Meet the TCU beach volleyball player from Ukraine who narrowly got out before war started

Six hours separates her life from TCU, from the United States, and living at home in Kremenechuk.

Six hours later and Anhelina Khmil is still at home, living in Ukraine.

On Feb. 23, 2022, Khmil was with her beach volleyball partner and packing to leave to continue training in the Czech Republic. For days Khmil had heard the rumors, and speculation, that the Russian army would invade Ukraine.

“People kept talking about that something is coming soon, and to prepare,” Khmil said. “My last practice in the Ukraine, everyone was so nervous. My partner on the team was crying. I just said, ‘Relax. They have been doing this since 2014. It’s not a joke but they’re just trying to scare us.’”

Khmil, 20, left her home, headed for the Czech Republic to train with her professional team. Six hours later, Russian troops crossed the Ukrainian border.

Six hours.

Khmil called her mother the next morning.

“Hi,” her mother said. “The war has started.”

Those six hours unintentionally created a gap large enough for Khmil to navigate her way to the United States, and to TCU. She is a member of the TCU women’s beach volleyball team, which is currently competing for a national title at the NCAA championships in Gulf Shores, Ala.

Second-seeded TCU will play 15th-seed Stetson in the first round of the NCAA beach volleyball championships at 1 p.m. on May 5.

How she got here is an American Dream born from a hell, a creation of Vladimir Putin’s vanity war.

Khmil has settled in to her life at TCU, but does live in the constant fear knowing that her mom, step father and her younger brother are stuck in a surreal situation where “war” is not some far away entity but a part of their day that could land in their living room.

Life in Ukraine

Khmil has not been home since she left for the Czech Republic.

She talks to her mother, Natalia, stepfather, Anatoli and her 5-year-old brother, Timothy, on the phone and via FaceTime.

They live in an apartment in the industrial town of Kremenechuk, population 220,000. The town sits on the Dnieper River, about a five-hour drive south of Ukraine’s capital, Kyiv.

Khmi’s family lives about 320 miles from the Russian border.

“It’s not too bad,” she said.

Her idea of “not too bad” is quite different than yours.

Her mother called her a few months ago in the middle of the day in Fort Worth. That is the middle of the night in Kremenechuk.

“We just heard an explosion,” her mother said.

While they were talking on FaceTime, Khmil heard two additional explosions. The five-story apartment building was not directly hit by a Russian attack, but some of the top floor windows blew out.

For a lot of Ukranians, that’s not “too bad.”

After the war started, her mother and brother were able to move and live in the Czech Republic for four months, thanks to her husband’s job. But her husband, per the rules of Ukraine, could not go with her.

Her mom had a job, and her brother was in kindergarten.

But her mom didn’t speak the language. She needed help with her son. She missed her husband.

So she went back to Kremenechuk, because it’s “not too bad.”

Leaving for the United States

After the war started, Khmil said most Ukranians had about two days to flee. After that, leaving has been nearly impossible.

When Khmil traveled to the Czech Republic, to practice with her pro team in Bernov, she had packed one suitcase. Two pairs of Spandex pants. Some T-shirts. She was supposed to be there for 10 days before she returned home.

For some reason, she took all of her cash. Just in case something happened.

After the war started, the Czech Republic Volleyball Federation assisted all Ukranian players, providing food, clothes, etc.

For a while she would call, or text, her mother, every two hours. Just to make sure she was alive.

The first week of the war became two weeks. The first two months of the war became five months. Then five months turned into a year.

Khmil still has not gone home, and reluctantly realized she had to do something else. She made a good salary. She had a place to live. Her relationship with her head coach, however, was toxic.

“I had to leave. I had to take care of myself,” she said.

She was looking for someplace else to go. Any place but home.

In the summer of 2022, an opportunity to attend and play at TCU presented itself. In the middle of August, she was playing at the Euro Championships in Germany, and her plan was to leave.

She had never been to the United States. She was going to attend an American college, even though she was not completely comfortable speaking English.

It was a chance to create a new life, and she took it.

Learning to live with a war

Shortly after arriving to TCU, every time Khmil checked the news it was laced with fear.

A bomb hit a large apartment building where a former teammate and her family lived. No one she knew was killed, or badly wounded, but the realities of this war immediately became personal.

“It was one thing to see things happen to strangers and you fee bad for them, but when it happens to people close to you, the war feels different,” she said.

Khmil talks to her mother three times a week, and texts daily.

The war is part of the routine now. Life goes on, even if life includes sirens at all hours, news of approaching soldiers, or bombs dropping.

Despite the risks and dangers, Khmil plans to return to her home this summer so she can play beach volleyball with the Ukrainian Federation team.

After that, she intends to return to TCU in the fall to continue her education and play. She intends to graduate from TCU, and build a life away from Ukraine.

“When it all first started they said the war would end in three days. Now they’re saying it will end in three years,” she said. “No one really knows. It’s been more than a year and it’s a normal thing now.”

It’s not “too bad.”