Kseniya Minchuk

«Rainbow» symbolism for the enemy is a signal for humiliation, mockery, violence and murder»

- Before the full-scale invasion, I was a co-founder and director of the organisation «Insha» in Kherson, - says Maryna Usmanova. - Since 2014, it has been protecting the rights of women and LGBT community representatives. We organised informative events, training sessions for police and local authorities and advocated for the opening of a shelter for victims of domestic violence.

During the occupation, we evacuated people from the Kherson region. We managed to evacuate over 300 people: LGBT community representatives, activists, journalists and military wives. Those for whom staying meant death

The charity organisation «Insha» and the team of the NGO «Projector» jointly documented war crimes against LGBT+ individuals on the then-occupied and later liberated territory of the Kherson region. Instances of brutal abuse by Russian soldiers were recorded. «Rainbow» symbols on phones or tattoos were signals for humiliation, mockery, violence and murder.

According to the NGO «Projector» report, Russian soldiers deliberately sought out LGBT community members. For example, there is evidence that Russian soldiers forced men to undress, checked smartphones for same-sex dating apps and severely beat them for it. Aleksandr was detained at a checkpoint by Russian soldiers, pushed into their van and taken to a temporary detention facility just because he was part of the LGBT+ community. He was beaten initially in the facility. Then a red dress was brought, and he was forced to wear it. In this dress, he was taken to an interrogation with an FSB officer. Aleksandr’s answers displeased the Russians, so he was added to a list and kept under arrest. According to him, being on this list «allowed» the guards to beat him, torture him with electric shocks, force him to eat the Ukrainian flag and more. Sexual violence was common in the facility. Medical care was not provided, detainees were fed once a day, and access to a shower was granted only to those who «deserved» it. To get permission for a shower, guards forced detainees into sexual acts. Aleksandr was held captive for 64 days. He was released but ordered to sing the Russian anthem every morning for ten days in a row while being watched from another building with binoculars to ensure compliance.

And there are countless such examples.

- Now the «Insha» organisation is still active, and part of the community still lives in Kherson, - continues Maryna Usmanova. - For instance, we received a grant for an initiative to provide the city with bicycles. Kherson currently has problems with public transport, and walking around the city is unsafe. So we purchased bicycles, brought them to Kherson and distributed them to those in need. Another initiative of ours is the evacuation of art objects. We managed to save many valuable exhibits.

But staying in Kherson was far too dangerous for me, and I had to leave. In the city, I was a public activist. I was invited to appear on television and radio. At the same time, the registered address of our organisation was effectively my home. It was not difficult to find me as an LGBT activist. Moreover, before the full-scale invasion, an advocacy campaign for the crisis centre was conducted, and billboards featuring, among others, my face were displayed throughout the city. If you googled «Kherson LGBT», the system would provide plenty of information about me.

As I later learned, they were looking for me. So, if I had not left, I probably would not be speaking with you now.

«Everyone needs their own community. Especially Ukrainians at this time»

- We ended up in Berlin «via Australia». In the sense that a Kherson activist we knew, who had moved to Australia long ago, helped us find people in Berlin willing to assist us.

We were housed in an anarchist commune. There were seven of us, plus a cat and a Malamute dog. All of us lived in one room for eight months. But it was far from the worst option, and we are very grateful. Anarchists are saints (laughs, - Edit.).

Once we adapted, we began meeting with other activists. One day, along with Loki von Dorn, we decided that we wanted to establish our own organisation.

Now, the Kwitne Queer community comprises over 100 people. We are the only organisation for queer Ukrainians in Western Europe. We meet approximately once a week to discuss plans, organise discussions, lectures, mutual support groups, play «Mafia» and celebrate holidays together. Everyone needs their own community, especially Ukrainians at this time.

After all, you might come to a supposedly friendly place, and then you are confronted with unfriendly questions about politics as a Ukrainian: «Why is your Zelensky fighting with Russia?» And often, these questions are not from Russians but from people from Kazakhstan or Azerbaijan. It is clear that after such questions, it is difficult to consider such a community your own.

One of our important projects is «Your Friendly Interpreter». Each of us occasionally needs to visit doctors, government institutions, job centres and so on. However, Ukrainians still largely do not know German. How then can one explain to a gynaecologist, for example, that despite someone having a beard, they have female reproductive organs? There are many issues where it is impossible to be effective without an interpreter.

In Germany, there are charity foundations that provide free interpreters, such as the «Caritas» organisation. But. First of all, it is a religious organisation. Secondly, they mostly provide Ukrainians with Russian interpreters. Because there are many of them. And you cannot choose your own interpreter because it is a free service.

Imagine a transgender person going to a gynaecologist accompanied by a homophobic, Ukrainophobic elderly woman interpreter. I once went to a therapist in the company of just such a person. She told me that «all Ukrainians are Banderites» and so on, following the well-known Russian narratives

That is why we came up with a solution: a person goes to the doctor, calls our Ukrainian interpreter via Telegram from there, and they translate on speakerphone. We already have five specialists, and experience shows that this option is much more comfortable than what local charity foundations offer. This service is very popular with us.

One of my dreams and goals is to have my own shelter or social apartment - a queer hostel. Berlin has a huge housing problem. From time to time, people find themselves on the streets. They need a safe place to get through difficult times or a gap between housing contracts.

Every year, we participate in the Berlin Pride, one of the largest in Europe. Ukrainian Ambassador to Germany Oleksii Makeiev joins the Ukrainian column, delivers a speech, and last year, the Mayor of Berlin Kai Wegner spoke from our float.

Does Berlin have problems with homophobia? At the legislative level, everything is excellent. But on the level of personal communication - not always. Germans have already learned that homophobia is bad, that it makes you appear at least uneducated. But in Berlin, Germans have long been less than half the population. Many people from other countries bring their homophobia with them.

«I chose Berlin because I felt safe here»

Another co-founder of Kwitne Queer, Loki von Dorn, a non-binary person, human rights advocate, activist and actor, shares:

- Even before the full-scale invasion, I broke my leg - and the fracture was quite serious, with fragments. When the war began, because of my leg, I could not join the Territorial Defence or even a volunteer headquarters - they would not take me. In March, I finally had surgery, and an implant was placed to fix the bone. Fighter jets were flying over the city of Dnipro at that time. I lay there thinking I would not even have time to hide if the Russians started bombing.

At the end of May, I decided to leave. I went to Germany because I had many acquaintances there, although, in the end, it was new acquaintances who helped me. I chose Berlin because it is the most welcoming to queer people. Here I felt safe. Berlin reminds me of my favourite cities in Ukraine: a bit of Dnipro, a bit of Odesa, and a bit of Kyiv.

I had no money, did not know the language, and the documents took a long time to process. My housing was only for a month. In six months, I changed the roof over my head eight times. Sometimes I slept on the floor. Despite this, I adapted quickly and immediately started looking for activities.

It is hard for creative professionals to find work in Berlin. Because here, every other person is an «artist». You are not competitive here due to the vast number of people like you

As a professional activist, I sought opportunities primarily in this direction. I had known Maryna Usmanova from Ukraine. In Berlin, I attended events she organised for the Ukrainian queer community. And one day at the end of 2022, we decided to create an organisation for Ukrainians who found themselves here because of the war.

In February 2023, we began the process of registering Kwitne Queer. We wrote the charter, submitted the documents, and only in August 2024 did we receive official non-profit organisation status. Until then, we worked as volunteers. Registering your non-profit organisation in Germany is not easy at all. For example, we are still waiting for our account to be set up, without which we cannot receive grants or spend grant money.

Our main mission is to support equal opportunities and inclusion for queer Ukrainians in Germany, facilitating their interaction. We all need support. Because sometimes you cannot predict the criterion by which you will be discriminated against: whether for being queer, a refugee or Ukrainian.

Recently, we were formally accepted into the Alliance of Ukrainian Organisations. Interestingly, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church is among the members of this alliance. They were not against it. Along with other organisations in the Alliance, we share a space where we can host our events.

At the time of this article's publication, the Kwitne Queer organisation officially opened an account in a German bank, received a grant from one of Berlin's district centres, and launched an official website. So, new initiatives lie ahead.

«In Berlin, you pay an agent up to 5 thousand euros just for the right to rent a flat»

- On the morning of 24 February, my sister called me: «The war has begun». I hung up, looked out the window, and saw a four-lane traffic jam, recalls Marharyta Korovina, organiser of public events and a Ukrainian culture festival in Berlin. - At that time, I lived with my mother. My sister said they would take me, but there was nowhere to take my mother. Understanding that I could not leave my mother alone, I refused to leave.

There were fewer and fewer people in our district. Within days, the neighbourhood was deserted, with only the elderly left. And I started helping them. I used my savings to buy them food. Getting groceries at that time was quite a challenge. My task was to find bread for my mother, my neighbours, and myself. At «Silpo» (Ukrainian supermarket chain), they gave out one loaf per person. So I searched all over our district. And I believed the war would soon end...

I also created a TikTok account where talked to Russians through chat roulette. I asked them why they had attacked, what they wanted from Ukraine. They gave all kinds of absurd answers, often aggressive. It was my social experiment to counter the «not all Russians are like that» narrative - I posted conversations with Russians in the public domain. In the first months of the full-scale invasion, my account went viral. Some people used my materials to edit videos for their Telegram channels. Some videos gained a million views in one day. Then I got banned.

By summer 2022, I realised my savings were running out, and I had no income. The office where I had worked before the war had closed. A quick decision was necessary.

Since the situation in Kyiv was already more or less calm, I made the difficult decision to go to Barcelona, as our fund's hub was there. Besides, my sister already lived in Spain. I went there hoping to be among ambitious, motivated and active people but found something entirely different: in the Spanish office, like in an ordinary accounting office, everyone worked from 9 to 3 and then hurried home. I could not focus. I went to Berlin for a couple of days to volunteer... and stayed.

I had no friends or relatives in Berlin, but I was captivated by the enormous Ukrainian creative community here. At every corner, Ukrainian flags: on official buildings, universities, town halls, and even just on the balconies of residential houses. I was amazed by the scale of support for Ukraine.

Moving to Germany can be compared to a person learning to walk and talk again after an injury. You seem like an adult, but your opportunities are like those of a two-year-old child. For a long time, I felt like a non-functional part of society. But now, it seems I have reached the acceptance stage.

A significant problem in Berlin is housing. I was lucky not to live in «Tegel». This is a non-operational airport where a camp for refugees was set up using tents, and nearly everyone arriving from Ukraine passed through it. Using the programme for Ukrainian refugees, I lived for the first two months with a young German family. Simultaneously, I searched for a flat.

Finding accommodation in overcrowded Berlin is a task with a star, so social networking works best here (word of mouth). Ukrainians created Telegram channels and found local resources that worked better than the official housing search. However, estate agents are also used here, and that is another corrupt scheme. Agents often ask for 1-5 thousand euros as a «provision» - a one-time cash payment directly to the agent, not included in the contract. Essentially, a cash bribe for the right to rent a flat. Perhaps agents artificially create such demand that people are ready to pay any money just to get a housing contract. An open flat viewing in Berlin is a queue of a hundred people. You pay the agent to be prioritised. Personally, I found a flat by talking to people because I kept asking everyone about housing.

Germany is an entirely different world. I thought there would be technological progress here. Instead, everything is slow, unclear and bureaucratic. This was a shock to me. I know that even most Germans are dissatisfied with this.

«I can only do things related to Ukraine»

- Was it difficult to adapt to Germany?

- In Berlin, I quickly got to know interesting people. We began meeting and creating projects. I felt there were resources here through which I could do much good for Ukraine. Because I can not do anything unrelated to volunteering or Ukraine. When you constantly think about the war at home, other things barely concern you.

Imagine, here in Berlin, I have seen people from Mariupol who still carry keys to their flats in Ukraine, even though those no longer exist

Regarding the adaptation of Ukrainians in Berlin, I have a basis for comparison - with Barcelona, Paris and Lisbon. Kyiv had a special relationship with Berlin even before the war, so, unsurprisingly, many cultural figures, artists and activists relocated here. Today, Berlin feels like an extension of the Golden Gate and Podil. Events here easily gather Ukrainian music, food, and goods. We even received a proposal to hold «Kurazh Bazar» in Berlin, but we organised something in a similar format called «Motanka».

Ukrainians in Berlin are what keeps me here: active people who tirelessly keep Ukraine in the informational spotlight, fight against disinformation, talk about Ukrainian culture and history, shout about the repressions our nation suffered under the Soviets, and open the eyes of the «concerned» and not-so-concerned Europeans to the proximity of the war and Russia’s colonial, imperialist, and terrorist nature.

Moreover, many Ukrainians in Germany are already integrated and well-acquainted with local sentiments. Most such individuals now occupy leadership positions in Ukrainian organisations, cultural institutions, embassies, etc.

Over the past three years in Berlin, several Ukrainian restaurants, beauty salons, and a gallery have opened, but the largest focus is on public organisations. People did not bring their businesses here since Germany is not the most favourable place for entrepreneurs. Instead, they brought their social and charitable initiatives. Everything here revolves around culture, politics and information.

In 2023, together with German, Georgian and Ukrainian like-minded individuals, we registered a public organisation here called Mizelium. By law, Ukrainians can not establish their own organisation in Germany. Its composition must include Germans. What do we do? Initially, we collected humanitarian aid and sent it to Ukraine. Then we shifted to organising festivals, concerts and workshops to introduce Europeans to Ukrainian culture and make it trendy.

I am learning German and will soon take the B2 level exam. I plan to obtain grant funds for our cultural projects.

Our main idea is to show the colossal difference between Ukrainian and Russian cultures. Many Germans do not distinguish between them

A German acquaintance once said he did not even know that beyond Poland there was another country. He thought it was immediately Russia

«We created the largest Ukrainian culture festival in Europe - for 10 thousand people»

- Tell us about the projects in Berlin you participated in. Why is this important to you?

- In 2023, we organised the largest Ukrainian culture festival in Europe, «Motanka». A year earlier, in 2022, we launched its pilot version. We chose an underground location, little-known even to Berliners - a place where hippies live: a river, yurts, a bar made of planks, a small stage. We arranged an exhibition in a boathouse garage.

A year later, we organised a large-scale festival.

Six floors of various formats: music, cinema, exhibitions, a pop-up market of Ukrainian brands, food, discussions about culture and politics. Over three days, about 10 thousand people attended our festival

We created this event without grant funding. We offered collaboration to Ukrainians from the cultural sphere in Berlin, and all of them agreed. We did not expect such a scale but were happy. The location was provided to us for free. We enlisted the help of partners and sponsors who provided free services totalling approximately 300,000 euros.

I would call Berlin a decision-making hub. Many politically significant events happen here.

Now, in 2024, the intensity of Ukrainian informational events is still quite high. However, greater involvement is desirable because, for example, there are fewer and fewer people at protests and rallies.

There is an event called «Café «Kyiv» with a political focus. Last time, Ursula von der Leyen participated, and Vitali Klitschko was present. Our ambassadors also joined. Panel discussions were held, the documentary «20 Days in Mariupol» was shown, and there was an exhibition titled «Yolka», which had been with us on Maidan in 2014 - there was a queue at the entrance. The first event was held at a place called «Moscow Restaurant». On the day of the event, this name was symbolically covered with a banner reading «Café Kyiv». Politicians attend this event to emphasise their pro-Ukrainian image.

Our «Motanka» was created to engage people who unknowingly discovered Ukraine. Through collaborations with local artists, brands, and musicians, we managed to unite an audience and subtly involve thousands of Berliners, showing them the creative side of Ukraine without alienating them with the topic of war.

«In the state I have been in for almost three years, Frank Wilde has been in nearly his entire life»

- How do Germans now view everything Ukrainian?

- Until 1989, Berlin was divided by a wall, and the eastern part of the city still significantly differs from the western part. Even election results reflect this. Here, people romanticise the Soviet Union and Russian politics. Even the generation that did not experience life in the USSR somehow feels nostalgic about it. Therefore, their attitude towards everything Ukrainian, naturally, is not positive.

Russia, thanks to friendly relations with Merkel, deeply ingrained itself in the minds of Germans, and people «outside politics» miss it because kebabs used to cost 3,50 euros under her rule, and now they cost 8. Gas was also cheaper.

There are Germans who still feel «backed into a corner» because of World War II. This has led to the quiet emergence of a second wave of Nazism, which is now breaking out of the underground. For instance, the popularity of the AfD party is growing. This pro-Russian party plays on Germans' emotions (the main ideological theses of the AfD are directed against European integration and immigration - Edit.)

In general, discrimination based on nationality is prohibited by law in Germany (this is stated in the constitution). Therefore, no German would do this openly or transparently. I have not noticed such conflicts here.

However, there are also many conscientious Germans who are interested in Ukraine, attend Ukrainian demonstrations, speak at them, and provide support.

- You have been working with Frank Wilde, a designer and a great friend of Ukraine, for over two years. What is the most important aspect of this collaboration for you?

- I learned about Frank while sitting in a bomb shelter in Kyiv, before I left. When I arrived in Berlin, I met him at one of the events dedicated to Ukraine. He literally attends all such events. When we organised the first «Motanka», I suggested he hold his own auction. He agreed and donated part of the proceeds to support Ukraine.

I offered him my help with PR and managing his communications. Now, I am his volunteer manager.

Frank played a key role in my stay in Berlin. He is a very wise person. In the state I have been in for almost three years, he has been in nearly his entire life. He is always fighting. In collaborating with Frank, I am motivated by gratitude. I want to repay him on behalf of all Ukrainians for what he does for us.

«I dream of reviving my grandmother's village»

- What helps you hold on? What do you dream about?

- That is a good question. I still live with my pre-war dreams. I have a country house in the Sumy region, which I have always loved. My grandmother used to live there, and it was always cosy and cheerful at her place. When she passed away, we bought a house next door. Growing up, I saw how the village changed. It began to decline because many people left. Even then, I dreamed of reviving this village.

During the Covid lockdown, I went there for a month and saw that people had nothing to do or entertain themselves with. I started thinking about how to change this.

I arranged with the local cultural centre to use a space to create a place for young people. I also planned to organise a rural retreat for city dwellers - giving rides in a cart, teaching people to herd geese and cows, and holding a rural rave party. Additionally, I wanted to find grandmothers who knit, embroider, or create other interesting handmade items and help them sell their crafts. Handmade work is very popular now. I even created a social media account for this village. Then the war started. But when I feel sad or lose hope, I open my laptop and write down my ideas about the village. This is now my way of recovering.

Photos: private archive and the heroine's Instagram

Mariana joined the military service in one of the Marine Corps units back in 2018. There, she met her future husband, a serviceman in the National Guard. In the spring of 2022, Mariana was taken captive - three months into her pregnancy. Despite her condition, the Russians showed no leniency. However, it was her child that helped her persevere then. After all, «a mother cannot surrender».

On September 22nd 2022, Mariana Mamonova, who was then nine months pregnant, was exchanged. This was the same exchange in which Viktor Medvedchuk was returned to Russia. Alongside her, 214 Ukrainian soldiers who defended Mariupol returned home. Three days after her release, Mariana gave birth to a daughter.

Mariana is now 32. She is a mother, a volunteer, a psychotherapist, and the founder of a charitable foundation aimed at helping women who have experienced Russian captivity. She considers helping women who have endured Russian imprisonment her mission.

«In captivity, they threatened to take my child away and send her to an orphanage»

Kseniya Minchuk: Tell us, how did you recover after captivity? What helped you?

Mariana Mamonova: I gave birth immediately after returning from captivity, so I had no time to adjust. When my daughter turned one and I slowly started to resurface, things became emotionally challenging. I lacked the mental resources for healthy motherhood. I realised I needed help and sought out a psychotherapist, whom I am still working with today.

Something always brings you back to what you experienced in captivity.

I had nightmares. I couldn’t sleep. When my daughter woke up at night, we would turn on a nightlight for children. Then, I couldn’t sleep anymore because, in the colony, we always slept with the lights on

In captivity, a person exhausts all their resources to survive. You do not analyse or reflect - you survive. But when you come out, you start to process everything. Many times, I asked myself, how did I survive it all? I must have been born under a lucky star.

Yet, a child loves you unconditionally, and this love motivates you to achieve new things. My child gives me strength when it seems I have none left. You come home from work, wanting to lie down like a stone, but no - you need to play with your daughter. Soon, you realise that in these games, you find restoration.

- How were you treated in captivity?

- At first, I thought I would be exchanged quickly since I was pregnant. But that did not happen. I was very worried that I might be taken to Russian territory, where women convicted of serious crimes serve their sentences. They threatened me with this - they said they would send me there, that I would give birth there, they would take my child from me, I would remain in that colony, and my child would be taken to an orphanage. I was terribly afraid of this. My fear intensified when I was moved to a hospital in Donetsk - it was then that I realised such a scenario was real. A similar incident occurred in Olenivka. A woman wanted to leave Mariupol, but she and her month-old child were detained at a filtration point. She was taken to Olenivka, and her child was sent to an unknown location. Another pregnant woman was taken to Taganrog, she returned no longer pregnant, as she had endured physical torture.

I was concerned that the constant fear and adrenaline I felt would affect my child's health. At the same time, my child helped me stay strong. I could not afford to give up for her sake. «A mother must be strong», I thought then. I would stroke my belly and talk to my daughter.

In captivity, I dreamed a lot. I imagined where I would walk, how I would drink a latte and eat cherry doughnuts, which I craved immensely. I clung to these fantasies

I also mentally made a list of things I needed to do once I returned from captivity. «You must return», I told myself daily.

- Do you have any insights on why some endure captivity while others do not? I mean psychologically.

- A strong inner core is very important. If one has it, one will endure. In captivity, they constantly press on you not only physically but also psychologically. For example, every day they told us that no one needed us, that everyone had forgotten about us, that Ukraine had no plans to exchange us. «If anyone cared about you, you would have been exchanged already», they told us. But an inner voice told me otherwise. That this was all manipulation. That these were the words of people who attacked us, who kill us and destroy the lives of millions. Insatiable, greedy tyrants. How could one listen to them? Could one expect any truth from them? No. But when the same thing is repeated to you daily for 2-3 years, at some point, doubt creeps in - maybe they are right, and I really am of no use to anyone?

The support and empathy of other prisoners helped me. Our shared struggle sustained all of us. Without a sense of humour, one would probably go mad.

Everyone in captivity knew I was pregnant and tried to help me. I made friends there. Eight girls who were recently exchanged come for rehabilitation in Lviv and always want to see me, they ask me to come with my child: «We want to see the baby we helped feed when we were with you in captivity».

They thought I was struggling in the colony. And I thought they were struggling

They looked at me and said: «If Mariana holds on, then we certainly cannot give up». I was their lifeline.

«Above all, those freed from captivity want to be with their loved ones»

- Tell us about your foundation, which you created to help freed female captives. Who do you help, and in what ways?

- I work as a psychotherapist at the rehabilitation centre «Unbreakable» - with people who have endured captivity and those with combat-related injuries. I know many specialists, so assembling a professional team was not difficult. I chose my colleagues as if I were choosing for myself. It is essential that the team is empathetic, reliable, and highly professional.

The aim of our foundation is to help women who have experienced captivity. We support their rehabilitation: mentally, physically and spiritually. This involves working with psychologists, psychotherapists and in groups - to help them feel like women again and lead happy lives. We call this direction Heelme.

We also provide support to the pregnant wives of servicemen, pregnant veterans and pregnant women who have lost their husbands in the war. This project is called Mommy and Baby. We will provide packages for newborn children, which include items for both the child and the mother. Often, when women give birth, gifts are brought for the child, but the mother is forgotten. We have received approximately three thousand requests for these packages.

To receive assistance from our foundation, one must complete a Google form. It is mandatory to have a Combatant’s ID, a marriage certificate (if the help is for a serviceman's wife), or a birth certificate (if the help is for a serviceman’s newborn child).

- What symptoms of the freed individuals do your psychotherapists work with?

- As a psychotherapist, I encounter various symptoms. These include uncontrollable aggression, a constant immersion in past events, and intrusive memories. There are also sleep disorders, memory impairments, and quick exhaustion. A persistent or periodic feeling of tension and anxiety, as well as numbness or lack of emotions.

Quite often, people returning from captivity do not feel joy or satisfaction in life

This manifests either immediately or three to four months after their return. Social alienation often develops, and sometimes even antisocial behaviour. Working with all of this is very challenging but necessary.

- In your opinion, what should be changed in Ukrainian legislation to improve the lives of people who have returned from captivity?

- Many changes are needed. For instance, people who have endured captivity must undergo rehabilitation. However, those who return to service after captivity do not receive rehabilitation.

Commanders who have not experienced captivity do not understand soldiers who have. And this is not only difficult - it is dangerous. Freed individuals absolutely need additional rehabilitation. Because war is a trigger

A significant problem is that people return from captivity only to be placed in quarantine in a hospital, limiting their contact with society. This is yet another trauma. You escape from one captivity, only to find yourself in another.

Above all, those freed from captivity want to see their loved ones. To embrace them, to talk to them, to realise they are loved, that people fought for them and waited. This gives an inner strength, confirming that it was not in vain to hold on. Only after spending time with family should they be sent for rehabilitation. Unfortunately, freed prisoners are usually confined in hospitals immediately, and then intelligence services arrive for interrogations. Such a procedure never has a positive effect on a person.

Enduring captivity is a lifelong experience. It never truly ends. The effects remain forever. It is impossible to heal in one go. You have to learn to live with it. Thus, rehabilitation for those who have survived captivity is essential. It helps them return to normal life, and for a soldier, it enables effectiveness.

«At least 400 Ukrainian women are in Russian captivity»

- Helping women who return from captivity is a tremendous responsibility. But I am not afraid of this responsibility. I understand these women because I am one of them. I want to give them what I could not receive.

When the euphoria of return fades, daily life begins, where there is constantly something to «sort out». And the mental resources and strength for this are lacking

Our foundation is unique in that it truly understands the rehabilitation of women who have experienced captivity. We are currently seeking investors, and ultimately, I aim for autonomy. I hope people will recognise the importance of our initiative. Because we are helping those who have given away the most valuable thing - their freedom to defend Ukraine.

These people endured 14 out of the 16 types of torture that exist. They are broken people

We must help them become whole again. There are approximately 400 Ukrainian women currently held in Russian captivity. This is an estimate, probably no one knows the exact number.

Many captives die due to torture, and some switch sides under Russian propaganda or threats. Every day we are losing Ukrainians - it is a catastrophe. I wish more people and initiatives would join the efforts to exchange captives. I urge everyone to fight for each person. Otherwise, we will lose this war. And we cannot afford to let that happen.

Volodymyr Nikulin is a policeman from the Main Department of the National Police in the Donetsk region and one of the main figures in the Oscar-winning documentary film «20 Days in Mariupol». He is the very person who enabled Mstyslav Chernov, Evgeniy Maloletka and Vasylysa Stepanenko’s team to escape from Mariupol and transport photo and video evidence of numerous Russian crimes - crossing about 15 checkpoints. In an interview with Sestry, Volodymyr talked about the tricks he used during the evacuation, his collaboration with renowned journalists, and how a packet of biscuits taught him that in life, everything returns: both good and evil.

«It was a blow to me how many of those I knew became traitors»

- I ended up in Mariupol after Donetsk, my home, was captured, - says Volodymyr Nikulin. - I have worked in law enforcement for over 30 years. I worked at the Donetsk Regional Police in 2014 during the epochal events. We were defending the Regional State Administration when there were attempts to seize it. I stayed in Donetsk even when it was almost captured. But in the summer of 2014, my family and I left our home. At that time, it was the only way to continue serving, which is very important to me.

It was especially difficult for me to accept that not all Ukrainian policemen left occupied Donetsk - not all remained loyal to their oath. I knew many of them personally, we served together. And they deliberately chose to become traitors.

Those who stayed in Donetsk switched to the enemy’s side. And those who did not betray ended up in Mariupol.

It is hard to talk about my home in Donetsk. I hope it is still standing. I have already left three homes: in Donetsk, Mariupol, and Myrnohrad. When we left Donetsk, I took nothing with me. I remember my summer mesh shoes, a uniform shirt with short sleeves. I did not even take trousers - I looked for a uniform at the place. But I had loyal comrades and a sense of freedom. Something that was no longer in Donetsk.

In Mariupol, we worked with a reduced team. Out of 120 employees of the regional police department, only 12 remained. When the police force was established, I, as a policeman, went through all the stages of lustration and re-certification. I often travelled to Avdiivka. I was amazed at how people lived there - under shellings. But they lived because there were still the state and freedom. Children played on the playgrounds, shops were open.

My comrade, after being wounded on the frontline, even bought a flat in Avdiivka. That is how much people loved their land and believed in victory

- Did you prepare for the full-scale war?

- In 2021, when we already had information from foreign intelligence that Russia was preparing, we also began our preparations. This helped us a great deal. In 2014, we lost a lot because we were unprepared and could not react quickly. In Mariupol, we did not allow that to happen again. For instance, the Russians did not get hold of any documents or cases when they occupied Mariupol. Nor did they seize any weapons. We had removed everything before the full-scale invasion began. There were also far fewer traitors than in Donetsk. We managed to maintain order as much as possible under such circumstances.

For us, Donetsk policemen, the war did not start in 2022 but in 2014. So, when I was woken at 5 AM on February 24th by my supervisor’s words, «combat alert», I understood everything immediately. It was painful to realise that the entire country was under attack.

«Every morning I prayed: just let the shells miss the building where my family is»

- What do you remember most about the first 20 days in Mariupol?

- I will never forget those days. Later, I will come to terms with them, or perhaps reassess them. But for now, I am still in the midst of the events. Do you hear? We are talking, but at the same time, there are explosions in the background. I am thinking about what to do and where to go after the shelling in Kramatorsk ends. There is no time to think about anything else. But I remember every day and every person who was with me.

The start of the large-scale war stands out in my memory as a creeping feeling of catastrophe. I could feel it in every cell of my body. Then I saw how the city began to be destroyed. The Russians were attacking Mariupol from all sides. We knew they desperately wanted it, but we resisted to avoid repeating Donetsk’s fate.

My wife and daughter decided to stay in Mariupol. My wife said: «I do not want it to be like in Donetsk. I do not want to flee anymore. I want to stay in my own home».

And every morning I would go to work, look at the building where my family remained, and fear that it was the last time I would see it intact

That was the most terrifying thing. Whenever there was shelling and explosions (and they were constant), I would think: «Please, just let it not hit the building where my family is».

As a policeman, I had a lot of work to do. First, I evacuated the documents. Then we gathered weapons, prepared materials for fortifications. And when the assault began, we helped people. The police stayed in the city until the very end. We delivered humanitarian aid, diapers, and found shelter for people. We connected people with doctors. At one point, we were already surrounded in the hospital. Before that, I had brought cookies to this hospital - round ones with fruit filling. And when we were hiding in the basement, the doctors brought us those very same cookies. That is how they came back to me.

- Do you regret staying in Mariupol for so long?

- Actually, I regret leaving. I really did not want to repeat the experience of my native Donetsk. Many people remained in Mariupol. They needed help. Mariupol was surrounded, bombed, and attacked. They did not give the locals a chance to leave the city. Everyone in Mariupol was then living on the edge - between life and death. Bombs from planes, missiles, artillery. Houses were burning down. The Russians deliberately destroyed everything to break the resistance.

They even hit the State Emergency Service (SES) headquarters so that rescuers could not help people. People died horrible deaths. For example, they hid in the basement of a building that was hit by shells, and they were buried under rubble. They could not get out. And there was no one to help - the SES was no longer operational. Doctors, under fire, were pulling people out. Heroes. And there are countless such stories. The number of victims was in the tens and hundreds of thousands. Civilians, children... Buried under rubble in basements. Later, the Russians did not bury the dead but simply took them somewhere.

We cannot even imagine what we will face when we liberate Mariupol…

«We looked at each other and understood - from now on, we would stick together»

- Do you remember how you met Mstyslav Chernov, Evgeniy Maloletka, and Vasylysa Stepanenko?

- We met during horrific events - when the Russians bombed the maternity hospital (March 9th 2022).

- I was impressed by this team. Mariupol was almost destroyed, and only the locals remained in the city. Then, I saw people with the word "Press" on their vests. They were wearing helmets and bulletproof vests. At first, I thought they were foreign journalists. To be honest, I was genuinely glad to see them. It was a somewhat selfish joy, but I am not ashamed because it gave me hope that what was happening to our city might become known to the world. The Russians are skilled at lying, and I was worried that they would conceal their crimes once again.

At first, I met Mstyslav. He said he was from Kharkiv. I asked: «How did you get here? Do you need any help?» He did not answer. We just looked at each other - and I understood that I would help them. Because it was necessary. Not just for them, but for me too. From that moment on, we were together.

The way they worked impressed me. Professional, precise, fearless. One of the most important tasks was sending the recorded materials. It was almost impossible under those conditions. Firstly, they had already become enemies in the eyes of the Russians. Secondly, there were very few places in the city with internet access. At first, we went to the city centre, where there was a Kyivstar base station. In the film, there are scenes of us arriving there, sitting under concrete stairs, while the Russians were bombing, and Mstyslav was sending the footage from his phone. When that location stopped working, we started going to the National Guard and Marine Corps command post, where there was a satellite network. It was a strategic site - policemen in uniform with guns. When we arrived to send the materials, everyone disconnected from the Wi-Fi at my request. They did not even ask questions. Everyone understood the importance of the information, which later influenced many around the world. In part, it contributed to the military aid we received.

«I did not know whether my smashed car would make it anywhere. But I started the engine - and we set off»

- We fought back as best we could. We celebrated every metre we reclaimed. When we managed to retake even one building, it felt like we had liberated the whole city.

On one side of the city, the Russians launched an attack on Mariupol from a hospital. I remember a sniper shot the head nurse in the neck. On the other side of the city, there was a tank assault. In one of the scenes in the film, a Russian tank hides behind a church. Then it came out and started shooting at buildings where people were sheltering.

A tank firing on civilians while hiding behind a church - that is Russia

I remember the eyes of the people who were hiding with us in the hospital. Among them were many elderly people and women, and they looked at us with pleading eyes, asking us to do something to stop them from being killed. I told everyone to stay away from the windows. I knew that if we tried to resist, we would all be shot. The Ukrainian Armed Forces special unit led us out of the encirclement. They saved us.

- When and how did you realise it was time to leave Mariupol?

- Events were unfolding rapidly. The Russians were not creating humanitarian corridors for Mariupol’s residents. On March 14th, people started trying to escape on their own. Security experts advised the journalists - Mstyslav, Evgeniy, and Vasylysa - to leave immediately. They began searching for ways out. I was not planning to leave Mariupol, but by then, we had become one team. Moreover, their first attempt to leave had failed. I felt that I had to stay with them until the end. So, I told them I would drive them out. And my family too.

Evgeniy Maloletka’s car, which the team drove into Mariupol on 24 February, was destroyed. My car had been smashed by «Grad» rockets, and none of the windows were intact. But it still moved. I did not know where it would take us. But I started the engine - and we set off. Now, part of my car is in a museum of journalism in Germany.

We took almost nothing with us. Just a small suitcase for my daughter and wife.

My packed things had been sitting in my flat since 2014 - I had never unpacked them

«My tricks worked because the soldiers at the checkpoints were inexperienced»

- We were travelling without knowing the way. I realised that it was not worth taking the main road. I had worked in criminal investigation, so I knew a few things. We headed towards the coast. But before that, we had to avoid the queue of cars in which others were leaving. There were long columns of vehicles waiting to exit. I knew we had to break through before sunset - only then did we have a chance to get the photos and videos out. So, I decided to shock people and suggested the following.

Mstyslav and Evgeniy, wearing helmets and bulletproof vests marked with Press, were running in front of our car. People saw journalists running, were shocked, did not know what was happening, and made way for us. Then Evgeniy sat on the car’s hood. This was also a way of attracting attention, and people let us through. That is how we made our way through the city. It was a huge risk. But the plan worked.

On the way, we passed through many checkpoints. If the Russians had checked even one of our bags, we would have been captured immediately. We had to ensure they did not search us. So, I acted like a detective. I distracted them. For example, at every checkpoint, I pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Right in front of the occupiers, I would light up. This caught their attention. Then I would offer them cigarettes. They got distracted and let us through. This was just a small part of how I handled them. But it worked because the soldiers at the checkpoints were inexperienced. They were easier to deceive. It is frightening to think what could have happened if we had been stopped.

I remember a moment when we were driving in the evening without any lights, crossing the frontline. We turned off the headlights. At any moment, the column of vehicles we were moving with could have been shot at. That is how we passed through Polohy. Later, we reached another checkpoint where we were illuminated by a torch. And then I saw a soldier in a Ukrainian uniform. I got out of the car, approached him, and… hugged him. And he hugged me back. Without a word.

After that, we were stopped by the police, who checked our documents and the car. I was so full of adrenaline that I did not understand anything, but I felt a bit of relief. It is truly a miracle that we managed to escape.

- Do you dream of Mariupol?

- Not yet. I think the brain suppresses memories. Dreams happen when there is time for reflection. And I continue to serve in the Donetsk region. Wherever I am, I will continue to do so. Because this is my land…

Photos and videos from the hero’s private archive.

While some grow weary of the war, Berlin stylist Frank Peter Wilde tirelessly takes what might seem like a small step each day - photographing himself in a new look in support of Ukraine. Yet the persistence with which he does it, the style and relevance of his outfits continually capture the attention of thousands worldwide, refusing to let them forget Ukraine’s tragedy and inspiring them to join a fight that can be beautiful. What connects Wilde to Ukraine? Why does he cry while travelling on Ukrainian trains? Do the designer’s neighbours get annoyed when he occupies the lift for his shoots? Find out all this in this piece for Sestry

«Cyrillic is very difficult. But I will learn Ukrainian»

Kseniya Minchuk: To the question «Why do you support Ukraine?», you answer «How could I not support it?» It seems you have a special love for Ukraine…

Frank Wilde: Before the war, I did not have any particular connection with Ukrainians. Once, in 2004, I spent two days in Ukraine. But Kyiv was completely different then. I remember there was a bottle of water on the table. I picked up a glass to drink the water, but it turned out to be... vodka. And this was at midday! It left quite an impression on me. The next time I was in Kyiv was after the invasion. And there I encountered a completely different society.

My support for Ukraine began naturally. You can see this on my Instagram. The first post about Russian aggression was published two days before the full-scale invasion, on 22 February. I took a photo wearing a Putin mask, with a knife, in a black leather coat. It referenced the 1973 horror film «Don’t Look Now» by director Nicolas Roeg. The film depicts impending danger. So, I thought it would be a good illustration of the danger in the form of Putin looming over Ukraine and Europe.

As a queer activist, I have always fought for equality and justice. So when Russia began its aggression, I could not stay silent. I cannot remain quiet when people’s rights are restricted and their freedom is taken away.

In November or December 2021, I already understood that Russia was preparing for a full-scale invasion. On German television, and politicians especially, they said: «Putin would never do this», «Putin would not dare». But I felt - he was ready. He did it with Crimea in 2014, with Georgia in 2009, and he would do it again. Because this is the history of Russian imperialism. Ask the people in Moldova about it, for instance. So, for me, it was logical to choose Ukraine’s side.

- Where did your special attitude towards Ukraine begin?

- At the start of the war, I was in Warsaw for work. And there I saw a huge number of refugees. I had to travel by train at night, but they told me it was impossible because all the trains were filled with Ukrainians. I went by car.

Everywhere along the way, we saw buses full of refugees from Ukraine. It was quite cold then. I saw frightened children in cars. They looked out of the windows with wide bewildered eyes. Equally bewildered were the eyes of their mothers. And when I returned to Berlin, I realised - I would do everything to support Ukraine

This was a different stage of support, one that came through emotions and a deeper understanding of what was happening. At that time, I became a volunteer at Berlin’s main railway station.

The next step was a film. The United Nations Refugee Agency offered me a project to work on a film about Ukrainian displaced persons. I immediately agreed. «But Frank, this is unpaid work. Three nights of shooting. Perhaps you have an assistant who could take this on?» To which I replied: «Excuse me, what was unclear about my answer? I am ready to do it for free». And we created the film «Uprooted» with a Ukrainian team of 60 people. Being part of the project introduced me to Ukrainians.

I listened to their stories, observed. We carry in our minds a stereotype of what a refugee looks like. For instance, we think they must appear miserable. However, Ukrainian women were not like that. Of course, they were shocked and bewildered, but their attitude was, «Okay, we are here. What can we do about it?» Active, strong. This impressed me tremendously. And I respect every Ukrainian woman who had to leave because of the war.

After that, I began attending demonstrations actively, where I met the Ukrainian community in Berlin. I started exploring Ukrainian culture - and it turned out to be fascinating. Gradually, Ukraine became very close to me. Unfortunately, I still do not speak Ukrainian. The Cyrillic script proved very challenging for me. But I hope to overcome this one day. I even have an invitation from an online language school. I want to learn the language so that I can feel even closer to Ukraine.

- The Ukrainian language is considered one of the most difficult to learn…

- Do not tell me this, please! (laughs, - Edit.)

- …but also one of the most beautiful! So, will our next interview be in Ukrainian?

- Perhaps. I can definitely say [in Ukrainian]: «Hello! How are you? I am fine!»

«Sometimes, to change something, you need to shock people»

- Rallies, gatherings, films. How do you help now?

- I have already conducted two major fundraising campaigns. I have now started a third - this time for NAFO (a virtual community aimed at countering Russian propaganda and disinformation during the Russian-Ukrainian war - Edit.).

In autumn 2023, I received the «International Ally of the Year» award in Kyiv. Representatives of NAFO asked me if I would be interested in organising a fundraiser for them - for medical supplies. I asked, «How about fundraising for weapons?» They were surprised: «Do you think it is acceptable to do such a fundraiser in Germany?» I was certain. It is very important to support the military now. I genuinely want the Armed Forces of Ukraine to defeat the Russians. And I want to raise funds for victory.

I am German, and Germany speaks a lot about peace and peaceful ways of resolving wars. But from the beginning, I emphasised that Ukraine needs to be given weapons. I even got a tattoo of the Ukrainian «Kherson raccoon» holding a weapon. It is my symbol of German-Ukrainian solidarity.

Now I have a new fundraiser - for NAFO. We are raising money for two functional vehicles specially equipped for work in the harsh conditions of war. The goal is 38 thousand dollars. I always participate in fundraisers I trust, and I personally know the people behind them. It is important for me to know that every euro will reach the military and not get lost.

I can use my popularity and influence. And I see that it works. If I can change something, I will certainly do it. I can be provocative, sometimes sharp and insistent. I believe this is the right way. Sometimes, you need to shock people because gentleness and caution do not always work.

Now I attend protests, deliver speeches there, talk to people, sign petitions, and meet with German politicians. When I see people understanding the importance of supporting Ukraine, I am happy.

- Do you think Germany is doing enough for Ukraine?

- Many politicians in Germany say: «This is not our war. We should not provide Ukraine with weapons». But all those who say this have never in their lives been to Ukraine and have never spoken to Ukrainians. So how can you talk about Ukraine having to cede its territories if you have never spoken to a single Ukrainian? How dare you?

When you have contact with Ukrainians, you understand the reality. I have been to Ukraine three times since the full-scale invasion. I am regularly in contact with various charitable organisations in Ukraine: United24, Kyiv Defenders, Voices of Children, UAnimals and others. I communicate with many Ukrainians.

And that is why I understand: Germany is not doing enough for Ukraine. Yes, my country is helping refugees a great deal. But we also need to help with weapons. To support the people defending Ukraine - the military. We should not fear Russia. In the first two years, Germany was afraid of provoking Russia into even greater aggression. Constant red lines were being drawn. They thought Russia would never cross them. But, as we see, there are no red lines for Russia. It is all nonsense. Therefore, we must support Ukraine with everything to ensure it wins.

«I cry when I travel on Ukrainian trains»

- Tell us about your trips to Ukraine. Why do you go, what do you like, and are you not afraid?

- I always travel to Ukraine out of my own will and at my own expense. And every time I travel on Ukrainian trains, I am in awe. For me, the most romantic thing you can do is take a long journey with Ukrzaliznytsia. I love everything about it: the sleeping carriages, the landscapes outside the window, the special tea. When I see these trains, I want to cry with happiness. Even now, I am ready to cry when I talk about it. And I have everything you can imagine from the Ukrzaliznytsia collection (laughs - Edit.). At home, I practically have a museum.

In Ukraine, I feel completely safe. I agree, it is strange. Because in reality, Ukraine is not safe. But I trust your air defence.

I remember standing in Lviv near an incredibly beautiful hotel in the city centre. Petunias, tranquillity, 6 AM. And then an air raid alarm starts. And I thought - how could anyone want to destroy this beauty? What is wrong with the Russians?

Ukraine wants to live and love. But Russia only wants to destroy.

I once had Russian friends here in Berlin. But when I realised that they did not accept what was truly happening, I stopped communicating with them. I no longer feel these people. And I do not want to.

- During the war, you have already taken nearly a thousand photos in the lift in support of Ukraine. What is the usual process for preparing for lift photo shoots?

- Yes, I have as many photos about Ukraine from my elevator as there are days of the great war. This is my diary of your war.

Usually, I decide in the morning what I will photograph. When I have important matters, I plan in advance, but usually, I have no plan. When events occur, I react to them. The destruction of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant, massive shelling, the advance of the Armed Forces of Ukraine towards Kursk. Or, for instance, when Russia killed Iryna Tsybukh. Or the tragedy at the Ohmatdyt Hospital. Such events affect me, and I cannot help but respond. They break my heart.

My photo shoots in the lift are a whole adventure. I need to bring props there, set everything up, and take the photo. I prepare everything in my apartment first, then move it into the lift. I quickly take the picture without stopping the lift. This means that if the lift is called, I will go along with it. Usually, it happens quickly. But sometimes, there are complex shots. For instance, there was a photo I wanted to take without light. I needed candles, flashlights, or a lamp. I had to figure out how to set everything up. Or the Christmas photo. In one hand, I held a doll, as if it were a child and seven candles. And somehow, I needed to photograph myself. It was madness. For three hours, I tried to achieve what I had envisioned. But it worked.

My previous neighbours were not thrilled about my lift photo shoots. They asked the building manager to talk to me

But, thanks to the universe, they moved out. My new neighbours are super nice. There are no problems with them.

People ask me: «How do you come up with all these photo ideas and find the energy to bring them to life?» I am simply stubborn. And I always see through what I have started. This is how people change the world.

I am the best example of how an ordinary, unbiased person, neither a politician nor someone in power, can influence others. Convince people, change their attitude towards the war in Ukraine. Because this war is not ordinary. It is also informational. Sometimes, wordless. My photos in the lift are my language. A language people understand without words.

- What would you like to wish Ukrainians?

- I see it like this: Ukraine wins, joins the EU and NATO, Crimea is finally home, all prisoners return to their families, and Russia pays for all its crimes. This is my wish for Ukraine. And for the whole of Europe. Because if the war is not stopped, it will spread to other EU countries. And we cannot allow this.

Photographs from a private archive

After photographer Evgeniy Maloletka, videographer Mstyslav Chernov and fixer Vasylysa Stepanenko managed to escape the Russian-encircled Mariupol in mid-March 2022, their footage from the first 20 days of the occupation caused a massive global reaction.

Today, Evgeniy Maloletka holds more international and national awards than any other Ukrainian photographer - around 40. Notably, he is a Pulitzer Prize laureate for Public Service, a recipient of the James Foley Award for Conflict Reporting, and the Shevchenko and Georgiy Gongadze national prizes. He also won an Oscar for the documentary «20 Days in Mariupol». We spoke with Evgeniy about the feelings of futility when facing human indifference, the people who helped him escape from occupation, his ambitions to make it into history books and the strategies he uses to avoid burnout.

«Camera does not protect you»

Kseniya Minchuk: How did you start photographing the war?

Evgeniy Maloletka: Although I have a degree in electronic devices and systems engineering, photography captivated me during my student years. I worked for several editorial offices. In 2010, I went to cover the protests in Belarus. After that, I documented both sides of our revolution: the protests for and against Yanukovych, and then Maidan. I worked in conflict zones around the world, including various UN missions in Africa. Eventually, I found myself on the train that brought me to the war.

I am originally from Berdyansk. When I looked at the map and saw Russia intensifying its actions, I realised that a full-scale war was inevitable. And when you understand that something terrible, like war, is about to happen, you ask yourself: «Where do I want to be, and what do I want to do? Where do I need to be to make that happen?» Although when that «terrible» thing arrives, plans can break. But at the very least, you should be technically prepared, which is what I did.

From there, the most important thing is your knowledge and your ability to adapt quickly. The more you know and the faster you react, the more you can accomplish.

- One of the most heart-wrenching photos by Evgeniy Maloletka, and of the war in general, is the series from Mariupol where young parents rush to the hospital with their injured baby, only to learn that the child has died. It is unimaginably devastating. How do you cope with the pain you witness and capture with your camera? Is photography itself a method?

- Definitely not. The camera does not protect you. You keep looking at these people in the photos and you go through it with them. The faces of the parents, and later the doctors - you see the hope fade from their eyes... and that pain never leaves you, it stays with you forever. I live with it. Constantly. I had to learn how to coexist with it.

The footage from «20 Days in Mariupol» - is the pain that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I saw it live. I have rewatched the film many times, and now I do not cry anymore. But inside, the emotions are still incredibly heavy and intense.

For me, every photo of the war is the most terrifying. They are like flashbacks, like a dream. Like something that happened to someone else. But no - it happened to me.

I am constantly confronted with grief. I have to edit, show it to the world, look at the photos of other photographers. Human bodies, destroyed buildings, lives taken. These emotions are overwhelming. And there is still so much more horror I will have to capture.

Sometimes the things you did not capture are more terrifying

What keeps me going is the awareness that I am doing a small, yet important job. Hoping that it is not in vain. That the world will see it, remember it, because every photograph represents a human story. And it is crucial that we ourselves do not forget our own history. That is why I keep doing it.

- You have documented the protests against Yanukovych that led to his removal, the pandemic and now the war. Do you see your work as an important mission?

- Sometimes it is disappointing when photos get little attention. But other times, a story I captured goes viral. The more you work and the more your photos are seen and elicit a reaction, the stronger the sense that it is not in vain.

At least, I hope it is not.

I understand that only the things we remember will remain in history

We will remember people’s stories through the photos and videos that moved us. Only a small part of what has happened during this war will make it into history.

I hope the work we are doing will end up in books and textbooks so future generations can learn what our people went through and understand what war really is.

- Do you feel any satisfaction from what you do?

- That is a tough question. Yes and no. Because I photograph horrifying things that people do not want to see. And you force them to look. People, especially outside Ukraine, in Europe for example, mostly want to see positive things. Even here, we tend to think like that. If the strike hit the house next door and not ours - thank God! But in that neighbouring house, people died...

- Have there been moments when you could not bring yourself to photograph what was happening?

- Of course. There were times when I put the camera down and helped because no one else was around. If you see that you can help in some way, you do it.

«We went through 16 Russian checkpoints, and they let us through each one»

- You arrived in Mariupol an hour before the war started. Did you understand what you were getting into?

- Yes. It is impossible to predict every detail, but Mstyslav Chernov, Vasylysa Stepanenko and I knew that the city would likely be encircled. We went to Mariupol deliberately, to be surrounded. Consciously.

Of course, it was terrifying. We travelled at night, and it was eerily quiet and tense. We prepared for various scenarios and even joked that we were heading to the city that would become one of the starting points of World War III...

- How often were you under fire in Mariupol?

- Constantly. I would wake up in the morning at the hotel and go outside to film the building across the street because it had just been destroyed. There was no need to travel anywhere.

- You worked without electricity, water, the internet, and under constant danger. What decisions saved your lives?

- We were lucky in many ways, but some specific decisions and people truly saved our lives. There were tough moments when we barely escaped from areas that the occupiers had already surrounded.

For a while, we lived in a hospital that sheltered us. We became friends with the doctors, sleeping in the corridors where everyone had moved to avoid the shelling, and when necessary, we helped carry stretchers with the wounded. Then the building next to us was taken by the Russians. Tanks rolled out onto the streets. Their forces advanced, and aircraft were deployed. Street fighting raged around the hospital, and we were inside. Then our military came for us and said, «Pack up, we are running». And we ran with them. That saved us.

Another instance was when we finally got out of the encircled area, but I lost my car - it was destroyed. A police officer named Volodymyr offered to drive us out of Mariupol. He risked his life and the lives of his family to take us in his car, even though we had met just two days earlier.

His car was shot up, the windows were gone, but it was still drivable. He, his wife, and their child took the three of us (myself, Vasylysa, and Mstyslav) into their vehicle. And that is how we got out.

- Vasylysa told me this story, and I still can not grasp how you managed to pull it off…

- We passed through 15 or 16 Russian checkpoints, and at each one, they let us through. The occupiers had only just begun implementing their filtration process. Perhaps it helped that we did not take the same route as others. The truth is, you never know exactly what saved you. But if the Russians had found the footage we shot or realised we were Ukrainian journalists, we all would have suffered - us, and Volodymyr with his family.

One warrior does not make a battle

- There is a concept known as «survivor’s guilt», a feeling often experienced by those who fled the war and went abroad. Did you feel something similar when you escaped Mariupol?

- We thought about why we could not stay longer, especially because we did not capture the events at the drama theatre, where so many people died... But the fact that we survived at all - that is a miracle.

- Vasylysa mentioned her fear of going to Mariupol, and that your and Mstyslav’s confidence inspired her. Is it easier to work in a team or alone?

- There is a saying, «One warrior does not make a battle». I am convinced of that. In difficult circumstances, you need to be with people you trust, who are on the same wavelength as you.

If, God forbid, you get injured, you need to have your people by your side, who know what to do. Mstyslav had significant experience working in war zones, and I had some experience in our own war.

In the summer of 2021, I took a course in first aid. I already knew how to apply tourniquets and do other essential things, but refreshing those skills is critical when you live in a country at war. Life taught me how to act during shellings.

Vasylysa and I started working together about a month before the full-scale invasion. Before Mariupol, we actually tried to talk her out of going. But she made her choice because she wanted to be with us. She took the risk. She is brave.

- Who inspires you?

- Mstyslav, Vasylysa and I inspire each other. But above all, I am inspired by our people.

Ukrainians are incredibly strong. They have suffered so much from the war, but they do not give up. I often see soldiers who have been wounded but have not lost their immense life potential and energy. For example, there is a soldier who underwent about 60 surgeries and had both limbs amputated. He says: «It’s nothing. I have my whole life ahead of me». He is undergoing rehabilitation and can now walk up the stairs by himself. His goal is to «get his two kids on their feet». How can you not be inspired by that?

My grandmother worked until she was 82, until her last day. She was an engineer and had been disabled since childhood due to polio. Despite having a severe disability, she went to work every day. It was hard for her to climb to the third floor, but she did it. She always said that you can not just sit or lie down, that you have to keep moving. After the full-scale invasion began, my parents had to leave their home and became internally displaced. But my father did not fall into depression or anything like that. Even at over 60, he continues to work.

I do not want to sound pretentious, but what is the point of life if you are only doing everything for yourself? I realise that in war, it is those who care who show up. And I never want to stop caring

For me, it is important not to stand aside. To take part in something that matters.

It is also crucial not to burn out. We are in the middle of a long marathon, and we need to maintain the pace to make it to the end - without losing strength or the sense of why we are doing it.

- But how? What helps you with that?

- It is a difficult period right now. I try not only to photograph but also to help my colleagues, especially young talented photographers, develop. That inspires me too.

- Are there any photographs that make you feel joyful and happy?

- Of course. I love taking pictures of my son. Watching him grow, mature and just seeing how cool he is.

- What can each of us do to help achieve victory?

- We should all do what we do best. Every day. How else? Some people fight, some make drones, others protest abroad, and we do journalism. It all matters. Every action. Every person.