Since the commencement of the conflict, the city of Kharkiv has been repeatedly attacked. Tens of thousands of people are still clinging to their bunkers and basements, after six weeks of conflict.
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| [Kharkiv, Ukraine] |
It's unclear why 72-year-old Alla Kryukova refuses to leave her residence. On the suburbs of Kharkiv, on the ninth level of an apartment building, she has two rooms to herself. Ash-black ruins may be seen from the window of Alla's dorm room. Neighboring residences have been hit by rockets. One of the burned concrete carcasses had floor slabs hanging out of it like cardboard. The tarmac in front of the entrance is littered with shattered glass and debris after the trees bordering the road crashed. Even if Alla had resided in the nearby high-rise building, she'd long since passed away.
Several hundred Russian soldiers may be seen a long way away, behind the fields. At this point they've been battling the city for about a month. Saltivka was bombarded by tanks and rocket launchers at least once every several minutes. Since the commencement of the battle, the Ukrainian army has effectively defended Kharkiv and is now retaliating. On the outskirts of Ukraine's second biggest city, the conflict took its toll the most severely.
As if it were a big target, Alla's home stands out in the distance. Only Alla has remained unfazed, as if everything might improve if you ignored her. Maybe it was too late to run at that time. An ex-philosophy teacher from a Kharkiv university was left to fend for herself in the depths of hell.
'They're shooting all the time,' she tells me. "It's been like this for a long time now." The fragrance of cat urine fills the flat where Alla gets dressed for bed. For the last three days, she has only eaten biscuits, since the rest of her supplies have been depleted. There is no power, no water, and no gas, so cooking is out of the question. Last night, the sky was a deep crimson. Alla had no interest in finding out why. The bullets' thunder rattled the walls. Alla sat down on the bed with her cat Toscha and a blanket over her head. She informed him, "So that's it, then."
She awoke again the next morning. Outside, there is complete quiet. Alexander Berdnikov, an employee of the "Proliska" organisation, knocked on the door. Helpers are providing food and evacuating people in Kharkiv, which is now under attack. It wasn't long before hundreds of people started calling the hotline. Most people who intended to leave Kharkiv have already left.
By happenstance, the "Proliska" workers learned about Alla through their former neighbours. The elderly lady has to be removed from harm's path as quickly as possible. Nearby, a sanatorium houses war orphans. Even your pet is welcome to join you. Says Alexander: "We don't have a lot of time. It's a brief ceasefire in Saltivka. Only an hour or so, he predicted. Anxious looks on the face of the aide.
However, Alla is taking her time. When it comes to packing, "What should I bring?" she worries. She has a strong connection to the place. Occasionally, it appears as though she can still hear the footsteps of her departed husband in the corridor. The closet is full with his belongings. They can't go now or it's everlasting farewell.
In the event that someone is seeking for Alla, she'd want to leave a new message. Alexander is entrusted with the task of disposing of the waste. She's searching for a pair of sandals, a cap, and a phone charger. There's a hole in the cat cage's lid. Run, Toscha! You've got to get out of here! The home key is also missing from Alla's hands. Looking out the window, Alexander sighs. Kharkiv's combat front has fallen into a deep slumber of utter quiet. This is how I spent two hours.
Finally, in front of the hallway mirror, Alla applies her lipstick. Because she can no longer walk on her own, Alexander secures her arm around his. Running down the stairway, the wind blows through the smashed windows, they make it down nine flights in a hurry. Underfoot, shards break apart. There are large impact craters in the backyard meadow where Alexander's automobile is now parked. Alexander is tasked with helping Alla into the vehicle. When Toscha tries to get out of the vehicle, Alexander takes the wheel and sped through the deserted neighbourhood, ignoring the charred remains of cars and anti-tank barricades.
When forced to leave their homes, some people become numb with terror
Workers at "Proliska" recognise that saying goodbye to their residences is difficult for many people. "There are those people who come to us and then can't move their legs," psychologist Inna Pak, who also works for the charity, tells the New York Times. They're in a state of trance." Many residents of Kharkiv are still in a state of shock, even after a few weeks.
For eight years, "Proliska" was on the ground in the Donbas, providing humanitarian assistance to the residents of the region's most vulnerable communities. They had its headquarters in Kharkiv, Ukraine. They had no idea that their hometown might possibly be a target until lately.
Kharkiv, a cosmopolitan city known for its historic architecture and dozens of colleges and institutions, is located just over the border. Belgorod, Russia, is just approximately 80 kilometres away. It's not uncommon for individuals to speak Russian because of the close proximity to the neighbouring nation. One in ten admitted to having a soft spot for Vladimir Putin and watching Russian television much as they did back in the Soviet era. Even after the first missiles fell, some assumed it was a drill or that the Ukrainian army was bombarding their own city from the outside.... There should be an end to the decades-long attachment to the neighbouring nation.
"Piss off," Kharkiv mayor to the attackers
Every day, Russian soldiers violently and indiscriminately bomb the city. 1,500 structures, 15 hospitals, and 69 schools have been destroyed, according to Mayor Igor Terekhov. An whole city's worth of homes and businesses have been destroyed.
Terekhov said that since the beginning of the war, there hasn't been a safe location in the city: On some days, witnesses recorded up to 70 shells. There was an explosion in the middle of the city Sunday, which killed seven people and injured 34 others, including three children who were playing at a nearby playground.
To avert a "humanitarian disaster," a group of assailants reportedly asked the city's mayor to give up the city to Russian soldiers. No one keeps track of the dead anymore. A shortage of coffins is supposedly plaguing the city. Responded "Pissed off" to a written offer from the mayor.
Since the start of the conflict, more over half of the town's population have left. Stayers often take refuge underground. Since last week, thousands of people have slept in bunkers and basements. Some people live in the spaces between the gym's exercise equipment, while others are tucked away under buildings like schools or factories.
Life underground: "Everyone coughs here"
Inhabitants may be found at all 30 metro stations. Tents and a table have been put up at the "Prospekt Gagarina" station, named for Soviet astronaut Yuri Gagarin. He likens his situation to that of a camper, but without the fresh air. To get food for the whole subway system, he and others trek down the tube to the nearby Sportivna station every morning.
While sitting on a cart in the "Sportivna," physics student Denis Protektor is completing the last chapter of his PhD thesis about heat processes in solid things that are located below ground. He'll put on headphones if it becomes too loud. His grandma, who passed away a few years ago, used to sleep on the metro car with him. Despite this, she was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia: Covid. 'Everyone here is coughing,' adds Denis. No one is really alarmed about the virus while the world is at war.
Denis, like the majority of Metro dwellers, visits his flat from time to time. For some, staying close to home is a method of protecting their property. Until the very end, they want to remain in town. Inna Pak, a psychologist at Proliska, says this may seem bizarre and unreasonable from afar. Even while it's a kind of protest, "it too is an act of resistance," she argues.
The volunteers use every ceasefire
She is a psychology professor at a Kharkiv university, where she teaches undergraduates and graduate students both. She and her family remained in the city when the war broke out. She and her husband Pavel Artjomov are out and about every morning for "Proliska." Among the items they provide are blankets, water, medication, fruit, pasta, and other baby food that has been sent in from the West. Inna helps those in need while she's on the road. Many people are in a state of despair, fear, or grief. Even for a few while, Inna wishes to give her the strength she needs to get through the day.
Inna and Pavel are often running late because of the gunfire. It's not uncommon for them to race throughout the city. In most cases, they begin their trip on the outskirts of town since the combat has ceased for the night and the early morning hours are quite calm. Inna wonders whether the troops would be able to have their breakfast now. Isn't that just like every other day? Both resided in the area until their Saltivka flat was devastated by munitions.
There is a bunker beneath a school in the district that can be seen from a distance. People have gathered in front of the gate between the two buildings where the shots had been fired in anticipation. This morning, the woman who lost her husband to a heart attack last night is weeping in front of the bunker. The man's body was only discovered in the wee hours of the morning when an ambulance arrived to transport him to a nearby hospital.
In the schoolyard, a group of guys is using classroom seats to cook on a barbecue in the schoolyard. As a former saleswoman, Larisa Kuznetsova was used to having electricity. "At this point, we'll have to prepare dinner on the grill." The news can no longer be read on mobile phones since they are unable to be charged. Run to your hiding location if you hear gunfire fired in the area.
"We hold out"
The bunker is a few steps down from Larissa's entrance. Even in the middle of the day, it's gloomy inside. There are a few folding beds on the barren ground, as well as cans and bottles of water and food, as well as bread and cookies wrapped in plastic. The ceiling is adorned with silver insulating paper-wrapped pipes. The temperature has dropped below zero. Larissa argues that "people adapt to anything." As one person put it, "I dress like a cabbage!"
Suddenly, a grey teddy jacketed elderly lady breaks down in sobs. She screams out, "Look at me," as she stretches out her arms. There is nothing more I can do! Her house caught fire. Some 30 individuals call this hole home, yet they're afraid to stay. Even at the depths of the earth, they may feel the effects. It's not as awful back home, adds Larissa, who checks to see whether her block of apartments is still standing on a regular basis.
Inna and Pawel visit an elderly couple who live close since it's still calm. Food and medication were among the items they took with them. Everyone wants valerian tablets, and the volunteer initiative's pharmacy has a huge box of the sedative. The lady is sick and is confined to her bed. When the bullets are fired, she can't even go down to the basement. Inna and Pawel are greeted by a stranger in front of their home. Why don't we just get you out of here?" Inna is perplexed. Tears well up within the man's eyes. A few days later, after promising to think about it, he chooses to remain. "We're still waiting," he responds.
The city comes to life on the journey back to the core. The city of Kharkiv seemed frightened in the early stages of the conflict. The westbound trains drew a large throng into the station. The streets are now littered with garbage cans. Only alcoholic beverages remain off-limits in supermarkets and other food establishments. For the last three days, ATMs have begun issuing cash once again.
The post office counters are swamped with customers. There are relief packages being handed out around the city. Thousands have been made unemployed and are in need of assistance. The railway station has a coffee shop open for business. Street sweepers are used by city authorities to clear the curbs, maybe as a memory of a bygone era.
Fleeing would be treason
Everywhere you look, you can see the scars of battle. Many of the nation's manufacturing facilities have been targeted by airstrikes. Parts of the local government were also destroyed in the fires. One of the country's oldest libraries and other university buildings were destroyed. Stalls and an abandoned bicycle rental stand near the park entrance lead to the Zhukovskovo neighbourhood.
The nuclear bunker's entrance is buried behind an institution towards the back of the structure. Immediately in front of it, Inna and Pawel are parked. The bunker was constructed in the 1960s during the Soviet period. Those in power were terrified of an all-out conflict with NATO at the moment. Katja Matskevich, a young master confectioner who has been living in the bunker for six weeks, says, "Hardly anybody would have considered it plausible that we were sheltering from Russian missiles here." There is a large steel door at the entrance to the building that guards against explosives.
Also, Katja is dressed warmly due of the nuclear bunker's chill. "We all got ill in the beginning," she recalls. Children as young as six months are among the 120 individuals crammed into the space. Women would bring a rug from home to the playroom in order to make things more pleasant. To keep warm, the small ones don heavy anoraks. It is forbidden for them to go outdoors.
Until now, Katja hasn't given any attention to moving out of state. To her, it would have been treason. She oversees the distribution of food donated by volunteers in the bunker. Large pot of pea soup is being stirred by Sascha, who is a chef. At the very least, the nuclear bunker has power. It's impossible to hear the missiles from down here due to the thick walls.
We have an issue too," Katja admits. The bunker has just a few toilets. They're not for adults. Adults must leave the house every time they need to use the bathroom. It isn't harmful. As soon as a missile hit the entry stairs, the deminers moved in. A pressure wave destroyed the institute's windows two days ago, according to Katja. In the shadows below, two guys stood, one of whom had lost a leg.
All of Kharkiv's hospitals are now treating war victims. The chief physician, Wadim, desires to remain anonymous. Even before the first missiles detonated in his town, he had a difficult time in the hospital. "We were worried about Covid," he exclaims. He made a special door in his workshop for the infected patients so they wouldn't have to go through the main entrance, and he tours them around the hospital. 'The epidemic struck us hard,' he adds. "There have been many deaths." When he looks back, he realises how little these concerns were.
He is trembling under the weight of the conflict. He tells Vadim that he has spent his whole life "trying to help people" as a surgeon. "I'd grab a gun right now, since I despise it so much." He wants to sever Putin's limbs from his body.
The images he transmitted from his phone were forwarded to family in Russia who are still refusing to accept the reality of the conflict. These are images of a wound on the head. A father and son were fleeing missiles when the small kid fell to the ground. Vadim feels the same way about the Russians and their confidence in the power of propaganda. Russia and Ukraine have nothing to say to one other, he believes.
Vadim also performed surgery on patients who had been injured by shrapnel. Wounded Ukrainians. Any patient that the conflict has forced to go to his facility. When the explosives went off, he had stretchers bring the injured down to the basement. To protect his own home, he decided to remain upstairs. Several windows were destroyed by an explosion, and he covered them with chipboard. Vadim no longer leaves the hospital, and he occasionally prepares borscht for the nurses in the hospital's kitchen.
"We will not give up Kharkiv"
Dozens of residents from the high-rise buildings around the hospital reside in the basement. "Proliska" assistants Inna and Pawel also provide them with food. In the event of a nuclear war, this bunker would serve as a safe haven. Doctor believes in triumph even though he knows there is a need in the city. "Kharkiv will not be surrendered," he vows.
Inna and Pawel have a last meeting scheduled for the evening. The Nemyshlyansky area in the middle of Moscow was struck by a rocket two weeks ago. The home across the street is still occupied. An elderly couple, Galina and Wiktor, stare straight into the wreckage from their apartment's windows. A woman's screams were clearly heard by Galina above the din. At that point, four individuals had died. The ground shook as a result. Galina is in tears. She said, "I can still hear the scream."
Inna discusses her feelings of rage. Because of her trepidation. The dilapidated dwelling. After that, she tells them how proud they may all be. This city is still important to us, and we're not going to give up on it just yet. "All of us are winners. We make it out of the conflict unscathed. Every day is a birthday, since we wake up." Perhaps conflict reveals the beauty of existence. Isn't it possible that life will be a lot better after it's over? Because of how little things like rage, ambition, and contention become in the heat of battle. "Life wins every time!" We bid farewell to Inna as we do so.