Inspiring: Top Human Interest Stories News Stories
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Iranian Samereh Alinejad wanted revenge after her teenage son was murdered in a street fight. But in a dramatic turn at the gallows, literally moments before the killer was to be executed, Alinejad made a last-minute decision to pardon the man. She explained later that her son had come to her in a dream and asked her not to take revenge. Domestic violence survivor Pascale Kavanagh said that she never thought she would reconnect with her mother—her abuser—during her adult life. However, in 2010, her mother suffered several strokes that left her unable to communicate or take care of herself. With no one else to help, Kavanagh began to sit by her mother’s bedside and read to her. By caring for her mother day by day, Kavanagh said the hate she had for her mother dissipated into forgiveness and love. Mary Hedges was at a mall with her son when two boys pushed a cart over a railing onto her, causing severe brain injury ... and the amputation of her right foot. Even though she suffered a coma and spent weeks fighting for her life, Hedges was forgiving of her young attackers and launched a foundation called Sweet Returns to help mentor teens. Steven McDonald was a young police officer in 1986 when he was shot by a teenager in New York’s Central Park, an incident that left him paralyzed. “I forgave [the shooter] because I believe the only thing worse than receiving a bullet in my spine would have been to nurture revenge in my heart,” McDonald wrote.
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and human interest topics.
For seven years, I was a white nationalist skinhead and the front man of a neo-Nazi metal band based in Milwaukee. The life I led was toxic to myself and everyone around me. I was drawn in when I was 16. I was an angry, lonely kid, searching for something: identity, purpose, belonging. I found it, or thought I did, in a fantasy: the idea that I was part of a master race under siege. We justified brutal attacks — what we called "boot parties" — on people we saw as enemies: people of color, LGBTQ folks, Jews, punks, anyone who wasn't us. I'd hear a quiet voice inside asking, "What are you doing? This guy didn't do anything to you. You don't even know him," but I didn't have the courage to listen. In early 1994, the mother of my daughter and I broke up, and I found myself a single parent to our 18-month-old. Two months later, a second friend of mine was shot and killed. I'd lost count of how many friends had been incarcerated. It finally hit me that if I didn't leave, prison or death would take me from my daughter. That was the push I needed. I realized something profound: what I had been searching for all along — belonging, joy, connection — wasn't found in hate, it was in community. Today, I work with Parents for Peace, an organization that helps people caught in extremism find a healthier, more connected life. We support individuals on their journey — whether they're questioning, struggling, or still deeply entrenched — and we guide families trying to reach a loved one.
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and human interest topics.
Angela King was 19 and deeply entrenched in a white supremacist organization when Timothy McVeigh bombed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people. The year was 1995, and King recalls watching the aftermath on TV. “That was the first time that I ever considered [that what I was doing wasn’t] just a game,” King says. “This was a whole other level of violence and destruction.” King could see something of herself in McVeigh, and the reflection scared her. They shared the same ideology. The anger that drove McVeigh to blow up a building came from the same ideas that shaped her belief system. Untwining herself from that world would not be easy. Leaving behind the people she called her friends would prove challenging, but not as challenging as moving past the ideology that had become a part of who she was. It would take more than four years, a prison sentence, some unexpected kindness from a Jamaican inmate, and nearly two decades of sharing her story — with all its shame and violence — to replace hatred with forgiveness. Today, nearly 25 years after the Oklahoma City bombing, King is a co-founder of and programs director for Life After Hate, a nonprofit that helps people leave extremist groups. King shares her story not because it’s easy. But she and other members of Life After Hate do it in the hope that others going through something similar will hear their stories, see someone they can reach out to for help, and envision a way ... forward.
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and human interest topics.
The “Nairobi Birdman” is filling gaps in Kenyan bird conservation on the streets of the country’s biggest city. Seen around town with an injured kite perched on his head, it’s just one of dozens that Rodgers Oloo Magutha has nursed back to health. These have included pigeons, storks, owls, and other wild birds that fall a-fowl of Nairobi’s powerlines, cars, windows, or other hazards that industrialized areas pose to winged wildlife. Magutha himself is not from Nairobi, but grew up in poverty next to Kenya’s Lake Nakuru National Park. A haven for bird life, Magutha used to sneak into the park to watch birds, birthing a love of nature and wildlife in the young man that lasts to this day. These quiet moments were rare in his difficult, homeless existence. He grew up without a family home, but as often as it was possible, he’d take care of birds he found that were hurt, hungry, or diseased. Today, Magutha has reliable lodgings, and he’s used them to house birds which have in turn made him a local social media figure. His Instagram account has a distinctly African flavor ... but he also drops educational bombs for young fans, such as how flamingos get their pink coloration. His dream is to eventually open a proper avian rescue center; one that’s legal, safe, and equipped with the facilities needed to care for them. Until then, he carries on with the help of donations, feeding the birds he saves as much as he is able to, and releasing them when or if they’re able to return to the wild.
Note: Don't miss the pictures and video of the Nairobi Birdman in action at the link above. Explore more positive stories like this on human interest and animal wonders.
Wade Milyard heard the voice from “out of nowhere” and knew he needed to listen—he thought it was God, or some other higher power. The former canine officer for the Frederick Police Department in Maryland was responding to a domestic dispute at a homeless camp. Soon after he investigated the disturbance, the voice rang out. “Ask them about their laundry.” Milyard heeded the voice, asked the question, and unknowingly set the course for a prayer-fulfilling future. The homeless couple he interviewed told him they typically washed their laundry in a nearby creek. The cop never forgot that response, nor his call to service. He pooled multiple donations with some of his own money and went to work creating a full service laundromat on wheels. Fresh Step Laundry was born—with a mission “to help restore dignity to the unhoused community by providing free, accessible, and hygienic laundry.” Since retiring from the police force in January, the 45-year-old has been traveling around his Maryland city, which is near D.C., making a difference—one load of wash at a time. He’s set a schedule so people can meet him to take advantage of his laundry service, and his email is at the bottom of the web page. In the last several weeks alone, Fresh Step has washed more than 2,000 pounds of laundry and his next goal is to add a second vehicle so he can double the number of people he can serve.
Note: Explore more positive stories like this in on human interest stories and healing social division.
Tony McAleer was just 16 years old when he ... became active in the White Aryan Resistance, where he became a leader. But 15 years later, he left that life behind and embarked on a path of healing. He's since founded a non-profit, Life After Hate, which helps other people leaving white supremacy groups, written a book called The Cure For Hate, and starred in a documentary about his journey. "When I left the movement, I still had the beliefs intact," [said McAleer]. "It's not just the ideas in someone's head, it was my whole identity. It was who I hung out with, the videos I watched, the music I listened to. It's challenging to get someone to admit that what they believe is wrong. I left the movement behind, but I was still a jerk. I still had all of the wounds that were spilling out all over everywhere. I used humour, sarcasm, putting people down, I could verbally destroy people without any violence. I was still a jerk because I hadn't dealt with the source of my anger and hatred, the source of my self-loathing." It wasn't till I met a counsellor — who was Jewish — in 2005. I went through about 1,000 hours of ... counselling and really got to the root of who I was. The more he connected me to my humanity, the more I could recognize the humanity in others. And the more I could connect to the humanity in others, the more I could recognize the humanity in myself. It's very important that we learn to call out behaviours, we call out ideology, call out the activity, but we need to call the human being in.
Note: For more, watch our latest 20-min video on what can transform a divided world, where you’ll hear the powerful words and stories from those at the edge of death, leaders who reached across deep divides, and even a former neo-Nazi who left hate. Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division.
Regenerative agriculture offers a way to move beyond what I call the ‘dead Earth assumption’ – this mechanistic belief that the Earth is made up of lifeless raw materials meant for extraction. Because that’s the foundation of industrial agriculture: all it cares about is how many tons of food it produces, with no regard for soil health, biodiversity or the wellbeing of farmers. Regenerative agriculture, on the other hand, shows us the opposite. It means collaborating with nature and recognizing that we are all living organisms on a living Earth. That is what farming should be about: regenerating the potential of the living soil, the living seeds, the living water, the living insects, and the entire web of life. By embracing this potential, we can also transform the way we relate to nature. Because regeneration writes its own poetry – it brings the Earth back to life again in our minds and, in doing so, our relationship with the Earth is being regenerated as well. Some people say: ‘You’re naive, because companies will always win.’ But I don’t think that companies will win, and I will give you a reason why. The first corporation ever created was the East India Company in 1600, but after the revolt of the peasants in 1857, they shut down in 1858. So the first corporation that was created to rule the world, was shut down by peasants. In today’s world, meaningful change can happen too, when we unite. It all comes down to nurturing the living soil and the living seed.
Note: The above was written by Vandana Shiva. Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and healing the Earth.
On July 14, 48 students walked through the doors of the Alice L. Walton School of Medicine in Bentonville, Ark. to become its inaugural class. Named after its founder—the world’s richest woman and an heir to the Walmart fortune—the school will train students over the next four years in a radically different way from the method most traditional medical schools use. And that’s the point. Instead of drilling young physicians to chase symptom after symptom and perform test after test, Alice Walton wants her school’s graduates to keep patients healthy by practicing something that most doctors today don’t prioritize: preventive medicine and whole-health principles, which involve caring for (and not just treating) the entire person and all of the factors—from their mental health to their living conditions and lifestyle choices—that contribute to wellbeing. Visually, the school lives up to its acronym: AWSOM. The building, with soaring glass walls, is located on Walton family property and includes not just a wellness studio and gym, but a rooftop park, healing gardens where students can study, growing gardens for producing healthy foods, and a reflection pond. Walton is covering tuition for the first five graduating classes. They will get all the science and disease knowledge they need to manage the ‘sick-care’ side of things,” Walton says. But “I wanted to create a school that really gives doctors the ability to focus on how to keep their patients healthy.”
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing our bodies.
Dan Mancina has been a skateboarder since the age of seven, but when he was 13, he was diagnosed with rhinitis pigmentosa, a degenerative eye disease that rendered him almost completely blind by 22. He hit pause on his skateboarding for a couple of years in his early 20s, but decided to pick it back up again, now using a white cane to shred more confidently. Now almost 38, he’s a professional skateboarder, relearning tricks, and even completing the course at the Paris 2024 Olympic Games. About seven years ago, he started dreaming of creating the world’s first adaptive skatepark right in his hometown of Detroit, Michigan. Finally, the park is a reality. Called “The Ranch,” the 5,000-square-foot skatepark is completely accessible, allowing both seasoned low-vision boarders to take it for a spin and newcomers to the sport to feel welcome. In a recent video, blind content creator Anthony S. Ferraro, who reviews and documents his experiences in accessible environments ... on TikTok, showed off the park’s features. Features include rollers, bank ramps, and ledges, with manual pads and platforms, all designed to be easier to navigate for people with vision impairments or in wheelchairs. Auditory cues are also placed throughout the park in the form of beepers, which warn a skater about a dangerous drop or guide them to a particular obstacle. “Thanks for building this park, Dan, [you’re] a true pioneer.” Next up, he plans to host workshops and camps for other visually impaired skaters who want to learn how to skate with a white cane. “It’s been so inspiring to watch this come to reality. I’ve never had a place where I can skate with full confidence,” Ferraro ends his video.
Note: Watch a deeply inspiring video about how Dan Mancina learned how to skateboard after losing his sight. Explore more positive stories like this on inspiring disabled persons.
When Rodolfo “Rudy” Reyes went diving in the Cayman Islands in 2015, the experience changed his life. The highly decorated veteran had logged thousands of dives as a Special Ops Force Recon Marine in 18 years of service. But, as Reyes recalls, “As combat divers we operate at night, pushing 200 pounds of equipment, carrying massive weapons. It’s very stressful and we focus on the mission — taking on the enemy.” In the Caribbean, Reyes dove for the first time during daytime at his own pace, guided by his friend Jim Ritterhoff, who worked with the Central Caribbean Marine Institute. At the time, Reyes was struggling with depression, post-traumatic stress and substance abuse. “I had a really hard drug habit after all these intense combat tours,” he admits, but diving in the Caymans, surrounded by vibrant marine life, reignited a sense of wonder. “It brought me back to life. It inspired the same kind of protective spirit and willingness to go fight in the battlefield that I used in the Marine Corps, but now I wanted to use that passion to fight for ocean conservation.” In 2016, Reyes, Ritterhoff and Keith Sahm co-founded Force Blue, a nonprofit that recruits veterans — especially Navy SEALs and Special Operations divers with military dive training — to channel their skills into marine conservation. “We’re learning to transfer combat diving expertise into protecting and providing refuge for this incredible aquatic environment,” Reyes explains.
Note: Explore more positive human interest stories and stories on healing the Earth.
She has been at the bedside of over 1,000 people globally in their last moments of life—from her home in the U.S. to Thailand and Zimbabwe. O’Brien, a registered nurse, had an impulse to move into hospice care over two decades ago and has since worked as an oncology nurse and a death doula, supporting those at the end of life. O’Brien’s recent book, The Good Death, aims to normalize the realities of death and the need to plan for the end. At the end of life, many people share what they didn’t do but knew they always wanted to do, O’Brien says.“We all are here for a purpose, and we all have gifts, and when we don’t share them and act upon those, that’s where the huge regret comes,” O’Brien says. Not “dipping into the unknown” or trying something new is a factor of having an abundance mindset, she says. When we consider our time sacred and limited, we are less afraid to take action on something that may excite us. “One of the things we don’t know is how many days we have,” she says. “When you get that feeling, or you have something that you want to do, don’t let your ego, the fear part of you, shut it down.” Many people at the end of life regret not being vulnerable enough to let themselves be loved and give love. They often share that they could not reach a level of forgiveness with someone else or themselves, O’Brien says. It’s essential to extend ourselves grace, know when to take ownership, and release guilt, she says. O’Brien encourages patients to envision the time they’re struggling to let go of and ask themselves if they did what they could in the moment with the information and resources they had.
Note: Explore more positive human interest stories and meaningful lessons from near-death experiences.
Benjamin Ree’s “The Remarkable Life of Ibelin” ... is a rare and beautiful thing: a moving documentary that excavates the question of the “real” in a profoundly humanistic and unconventional way. [The film] is about Mats Steen, a Norwegian man who died in 2014 at the age of 25. Mats lived out his final years nearly immobilized, the result of being born with Duchenne muscular dystrophy. Mats left behind something for his family to find: the password to his blog. Robert and Trude, Mats’s mother, logged in to leave a note for any readers about his passing. What happened shocked them: They began to receive emails from people all over Europe, an outpouring of love and tribute to Mats, whom everyone called “Ibelin.” They were players in World of Warcraft, members of the same guild — or “community of friends,” as one participant puts it — which called itself Starlight. Mats played as a burly, friendly man he called Ibelin. Mats, as Ibelin, was involved in other players’ lives. A significant friend is Lisette, who lives in the Netherlands and met Mats in the game when they were both teenagers. Another is Xenia-Anni, a Danish mother who struggled to connect with her son Mikkel, in part because of his autism, until they met Mats in the game. Gaming wasn’t a distraction, but a life, a place where [Mats] could express all the complex parts of his personality that the physical world couldn’t accommodate. All of these people and many others tell Ree that they received wise advice from Ibelin that changed their lives. They built real friendships and had real fights and worried about one another.
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In September 2015, I was unemployed, heartbroken and living alone in my dead grandad’s caravan, wondering what the meaning of life was. I discovered an intriguing project carried out by the philosopher Will Durant during the 1930s. Durant had written to Ivy League presidents, Nobel prize winners, psychologists, novelists, professors, poets, scientists, artists and athletes to ask for their take on the meaning of life. I decided that I should recreate Durant’s experiment and seek my own answers. "I agree with the scholar of mythology Joseph Campbell, that it makes more sense to say that what we’re seeking isn’t a meaning for life, so much as the experience of feeling fully alive," [replied journalist Oliver Burkeman]. "There are experiences that I know, in my bones, are "why I’m here" – unhurried time with my son, or deep conversations with my wife, hikes in the North York Moors, writing and communicating with people who’ve found liberation in something I have written. I would struggle, though, if I were to try to argue that any of these will "mean something" in some kind of timeless way. What’s changed for me is that I no longer feel these experiences need this particular kind of justification. I want to show up fully, or as fully as possible, for my time on Earth. That’s all – but, then again, I think that is everything. And so I try, on a daily basis, to navigate more and more by that feeling of aliveness – rather than by the feeling of wanting to be in control of things, which is alluring, but deadening in the end."
Note: Read the full article at the link above to explore the beautiful range of diverse responses about what gives people meaning in life. Explore more positive human interest stories.
By the time I was 24 years old, my life was in complete shambles. I had long-standing substance abuse problems. I sold drugs and trafficked guns. My addiction and illegal business culminated in an incident in which an innocent bystander was killed. I was convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to just under 30 years to life. Once in prison ... I lost even more of myself in drugs, violence and jailhouse politics. I knew that I had to change, but I didn’t think it was possible. Furthermore, I didn't know how to start. Then one day, at age 30, I did the most benign-seeming thing that changed everything: I quit drinking soda. I had read some articles about how soda can contribute to health issues like diabetes and obesity, and how it can weaken tooth enamel. This was the first time in my life that I had made that kind of change. Quitting soda was my step one. That simple act allowed me to trace the catastrophic outcomes of my life back to my lack of self-discipline, and it convinced me that change was possible. Step two was to make more behavioral changes related to self discipline, like lifting weights and learning to play chess. By choosing relatively minor changes at first, and implementing them incrementally, they were easy for me to sustain. This led to step three: My new behaviors becoming habits, and those habits elevating my level of self-discipline. This elevation allowed me to tackle more significant behavioral changes like quitting smoking and drugs.
Note: Explore more positive human interest stories and find out how people are repairing criminal justice.
In 2015, [Jo] Nemeth had quit her community development job, given the last of her money to her 18-year-old daughter Amy and closed her bank account. “I was 46, I had a good job and a partner I loved, but I was deeply unhappy,” Nemeth says. “I’d been feeling this growing despair about the economic system we live in.” Her “lightbulb moment” came when her parents ... gave her a book about people with alternative lifestyles. “When I read about this guy choosing to live without money, I thought, ‘Oh my God, I have to do that!’” The first thing Nemeth did was write a list of her needs. "I discovered I really didn’t need much to be comfortable. Then I just started ... figuring out how I could meet my needs without having any negative impacts.” For the first three years, Nemeth lived on a friend’s farm, where she built a small shack from discarded building materials before doing some housesitting and living off-grid for a year in a “little blue wagon” in another friend’s back yard. Instead of paying rent, Nemeth cooks, cleans, manages the veggie garden and makes items such as soap, washing powder and fermented foods. And she couldn’t be happier. She soon started tapping into the “gift economy” more deeply, giving without expecting anything in return, receiving without any sense of obligation. “That second part took a while to get used to,” she says. “It’s very different to bartering or trading, which involves thinking in a monetary, transactional way: I’ll give you this if you give me that. I actually feel more secure than I did when I was earning money,” she says, “because all through human history, true security has always come from living in community and I have time now to build that ‘social currency’. To help people out, care for sick friends or their children, help in their gardens. That’s one of the big benefits of living without money.”
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on reimagining the economy.
Fray Tormenta was a masked wrestler that delighted crowds in Mexico’s lucho libre circuit for years, but few would have known that underneath the mask there was a man of god—a drug addict turned priest, who wrestled purely to raise money for an orphanage. The story, though decades old, resurfaced and was retold recently on a Spanish news outlet. Sergio Gutierrez Benitez was born in 1945 the second-youngest of 18 children. By the tender age of 11, Benitez was addicted to drugs and proceeded down a path of crime, robbery, and odd jobs to fund his various dependencies. After that ... he joined the seminary and became a priest in the Piarist Order, studying in Spain and Italy to cement his faith. After joining the Diocese of Texcoco, he wanted to build a shelter for the city’s many homeless children and orphans, but the costs were prohibitive. So he pulled on a lucho libre mask and started wrestling for $15 per hour under the name Fray Tormenta. He ended up wrestling for 23 years, from 1977 to 2000, traveling from town to town elbow dropping, tombstoning, and double-legging his way to semi-stardom. Relying on his mask to hide his identity, he eventually revealed his double-personality to officiate the wedding of a close wrestling colleague shortly before opening his orphange ... at the turn of the millennium. Fray Tormenta’s Puppies Children’s Home, has seen over 2,000 children pass through its walls.
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“It’s a movement, not a moment.” That’s the mantra from Sam “Coach” Balto, a former school teacher from Portland, Oregon who quit his day job to stoke a revolution called the “bike bus” – groups of kids and families cycling to school together. How did one person in a mid-sized American city turn a weekly bike ride into something of a phenomenon? He leaned on the power of social media. In the past two years his videos have been viewed by hundreds of millions of people. In Portland, a “bike train” movement kicked off in 2010 when a 24-year-old bike advocate named Kiel Johnson began organising what he referred to as “bike trains” at an elementary school, where riders would join a mass of cyclists at various stops along a route to school. It caught on and in just a few months Johnson had signed up six other schools, won a grant, and had been interviewed by a national television show. “When you joined one of the big bike trains it really felt like you were part of something,” Johnson recalls. The children loved it, and why wouldn’t they? It’s good for children’s health – mental and physical – and also has a ripple effect of advantages for the whole family, as any Dutch person will argue. Many of Balto’s students say the best thing about the bike bus is that it’s simply a cool thing to do with friends. In the past year alone, Balto’s videos have been viewed more than 200m times. Balto, who now runs the nonprofit Bike Bus World, credits social media for building the movement.
Note: Watch an inspiring video of Sam Balto leading a massive bike bus on Earth Day in Portland. Explore more positive human interest stories.
Nine years ago, Cecilia Llusco was one of 11 Indigenous women who made it to the summit of the 6,088 metre-high Huayna Potosí in Bolivia. They called themselves the cholitas escaladoras (the climbing cholitas) and went on to scale many more peaks in Bolivia and across South America. Llusco takes enormous pride in being an Indigenous woman and always goes up mountains wearing her pollera, a voluminous traditional floral skirt. Her belief in the strength of others, particularly women, is steadfast and reassuring. Though he cannot speak or hear, Asom Khan has so much to say. When I arrived at his shelter in a Rohingya refugee camp in Bangladesh, he was quick to dig out his art books so I could see his drawings, to show me the photos he takes with his phone, and to tell me his story through the makeshift sign language he has developed. Photography has allowed Asom to communicate to the world what it is like to live in a refugee camp, where he has now spent almost half of his life. [Human rights lawyer Nasrin Sotoudeh's] determination to stand up for victims of injustice in Iran is resolute. For decades she has fought for justice, defending children on death row, child victims of domestic abuse and prominent activists. The government has been relentless in its efforts to crush her spirit, but Sotoudeh refuses to give up hope. Some question how, as a wife and mother, she could risk imprisonment, after she was sentenced to 38 years and 148 lashes for her human rights work in 2019. But her husband and children’s support is unwavering: “People say life is precious, don’t sacrifice your family life, but human rights and freedom are also valuable and precious.”
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Mr. Chen Si, known as the Angel of Nanjing, has volunteered to patrol the Yangtze Bridge every day, and over a 21-year career, he has saved 469 people from committing suicide. One of the most famous bridges in the country, it is also the world’s most popular location to commit suicide. Almost daily there are people lingering alone or wandering aimlessly along its sidewalk, and Chen engages them in conversation to test whether or not they are prospective jumpers. It started for Chen back in 2000, when he saw a desperate-looking girl wandering on the bridge. He was worried something might happen to her so he brought lunch for them to share and started to chat with her. He eventually paid for a bus ticket for her to go home, but realized that this was something that must happen all the time. For the past 21 years, he’s crossed the bridge 10 times a day on his electric scooter wearing his red jacket with the words “cherish all life” written across the back, he’s charismatic, he’s determined, he can be almost rude, in a certain Chinese way, in his efforts saving people’s life, and he’s become an expert. “People with an extreme internal struggle don’t have relaxed body movements, their bodies look heavy,” Chen [said]. He’s caught suicidal people who’ve been cheated on by their spouses, those who can’t afford school, and many other reasons. He has spare rooms in his house to keep those he pulls off the bridge in a safe environment.
Note: Watch the trailer for a 2015 documentary about Chen. Explore more positive human interest stories focused on solutions and bridging divides.
Not long after Russia’s February 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Oksana Sokhan found herself in an evacuation minibus, wedged between two stricken soldiers in the dark, as the vehicle tried to safely get away from the front line. She began singing Ukrainian lullabies to the wounded fighters, and stroking them as a mother would. Their anxiety eased. If she stopped the soothing singing for a moment, she saw their anxiety surge again. “I was surprised myself that it worked – surely it worked on a subconscious level for both of them,” recalls the nurse. Ms. Sokhan still laughs about that moment of serendipitous support with the lullabies in the minibus, and about how – after they had all arrived safely at the hospital – a nurse came out to report that one of the men was convinced his mother had been with him during the evacuation. Ms. Sokhan may be just one senior nurse, but she is emblematic of the legions of Ukrainian military medics devoted to preserving the lives of the country’s outnumbered forces. For years a member of the 128th Separate Transcarpathian Mountain Assault Brigade, she has seen a whirlwind of casualties at different points along the front line since Russia’s all-out invasion. “We want to save everyone,” she says. “Of course, it’s very important to see the results of your work, because when they come here” the soldiers are traumatized, in pain, “and when they leave ... they are already waving sometimes.”
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing the war machine.
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