The Dubliner helping Ukrainians flee to Ireland to escape war
Nadiia, her niece Yana, and golden retriever Fella at Ciaran Murphy's apartment in Warsaw
It is a busy day for Ciaran Murphy, a native of Swords, Co Dublin. It started with cooking breakfast for his guests, a family of refugees from Ukraine — Nadiia, her daughter (who wished to remain anonymous) and her niece Yana.
Later that day, he would drive out to Modlin airport, about an hour away from Warsaw, to pick up another Ukrainian family who needed transportation back into Warsaw. Only to be back to the airport again in the evening to drive Nadiia and the girls to catch their Ryanair flight to Shannon.
In between those chores, Mr Murphy managed to teach an online English class, walk his cheerful golden retriever Fella a few times, and meet with a journalist, myself.
When I visit them in a cosy two-bedroom apartment in the northern district of Warsaw, Mr Murphy and his guests are finishing breakfast. The 37-year-old Irishman has been living in Poland for eight years and teaches English in a language school run by his wife Kasia. Together, they are raising little Zuza.
In the first days of the war, he saw images of refugees crossing the border and asked himself: “What can I offer? I have a car, so I can offer transport. I have a spare room and a sofa bed, so I can offer that as well.”
He believes it is in the nature of the Irish to respond to personal suffering and loss.
There is a bit of a language barrier between Mr Murphy and his guests, but with his “broken Polish and their broken English” and Google translate, they manage. As I speak Russian and easily understand Ukrainian, we spend over an hour talking about the war, the bravery of Ukrainians, the mental state of Vladimir Putin, and the shocking scale of propaganda in Russia.

The family comes from Ivano-Frankivsk in western Ukraine. Nadiia had to leave her husband behind. Yana’s family is back home as well: her mother is a medical worker and is liable for military service, as is her older brother, who’s just turned 18. Their trip to Poland took over 24 hours. They were first dropped off at the border by Nadiia’s husband but later crossed it on foot carrying small backpacks.
They have not lost hope of returning home after a while, but for now, they are heading to Co Mayo. It’s the closest they can get to Britain, where Yana’s godmother is waiting for them.
While Ireland has lifted its visa requirement for Ukrainians fleeing war, the UK’s procedure is less straightforward. The British government has promised to launch a new humanitarian sponsorship visa route. Nadiia and the girls will try to apply for those visas from Ireland.
They have lots of questions about the place they’re going to. Yana had to leave her beloved school behind. Together, we are trying to calculate how many years of school she has left in Ireland. When I mention that some schools in Ireland are single-sex, Yana is surprised.
“But that’s no fun,” she says. The overwhelming majority of schools in the countries from the former USSR, are mixed. Including Yana’s Catholic lyceum.
The teenager is also very curious about sports and wonders if she could play soccer or rugby in Ireland. The last time they were forming a soccer school team back home, the girls were not accepted.
Nadiia asks me whether it is easy to buy medicine for diabetes in Ireland. But she is not too worried: after several days of constant help from strangers, she knows she will not be left alone with that problem.
While we talk, Mr Murphy keeps arranging their departure, including their Covid documents.
Despite the pandemic rapidly becoming ancient history for everyone in the region, Mr Murphy felt it was important to prepare every document so there will be no trouble at the Irish border. He drove them to take PCR tests, while his friends in Warsaw helped to cover the cost of that, still rather expensive, service.
Mr Murphy repeats a few times that “others are doing much more". But it is worth trying to make a difference, even for three people, he adds.
Another humanitarian project he and his wife are setting up are free Polish language classes for Ukrainians. The first lesson is on Sunday and is fully booked. Despite their yearning to return to Ukraine, most refugees understand they will have to start settling abroad.





