Olha Zhuravel

“Until February 2022, I was living my best life. Kyiv, my own psychotherapy practice, three children, and travels around the world with my husband, during which we discovered other cultures and met fascinating people. I thought it would always be that way.

In March 2022, I came to Japan to save my children from russian aggression.

I have two university degrees—one in engineering from the Kyiv Polytechnic Institute and another in psychology from Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv. I am a certified psychotherapist in Positive Psychotherapy according to the Peseschkian method, a schema therapist, and an MBSR mindfulness instructor.

I began volunteering on Ukrainian platforms on the very first day of the full-scale invasion, and I continued after moving to Japan. During my first months here, in addition to providing free support to people, I studied extensively. At that time, international colleagues created numerous projects for Ukrainian psychologists, and I participated in several online programs simultaneously. Those were days when I did not speak Japanese, did not know how long we would stay here, and had no answers about the future—but I knew exactly what I could do and who needed it.

I would like to speak about Japan not in general terms, but through the stories of particular people.

During my first days here, a stranger approached me on the street and gave me some money. He had seen our interview on television and wanted to help in whatever way he could. He even apologized that it was not enough. I still return to that moment in my thoughts—not because of the money, but because of the delicacy with which he offered it.

There was our first year at a school in Chiyoda Ward, where the principal did everything possible to ensure that my children felt calm and comfortable. She considered every detail—from how the children would be welcomed into the classroom to how things they could not yet understand in Japanese would be explained to them. I am also grateful to the administration of the international school they now attend for the care and support I feel every day.

And there is my Japanese friend, who did something profoundly important: she asked what we actually needed and gave us exactly that. Not what she imagined a Ukrainian family might need, but what we asked for. Over the past four years, I have come to understand what a great expression of respect this is.

There were difficult periods as well, when it took us a long time to understand how local procedures worked and when we could not always find answers where we expected them. I do not want to pretend that this did not happen, because doing so would diminish the significance of those who helped us.

In May 2022, a city hall employee took us to a shop he had loved since childhood so that he could treat us to his favorite okashi, or Japanese sweets. The elderly owner was surprised to see foreigners, and he explained who we were. She replied that the arrival of people like us was creating economic problems. The city hall employee was taken aback.

I do not resent her: she knew exactly as much about us as she had heard. But perhaps it was at that very moment that the desire arose within me to introduce people like her to the real Ukraine—with its hardworking, generous, and open-hearted people.

In June 2022, I joined a support service for Ukrainian evacuees here in Japan. Until April 2026, I created and managed four projects, helping Ukrainians as a psychologist and psychotherapist. I am simply not someone who can stand aside.

In April 2023, I learned that I had a cancerous tumor, and in June I began treatment. It became the most difficult ordeal of my life. Even while undergoing chemotherapy, I continued supporting others—perhaps that was precisely what sustained me.

It was also during that period that I began regularly weaving traditional Ukrainian beadwork.

Beadwork came into my life in childhood. When I was very young, my mother made beaded jewelry, and I would sit beside her and try to help. Perhaps that is why, whenever I work with beads, I feel calm, comforted, safe, and fulfilled—even when a mistake means undoing and remaking a large part of the piece.

Ukrainian beaded jewelry is more than mere adornment. Through the meanings of its patterns and colors, it serves as a protective talisman. It contains a language through which our great-grandmothers spoke of protection, family lineage, and destiny—and that language is still alive today.

I believe that, in the modern world, these pieces can appeal to women and girls who wish to emphasize their individuality and elegance. I also believe that the world should become more closely acquainted with them and recognize the potential of this art that has remained largely hidden.

At the same time, I often thought about how I could thank the Japanese people for their support of Ukraine and Ukrainians. I came to believe that the best expression of gratitude would be to create a place where ordinary people in Japan could encounter the real Ukraine. Not only the Ukraine seen amid the flames of war, but the Ukraine that is almost impossible to see in the news—a place where people could step away from their everyday concerns, restore their spirits, and discover the beauty of Ukrainian culture.

At first, I envisioned an interactive museum of Ukrainian cuisine. The project proved too ambitious, and because of my health, I realized that I could not bring it to life alone. Yet the idea of a cultural space remained. I shared it with others, and by joining forces with other Ukrainian women, we brought it to life through the creation of Ukraine House.

I named my brand Tsuru HM. Tsuru is the Japanese translation of my surname, Zhuravel, meaning ‘crane’—a bird that carries great significance in both Japan and Ukraine. HM stands for ‘handmade.’

One of my syliankas—a traditional Ukrainian beaded necklace—was presented through the Embassy of Ukraine in Japan to Japanese lawmaker Rui Matsukawa. I am currently working on a gift for the Ikenobo school of ikebana. For me, this is not about status. It is about Ukrainian art communicating with Japan through the language of craftsmanship—a language that is deeply understood here.

Japan continues to fascinate me with the beauty of its nature and with people who possess such kindness and joy.

I am currently studying ikebana. For me, it is another source of comfort for the soul and, at the same time, a way to discover the real Japan—not through books, but through my own hands. My Japanese is still very limited, although I study every day, and I am immensely grateful to my teacher for the patience with which she explains difficult things to me. I still understand much of what is happening not through words, but by ‘reading the air.’

I also work part-time at a matcha café, where I prepare matcha by whisking it by hand. It is pleasant and meditative work through which I can offer both Japanese people and visitors from abroad small moments of happiness over a delicious drink.

It is extremely important for me to remain connected to Ukraine. She is like a mother to me. I want to introduce as many people as possible to her beauty and her true soul—to do so in a way that gives them beautiful and inspiring moments and fills their hearts with peace, happiness, and joy.”

Website: TsuruHM.com