Meet Petrisor: The Romanian Driver Who Sleeps 3 Hours a Night

By John Ross · Ukraine, Romania

When our team arrived in Suceava, the team was greeted at the airport by a young man named Petrisor (Peter). Maybe some of us thought it was his job to pick us up, that he possibly worked for the nonprofit we were partnering with and was paid to be a driver. But as we got to know Peter, we learned that he already had a business, and a farm, and a wife… and him greeting us at midnight and throughout the day was just some of what made Peter so special.

Peter has been sleeping 2 to 3 hours a night since the war started, going to the border and picking up refugees and going to the airport and picking up volunteers, amongst a host of other ways he was serving. I asked him about getting more sleep and he said, “It’s okay, someone has to do it. … I love God and He loves me and I love to help people.”

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Meet Anastasia

Born in Donetsk, part of Eastern Ukraine, Anastasia has been a refugee since 2014. “For me the war started 8 years ago.” Anastasia was born in a Russian speaking family. “More than 30 years ago, most people in the eastern part were Russian speaking. That was the main myth that Russian propaganda is made with. That there are Russian speaking people in Ukraine. Second part of myth is that Ukrainian speaking people are Nazis. Russia then used that myth to explain why Russian speaking Ukrainians needed protection. Though I was born in a Russian speaking family, I’ve never considered myself to be Russian. I have always been Ukrainian. I love Ukraine. My homeland is Ukraine.”

Someone Who Cares

I think one of the simplest things we can do in life is, care. Anastasia, a friend and refugee from Ukraine shared, “If you lost your home or lost someone, no one can get the people back to you. The devastation we are seeing around the globe is unfathomable. And to some it is all too personal: sons, daughters, wives, husbands, loved ones.

Yellow, Car, House, Sky

Petrisor picked me up from the house I was staying at. There were two ladies in the van. One I had seen volunteering (Irina) and the other I hadn’t met yet. Irina sat in the front seat and we started chatting. We were catching up on the week and where we were from and why we were there. The other lady was quiet, solemn, and seemingly could not understand the language.