I Fled Two War Zones. Now I Build Homes in Alberta.

I grew up in Vysots’k, a small village in northwestern Ukraine near the Belarusian border. After high school, I moved to Rivne and got a job selling Ukrainian sweets and cookies. That’s where I met Yvanna, my partner for the past 15 years. Eventually, I joined my younger brother in construction, building homes across the country. I loved creating something real with my hands and dreamed of starting my own company one day.

In 2020, Yvanna and I moved to Israel so I could take a better-paying job in construction. We lived in Bat Yam, just south of Tel Aviv. The heat was nothing like I’d experienced, but I liked the people and the work. Then, in October of 2023, war broke out. Hamas was firing rockets into Israeli cities. One day, I heard a missile whistle overhead, then watched Israeli defence forces shoot it down. That’s when I realized anywhere could be a target. Even picking up groceries felt dangerous. We were terrified and decided to leave.

But returning to Ukraine wasn’t an option. Russia had invaded in 2022. There were widespread blackouts and bombings. My brother had managed to get out and move to Germany, but my mother and two sisters were still in Vysots’k. I worried about them every day. Yvanna and I felt hopeless, like we had nowhere to go.

Soon, we heard about a special visa Canada had launched for Ukrainians called the Canada-Ukraine Authorization for Emergency Travel. It offered two things we were desperate for: safety and the ability to work. An old Ukrainian colleague of mine was living in Calgary, and he said there were plenty of construction jobs available. That’s how we ended up in Alberta.

After I arrived in Calgary in February of 2024, I printed my resumé and walked it around to various companies. In the end Mattamy Homes, a large homebuilding company, hired me as a labourer. My job was to keep construction sites clean; I swept out basements, cleared debris from backyards and moved baseboards and lumber around job sites. Back home, I’d been responsible for building houses from the ground up. But in a new country, I knew I had to prove myself. I accepted it as the price of starting over. I’d done it before in Israel, and I was ready to do it again here.

Six months in, I was promoted to home technician—basically, a handyman who gets houses ready before the new owners move in. I patched drywall, fixed cabinetry, installed shelving and touched up paint. It was physically demanding, which is why I think many people avoid the trades, even though we’re short on workers. But I like physical labour and took pride in doing my job well and learning fast. I recently learned an English expression: “sink or swim.” That’s what life has been like for me. I just have to keep moving forward.

My biggest fear when I arrived wasn’t the work—it was communication. But in Calgary, I’ve felt nothing but support. The company I work for paid for courses to build my construction knowledge, and my colleagues helped me improve my English. Yvanna found a job too, sorting packages at an Amazon warehouse. I hear people blame immigrants for the housing crisis, which doesn’t make sense to me. I work alongside newcomers from Ukraine, Libya and all over the world. I’d invite anyone who criticizes immigration to come visit our job sites and meet the people pouring concrete, raising walls and wiring electricity.

After fleeing war twice, I’ve learned that people don’t appreciate safety until they’re somewhere dangerous. For me, a home isn’t just where you live—it’s where you’re protected. After running from danger more than once, I understood peace on a deeper level. Every morning in Calgary, I wake up calm. That’s a gift.

Even if peace returns to Ukraine, Yvanna and I want to stay in Canada. After so many moves, we’re ready to put down roots. We’re improving our English and gaining experience so we can apply for permanent residency. Starting over again in Ukraine would mean going back to zero. Here, I can keep building homes—and maybe buy one of our own, to share with Yvanna and the family we hope to have.