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Single-use plastic is a scourge of takeout. How to escape it

Single-use plastic is a scourge of takeout. How to escape it

IOL News7 days ago
In the Washington DC area, 19 restaurants are partnering with To Go Green, which provides reusable containers for takeout.
Image: Courtesy of To Go Green
Michael J. Coren
What's in your take-out order? Plastic. Lots of it.
Most to-go food comes boxed, bagged or otherwise accompanied by petrochemicals. You ingest this unsavory stew with every bite, before the discarded packaging piles up in landfills.
So over the past few months, I tried to eliminate plastic delivered to my door.
In my war with single-use containers, I notched a surprising number of victories against unasked-for cutlery and tubs destined for the trash. But total triumph proved as hard as you might imagine.
Help may be on the way.
Society is starting to recognize - as it did with lead, asbestos and other toxic materials before - that the drawbacks of single-use plastic may not be worth the convenience. An increasing number of cities are considering laws restricting or banning single-use plastic for food. Reusable container companies are proving that restaurants can save money by ditching the disposables, while delivering fresher, hotter food without the waste.
Systemic problems require systemic solutions, but you can resist the tide of plastic in your to-go meals.
Here's how I cut out (most of) the plastic in my food delivery and what we are going to need to do together.
Washington Post restaurant critic Tom Sietsema saved take-out and delivery containers to show how much trash was being generated by takeaways.
Image: Katherine Frey/The Washington Post
A brief history of take-out food containers
Before plastic, there was clay. In ancient Rome, thermopolia, the fast food joints of their time, fed legions of imperial citizens in the streets out of earthenware bowls.
The modern history of take-out food packaging arguably began in 1894 with the patent for the 'paper pail.' Cheap, durable and nearly leakproof, the origami-like invention (later adorned with a little red pagoda) helped usher in the 20th century's obsession with food takeaway and delivery.
Plastics arrived after World War II, when the industry needed new customers to soak up a glut of manufacturing capacity. Single-use plastics for food packaging were inexpensive and endlessly modifiable - and soon ubiquitous.
The Foodservice Packaging Institute estimates that half of all prepared food today comes in plastic. But that may be an underestimate, since so much packaging is really a blend of paper and polymers. Even the iconic paper pail often has a plastic or 'forever chemical' coating to improve its grease and leak resistance.
The costs of plastic containers
Our reliance on single-use plastics is not good for us or the environment.
Plastic production is fueling global warming, equivalent to the emissions from 116 average-sized coal-fired power plants in 2020 in the United States alone. And even if it's used only once, plastic sticks around. Less than 6 percent is effectively recycled in the United States. It takes centuries to break down into ever smaller particles.
Studies have found that nearly half of plastic litter in the ocean is composed of take-out food and drink containers, which regularly entangle and injure wildlife. Scientists have found some birds that have ingested so much plastic that they crunch when touched.
Plastic also messes with human bodies. The precise health consequences of the more than 10,000 chemicals that are used to make plastics are still under investigation. But the early evidence is disturbing.
First, plasticizers such as bisphenols (including BPA) and phthalates, used to soften plastics or avoid corrosion, appear to disrupt how the body orchestrates everything from neurodevelopment to reproduction. BPA is suspected of increasing obesity, decreasing fertility, and damaging the nervous and immune systems of children, according to the American Academy of Pediatrics. Similarly, phthalates have been linked to male fertility problems, obesity and ADHD, as well as over 350,000 heart disease deaths.
Then there are microplastics. Tiny shards of plastic are found in every organ of the human body, associated with maladies including lung cancer and colon cancer, as well as reproductive problems.
Avoiding these 'everywhere chemicals' is impossible. They're in the air we breathe, the water we drink and, of course, the packaging we consume.
But you can minimize your exposure. Sometimes all you have to do is ask.
My attempt to eliminate plastic in takeout
Every time I ordered food delivery, I asked restaurants to avoid single-use plastic. I ordered from Thai, Mexican, Japanese and Italian restaurants (sometimes multiple times with different dishes). Most places, even if surprised by the request, tried to accommodate it, at least to some degree.
Many offered paper products to ferry food. Those can present their own set of problems if they are coated with PFAS, also known as forever chemicals, which have been linked to immune system suppression, lower birth weight and certain cancers. When I could, I asked for a thin layer of aluminum foil in hot dishes to prevent chemical leaching.
If my order contained soups or liquids, I brought my own container for pickup. Although health laws vary, every restaurant I visited was willing to use my BYO.
Small plastic tubs for sauces and condiments were the biggest spoiler of an otherwise plastic-free experience.
The only unqualified success: DamnFine, a neighborhood pizza joint, delivered everything in a simple cardboard pizza box. The only complete failure was my favorite Mexican restaurant, which uses only plastic clamshells. We only dine in there now.
My experience was mixed with a family-style food delivery service in my area. They use black plastic tubs for delivery and reheating dishes (a very bad idea). Although they said they had tried alternatives in the past, they promised to renew their search. I wasn't optimistic. But last month, they called to say they would soon be switching to all paper products (which can even be heated in an oven).
Was it all worth it? I didn't mind ditching some restaurants or spending a bit of extra time picking up my food in reusable containers, especially since I have two very young kids (among the most vulnerable to these contaminants).
But the point of food delivery is convenience. For most people, it has to be simple, cheap and easy.
Compostable bioplastics seem like an obvious solution. But only a small fraction of the country has access to compost facilities (and many won't accept popular to-go packaging). Over their lifetime, bioplastics still demand more greenhouse gases, water and energy than reusable containers or even typical single-use plastic items.
The holy grail for the food industry is a fully reusable, toxin-free system that works for everyone at no extra cost. The challenge is reverse logistics: How do you collect, clean and redistribute thousands of containers to hungry customers at prices that beat 30-cent disposables?
Getting reusable containers to work
The big food delivery services are experimenting. DoorDash (where, full disclosure, a family member works) said it has delivered more than 50,000 orders in reusable containers in cities including Los Angeles and New York.
Uber Eats has also been running pilots around the world, with limited success, said Fay AlQassar, who leads the company's delivery sustainability efforts. 'In every pilot, we end up with very, very small percentage return rates,' she said. For now, Uber is promoting restaurants that use sustainable packaging with a green badge in the app in Europe (and soon the United States).
For reuse to work, AlQassar argued, the industry needs to coalesce around standard containers, shared infrastructure for washing and returns, and policies at the city or state level. 'I do think the future, at some point, will inevitably have to be reuse,' she said. 'The question is when does that future come and are we ready for it.'
For now, some of the greatest reuse success stories for restaurants are local.
In the D.C. area, 19 restaurants are partnering with To Go Green, which bills its polypropylene containers as free of phthalates and bisphenols, and says they cost two to four times less per use than a single-use container. Customers can schedule a free return pickup or drop the containers off at any of the participating restaurants.
DeliverZero, which worked with 300 restaurants from New York to Los Angeles, pursued a similar approach before getting acquired and embracing a more centralized model - with reusable containers collected in large, multiunit buildings and centralized drop-off points.
Small, however, can be profitable. In Philadelphia, Tiffin, a chain of 10 Indian restaurants, created its own reuse system. Roughly 20 percent of monthly deliveries - tens of thousands of orders - are now in its reusable containers. Owner Munish Narula said customers return nearly 90 percent of the containers within 30 days, and the chain has seen increased sales, reduced packaging costs and improved customer loyalty.
'I cannot tell you how many times I've been stopped and people tell me how much they love this,' he said.
Michael is the "Climate Coach" advice columnist for The Washington Post. He spent nearly two decades as a reporter and editor covering climate, technology and economics.
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Single-use plastic is a scourge of takeout. How to escape it
Single-use plastic is a scourge of takeout. How to escape it

IOL News

time7 days ago

  • IOL News

Single-use plastic is a scourge of takeout. How to escape it

In the Washington DC area, 19 restaurants are partnering with To Go Green, which provides reusable containers for takeout. Image: Courtesy of To Go Green Michael J. Coren What's in your take-out order? Plastic. Lots of it. Most to-go food comes boxed, bagged or otherwise accompanied by petrochemicals. You ingest this unsavory stew with every bite, before the discarded packaging piles up in landfills. So over the past few months, I tried to eliminate plastic delivered to my door. In my war with single-use containers, I notched a surprising number of victories against unasked-for cutlery and tubs destined for the trash. But total triumph proved as hard as you might imagine. Help may be on the way. Society is starting to recognize - as it did with lead, asbestos and other toxic materials before - that the drawbacks of single-use plastic may not be worth the convenience. An increasing number of cities are considering laws restricting or banning single-use plastic for food. Reusable container companies are proving that restaurants can save money by ditching the disposables, while delivering fresher, hotter food without the waste. Systemic problems require systemic solutions, but you can resist the tide of plastic in your to-go meals. Here's how I cut out (most of) the plastic in my food delivery and what we are going to need to do together. Washington Post restaurant critic Tom Sietsema saved take-out and delivery containers to show how much trash was being generated by takeaways. Image: Katherine Frey/The Washington Post A brief history of take-out food containers Before plastic, there was clay. In ancient Rome, thermopolia, the fast food joints of their time, fed legions of imperial citizens in the streets out of earthenware bowls. The modern history of take-out food packaging arguably began in 1894 with the patent for the 'paper pail.' Cheap, durable and nearly leakproof, the origami-like invention (later adorned with a little red pagoda) helped usher in the 20th century's obsession with food takeaway and delivery. Plastics arrived after World War II, when the industry needed new customers to soak up a glut of manufacturing capacity. Single-use plastics for food packaging were inexpensive and endlessly modifiable - and soon ubiquitous. The Foodservice Packaging Institute estimates that half of all prepared food today comes in plastic. But that may be an underestimate, since so much packaging is really a blend of paper and polymers. Even the iconic paper pail often has a plastic or 'forever chemical' coating to improve its grease and leak resistance. The costs of plastic containers Our reliance on single-use plastics is not good for us or the environment. Plastic production is fueling global warming, equivalent to the emissions from 116 average-sized coal-fired power plants in 2020 in the United States alone. And even if it's used only once, plastic sticks around. Less than 6 percent is effectively recycled in the United States. It takes centuries to break down into ever smaller particles. Studies have found that nearly half of plastic litter in the ocean is composed of take-out food and drink containers, which regularly entangle and injure wildlife. Scientists have found some birds that have ingested so much plastic that they crunch when touched. Plastic also messes with human bodies. The precise health consequences of the more than 10,000 chemicals that are used to make plastics are still under investigation. But the early evidence is disturbing. First, plasticizers such as bisphenols (including BPA) and phthalates, used to soften plastics or avoid corrosion, appear to disrupt how the body orchestrates everything from neurodevelopment to reproduction. BPA is suspected of increasing obesity, decreasing fertility, and damaging the nervous and immune systems of children, according to the American Academy of Pediatrics. Similarly, phthalates have been linked to male fertility problems, obesity and ADHD, as well as over 350,000 heart disease deaths. Then there are microplastics. Tiny shards of plastic are found in every organ of the human body, associated with maladies including lung cancer and colon cancer, as well as reproductive problems. Avoiding these 'everywhere chemicals' is impossible. They're in the air we breathe, the water we drink and, of course, the packaging we consume. But you can minimize your exposure. Sometimes all you have to do is ask. My attempt to eliminate plastic in takeout Every time I ordered food delivery, I asked restaurants to avoid single-use plastic. I ordered from Thai, Mexican, Japanese and Italian restaurants (sometimes multiple times with different dishes). Most places, even if surprised by the request, tried to accommodate it, at least to some degree. Many offered paper products to ferry food. Those can present their own set of problems if they are coated with PFAS, also known as forever chemicals, which have been linked to immune system suppression, lower birth weight and certain cancers. When I could, I asked for a thin layer of aluminum foil in hot dishes to prevent chemical leaching. If my order contained soups or liquids, I brought my own container for pickup. Although health laws vary, every restaurant I visited was willing to use my BYO. Small plastic tubs for sauces and condiments were the biggest spoiler of an otherwise plastic-free experience. The only unqualified success: DamnFine, a neighborhood pizza joint, delivered everything in a simple cardboard pizza box. The only complete failure was my favorite Mexican restaurant, which uses only plastic clamshells. We only dine in there now. My experience was mixed with a family-style food delivery service in my area. They use black plastic tubs for delivery and reheating dishes (a very bad idea). Although they said they had tried alternatives in the past, they promised to renew their search. I wasn't optimistic. But last month, they called to say they would soon be switching to all paper products (which can even be heated in an oven). Was it all worth it? I didn't mind ditching some restaurants or spending a bit of extra time picking up my food in reusable containers, especially since I have two very young kids (among the most vulnerable to these contaminants). But the point of food delivery is convenience. For most people, it has to be simple, cheap and easy. Compostable bioplastics seem like an obvious solution. But only a small fraction of the country has access to compost facilities (and many won't accept popular to-go packaging). Over their lifetime, bioplastics still demand more greenhouse gases, water and energy than reusable containers or even typical single-use plastic items. The holy grail for the food industry is a fully reusable, toxin-free system that works for everyone at no extra cost. The challenge is reverse logistics: How do you collect, clean and redistribute thousands of containers to hungry customers at prices that beat 30-cent disposables? Getting reusable containers to work The big food delivery services are experimenting. DoorDash (where, full disclosure, a family member works) said it has delivered more than 50,000 orders in reusable containers in cities including Los Angeles and New York. Uber Eats has also been running pilots around the world, with limited success, said Fay AlQassar, who leads the company's delivery sustainability efforts. 'In every pilot, we end up with very, very small percentage return rates,' she said. For now, Uber is promoting restaurants that use sustainable packaging with a green badge in the app in Europe (and soon the United States). For reuse to work, AlQassar argued, the industry needs to coalesce around standard containers, shared infrastructure for washing and returns, and policies at the city or state level. 'I do think the future, at some point, will inevitably have to be reuse,' she said. 'The question is when does that future come and are we ready for it.' For now, some of the greatest reuse success stories for restaurants are local. In the D.C. area, 19 restaurants are partnering with To Go Green, which bills its polypropylene containers as free of phthalates and bisphenols, and says they cost two to four times less per use than a single-use container. Customers can schedule a free return pickup or drop the containers off at any of the participating restaurants. DeliverZero, which worked with 300 restaurants from New York to Los Angeles, pursued a similar approach before getting acquired and embracing a more centralized model - with reusable containers collected in large, multiunit buildings and centralized drop-off points. Small, however, can be profitable. In Philadelphia, Tiffin, a chain of 10 Indian restaurants, created its own reuse system. Roughly 20 percent of monthly deliveries - tens of thousands of orders - are now in its reusable containers. Owner Munish Narula said customers return nearly 90 percent of the containers within 30 days, and the chain has seen increased sales, reduced packaging costs and improved customer loyalty. 'I cannot tell you how many times I've been stopped and people tell me how much they love this,' he said. Michael is the "Climate Coach" advice columnist for The Washington Post. He spent nearly two decades as a reporter and editor covering climate, technology and economics.

Bust attributed to Donatello splits Slovakia
Bust attributed to Donatello splits Slovakia

eNCA

time09-06-2025

  • eNCA

Bust attributed to Donatello splits Slovakia

A bust attributed to Renaissance master Donatello has re-emerged in Slovakia after falling into obscurity following World War II, but the country's nationalist government has sparked anger by stowing it away in a ministry building. The sculpture of Italian noblewoman Cecilia Gonzaga spent centuries in a manor house in central Slovakia, whose owners, the noble Csaky family, left it behind when they fled the advancing World War II front in 1945. Moved about and ultimately forgotten in the aftermath, it was sitting in a depository at the Spis Museum in the eastern town of Levoca when art historian Marta Herucova stumbled across it. The bust had been marked "unknown author". But Herucova noticed the base was inscribed with the words: "Ceciliae Gonzagae opvs Donatelli" (Cecilia Gonzaga, a work by Donatello). If confirmed, it would be only the eighth artwork signed by the Italian Renaissance sculptor to be discovered worldwide. Herucova made the find in 2019, but it was only announced in February -- surprising the country. "Who would expect an original Donatello to appear in Slovakia?" former museum director Maria Novotna told AFP. But the bust is now a subject of controversy. Nationalist Culture Minister Martina Simkovicova decided to remove it from the museum and bring it to an unknown location in late May, citing security concerns. The move dismayed critics and art historians, who say the bust needs expert conservation and research to confirm if it is really by Donatello (1386-1466). - 'Second expropriation' - A group of cultural sector representatives including Count Moritz Csaky has meanwhile lobbied for the bust to go on display. Csaky said in a statement on Monday that his family did not make any claim for restitution but cautioned "against individual artefacts becoming the plaything of power-political or commercial speculations". "I hope that the bust will not become the victim of a second expropriation and will once again find a dignified and honourable place in the Spis Museum," he added. AFP | JOE KLAMAR The bust has an epic backstory. After the Csaky family fled, Soviet troops looted their house, which then became a juvenile detention centre for girls after the communist government took over what was then Czechoslovakia in 1948. The girls played with the bust and even defined its eyes with blue pen, said Peter Cizmar, the son of a former guardian. In 1975, artwork still surviving at the centre was moved to the nearby Spis Museum. Attributed to an unknown 19th-century artist, the bust "was put in a depository and had not left it since", said former director Novotna, an art historian. Novotna was in charge of the museum catalogue as a young woman, and now regrets she did not have time to research the item as she was swamped with work. - Dinner companion - In 2019, Herucova was working on the museum's 19th-century collection when she found the piece. "The bust just came up," she said. After noticing the inscription, she started in-depth research. She suspected forgery, but the material, details and inscription were all too telling, she said. "Even artists who made Renaissance-style busts never signed them in the name of the original author," Herucova told AFP. She wrote about the finding in the French art history magazine Revue de l'Art, waiting for someone to contest the bust's origin -- which has not happened. Herucova also contacted Csaky, who had no clear recollection of its origin either, as his family left for Vienna when he was 11. But he did recall seeing the bust on a porch where the family dined in summer. "He said there used to be two original Gothic statues next to it, which are also in the museum today," Herucova said. - 'Safe and protected' - Herucova also contacted Italian art history professor Francesco Caglioti, who voiced doubt about the authorship but declined to elaborate. She is now pinning hopes on research in cooperation with foreign institutions. But for now, the bust is hidden away. Simkovicova, the culture minister who ordered it be moved with the help of a police commando, said it was "now safe and protected". Police chief Jana Maskarova later said the bust was at an interior ministry centre in Topolcianky, central Slovakia. Simkovicova promised to display the bust when "conditions are favourable". Herucova hopes the ministry will not try to revamp the bust, which should retain its patina, she said. "It's supposed to go to a professional place where they know how to do lab analyses."

Thousands of Ukraine's children vanished into Russia. This one made it back.
Thousands of Ukraine's children vanished into Russia. This one made it back.

IOL News

time04-06-2025

  • IOL News

Thousands of Ukraine's children vanished into Russia. This one made it back.

Illia Matviienko, 12, shows one of his favorite Lego toys at home in Uzhhorod, Ukraine, on April 12. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post Lizzie Johnson and Kostiantyn Khudov The boy from Mariupol still wasn't ready to walk to the bus stop alone, so just before 8am, he and his grandmother set off for school together. He reached for her hand, zipping her fingers in his own, and stole a sip of her coffee. Illia Matviienko was almost 13 but still got lost easily. Three years had passed since his mother bled out in his arms after a Russian shelling, since a neighbour chipped her grave in the frozen winter of their yard, since soldiers found him alone and took him deeper into the occupied Donetsk territory, where he was put up for adoption. There, he almost became a different boy: a Russian one. Until his grandmother, Olena Matviienko, spotted him in a 26-second Russian propaganda video. Illia became an extraordinary test case for how, and whether, Ukraine could claw back its missing children - a journey that took Olena across four international borders and deep into Russia. 'I wouldn't have found him if I didn't see the video,' Olena, 64, said at their home in Uzhhorod, in far western Ukraine. 'He would be with a different family now. How much would he remember of who he was?' Illia's return in 2022 after weeks in a hospital in occupied Ukraine showed the difficulty of just getting back one child - let alone the tens of thousands of Ukrainian children now at the center of Kyiv's demands for peace. Deported or disappeared into Russia, their plight has united American politicians to pressure President Donald Trump for their safe return and spurred war crimes charges against Russian President Vladimir Putin and his deputy, children's rights commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova, for their illegal transfer - charges a Kremlin spokesman disputed as 'outrageous and unacceptable.' Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Advertisement Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Next Stay Close ✕ Illia and his grandmother, Olena Matviienko, 66, take a walk in the city center. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post During a meeting at the Vatican in May, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky appealed directly to Pope Leo XIV, asking for the church's assistance in bringing the children home. Ukraine wants a full accounting of all the children taken to Russia and their repatriation as part of any peace settlement. Exactly how many children are missing is unknown. The Conflict Observatory - part of Yale University's Humanitarian Research Lab, which has consistently provided the most accurate data but will shutter on July 1 because of Trump's federal funding cuts - has verified that at least 19 500 children were forcibly deported from occupied areas of Ukraine, funneled into re-education camps or adopted by Russian families, their identities erased. The real number is probably much higher, senior Ukrainian officials say, but cannot be proved because of poor recordkeeping. 'Maybe 50 000. Maybe 100 000. Maybe higher. Only Russia can provide us with this information,' said Mykola Kuleba, former children's ombudsman for Ukraine and head of the nonprofit Save Ukraine. In three years of full-scale war, only a small fraction of them have been returned - about 1 300 children - in deals brokered by Qatar, the United Arab Emirates and the Holy See, as well as in covert rescue missions run by volunteers. Progress is slow and excruciating because Russia 'changes their names, their place of birth, their date of birth,' said Daria Zarivna, an adviser to Zelensky's chief of staff who works on the Ukrainian initiative Bring Kids Back UA. 'All ties are cut.' Olena journeyed across four international borders and deep into Russia after seeing Illia in a 26-second video. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post 'I was Ukrainian' When Olena first brought Illia home to Uzhhorod in the spring of 2022, he slept with the lights on and the bedroom door wide open. Sirens and loud noises terrified him. He had four friends at school but feared no one understood what he'd been through. As one of the first children to return from Russia since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, Illia's case soon went public. Olena began receiving calls for him to testify in front of roomfuls of politicians. He agreed to speak to anyone who would listen. Germany's parliament came first. Illia was instructed to ignore the crowd, to only look at the person speaking to him. By the time he appeared at the United Nations last year, he was no longer nervous. He waited his turn, then carefully answered questions. He was barely visible behind the microphone - his unruly thatch of dark hair and moon-pale skin obscured. And then he told his story. The Russian soldiers found him a day after his mother died, he said, starting at the beginning. It was March 2022, and for weeks, he and his mother, Nataliia, had cowered in a basement in Mariupol, melting snow to drink and cooking over an open fire when their gas ran out. They ventured outside to look for food - and were badly injured by the Russian shelling of a nearby building. Illia's legs were bloody and shattered, the back of his left thigh a gaping wound. Nataliia sustained a serious head injury. She dragged her son into a nearby apartment building. They fell asleep inside, arms knotted around each other. The next morning, Illia awoke to stillness. Olena shows a photo of her daughter Nataliia and a photo of her makeshift grave. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post A neighbour took Nataliia's body away. Then, men in Russian uniforms arrived and drove Illia to a hospital in the city of Donetsk, 75 miles from the siege. Orphans from Mariupol filled the third floor. Illia listened to doctors debate whether to amputate his left leg before opting against it. He had surgery without anesthesia, he said, and was later interviewed on camera about his mother's death by a stranger. Instead of looking for his family or contacting his home country, as required by international law, officials issued him a Russian birth certificate and put him up for adoption. A social worker visited his hospital room, gifting him an orange plush Garfield cat and teaching him a Russian poem about a bear. She said she planned to adopt him. 'I didn't want to go,' Illia said later. 'It was Russia, and I was Ukrainian.' He befriended the boy next door, Vitalii, whose parents were also missing. Nurses told the boys that they - along with 30 other children - would soon be sent to Moscow. Illia wondered where his grandmother was. Illia with his friend Eldar at school in Uzhhorod. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post Olena's journey More than 1 200 kilometers away in Uzhhorod, Olena was reeling. A family friend had sent her a Russian propaganda video posted online of Illia in his hospital bed, speaking into a blue-and-red microphone. Olena grew up in the eastern industrial territory that Russia now controlled, working as a machine operator in a factory, then selling bread and cookies for a local bakery. When Illia's father abandoned Nataliia at six months pregnant, Olena vowed to help her daughter take care of the baby. She wasn't breaking that promise now. The only document she had to prove Illia was her grandson was a copy of Nataliia's passport. Volunteers at a local shelter helped her get copies of the rest - Illia's reissued Ukrainian birth certificate, her housing registration, custody paperwork, the police investigation into her daughter's death. She tucked the documents in a clear plastic bag and contacted the Presidential Office, which launched a first-of-its-kind special operation to get Illia back and, through volunteers in Russia, helped Olena get in touch with the hospital in Donetsk. On the phone, the head doctor told her Illia's adoption was pending. 'Don't you dare,' she remembers telling him. Within weeks, Olena and another man - whose young granddaughter, Kira, was also being held in Russia - boarded a special diplomatic train to Poland. Once there, Olena said they flew to Moscow on a private plane provided by a Russian oligarch, then took a 20-hour train to Donetsk. In the early years of the war, such an audacious journey was still possible, but now it's often not, officials say. After finally reaching the hospital, Olena wrapped a distraught Illia in her arms. 'He didn't believe it was me,' Olena said. 'He lost his hope. He didn't actually believe I would come and bring him back to Ukraine. Not until the very last minute … did he believe it.' As one of the first children to return from Russia since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, Illia's case went public and he's testified about his experience. Image: Oksana Parafeniuk/For The Washington Post The lucky one In the park out front of his school, Illia kissed Olena goodbye. He cut across the damp grass and veered inside, past a map of Ukraine - Crimea still tethered to the rest of the country, Mariupol tucked safely within its borders, Russia separated by a thick line of black. In Room #40, he sat near a window with a friend until class began. After a short quiz, his teacher Tetiana Dolgova observed the nationwide moment of silence for all the war had taken. 'Thank God this city is remote from the front lines,' she told the students. 'We need to remember every day who gave their lives for our happiness and freedom. It's not only about our servicemen at the front lines. Your classmate Illia witnessed the awfulness of this war with his own eyes.' When the students turned to look at him, he didn't duck his head. He was more confident now, the years dulling some of his memories. He could still recall Mariupol - how he and his mother would ride the city bus to the beach and wade in the cool waves of the Sea of Azov, and in the winter their snowball fights - but he thought about it less frequently. Photos from a family friend showed his former home in rubble, his two boxes of Lego gone, his five outdoor cats and two dogs vanished. Another photo showed his mother's grave, a wooden cross planted near the fence in the yard, overgrown with parched yellow grass - a place he could never visit. In Uzhhorod, Illia keeps his belongings on his grandmother's ironing board. The orange Garfield cat from the Russian social worker. A blue snake gifted by Olena after he testified to The Hague. A whale from Portugal, where he attended a 17-day rehabilitation programme. A bunny from Okhmatdyt Children's Hospital in Kyiv, where he is still in treatment for his legs, the shrapnel shifting painfully during gym. 'I will have them forever,' he said of his plush animals. 'They represent periods of my life and memories, from Donetsk to here.' He celebrates two birthdays now: the day he was born and the day Olena realized he was alive. Illia knew he was lucky. Russia had upended his life as he knew it - but he still had his identity. He was old enough to remember who he was. Unlike so many other Ukrainian children, he'd been found. Sometimes, he wondered if Vitalii, his friend in the hospital in Donetsk, had been, too. Or maybe he was now living in Moscow. Serhiy Morgunov and Serhii Korolchuk contributed to this report.

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