Pavlo Bogachenko and his partner, Anna Krys, left home for a holiday and ended up living in Ireland. Bogachenko, a solicitor in Kyiv, had applied for the New York bar exam in February 2022, planning a US holiday (Chicago, California, Miami) afterwards. Four days after he left Ukraine, Russia invaded. The couple were stranded in New York, worried for their families, as Ukraine airspace closed and they pondered what to do.
Bogachenko, an only child, was born in Odesa, went to school, university and worked there before moving to an international law firm in Kyiv, interrupted for a year’s study in Chicago. His parents are in Odesa, his grandmother in a rural village nearby, “with no main roads, so she’s seen not much of the war”. His parents each have small businesses, in beauty and construction. The first nine months after invasion were relatively safe for them, followed by attacks on port and energy infrastructure. “It gets disturbing. I believe Ukrainians are champions in dark humour jokes. They call it war-life balance. On one side, there is a war, on the other side, life goes on.”
The couple met in Odesa, through debating, and their relationship became long distance when her IT company relocated her to Ireland. He visited many times. They had a couple of years together in Kyiv over Covid, before the Russian invasion.
His specialty is international business dispute litigation and arbitration; adding the New York bar was useful for clients, and for the CV. Now he’s qualified in Ireland, England and Wales.
They left Ukraine on February 20th 2022, with two suitcases. There was “buzz around war happening” but they thought the possibility “stupid and unbelievable. Now, with the hindsight, we feel like we were naive”. They had been so busy their Christmas tree was still up; they’d booked an International Women’s Day event in Kyiv on March 8th.
After the bar exam, “we fall asleep in the Albany hotel room from exhaustion. We woke up in the middle of the night. Both of us have some kind of gut feeling that something is going wrong.” Their phones were full of messages. In shock, “we had to regroup”. They continued to Chicago as planned, “travelling in space and time with minus-20 degrees, snow blowing in your face. But we don’t care. We had to make sure our family is safe and figure out how we go back to Ukraine. The airspace was closed. What are the alternative options?”
Stranded, they had two choices, stay in the US or go to Ireland. Still on holiday, “sitting in a cafe in Miami, we list all the important things for us.” Practising law in the US was a possibility, but it was far from Ukraine if they needed to get to the border for family, “if things go even wilder”.
“For Anna it was never a question of choice where to go. If she was going be go somewhere it’s Ireland”, where she had lived for four years. Leaving, she had run back from the taxi and grabbed her Irish documents, “her old PPS card, residency permit. Even a Leap card. I don’t know why.”
Initially it was for “a few weeks, no longer than few months”. They thought Russia would retreat after Ukraine resistance. They stayed in a friend’s spare room, then got a short-term rental. They have lived in six places over three years, including their current Grand Canal Dock apartment for 18 months. “It was like a second job to find it.” They paid rent in Kiev for nine months, then Krys returned to retrieve their things.
Bogachenko worked remotely for his Kyiv law firm. “I had this privilege of bombs not flying over me.” DLA Piper in Dublin gave him office space for work and Ukrainian NGO projects they were both involved in.
“A set of coincidences brought us here, and we’ve been lucky enough to meet wonderful people through these years. I cannot complain.”
In 2023, he joined DLA Piper Ireland’s pro-bono team (the world’s largest pro-bono practice), “one of the greatest years of my career, because I was doing things I really like and they make an impact”. Last year he transitioned back to litigation there as a senior associate while continuing to co-ordinate the firm’s pro-bono work.
Irish law compared with Ukrainian is “like two different planets. Not worse or better.” He qualified here in two years.
Bogachenko says he and Krys “wear a few hats”. She consults on accessibility for Ukrainian companies, and started businesses here, Freedom and Kolos Beauty Spaces in Dublin and Greystones, and pet-sitters Friends4Pets. Together they founded NGO United for Changes to help displaced Ukrainians integrate here and support humanitarian relief there.
They try to convince family to join them using “different tactics, like begging, arguing, crying. But they don’t want to. I would say that’s an ongoing conversation.” His father (59) is former military but medical issues prevent him from serving. His mother has visited several times and they even organised interviews for her, and a workshop where she trained others in hair extensions. “She could have got work even though she doesn’t speak English. At the end of the day, she says, I want to go home. They have this patriotic feeling for the country, which I share with them. I have to respect their choices.”
A challenge for Bogachenko is feeling he lives “in two worlds. On one side, I’m lucky enough and privileged to wake up every morning in safety. But on the other side, I still have family in Ukraine.” He is constantly checking what’s happening in Ukraine. He’s mindful of his psychological wellbeing. “Psychologists say you can do nothing about it. The thing which keeps us sane is being busy.” This comforts him in “this dual life”. He’s supporting family, using skills to help others. “I cannot bring us to a victory, but even small steps, to support the struggle, helps me in this dual reality life.”
They enjoy their lives here and feel lucky they found “a very supportive community, and how Irish people are open. Even against all the negative thoughts, Irish people find ways to be positive and encouraging and find the sense of humour.”
He notes some differences. “Ukrainians are quite direct and fast, in making decisions, speaking your heart. We always give feedback. Something goes wrong, we say it. In Ireland, I understand it’s a cultural thing, but people are less direct.” Thus decisions and action take longer. “I’m a foreigner here, I need to play by the rules. I understand it, but sometimes it’s hard.” He mentions seeking feedback, and how there are “50 shades of ‘great’”.
He enjoys the phrase “How do I know you?”, that when meeting in a social or work setting, Irish people figure out who they have in common. “This fantastic thing of knowing everyone or knowing a cousin of someone. Like, wow, everyone’s somehow related. In a country with 37 million, it’s much more difficult. If people have connections, it speeds and resolves problems.”
They’re “pivoting and adjusting all the time” so the future is hard to map. He was one step from becoming partner in Ukraine, and in Ireland had to rebuild, though he started quite senior.
An “ideal plan of life” would be to live and work in both countries after the war. After three years “we feel integrated and settled. We have lots of things going on, our NGOs, work, business commitments. We want to carry on with that.” But the longer war goes on “the more the gap between us and Ukraine” as friends they haven’t seen in real life for three years get married, have children. But when they can, “we believe we need to be in Ukraine to help rebuild”
We would like to hear from people who have moved to Ireland. To get involved, email newtotheparish@irishtimes.com
