When an empty van pulls into the courtyard at the White Eagle Appeal in Tooting, it’s all systems go. The volunteers drop what they’re doing and a fifteen-person chain forms, winding through the disused tool hire shop that has served as a donations centre for the past three months.
They start by handing boxes of shoes down the line. Then comes crates of Pampers nappies and bin liners full of baby clothes. “Any crutches?” a voice calls from the van. The chain stretches longer to reach a dark room, and pairs of crutches, tied together with plastic wrap, are passed carefully from person to person.
Managed by the White Eagle Club, a Polish community hub based up the road in Balham, the appeal has become one of London’s largest humanitarian aid operations in support of Ukraine. So far, the club has sent 68 lorry loads of supplies to the country, but as the war has gone on, the number of donations and volunteers has tailed off.
“We are receiving messages from Ukraine and Poland with what is needed,” says club manager Kris Gondek. “For the first days, people kept bringing whatever they had at home.
“[Ukrainians] have now had plenty of clothing from the whole of Europe. Clothing is obviously needed but it’s not essential at the moment. Medical supplies are the priority.”
In Tooting, the medical supplies stocks are running low. A chalkboard outside the centre’s entrance lists products that are urgently required. Among the items at the top of the board are trauma packs, clotting agents and tourniquets – a reminder of the severe blast and gunshot injuries being endured by civilians across Ukraine.
It’s the war fatigue… It’s all dried up a bit.
Inside the centre, boxes of goods are stacked to the rafters. March’s initial surge brought an abundance of donations, but the rate at which they’ve arrived since has slowed considerably.
“It’s the war fatigue,” says Barry, one of the managing volunteers, who gave only his first name. “It’s all dried up a bit. We usually get a lot of corporate donations but even they’ve dried up.”
The number of people coming to volunteer with the appeal has fallen too. According to Gondek, it’s now mostly students and retired people who are able to offer their time to help out.
“To start with, we had over 100 volunteers on each of the sites [in Tooting and Croydon],” says Gondek. “But now people are getting tired and also volunteers aren’t getting that much time off work.
“We have maybe 10, 15, 20 a day.”
For Polish volunteers, the struggle of their neighbours a thousand miles away still feels very close to home. Data from the United Nations shows that almost 3.7 million Ukrainians have crossed the border into Poland since the outbreak of war. It is the country that has welcomed the most refugees.
Mateusz Pyrko, who has helped out regularly since March, says: “They are a part of Polish society now, and I think that’s the reason why most Polish people are willing to help Ukraine.”
Although initially started by a Polish social club, the appeal counts volunteers from across the globe. Among them is photographer Anthony Lau, who feels an affinity with the Ukrainians, likening their struggle to the plight of his home city of Hong Kong which has seen many of its freedoms quashed by the Chinese government.
Between Pyrko, Lau and their fellow volunteers, motivation remains high at the White Eagle Appeal.
They chatter as they sort swiftly through clothes, putting some aside for the new “boutique” – a cordoned-off area where Ukrainian arrivals in London can come to select their wardrobe.
The human conveyor belt shows no sign of slacking, either. The volunteers laugh as they toss light bags of clothes towards the van. In the corner, a woman writes labels in English, Polish and Ukrainian to stick on the boxes. She smiles while she works, humming along to the chorus of The Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me”, that crackles through the radio.
(Header image: Anthony Lau)