Standing Strong: Stories of Resilience from Ukraine’s Vietnamese Community

When Russia swept into Ukraine a couple of years back, Tung Nguyen went into action. He hustled his folks out of their pad in Chernihiv, driving them all the way to the Polish border. Then, he dashed back to Kyiv, rolling up his sleeves to lend a hand—toting supplies like food and meds to his besieged hometown of Chernihiv. And before you could blink, he enlisted in the Ukrainian army, ready to stand his ground.

Nguyen is part of Ukraine’s Vietnamese crew, a bunch that flies under the radar but packs a punch. Some Vietnamese folks packed up and left Ukraine when Russia came knocking, but others stuck around, especially the younger crowd—many born and bred here, proudly waving Ukrainian flags.

Raised in Hanoi by his grandparents, Nguyen made the leap to Chernihiv at 18 to join his parents. He hit the books in Kyiv, picked up Russian along the way, and got into the fitness scene, winning Ukraine’s championship in 2019. That’s when they handed him citizenship so he could rep the country worldwide.

“Ukraine’s been my everything—I studied here, worked here, even tied the knot with a Ukrainian. It’s not my second home anymore, it’s just home,” Nguyen shared over a Skype call from his army digs.

Last year, he took a hit during a Ukrainian pullback from Bakhmut, risking it all to rescue wounded buddies near the frontlines at night. Artillery rained down, leaving him cut up and bleeding inside, spending a month in the hospital. But he bounced back, only to get wounded again in December, needing another two months to heal. And now? He’s back in the fray.

The past two years of all-out war have seen Ukrainians banding together against Russia’s shadow, and the Vietnamese crew is right there with them. They mourned when one of their own fell in battle, and rallied around Nguyen when he got hurt.

“Before the big fight started, I barely knew any Vietnamese folks, but now they’ve got my back. Messages of support flooded in, folks brought meals to the hospital,” Nguyen shared.

Vietnamese cats started trickling into the Soviet scene back in the ’50s for studies, mostly tech stuff. Ever heard of Pham Nhat Vuong? He’s Vietnam’s big cheese, and he made his first dough in Kharkiv, launching Mivina noodles that Ukrainians went crazy for post-communism. Plus, loads of Vietnamese bigwigs polished their skills in Ukrainian universities. Come the ’90s, more rolled in for gigs, like Nguyen’s parents settling in Chernihiv.

Before the war, the Vietnamese squad clocked in around 100,000 strong, as per Serhiy Chervanchuk, the Ukraine-Vietnam Association’s main man.

Kharkiv’s home to a hefty Vietnamese posse. Barabashovo market used to buzz with Vietnamese traders, but Russian hits knocked it down a peg. Still, folks like Dima, sipping tea on a rainy morning, aren’t bailing. Most go by Ukrainianized names at the market.

Over in Kharkiv, Nguyen Thi Thanh Nhan’s story is a slice of life. She rolled into town decades back, married a local, and went from market hustling to running a Vietnamese eatery. While she sticks to Vietnamese, her son Tran Minh Duc is a language whiz, juggling Ukrainian, Russian, English, and his mother tongue while juggling studies and shifts at the family joint.

War’s shadow looms large for Nhan. Her grandma caught a bullet in the Vietnam War, a tale that shaped her schooling. So when war hit Ukraine, it hit close to home.

Kharkiv sat on the war’s edge early on, pushing Nhan’s family to Germany for a bit. They snagged gigs at a Vietnamese eatery in Cologne but missed home too much, bouncing back to Kharkiv.

“We love Ukraine, couldn’t imagine being anywhere else,” Nhan beamed. They reopened shop in June 2022, even when Kharkiv was a ghost town. Cops and soldiers were the first diners, but life’s picking up again, with families and couples filling the seats.

Like many Vietnamese, they’ve got fam in Russia, but talking politics is off the table. “My cousin checked in after the war, but we kept it light. Politics ain’t our thing,” Tran shrugged.