal to look after an inanimate object (the vehicle) as if it were family, and deliver it into safe hands to continue to grow and flourish to save lives in a situation that is so alien to what most experience.

I have always wanted to visit Ukraine, but never thought it would happen this way. Sometimes, life shows up in the most imaginable ways and it’s up to us to make good use of the opportunities.

People talk about courage, an exceptional act, an epic gesture. They only see the mission.

In reality this experience was certainly a blend of a mission, imagining a strategy and curating the execution.

I see a long drive and a challenge around some principles and beliefs.

Here's some of my learnings:

?developing trust - work on shared values and a clear collective mission

?assessing risk with partial information - trust your instincts

?building effective and purposeful relationships - respect, respect, respect. And curiosity.

?managing a budget - frugality can be inspirational

?keeping an open mind - the power of the unexpected. Apply responsibly.

?reading the room - slow down and observe with interest

?making good judgement - keep it simple

?creating an effective (fund raising) marketing and social campaigns - some causes simply have natural traction

?being resilient - never give up when the reason is noble

?observing and noting the details within the big picture - details make the difference, intentionally note them

?having a growth mindset - curiosity, exploration and mindset change. Habits can be undone. Seek discomfort.

?being empathetic - a skill for life which can be nurtured with practice

?mastering emotional intelligence - exercise emotional understanding and control at all times. It starts from you

?sacred curiosity – humbly so

?interpret data?smartly - data speaks, provided it is good data. If not, need to be smart and go back to analogue judgement. It's called interpretation.

Most importantly, it was an opportunity to be human.

Learnings that will be useful for the future, both in a business environment and in the society.

Learnings that we must cherish now and that we will leverage in our whereabouts.

Learnings that can make us better and more kind to others.

Learnings that we would not have refined if it weren’t for a mindset that everyone can easily and should regularly adopt: the art of seeking discomfort.

Discomfort is your friend. It makes you understand new ways, it forces you to experience new things, it obliges you to take decisions, it shows the magic of the unknown, it makes you imagine new solutions.

This trip was not about a political statement, it was not about a selfish experience. This trip was about giving back from a privileged geography and wanting to help people on the other side. People we will never know the stories of, but people whose stories will be different because of what we did.

What a journey and this has to be the start, not the end.

PLEASE, keep giving so we can buy more useful stuff, enable more people to seek discomfort and at the same time make sure other people find comfort.

I am grateful to all those that empowered and enabled me to help in a more tangible way: my travel buddies, those who donated money, all volunteers involved in this, everyone that reached out with warm energy and lovely words and last but not least my family who supported me unconditionally for this unique experience.

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