“It almost looks like harassment to me”

Dietrich Treis runs a farm in the Ukraine east of Kyiv. He and his 80 or so employees grow wheat, maize, sunflowers, rapeseed and rye on 4,500 hectares. On the day the Russian army invaded Ukraine, he had made his way to Germany. He has now returned to Ukraine.

“When the war started, I would not have thought it possible that we would be able to harvest at all this year. The front was only a few kilometers from our fields. We often have to work with bright headlights, even at night. We would have been an easy target. The year already seemed lost.

And then the Russians suddenly withdrew from the region around Kyiv. We were able to continue with the normal spring order. We had stashed enough diesel for the machines and only had to buy one, which was expensive. And we even got seeds in time. In hindsight, it almost seems like a miracle to me.

Since 2017 I have been managing the operations of a German investor east of Kyiv. When the war broke out, I first drove to Germany by car. My family was already waiting for me in Passau. Both my children go to school there now. I was back in Ukraine for the first time at the beginning of May. Since mid-July I have been constantly on site at the company.

Rye, canola and wheat are in the barn. Sunflowers and corn are to follow in mid-September. And the result is not bad at all. Only the wheat disappoints. In the spring it was still standing very well, then it was cold at first, then unusually hot and it rained a lot during the harvest. The quality has suffered as a result. But the rap is good. And I started exporting.

Before the war we sold our grain to merchants in Odessa, where it was shipped. Transport across the Black Sea is unbeatably cheap. But that's far too uncertain for me now, even if a few ships are now leaving again. The goods are only paid for after the ship has left the port. If the Russians shell the port first, that's my risk.

For the first time, I am now supplying directly to a customer in Germany. And I only have the truck for that, which entails considerable additional costs. Grain is normally traded in bulk. However, trucks with a corresponding loading area are quite expensive.

We therefore fill the rapeseed into big bags – i.e. large plastic sacks such as those used for building rubble. They can be loaded onto an ordinary truck. A ton of rape fits into a big bag. The first delivery with 22 big bags is on its way.

The truck driver contacted me 30 kilometers from the Polish border. There he stood at the end of the line, advancing about three miles a day. Such waiting times make exports unnecessarily expensive. I get 550 to 600 euros per tonne of rapeseed; I have to deduct around 165 euros from this for the transport. By ship, at least before the war, it would have been only 20 to 40 euros.

Why aren't the trucks dispatched more quickly? And why are papers suddenly being requested that are actually no longer required in the EU? It almost looks like harassment to me. But why? I appeal to those responsible in Brussels to support Poland and ensure that more trucks can cross the border every day.

Millions of tons of grain are still stored in Ukraine and have to be exported; On our farm alone there are still more than 5000 tons of corn and wheat from last year. The grain can lie for a number of years without spoiling. But storage capacity is limited. If there is no prospect of emptying my store, I will probably not sow anything next year because I can no longer store the harvest.

After the Russian army left, private individuals used metal detectors to search for mines on the access roads to our fields. We left about 15 meters at the edge of the field when working, because the mines are usually only on the paths or at the edges, as tanks or soldiers move there in the cover of the forest strips.

Later, the Ukrainian civil protection team searched our areas for mines. An anti-tank mine was discovered in a field, which we had probably driven over twice with our machines. Luckily nothing happened. Two minesweepers died near our fields when a mine exploded while on duty. When I drive out to the fields, I'm still very careful.

From time to time I go to Kyiv to look at the apartment where I lived with my family before the war. It's an oppressive feeling. You will be checked by soldiers when you enter the city. But mostly I stay overnight on the farm. When I'm not listening to the news, I hardly notice that the war is still on.

There is enough food in the shops, only the selection has become smaller. It is noticeable that there are fewer imported goods from the West; there were few from Russia anyway. I have an app on my smartphone that warns of a missile attack. You get used to it. I turned them down.

The country still has a night-time curfew from 11 p.m. to 5 a.m. Everyone has to stay where they are. I have applied for a special permit for some employees so that they can come out if, for example, a combine harvester breaks down and needs spare parts. Despite the curfew, work is also done in the fields at night. We just need to be on the field before 11pm.

The winter grain must be sown soon. By December at the latest I will decide whether and what we want to plant next spring. For now, it looks like our operation got off lightly. But we can only be sure when hopefully there will soon be peace again and we have also marketed our grain. Many people around the world are waiting for the grain from Ukraine.”

Recorded by Claudia Ehrenstein