The story of a 78-year-old Ukrainian woman, Liudmyla Karpenko, has exposed the critical flaws in the UK’s new electronic visa system. Ukrainian Grandmother Stranded at Krakow Airport is not just a tale of missed flights and frustrating bureaucracy; it is a distressing case that reveals how the UK government’s digital shift in immigration control is leaving behind those least able to adapt — the elderly and the vulnerable.
Liudmyla had travelled over 25 hours by bus from war-stricken Kyiv to Krakow, hoping to reunite with her daughter in the East Midlands. Yet, her journey was abruptly disrupted at Krakow Airport, where she was denied boarding by Ryanair due to issues with her electronic visa account.
Her case is not unique, but it has become emblematic of a deeper problem within the system. The move to replace physical Biometric Residence Permits (BRPs) with digital eVisas has created confusion and hardship for many, but particularly for those who lack digital literacy or access. For Liudmyla Karpenko, it became a trial of exhaustion, anxiety, and helplessness in a foreign land — all because a government system could not integrate her old residency credentials with her new digital profile.
Ukrainian Grandmother Stranded at Krakow Airport
Liudmyla Karpenko’s ordeal began after a grueling 25-hour bus ride from Kyiv to Krakow, filled with the anticipation of seeing her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren in the UK. She held confirmation from the UK Home Office of her legal residency status and believed she had everything needed to board her Ryanair flight.
However, the digital transition from BRP to eVisa proved to be her undoing. The airport staff refused to let her board because her digital eVisa account was not linked to her old residency permit. Despite showing an official email from the Home Office assuring that her status was valid, she was dismissed with a simple “it’s your problem.”
Her daughter, Maria Bondarenko, who lives in the UK with her British husband and children, was on speakerphone trying to assist but met with the same indifference. The visa helpline — supposed to be the go-to solution for such problems — was unhelpful. Despite calling and explaining the situation, Maria was told to apply for a temporary visa, even though her mother already had a valid visa.
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The system, it seemed, had no way of confirming what was already known: Liudmyla Karpenko had the legal right to enter the UK. Making matters worse was the lack of practical support at the airport. Liudmyla, sleep-deprived from the long journey and under immense stress, was left stranded with nowhere to stay.
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She was forced to spend the night in a hotel, which Maria had to pay for, along with the costs of new tickets, taxis, and further documentation attempts — amounting to over £600. It was only thanks to the help of a local volunteer aiding Ukrainian refugees that some progress was made. Yet, this assistance came not from official channels, but from a compassionate bystander filling the gaps left by an inefficient system.
The Digital Divide: A System Unfit for the Elderly
What became increasingly clear in this story is that the UK’s digital-only immigration system poses significant obstacles for elderly individuals. Maria explained that even logging into her mother’s eVisa account was a technical hurdle. The multi-step authentication — requiring email access, verification codes, and navigation of an English-language government site — was a daunting challenge for Liudmyla Karpenko.
When an attempt was made to link her BRP to the eVisa, it failed due to a photo upload problem: her eyes were shut in the picture. The Home Office responded by asking for a new upload but assured that her visa status was unaffected. This assurance, however, meant little at the airport.
When Liudmyla tried to travel again on 26 June, she faced yet another digital dilemma. This time, the eVisa system translated itself automatically into Ukrainian on her smartphone, while Krakow airport staff insisted on seeing it in Polish.
The confusion led to yet another delay, and more tears for Liudmyla, who was once again treated as a suspect rather than a rightful resident. Maria, trying to mediate over speakerphone, found herself blocked out of the conversation. It was only after a Ukrainian-speaking staff member intervened that the issue was resolved and she was finally permitted to board.
The implications go far beyond one flight. Campaigners have pointed out the glaring oversight in assuming that all users of the system are digitally literate and tech-savvy. Andreea Dumitrache, a campaigner with the3million rights group, highlighted how people like Liudmyla Karpenko are being failed by the system.
“The shift to eVisas assumes a level of digital access, confidence and literacy that not everyone has,” she said. “Even for those who can navigate the system, when errors occur, there is no safety net.” In other words, there is no fallback for the vulnerable, the elderly, or those travelling alone.
Responses and Repercussions: A System Under Scrutiny
Both Ryanair and the Home Office defended their actions, citing adherence to rules and procedures. Ryanair stated that passengers are responsible for providing the correct visa documentation, and that Liudmyla Karpenko was denied boarding because she failed to present a valid eVisa. They later allowed her to board once proper documentation was shown.
The Home Office, in its statement, emphasized that BRPs are no longer valid for travel but can still be used to set up eVisa accounts. They added that “free and practical support” is available for vulnerable individuals, though this case clearly demonstrated the limits and inaccessibility of such support when urgently needed.
The contradiction between the system’s supposed flexibility and the reality faced by users like Liudmyla Karpenko is stark. Even something as basic as calling a helpline proved expensive and unreliable — Maria paid over £16 for two calls to the government’s Ukraine visa helpline, despite the website stating that it was free.
The consulate in Krakow, which might have provided support, was closed when they arrived. Meanwhile, every additional delay cost more money, more stress, and more distress to a woman who simply wanted to see her family.
This case has sparked concern among human rights advocates and immigration specialists, many of whom fear that the shift to a digital-only system without a parallel offline safety net is bound to disenfranchise thousands. While the UK government’s intentions may have been rooted in modernization and streamlining processes, the lack of inclusivity for elderly, disabled, or digitally challenged individuals is a glaring oversight.
As Liudmyla Karpenko’s story shows, bureaucracy without empathy becomes cruelty. Her eventual arrival in the UK was not a triumph of the system but a testament to her resilience and her daughter’s persistence. It also owed much to the compassion of volunteers who stepped in where institutions failed.
Maria has since spoken out not just for her mother, but for the many others who might be caught in the same trap. She emphasized the need for an accessible alternative — paper backups, human support at airports, or even multilingual documentation — especially for the older generation who may not have smartphones or the skills to use them.
The UK’s immigration system must take note. As it transitions into the digital age, it cannot afford to leave behind those who built their lives long before the internet existed. For people like Liudmyla Karpenko, technology should be an aid, not an obstacle. A fair and humane system must acknowledge this and adapt accordingly, before more elderly travellers are stranded, more tears are shed at foreign airports, and more families are forced to pay the price of bureaucratic oversight.