The Mexican Angels of Dnipro

Mexican missionaries Martín Corona and Cinthia Báez, before the invasion of Ukraine began. Courtesy

Martín Corona had a conversation that he never imagined with his wife, Cinthia Báez, a few days ago.

Several weeks into the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Baez told her husband that if the bombs hit her house in Dnipro and she died in the bombing, she would like to be cremated.

He was

.

"Never in my life had I thought about death until we had to live through this," confesses Corona, "but we are in a war and we don't know what will happen tomorrow."

- And you?

What have you thought of your own death?

— I only know that I have lived my life fully.

What is going to happen after this?

Whether I die or don't die, I'm calm because I'm right with God.

I don't know how to explain it to you, but I'm not worried about dying.

I'm not thinking about that right now.

My thoughts are on what is going to happen after this war and how we are going to rebuild everything that the enemy has broken and stolen.

Corona and Báez are a Mexican missionary couple who arrived in Ukraine six and a half years ago.

In less than a month they have made it possible for more than 50 people to escape from the war and save their lives.

Women, children, babies, the elderly, compatriots who had been trapped.

More than 10 million Ukrainians, almost a quarter of the population, have had to leave their homes, either as displaced persons in other parts of the country or as refugees abroad, according to the United Nations.

In the midst of the largest exodus since World War II, Christian missionaries have decided to stay in Ukraine to get as many people out as possible and distribute groceries and food to those who need it most and cannot leave the country.

“We felt that we could not leave just like that,

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MEXICANS rescue REFUGEES from the UKRAINE WAR |

THE COUNTRY

Cinthia Báez helps refugees with food.

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On video, the story of the missionaries in their humanitarian aid work in Ukraine.

Video: EPV

In less than twelve hours, very early in the morning, Corona will take seven children and five adults to the border with Poland.

It will be a 1,000-kilometer journey from Dnipro, in the east of the country, to Lviv, in the extreme west of the Ukrainian territory.

It's a tour he's done six times in the last four weeks.

"That's our escape corridor," explains the 38-year-old missionary.

Before the war broke out, Corona had traveled many times to Poland, Romania and Moldova — all countries bordering Ukraine — and over the years he had identified points on the map to fill up on gas or spend the night.

“A Ukrainian friend and I sat down and started to map out the route, we started thinking about how we could avoid the cities that are being attacked and look for alternative roads that would allow us to get there,” she says.

The road to the west, towards the opportunity to start a new life, passes through rancherías, small towns, military checkpoints and churches that have eluded the missiles.

Behind the wheel of a van for nine people, but where up to fifteen have entered, you have to keep abreast of all the news that arrives and send the location in real time via WhatsApp.

“Thank you for your prayers”,

says the missionary in a video that he uploaded to Facebook two weeks ago, “we are going west, we have barely traveled 525 kilometers and about 600 more still await us.”

In the midst of the invasion, social networks take on a new meaning: they become a survival strategy.

Staying was a difficult decision and was not the original plan.

“The first few days were difficult because we couldn't believe what was happening and we didn't know what we were going to do,” recalls Corona.

The options were to go to some city in the west or move to Moldova or Romania, but the main thing was to get out.

"What's happening?

Are you coming or are you not coming? ”, Asked his family in Irapuato and the members of Amistad Roca, his congregation, in the State of Veracruz.

The images of hundreds of displaced people crowding the trains to leave Ukraine, of women traveling alone with their four, five, six children in cabins designed for four people, were the breaking point.

“We really saw the need of the people,” says Corona.

“Before the war, we were already dedicated to distributing food, for example,

"My mother tells me that she is with Jesus in her mouth," she confesses.

His relatives in Mexico had a hard time accepting it.

"They are not Christians, but they understand that this is my job and that they were the ones who instilled in me to help others, although they are worried," she is sincere.

“There is a physical wear because you hardly sleep, an emotional wear because every day you wake up with the sirens and a strong economic wear because there comes a point when people no longer have enough to buy what they need, no matter how much you do now. it's not enough for you," says Corona.

A few days ago, the couple toyed with the idea that she could leave the country.

"We are together and together we will continue," his wife told him.

“There have been moments of anger, rage and sadness,” says Báez.

"Sometimes I stare at the sky and ask God to do something, to grant us a miracle",

Escape corridor trips last two days one way and two days back.

You have to avoid curfews, the dangers of crossfire and it is increasingly difficult to get gasoline.

War distorts everything: what is easy under normal circumstances becomes an odyssey.

The most difficult often falls into that gray area, bland outside of the conflict.

Decide how many people travel, for example.

A group of Ukrainian refugees helped by Cinthia Báez and Martín Corona. Courtesy

On March 11, Corona undertook one of the most dangerous trips he has ever made.

He went down to Vasilivka, a town of about 1,000 inhabitants in the Zaporizhia region, near the largest nuclear power plant in Ukraine, under control of Russian troops for a week before.

"There was a smell of fire, a smell of death," says the pastor.

"It was a ghost town, all the people are hiding in bunkers," he adds.

A group of 14 people, women and children, had asked him to take them to Poland.

With him there were 15 and there was no room for anyone else.

"A lot of people came up and told me: 'Get me out of here, I have money, I'll pay you, but get me out."

But it was not a question of money.

Corona does not charge for making the journeys.

Climbing one more person implied too much weight and was putting the rest at risk.

In the middle of the flight, Corona assures that he always tries to stop at a dining room installed by the soldiers or at service stops.

It is not for the adults, but for the children.

It is a stop for the little ones to stretch their legs, play, eat something or drink tea, an obligatory ritual in the country and that the soldiers of many checkpoints ask them to share despite the rush.

"Sometimes many people forget that they travel with children, but it is important that they de-stress, that they can be children despite everything," he maintains.

A Mexican Army plane took off last week from Bucharest, the Romanian capital, to evacuate 62 people from Mexico, Ukraine and Peru from the war.

And in conversations with the Mexicans who escaped, the names of Martin and Cinthia, the Christian missionaries, came up again and again.

“I stayed with them in Dnipro and when I saw that they were going to give me chilaquiles, I swear I had tears in my eyes,” said Silvia Mercado, one of the last Mexicans to arrive in Romania with María Cristina, her one-year-old baby. year and three months.

"They saved our lives, they were there all the way and they helped us trace the route so that we could get out," said Iliana Monárrez, who fled with four other people from Kharkov, one of the areas hardest hit by the conflict.

“It is a great satisfaction to be able to serve you,

encourage them and help them however we could,” says Báez.

The Corona-Báez couple was behind the escape of a dozen Mexicans, either by taking them directly to the border, finding drivers, giving them food, receiving them at their home or connecting them with safe places to continue their journey.

Corona's outbound trips are loaded with as many people as possible and return with food and basic necessities bought in Poland and that are already in short supply almost a month after the start of the war.

The idea is to buy where there is to take it where there is no more, thanks to donations from Mexico and the United States.

Deliveries to the most affected people are coordinated through social networks such as Telegram, where a web has been woven to organize new trips and deliver the products.

While he is away, his wife prepares and distributes pantries with oil, pasta and grains for a hundred families.

Every day, she goes to the train station and coordinates the delivery of food for those who still fill the cars to leave.

_

, a typical Eastern European soup, prepared by Pablo, another Mexican missionary who works with them, has become famous.

“It looks great on him,” says Báez proudly.

Protestant pastors, Catholic priests, Orthodox believers and civilians participate in this humanitarian chain.

"It doesn't matter what religion you have or where you come from or your skin color, what matters is helping each other," says Corona.

About thirty of the more than 200 members of the Mexican community have decided to stay in the Ukraine.

The majority are Mexican women married to Ukrainians, prevented by martial law from leaving the country, and who do not want to leave their husbands behind.

Some are men with dual nationality, also forced to stay.

A dozen nationals are trapped in conflict zones.

And a small group are missionaries like the Corona family and Pablo.

With almost a million inhabitants, Dnipro is the fourth most populous city in the country and has become a key transit point in the exodus of Ukrainians.

"The situation is very complicated, our city is full of refugees," Mayor Boris Filatov said in an interview on Canadian television.

Russian troops have failed to take control of that region, where a third of the population speaks Russian as their first language.

But the airport has been targeted by missiles and the runway is completely destroyed.

The press images show how the streets have been filled with barricades.

And factories, houses and residential buildings have turned to rubble.

"Massive destruction".

That is the diagnosis of the Ukrainian Armed Forces after the attacks that have taken place in that industrial city in recent weeks.

“There is no point of comparison for the violence we are experiencing,” says Corona, who was born in one of the municipalities most affected by the wave of insecurity in Mexico.

"It has been difficult, the lives of many people have been in our hands," says the pastor.

“How to deal with this?” he asks himself.

“We have to apply what we have believed, as believers,” says Corona, while looking for answers in faith.

"Forgive our offenses, as we also forgive those who offend us," she repeats.

It is a forgiveness that does not forget the damage or the pain, she explains, but that liberates those who grant it.

"At the end of the day, we have the peace of mind that we are doing the right thing and that is why we have decided to stay," she reflects.

"Until the end," she says before hanging up the phone.

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