Human stories

At around four o’clock in the morning, the first whistle of a missile echoed over Fedorivka. It flew so low that Oleksandra’s small dacha trembled. The dogs sprang to their feet, and she immediately understood - it had begun.

The first days of the Russian invasion in this small town in the Kyiv region were shrouded in a fog of chaos. The Russians advanced, seizing more and more territory with every passing hour. They moved forward from the Belarusian border, through Chornobyl, directly towards Kyiv. People fled their homes in panic, seeking safety, though no one truly knew where safety could be found. Shops emptied of food and anything that could provide warmth.

But Sasha had only one thought - there were over three thousand dogs in the shelter that needed feeding.

- I quickly ran out of petrol, so I walked through the nearby villages in search of food. I was away for a long time. When I returned, one of the shelter workers told me in horror that the Russians had entered. They were walking between the enclosures with automatic rifles, digging in. They set up a checkpoint on the road. He forbade me from going there. But I knew that our colleague, who had recently suffered a second heart attack, was still inside the shelter. My beloved pets were there. The adrenaline hit me so hard that I simply rushed towards the Russian checkpoint.

Dogs of war

Animals had always surrounded Oleksandra Mezinova. It was her parents who taught her respect and love for «our lesser brethren». Not only local strays but also wild, wounded animals seeking refuge would come to her family home near Kyiv. They treated them and returned them to the forest. They helped all creatures, regardless of condition or origin. They raised puppies and kittens before finding them homes. Oleksandra clearly remembers that receiving a puppy or kitten as a gift from her mother, a respected and beloved teacher at the school, was considered an honour.

When Oleksandra grew up, she realised she wanted to create a place that could provide shelter for a greater number of animals. A systematic solution - a real shelter, one that had not yet existed in Ukraine. At the time, she did not even know what it should be called, as such places had not existed in the Soviet Union.

The long road to its creation was filled with mistakes and successes. But finally, in October 2000, «Sirius» was founded

- I really like this star - it is bright and beautiful. I love astronomy. Along with history, it was my favourite subject in school. And my mother, a history teacher, told me a beautiful legend about Sirius, Orion’s dog. His master was fatally bitten by a scorpion, and he turned into a star along with him. Today, the bright Sirius shines in the sky in the constellation of the Great Dog.

The first to arrive was Nika, a dog with a broken leg. Although everything starts with just one dog, «Sirius» grows very quickly. For the first three years, everything is funded from the family budget, with a young son also in the picture. The beginning was difficult, but Oleksandra’s persistence - inherited from her mother - carried her through. More and more animals arrived at the shelter, more volunteers joined, and the work multiplied. The first sponsors appeared, helping to build her dream - a real shelter.

At the end of 2013, the Revolution of Dignity erupted. Quite unexpectedly, in a single night, Oleksandra’s son decided to switch to the Ukrainian language, and when Maidan began, he travelled to Kyiv with his father to stand on the barricades. Sasha could not leave the shelter but tried to be an active participant by bringing food to the protesters. At that time, Oleksandra did not yet know that the events on Independence Square would have such a profound impact on her shelter for homeless animals.

When the war in Donbas began a few months later, many of Oleksandra’s friends volunteered for the army and went to the ATO zone. They turned out to be highly sensitive to the unfair situation of animals, whose numbers grew daily along the front line. The first person they turned to was Oleksandra. This marked the beginning of a chain of aid created by volunteers working in Donbas, «Sirius» shelter staff and soldiers transporting animals from frontline villages to their new, safe home in Fedorivka.

None of us believed there would be a full-scale war

Oleksandra recalls that by December 2021, there was increasing talk that war was inevitable. A real, full-scale war. But no one believed that in the 21st century, in Europe, a neighbour could be attacked with such force. On December 5th, on the occasion of International Volunteer Day, President Zelensky presented awards. Although Oleksandra received the «Order of Princess Olga», what stood out most from that evening was his tense and stressed expression.

- He said that if it happened, we would all stand together, side by side. I remember it felt dissonant. Although I did not want to believe it, it worried me, and I could not stop thinking about it. I even considered stockpiling food just in case... But people reassured me, saying that nothing would happen. And when I heard the first whistle of missiles overhead, I realised I had made a terrible mistake in trusting them and not taking precautions.

First, she heard the war. At dawn, there was the whistle of missiles flying towards Kyiv. It woke her and her ten animals - dogs and cats. Everything around them trembled, the windowpanes vibrated, and her small dacha shook. Frightened dogs huddled together, and Oleksandra had only one thought: the war had begun. Thousands of thoughts swarmed in her mind, merging with images from the Second World War. She thought of bomb shelters, of the panic that was about to begin, of missiles soon to fall on Fedorivka, of chaos, of fleeing crowds, of kilometre-long traffic jams on the roads.

- I sat on the sofa, the dogs trembled, and I thought about how to evacuate 3500 animals. And suddenly, I told myself: «Sasha, stop. Wrap up. Start making a plan immediately. Point one: food»

Early in the morning, she set out in her car to visit the nearest villages. She entered shops, asked neighbours, and loaded her car with anything the dogs could eat. But after a day and a half, powerful explosions echoed - the bridges were blown up, the Russians surrounded the village, making escape impossible for those who remained. Complete isolation began. The explosions grew louder and louder, and Oleksandra began to pray that the missiles would not strike the village or the shelter. She knew that nineteen people had remained - staff members and volunteers who had come from distant regions and had nowhere to flee. She also did not know how much time they had left or how the Russians would approach them. People said the Russians would enter the village and shoot them all on sight. She found out only hours later when a shelter worker pulled her out of her panicked thoughts - the soldiers had just entered the shelter's territory.

- All I heard was that under no circumstances should I go there, that I had to hide. Military equipment had arrived, they were digging in, and there were many of them. They were running around the shelter with automatic rifles, while people had been herded into a tiny room guarded by a soldier with a gun. I immediately said that there was no other way, that I was running to the shelter - what about the people, what about my dogs? I heard that the Russians were aggressive and would kill me.

Sasha, together with the daughter of the manager who had recently suffered a second heart attack, set off running through the village. Adrenaline pounded in Sasha’s temples. From afar, it was already clear that the soldiers had quickly built trenches, and a camouflaged tank stood inside a dugout. There was also a checkpoint, flanked by soldiers with rifles, their barrels aimed directly at them. They slowed their pace and started walking towards them. When, twenty metres from the checkpoint, a soldier reloaded his weapon, they stopped and took their hands out of their pockets to show they were unarmed.

- I started shouting that my name was Oleksandra, that I was the director of the shelter located just beyond them, and that I needed to get there. They replied that no one was going anywhere and that we had to go home. I shouted that my people and my animals were there, but they only shook their heads in refusal. I demanded to be taken to their commander.

Something akin to madness took over her mind - she no longer cared whether or not they would start shooting. She saw her goal before her, oblivious to any obstacles. The Russians must have noticed it - her eyes burned with determination, she was furious, she was not backing down. With a nod of a gun barrel, they signalled her to follow them.

The commander was aggressive, but Sasha ignored it. She started talking about the shelter, about the people, about the shortage of food. She stated outright that she intended to drive through their checkpoint several times a day as she searched the surrounding areas for food for the animals.

- At the end of my speech, he burst into laughter. He asked if I really thought I had come here to set conditions. Had I really come to an armed position, stood before him, counted on my fingers what I needed, and expected him to give it to me? He had never seen anything like it before. And perhaps, that is exactly what worked.

He agreed but noted that any vehicle passing through would be inspected each time and that he would personally visit the shelter to check whether she was telling the truth. As we left him and walked towards the shelter, I felt a tingling sensation in my spine - I was almost certain that I would be shot in the back.

When they reached the shelter, they saw terrified staff. The Russians had lined them up and ordered them to surrender their phones so that no one could contact the outside world or relay any information to the Ukrainian army. Not everyone obeyed. When they found a hidden phone, they threw the previously confiscated ones onto the ground and demonstratively shot at them, nearly hitting the workers’ feet.

The vanishing voices

When someone enters the shelter and walks along the rows of enclosures, whether they come to adopt a pet or bring food, the residents erupt in noise. Dogs bark, howl and exchange signals. One can only imagine the racket caused by more than three thousand dogs all at once. Oleksandra always warns visitors not to run between the rows, as it only agitates them further, and the canine uproar carries for kilometres.

- The Russian soldiers entered the shelter armed, aggressive, ready to kill. They ran between the rows and among the dogs... and the dogs fell silent. They simply froze and stared at them. To this day, I do not understand what happened, not even cynologists can explain this phenomenon. When I left the shelter and walked through the village, someone asked me: so, Sasha, did they shoot all your dogs?

At that moment, a deathly silence, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, settled into her consciousness. It was only after liberation that it became clear this reaction had saved the dogs’ lives. After de-occupation, dog owners who had lost their pets - once adopted from «Sirius» - came to the shelter searching for them. There were cases where Russian soldiers, upon hearing a dog bark, would throw a grenade over the fence. They might not have even seen the dog, but they fired blindly to silence it. Many animals were killed this way near Kyiv. But inside the shelter, the silence lasted until the occupation ended.

Sometimes, the dogs howled when they heard a missile or an aircraft flying overhead, but then they would hide in their kennels, curling up - hungry and frightened

- I had a habit with the dogs where I would extend my hand through the fence, and they would push their nose or paw through, and that is how we greeted each other. During the occupation, I also had to walk around the shelter often, checking if everything was all right. I did not want to do it - I could not bear to look at the dogs. Then I learned not to look them in the eyes because, a few times, I extended my hand as always, but they did not understand. They were so hungry, and I was offering them an empty hand... I saw the question in their eyes: where is the food? Why are you treating us like this? The pain tore my heart apart. Today, I think that was the most terrifying and difficult task for me. Even speaking with the Russians was not such a nightmare.

But encounters with Russian army soldiers were far from pleasant. What did it matter that, thanks to the commander, they were allowed to cross the checkpoints daily if the soldiers emerged with raised guns and fury in their eyes? The moment the car window rolled down was a daily test of psychological endurance. One never knew what might set them off that day. Over time, the Russians became increasingly bitter, as their «three-day special military operation» was not going as planned. The soldiers started drinking, taking drugs, and often tormenting people without reason-causing both moral and physical harm.

A particularly difficult moment came when He stood at the checkpoint. Always masked, mysterious, and often reeking of alcohol. Someone in the village had told him that Oleksandra sang beautifully, and since then, he would not leave her alone. He liked her as a woman, making checkpoint crossings a psychological nightmare for her.

- He started calling me Prima Donna. Today, I laugh about it, but it was horrifying. Whenever he saw me in the car, he would bow deeply and say: «Prima Donna, please, please, you are most welcome». Then he decided they would organise a concert where I would sing.

Sasha was to sing for the Russian soldiers. A concert for them in the occupied territory. She immediately understood that ultimately, she could not refuse him because if she did, it might be the last decision she ever made. Though she had struggled with sleep since the invasion began, by then, she was no longer sleeping at all. She constantly had headaches, a racing heartbeat, and dark spots before her eyes. She started thinking about escaping through the forest, knowing that the «boys from the ATO» were there. But if she ran, she would never return here, the animals would starve to death, and everything she had done so far would be lost and wasted. And in that moment, too, she heard growling. Her voice became low, her throat tightened so much that she could barely speak.

She was like a sleepwalker in a nightmare that refused to end. Sasha tried to explain to the masked soldier that her voice was hoarse, that the stress had robbed her of it entirely, and that she could not sing

- One day, I told him: you are not a fool. I am Ukrainian - how can I possibly give you a concert? And in response, he once again invited me for champagne. He insisted that I was so understanding and that he could talk to me about interesting things. That champagne of theirs had likely been stolen from some shop. They were drinking expensive French champagne while occupying my city. I was afraid that one day, this could end very badly for me - when he got drunk, and I refused him again. I started avoiding confrontation in the evenings, hiding in the darkness in the back seat of the car.

In isolation

Information from the outside world rarely reached Fedorivka. Sometimes, text messages came through - even strangers would ask Oleksandra if she was still alive. The local residents knew little about what was happening in the country, about what was happening on the frontline. To contact relatives meant taking a deadly risk. There were only a few places in the village where a radio signal could be found. Sometimes, just sending a simple «I am alive» message was enough, but occasionally, it was even possible to make a brief phone call. The Russians must have received information from someone in the village because they quickly found these locations and began setting up ambushes. They would arrive in civilian cars when no one expected them, jumping out with weapons. One time, even Sasha was caught.

- I was standing with a friend, and there was another woman talking to her son on the phone. When I saw them approaching, I hid mine in my shoe. But one of them noticed. He knew who I was, of course. I was incredibly lucky because he pretended not to see anything. The woman, on the other hand, had her phone confiscated, and she fell into hysterics. She began shouting that it was her only way to contact her son, who... was serving in our army.

One of the soldiers immediately reloaded his weapon, convinced that she was passing on secret information to the Ukrainian Armed Forces. The woman's hysteria irritated them even more. Oleksandra sensed that a tragedy was about to unfold. She decided to approach them and, in a calm voice, said: «Look at her. She is just a simple village woman. What could she possibly know? She is only talking to her child. Does a mother not worry about you?» Then, by some miracle, her life was spared, but Oleksandra never saw her again.

Nor did she ever see the soldier who had lied, pretending he had not seen her hide the phone in her shoe. One morning, at dawn, she drove up to the checkpoint and saw the Russians hurriedly loading all their belongings into vehicles. They were clearly racing against time.

- I stopped, rolled down the window, and asked: «Where are you going, boys? Finally heading home?» I said it mockingly, as I always liked to provoke them a little. But they replied that they were going to Donbas. They were furious.

When the Russians fled and the occupation ended, volunteers from all over the world, including Poland, arrived in Fedorivka and the surrounding villages. Although Oleksandra welcomed them, gave interviews, and showed many people the shelter, something strange was happening in her mind. She understood that the occupation was over, but her body, her thoughts, her behaviour were still trapped there. Sasha even stopped at the checkpoints that no longer existed. She lived in this tension for another three months while the world's attention was still focused on this region - after all, Bucha and Irpin, less than fifty kilometres away, were making headlines in newspapers around the world. Volunteers and journalists were already on-site, and local residents were returning.

One morning, Oleksandra woke up and realised that today she had nowhere to go. No interviews, no need to run for food for the animals. And suddenly - all the commotion disappeared. In one second, she realised that she was finally free. Only one thing did not return to its place. Oleksandra cleared her throat loudly.

- I do not know, maybe one day my voice will come back to me. Maybe one day I will sing again, because I love singing. Maybe that will happen when the occupation ends - but across my entire country.

During the Second World War, Ukrainian Anastasia Huley fled from forced labour for the Nazis, but they captured her and sent her to concentration camps. She miraculously survived and returned to Kyiv. Now, 80 years later, as an elderly grandmother, she is again seeking refuge, this time from Russian aggression. And she finds shelter... in Germany.

«I stopped being a human and became number 61369»

- During the mobilisation of young people for forced labour in Germany in 1943, I was told: if you do not go, we will take your mother instead and burn the house, - recalls Anastasia Huley. - I was 17 then, we lived in Pyriatyn, Poltava region. It was May, everything was blooming... I could not imagine working for the occupiers. Especially as my three brothers were fighting against them. So I decided to pretend to comply, then escape.

The youth were gathered at the central square, and I studied the situation, step by step retreating into the crowd on the pavement and quietly blending in. I hid with acquaintances for a few weeks and then decided to flee to another region. But first, I stopped at home for supplies... Before dawn, they came for me. And it was not strangers - it was the husband of my second cousin, who was the secretary of the village council at the time. He betrayed me. Later, he forged some documents about assisting Ukrainian partisans, and when our authorities wanted to punish him after the war, the court released him thanks to those papers.

Tetyana Pastushenko: How did you end up in Auschwitz?

Anastasia Huley: At first, they took us to Katowice to unload wagons of slag, and I had only one thought in my head: «How do I escape?» A map of Poland hung at the station, and I traced the quickest route to Lviv. Then, one day, a downpour began. The guards brought us inside to wait out the rain in a building where we kept shovels. Along with us were some Frenchmen, including a young man my age - handsome, like an angel from a painting. It was impossible not to stare, so even the guards were captivated. Meanwhile, I quietly slipped out, crawled under trains, and escaped. I fled with four other girls.

On the way, we encountered different people. Some offered us shelter and a place to stay, while others grabbed pitchforks, shouting that Ukrainians should be killed for Volyn. In Rzeszów, we were eventually caught by a gendarme and ended up in a local prison.

The worst part was witnessing the fates of Polish women who had hidden Jews. Once, they brought Helena to our cell - beaten to within an inch of her life. She could not move, was covered in blood, but whispered that she had secretly hidden Jews without her family knowing. The Germans found out and arrested her husband instead. She went to the prison, begging him to forgive her. Then they arrested and beat her as well. Later, they executed both of them...

One day, they loaded us into a cattle wagon and took us somewhere. It turned out that as punishment for escaping, we were sent to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp.

They immediately sat me on a chair, cut off my long braids, and tattooed a number on my arm. I did not understand where I was, was in shock, and from this, I did not even feel pain. From that moment, my life changed forever: I stopped being a human and became number 61369.

It takes very little time in Auschwitz to lose your sense of the world. Thousands of people in striped uniforms, all frightened, depressed, and constantly tense. The most horrifying thing, which makes you almost forget yourself, is the streams of people led to the crematorium daily. There were few Jews in the barracks, as they were mostly destroyed immediately. Between the men’s and women’s sections of the camp, a road led from the gates to the forest where the crematoria operated. Day after day, you would see Jews being taken off the train and sent there in transit. They walked submissively, and among them were children - some with dolls, others with balls...

TP: What did you do in the concentration camp?

‍AG: Every day, from morning until six in the evening, we were forced to work. We were given various tasks: digging, building. Sundays were our only day off. This meant we would not be fed all day and had to remain hungry.

Once, we were sent to scatter fertiliser across a field. I reached into a sack with my hand and found ash containing bone fragments. It was crematorium ash. My hands instantly went numb...

TP: Did the Nazis manage to crush your will or your internal resistance to the situation?

AG: At the beginning, we made one attempt. They ordered us to dig a trench around the camp as tall as a person. Later, they filled it with water and electrified it to prevent escapes. Mud, clay, rain, and above our heads - «Schnell, arbeiten!». So we rebelled. We agreed at night that we would not go to work.

In the morning, we stayed in the barracks. The female overseer came running, followed by Commandant Rudolf Höss. He yelled and shot at the ceiling. In the yard, we were lined up, ordered to kneel with our hands behind our heads. Commandant Höss walked along the row, striking every fifth girl (there were about a hundred of us) with all his strength in the chest. That was the end of our resistance...

TP: Presently, hundreds of Ukrainians are in Russian captivity, and each prisoner searches for something to hold onto to keep from giving up or losing their mind. What kept you going and gave you strength in Auschwitz?

AG: Dreams. There was no news, no relationships. Only dreams. While working, we shared with one another what we had dreamt. We also often thought about food - such dreams saved us too. There in the camp, we swore to one another that when we were free, we would be satisfied with a single outfit, as long as there was always bread on the table.

As for dreams, I once dreamt that I was walking through the camp and saw the sun rising to my left. But as soon as it appeared, it immediately set again. I found myself in terrifying darkness. After some time, I saw the sun rise again, but this time from the other side. It was strange, but it became warm - very warm. That dream turned out to be prophetic.

In the winter of 1944-1945, we waited for our forces to liberate us. Battles for Krakow were already underway when suddenly the Germans took us somewhere... It turned out to be the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. In Auschwitz, I thought nothing could be worse than that camp. It turned out there was.

TP: Do you remember how you were liberated?

AG: The English freed us on 15 April 1945. But I no longer had the strength to rejoice...

After a few months in Bergen-Belsen, I became a living corpse. They threw us into a barrack without window panes or mattresses on the bunks. The windows and doors were boarded up. When the barrack was opened after four days, they were very surprised that we had not died without food or warmth. They had intended to kill us, as they did not know what to do with us.

Later, a typhus epidemic broke out in the camp. The dead lay everywhere, and no one even bothered to remove them. In the barracks, you could hear: «Marusya, move over! Oh, you are already dead»… Those you befriended yesterday died today... and there was no strength left to mourn them.

One day, I too fell ill. I collapsed onto the floor of the barrack. But a kind soul, Maria, dragged me out of the barrack. Whispering: «You must keep walking with whatever strength you have left; if you lie down, they will think you are dead and throw you onto the pile of corpses.» What saved me was that one of the girls had somehow stolen a piece of bread from the Germans and shared it with me.

When the liberators entered the camp, I just waved my hand. No reaction at all. Commandant Kramer was tasked with loading the dead bodies onto trucks, but I did not even have the strength to approach him and tell him what I thought of him.

Afterwards, the English took care of us for several weeks, feeding us back to health. But when I returned to my homeland, I was called a traitor. My classmates refused to befriend me because of the number tattooed on my arm. It was only when I enrolled at an institute in Kyiv that true student life began - with exams, falling in love, and a wedding. My husband was a soldier and had been wounded. Later, we had children, and life spun on.

The only thing I could never regain was dancing. Before the war, I danced a lot, but afterwards, I could not. It became too difficult...

When history reversed

After the war, Anastasia Huley returned home «grey-haired, shaven, a skeleton» but with a determined mind to continue her education. For more than 50 years, she has been an active participant in the movement of former prisoners of Nazi concentration camps. For the past 10 years, she has led the Ukrainian Organisation of Anti-Fascist Resistance Fighters, defending their interests in the political sphere, organising additional medical and social aid, and working to overcome social isolation.

Could she ever have imagined that she would have to endure another war, hiding from missile strikes in the basement of her house, now from the Russians?

In March 2022, 96-year-old Anastasia Huley, along with her children, found refuge in Germany, in the village of Bad Kösen - a country where she had once experienced so much grief and suffering in her youth.

TP: Anastasia Vasylivna, how did you decide to go to Germany?

AG: This was not my first trip to Germany. After 1995, I visited frequently - to Bergen-Belsen, Berlin, Munich, and Dachau. I repeatedly visited Magdeburg and the city of Merseburg in Saxony-Anhalt, where our German partners live and work. Together, we held many meetings for young people in schools. I was not going into the unknown. And most importantly, I was not afraid of the Germans.

During numerous meetings and my speeches, people ask me what I feel towards the Germans now.

I remember specific individuals who did evil. But I, like other former prisoners, do not seek revenge. Examine us with any X-ray - you will not find it. Those who survived the camps feel as though they were blessed

We understand that the people then were driven and deluded by «-isms»: fascism, communism.

TP: Do the Germans feel any guilt or responsibility for what the Nazis did in Ukraine?

AG: It is evident that many older people feel a sense of repentance. In this village, where we lived, Bad Kösen, everyone treated us very kindly. When I went out for walks, each person would try to offer something from their garden - grapes, plums. It felt as though the entire community was looking after us.

Young people, to whom I told my story, were simply amazed. I always remember how, in 2013, an eighth-grader from a German school gave me a pair of warm socks. «My grandmother knitted these for you,» she said, her eyes filled with tears. And I cried too, and all the girls around us were sniffing quietly.

These were students from Mücheln, with whom I visited the memorial at the former Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. This school earned the honorary title of «School Without Racism - School of Civil Courage», and I became their mentor. We have maintained a friendly relationship ever since. In my honour, they planted an apple tree in the schoolyard and recently sent me a photo of the red apples it bore.

TP: Did you believe that Russia would attack Ukraine? Were there any premonitions?

AG: I did not hear, did not think, did not even dream of it. I could not imagine that Russia would attack so savagely, just take and start destroying everything. Ukraine is in its way.

I remember my whole life, at various political meetings, America was criticised - it always was in their way. They forgot that the famous Soviet pilots of the 1930s set records flying American planes. What were they flying on - our plywood? Such hatred in those Russians, such disdain for human life.

TP: Anastasia Vasylivna, in the pandemic year of 2020, you organised the fundraising, production, and unveiling of a monument to the residents of Zhuliany, killed in bombings on June 22nd 1941. And now, in February 2022, your Zhuliany is getting bombed again…

‍AG: Yes. My children and I sat in the cellar for a while. We have a large basement in the garage. We put three beds there, took the cat, and sat for a couple of nights. No electricity, the phone did not work - we knew and heard nothing. It was frightening to sit locked up. So, we came out.

My daughter and son started persuading me to leave. I did not want to be a burden. But then I thought, if something happened, who would be to blame? So, I agreed. First to Lviv, then to Poland, and from there to Germany. They welcomed us very warmly there. They gave us separate rooms on the ground floor of a house where a family with a three-year-old boy lived. We became so close to them, like family. Now that I am back in Ukraine, we sometimes call each other.

A diary entry from 1 March 2022: «Anastasia Huley, a 96-year-old former Auschwitz prisoner, has spent five days in the basement of her own house in Kyiv. But yesterday, the electricity went out, and she agreed to her children's and grandchildren’s pleas to leave the city by car and reach the western border. I do not know how they will manage. It is dangerous to stay, but a long journey during wartime is no better, especially at her age.»

TP: How was life in Germany during all that time?

‍AG: Even before the coronavirus pandemic, Mike Reichel (Director of the Centre for Political Education of Saxony-Anhalt - Edit.) began working on a book about me. And in July 2022, this book was published in German. I was constantly giving speeches at the book’s presentations, and my schedule was very tight. Over the year, I probably had about 50 meetings.

TP: Did many people come to your meetings?

AG: Many - both Germans and Ukrainians. When we held meetings in churches, entire communities would come. I was pleased to learn that there are communities in Germany where Ukrainian songs are sung, and Ukrainian culture is being developed.

I remember one meeting coincided with the Shevchenko Days. I recited Shevchenko’s «Testament» from memory, while Lyuba Danilenko read the German translation. We were applauded for a long time afterwards. «Rise up, break your chains, and with the enemy’s evil blood, sprinkle the freedom you have gained!»

Once, at a congress of the German Federation of Trade Unions, I even met German Chancellor Olaf Scholz. I managed to tell him to provide more weapons for Ukraine. At every meeting, I prefer not to talk about myself. I appeal for help and support for Ukraine.

TP: Why did you decide to return to Ukraine?

AG: You know, I was having problems with my blood pressure. Every day brought a new challenge, and my blood pressure would rise to 240. The ambulance came for me, and I was hospitalised. Things got better in Kyiv. But now my legs cannot carry me anywhere. I can get to the table in my room because there is something to hold onto, but that is all. I do not even remember the last time I went outside. I am afraid of falling. Who would lift me out of the yard, and with what bulldozer (laughs)?

TP: How do you deal with these alarms and shellings? Are you hiding in your basement again? How do you cope?

AG: No, I no longer hide. When we returned, we thought there would be no more shelling. But, alas, it continues.

Everyone is struggling now, but there is no point in whining. It is fine to grieve, but whining helps no one. Once in Magdeburg, a German woman asked me how we, witnesses of the Second World War, continue living now that war has returned to Europe. Everything we fought against is happening again. I told her that we survived Hitler, we survived Stalin, so we must survive Putin as well.

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.

Poland has submitted a film about Ukrainians, featuring Ukrainian actors, for the Oscars. The drama «Under the Volcano» by Polish director Damian Kocur explores the transformation of a family from tourists to refugees, due to the full-scale invasion. In this film, which premiered in September at the Toronto International Film Festival, Roman Lutskyi, a well-known actor for Polish audiences, starred. He is known for notable theatrical performances, such as «Hamlet» and «Forefathers' Eve (Dziady)» by Maja Kleczewska. Globally, he gained recognition through his lead role in «Reflection», the first Ukrainian film showcased at the Venice Film Festival. Lutskyi has walked the red carpet at this festival twice, and now, he has an Oscar submission.

«This is my third film about war without combat scenes»

- Damian Kocur once said that we Ukrainians live under a volcano that could erupt at any moment, - said Roman Lutskyi to Sestry. - Under the volcano refers to a neighbouring country, armed to the teeth. In 2014, this «volcano» awakened, and in 2022, it indeed erupted…

- Since «Reflection», you have become a serious dramatic actor. Sometimes, I do not recognise where that cheerful Oleshko Popovich from «The Stronghold» has gone. Your gaze especially has changed. You have also done a drama, «Honeymoon», about a couple's life under occupation, followed by «Under the Volcano» - and everywhere there is war.

- If you have noticed, «Under the Volcano» is already my third war film without combat scenes. People understand what war is like on the front line. But the war within Ukrainian families - Europeans do not see that.

With the onset of the great war, every family had to choose - to stay or to leave. This choice gave birth to numerous conflicts. Even in my family, we argued, deciding what to do next. War provokes micro-wars - within small family universes. It is not just about the combat scenes shown on television.

- And it is precisely about such a war that you tell in each of your films. You are not running on screen with a gun, but you reveal to the world the internal drama Ukrainians go through.

- Yes, this is not action, it is subtler, and that is interesting for me as an actor. 

«The director did not want to cast me because of my… «actorly» beard»

- Tell us, how did you end up in the film «Under the Volcano» and why director Damian Kocur chose you for the leading male role?

- Oh, it was quite a story. Kocur, a Polish director, is not very familiar with the Ukrainian acting market, so he asked the casting director to gather a list of Ukrainian actors for him. I was on the list, but the director initially dismissed me. As I later learned, Damian said that Roman Lutskyi was too handsome, with that overly actorly beard, and he wanted regular, ordinary people.

I was unaware of this until a friend asked me to help her record a self-tape, also for Kocur - just to stand behind the camera and argue with her on screen, and we did it. Damian saw the footage and asked who was that person behind the camera arguing so convincingly - saying he wanted the guy behind the camera. I was invited for an interview, and based on that, I was cast in one of the main roles.

- Why did Poland choose to submit the film «Under the Volcano» for the Oscars? It is not about Poles, it is about Ukrainians, and Ukrainians perform in it.

- Perhaps they saw that this particular film is competitive on the international stage and could resonate more strongly than local stories in the context of current events.

It also advocates for Ukraine. We often hear that people are tired of Ukrainians and their war, but it turns out that not everyone feels that way. The world needs to be constantly reminded of this war, and we are grateful to Poland for doing that.

There is only one question: whom should Ukrainians root for at the Oscars now - the Ukrainian film «La Palisade» or the Polish «Under the Volcano»?

In general, this film is for export. We have lived through all of this and understand very well who the enemy is. Meanwhile, the world has not fully grasped the danger of this war. Some still doubt, trying to advocate for the enemy. It is a dangerous game - to wait and not take notice, thinking that Ukraine will protect everyone. The volcano’s effects could be felt by all.

- Your first film about war was «Reflection», before that, you had not acted in such films. Director Valentyn Vasyanovych plunged you into the horrors of war at its very beginning - in 2014. Captivity, torture, PTSD... How difficult was it to act in such a film?

- As an actor, it was an intriguing challenge. It was crucial that Valentyn Vasyanovych, a deep-thinking director, made this film. The subjects of Ukrainian captivity and PTSD are weighty, and it was important to depict them correctly without exaggeration.

Viewers may have felt uncomfortable watching this film, but we know that the tortures shown in the film are experiences that Ukrainians endure in real life. Since 2014, the «Isolation» prison in the DPR territory has been a terrifying place where our people have been tortured in various ways. The worst part was that the captives did not know if they would ever be released.

I played a military surgeon who ended up in this prison. Immersed in the filming process, I lived alone in an apartment and hardly went out. At that time, I watched many videos on the subject and read numerous books. I tried to come close to that heavy and unpleasant state and to remain in it. To avoid «jumping» into it only when in front of the camera and then coming out after the director called «cut».

- Great actors, before playing a role, observe people similar to the characters they will portray. How do you prepare for roles - for instance, when playing a person with PTSD after captivity?

- I spoke at length with psychiatrists and with nurses in rehabilitation clinics.

Doctors told me how people walk after captivity - not straight, but curling up into a sort of «question mark», barely lifting their eyes from the ground

I used this technical detail about a captive’s physiology.

The film’s consultant, Stanislav Aseyev - a journalist and author of the book «The Bright Path. The Story of One Concentration Camp» - told me many things. He was a prisoner in the DPR’s «Isolation» concentration camp for 28 months and described in his book the horrors inflicted on captives there. For example, Aseyev explained in detail what a person feels when subjected to electric shock - I reproduced this in the scene where my character is tortured in this way. He described how the current passes through, which muscles contract, and whether it is possible to scream when the current goes from the ear to the hand, causing spasms in the vocal cords.

- These are very frightening things, but Vasyanovych managed to turn this material into a work of art.

- Yes, everything in Valentyn’s work is very meticulous, dry and without excessive drama. If you noticed, there is no music in «Reflection» because it would only intensify an already terrifying picture.

- You attended the screening of «Reflection» in Venice. How did the European audience respond to the film?

- After the screening, there was prolonged applause. People said that we managed to convey the filth of war through artistic means. This story moved viewers, many people cried. I would add that this film should be watched on a big screen because viewing it on a phone or even a computer does not convey the full range of emotions.

«I learnt Polish from TV by ear»

- Whom would you refuse to portray in films today? Perhaps an evil muscovite?

- Listen, but who should play Muscovites? Should we invite actual Muscovites or what? Many Ukrainian actors are fluent in Russian.

This is a reality because we are a post-colonial country. Just as Lebanese people speak French fluently, or Indians speak English. One actor or another will play a Muscovite. We do not always play likeable characters, that is our lot as actors.

Personally, I do not refuse roles, but I do refuse certain material. If it is superficial or vulgar, flat, and uninteresting, then definitely no. But if the material is deep and relevant, then I would take it on, even if I had to play a villain. The structure of dialogues also matters to me.

- So you would play the role?

- No, because I do not speak Russian. I can talk, but I would have an accent, like representatives of Caucasian ethnic groups.

- Judging by your career, there seems to be a mutual affection between you and Poland. It all started with «Hamlet» in Poznan (2019), where you were invited for the lead role by the iconic Polish director Maja Kleczewska. How did this happen?

- Maja has been following Ukraine since 2013. Initially, she was concerned that our young people were dying on the Maidan, and then in the ATO. When she decided to stage her «Hamlet» at the Polish Theatre in Poznan, she thought it would be interesting if the main character returned not to Danish Elsinore from Wittenberg, but to Poland from Ukraine.

She searched a long time for the lead actor. I missed the initial audition dates, so I simply wrote to the director afterwards, and she arranged a meeting in Warsaw. After the premiere, Maja told me that I was the only one who gave her a satisfactory answer to the question of who Hamlet was.

I told her then that I understood Hamlet - he came to reclaim power because it was unjustly taken, and that is that. It is human, and there is no need to make a philosopher out of him

I also said that we should remember that in Shakespeare’s time, people came to watch this play because it was action-packed - there are so many corpses in the end. So there is no need to seek superhuman qualities or lofty ideals in Hamlet. Certainly, he is of a delicate soul, but above all, he is a human being. Maja and I discussed this for about four hours, she understood my stance on the character. And I was cast in the role.

- And, judging by the success of Kleczewska’s «Hamlet», Poles accepted you?

- I had long wanted to enter the Polish acting market. Especially since I know Polish - though not intentionally, I learnt it as a child. I can almost perfectly understand it by ear and communicate fairly well.

- How did you learn Polish?

- When I was in the sixth grade, the only TV channels we had in our village were UT-1 and UT-2. In some towns, people could watch other channels, but we only had these, broadcasting from morning till night about how much grain Ukraine had harvested. My father bought a satellite dish from abroad, and I started watching Polish TV - specifically, the channels Polsat and Polsat-2, which featured comedy series like «13 posterunek», «The Kiepski World» («Świat według Kiepskich»), and various sitcoms… It was all so colourful, with interesting storylines.

I became hooked on Polish television and learnt Polish by listening. Later, while working in theatre, I began reading books in Polish and occasionally speaking with native speakers. Right before «Hamlet», the theatre hired me a pronunciation tutor.

- After «Hamlet», Maja Kleczewska staged a production of «Forefathers' Eve» by Adam Mickiewicz at the Ivano-Frankivsk Drama Theatre, and it was reportedly «tailored for you».

- Maja is totally my director. Our collaboration in Poznan was so inspiring for both of us that after «Hamlet», we immediately began planning future projects.

We searched for material for a long time, Maja wanted to work on a piece of Ukrainian literature, and we even discussed «Macbeth». Then the full-scale invasion happened, and Kleczewska decided she would stage «Forefathers' Eve» because, in her view, there is no other anti-Russian dramatic work quite like it in Polish literature.

We chose the third part of this poetic drama, where Mickiewicz describes Polish-Russian relations that very much resonate with what Ukraine is experiencing now in its relations with Russia. Nothing new - this is a universal story for both Poland and Ukraine, as it is fundamentally about a person’s freedom being threatened by a powerful adversary.

- In «Forefathers' Eve», you once again play a prisoner. Well, you play the proud poet Konrad, but the audience perceives you as an Azovstal defender.

- While we were working on the play, we did not even think about captivity. I was very moved when audiences started interpreting the characters on stage as defenders from Azov. After the premiere, a friend told me that when my character Konrad emerged from an imaginary basement or prison for the grand improvisation, she saw it as if an Azov commander was coming out of the trench straight into enemy fire.

People interpret things in various ways. And that is fantastic because it means the work is multi-layered and rich in meaning. That is precisely what should happen with works of talent.

- You have already walked the red carpet in Venice twice. Now you could win an Oscar - why not? Americans already know you, a critic from The Hollywood Reporter once praised your performance in «Reflection». How do you feel about fame?

- I have no problem with people paying attention to my work and praising it.

Yes, I read about myself in The Hollywood Reporter and Variety - positive reviews inspire and motivate. And humility does not lead to anything good (smiles).

As for the Oscar - one should always hope, but simply being nominated is already a huge success.

Photographs from a private archive

One of the most successful wartime art projects in Ukraine is the retrospective exhibition «Alla Horska. Boryviter», held this year at the Ukrainian House and attended by a record number of visitors. The exhibition, whose impact on Ukrainian society has been described as a «national catharsis», was curated by artist and art historian Olena Grozovska. Sestry spoke with Olena about the state of the Ukrainian art market in wartime, the phenomenon of the Alla Horska exhibition and Russian global cultural expansion, which should be perceived as a special operation.

«The tragedy of Bykivnia echoes what is happening now in the de-occupied territories»

Oksana Goncharuk: Why do you think the Alla Horska exhibition became a sensation in Ukraine? She is not Van Gogh, whose name alone would attract so many people…

Olena Grozovska: We have been working on Alla Horska for years, studying her work and creating an archive of Ukrainian unofficial art, called Ukrainian Unofficial. It focuses on the profiles of artists from Kyiv and Lviv who went beyond the confines of the socialist realist canon. Alla Horska is one of the stars of this art.

This was not just an exhibition but a kind of research project. Everything came together: our previous work, the collaboration between the Dukat auction house and the strong team at the Ukrainian House. The complex space of the building was cleverly utilised. It resulted in a story rich in meanings: in addition to visual material, there was historical context. People are now eager, they seek answers to their questions in the past.

People resonated with the story of Horska’s persecution and murder, as well as the destruction of her mosaics in Mariupol by Russian occupiers. All of this struck a nerve and resonated. In the end, approximately 51 thousand people visited the exhibition over one and a half months - a record for the Ukrainian House

- You mentioned that it was like a national catharsis...

- Yes, especially in the last days, when people realised they needed to hurry, and crowds flocked to the exhibition. I saw so many tears in the eyes of those leaving the Bykivnia Hall… You know, we did not aim to frighten or move anyone, but it worked that way because people internalised everything. The past is also linked to the present, and the tragedy of Bykivnia resonates with what is happening now in the de-occupied territories, with mass graves of Ukrainians murdered and tortured by Russian occupiers.

And when people understand that the evil of the 1930s remains unpunished, that it has resurfaced and returned, there is a shock. This continuity feels like a connection between one person’s biography and the broader historical canvas

The success of the exhibition is gratifying, but it is also a challenge, as each subsequent event must be on par. We are now working on a new project, which we hope will take place next year - also at the Ukrainian House. We will showcase several of our unofficial artists who worked after World War II.

«Right now, we simply need major exhibitions at the world’s top venues to make our presence known»

- At the start of the war, the director of the Hermitage said that exhibitions of Russian art are also a special operation and a «major cultural offensive». Is it happening worldwide now?

- As long as Russia exists, this special operation will continue. But perhaps for the first time, its mechanisms have come to light - things we felt but did not fully comprehend can now be examined.

In the West, people do not see them because this does not directly affect their culture. We are the nearest victim, and this monster is built on the theft of our culture and identity.

For Russians, it is important to continue destroying us because our history and culture have been appropriated, and only by erasing the witness to these crimes can they continue promoting their so-called «great Russian culture»

Unfortunately, there are few platforms from which we can speak about this, but it is essential to do so, as this phenomenon has reached colossal proportions over the last 15-20 years.

- Do you monitor these processes?

- Yes. Russian global cultural expansion is unprecedented, and it is a deliberate policy. The enormous number of Russian exhibitions held at the world's finest museums was intended to showcase the greatness of their culture. I have published articles on what we could counterpose to Russia, but they have proven insufficient.

In 2018, St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican hosted a grand exhibition «The Russian Way: From Dionysius to Malevich», curated by the renowned Russian art historian Arkady Ippolitov. There was a report showing Putin with the Pope kissing icons at the exhibition. At that time, Crimea was already annexed, the war in Ukraine was ongoing, and the Russians wanted to portray themselves as simply «reviving and reclaiming what rightfully belongs to them».

The exhibition featured works by Malevich and Kramskoy - that is, Ukrainians appropriated by Russia! Today, we ask why the Pope articulates entirely pro-Russian imperial views. It is because this work has been ongoing for years, even centuries. We are now trying to change this situation in emergency mode. But to change it, we at least need to understand how the art institution system in the West operates, what narratives to bring, and how to tell our story. Russia has long studied this and uses it for its hybrid influence.

Now, they are less successful because it is challenging to kill people with one hand while showcasing «masterpieces of great Russian culture» with the other. That is why I am practically shouting that we urgently need major exhibitions that tell the world about us from the world’s best platforms.

- Can you give examples of Ukraine’s collaboration with international art institutions during the war?

- For example, the National Art Museum is touring its exhibition of Ukrainian modernist art worldwide. But there needs to be more of this.

We have been, and continue to be, robbed by the Russians, but we have something unique to show, as our art is original. The same Horska exhibition could be interesting in the West. Yes, it must be presented in different contexts there. But I cannot say that any official in Ukraine is interested in showcasing Alla Horska abroad.

- What should we do then? You recently spoke with Zelenskyy; perhaps you told him about the lack of a strategy for promoting Ukrainian culture...

- Yes, the President of Ukraine and his wife visited the Alla Horska exhibition. As the curator, I was pleased that the exhibition was appreciated at such a high level. But cultural strategies are not a matter for the President, that is what the Ministry of Culture is for. The President cannot handle everything in the country, as he has priority tasks. The real question is why state institutions are not working.

- Compared to the Russians, whose museums are filled to the brim with masterpieces stolen from Ukraine alone, will we have enough arguments to showcase our Ukrainian uniqueness?

- We cannot even come close to comparing the number of works of historical significance in Ukraine to what the Russians have. The empire extracted everything from the territories under its control. My God, how many of Ukraine's prime masterpieces are in their museums... For example, at the Tretyakov Gallery, the old art section opens with our St. Demetrius of Thessaloniki, stolen after the demolition of St. Michael’s Golden-Domed Monastery. Nowhere does it mention that this is a Kyiv mosaic, taken to Moscow in the 1930s for three months of safekeeping. They were supposed to return this masterpiece to its homeland, but it remained in Moscow and is now presented as a «masterpiece of Russian art».

I am not even mentioning all the archaeology represented by thousands of artefacts in Russian museums. Moscow vacuumed up valuable items from Chernihiv and Kyiv regions. This needs to be discussed so that the West starts to see Russia as a colonial empire, which it somehow is not perceived as globally.

At the same time, we still have a wealth of unique art that deserves to be shown. Ukrainian icons are underexplored and yet to be discovered by the world. Our fantastic modernism - yes, few works have survived, but even the collection of the National Art Museum of Ukraine, currently touring abroad, elicits awe.

Because in the West, they did not know that Ukraine has its own national modernism of such calibre

We can also discuss post-war art, namely the late modernism of the 1960s-70s - these are also very unique philosophies. People behind the Iron Curtain created their own artistic worlds - unlike any other. And there is a demand for this.

- If you were talking to a foreigner and wanted to tell them about our art, where would you start to make an impression on someone «not in the know»?

- I would start based on who I am speaking to and the background of my interlocutor. To some, I would tell about how St. Sophia of Kyiv preserves the most complete ensemble of authentic mosaics and frescoes from the 11th century in the world. To others, about Ukrainian avant-garde, about Malevich, Exter and Bohomazov. About the powerful folk tradition, which in the 20th century blossomed into the phenomena of Mariya Prymachenko and Kateryna Bilokur. About Ukrainian Baroque. About Pinsel and Arkhypenko. And to some, I would tell about modern Ukrainian artists.

«We decided: if it came to it - we would shoot back»

- Did you leave Kyiv at the start of the war?

- No, my husband and I decided to stay, even though Kyiv emptied in the first weeks, and it was quite an eerie sight. We decided: if it came to it, we would shoot back, but under no circumstances would these monsters force us to leave, abandoning our land.

All of this is frightening, but on the other hand - it is interesting. This experience changes a person and provides a valuable sense of perspective that is unavailable in ordinary life. Plus, such events crystallise the understanding of who is who around you.

- I know that you and your husband - the well-known collector and gallery owner Leonid Komsky - have a substantial collection of Ukrainian art. What happened to it after February 24th?

- It is in a safe place. Most of the works are post-war and contemporary Ukrainian art, as well as works by 20th-century Ukrainian emigrant artists.

- Do you currently feel inspired to paint?

- I did not paint for the first year, but then I gradually began to thaw. Sometimes I sell my works at charity auctions, and this is my contribution to the boys on the front. We also raise funds for the Armed Forces of Ukraine through concerts (Olena is also the founder and lead singer of the band «GrozovSka band» - Author).

- Zhadan said that it is too early to write about the war, first, it must be experienced.

- I do not consider myself among those who knew the war was coming, as I thought people could not be so bloodthirsty and foolish. But already a few years before the full-scale invasion, terrifying and strange plots began to appear in my mind that I did not fully understand. Many of my works dealt with some horrors, dark subjects with heavy energy. Military themes began to emerge as well. So something was indeed ripening subconsciously, and I was picking up on these vibes.

- What is the mood among Ukrainian artists and in the art market right now?

- The art market has suffered greatly, and everyone is finding their own survival strategies. But the mood among everyone is this: despite everything, with gritted teeth, we work towards victory and do not succumb to despair. And that is important because these recent massive attacks on our cities are meant to make people lose heart, flee, give up, and ask for negotiations. But we do not.

At commercial Ukrainian auctions, prices for certain contemporary Ukrainian artists have risen and exceeded 100 thousand dollars

Ukrainians are now buying more Ukrainian art - it is a trend. People have less wealth, but there is a growing appreciation for the value of our artists and craftsmen.

The international art market, unfortunately, operates on different figures for now. Currently, there are no personalities in Ukraine who can be classified among the top international artists.

I’m Fine as a profile picture for Ukrainians

- Groundbreaking things are happening in the Ukrainian art scene today, but it is driven by individual enthusiasm, whereas there is no state strategy...

- There needs to be a deliberate policy, at least to ensure that what goes abroad to represent Ukraine does not devalue perceptions of it. Let’s be frank, sometimes things happen that are embarrassing. And there are breakthroughs, spot-on hits. This recently happened at the Burning Man festival in America, where Kyiv artist Oleksiy Sai presented his work I’m Fine in the Nevada Desert.

- Oh, I saw it. It is a huge sculpture made from war artefacts and is a perfect capture of the situation.

- Yes, it is a bitter irony, as the text is made from our road signs shot up by the Russians, but it is about each of us, about how we, Ukrainians, piece together this «I’m fine» within ourselves and try to survive and regenerate. And that is why there was such a sincere reaction, such a wow effect - people started using this I’m Fine as their profile pictures.

Today, it is not enough just to have a piece of art. We live in an era of storytelling - you need to tell your story, to reach the minds and hearts of the audience.

We have yet to tell the world our story: they know more or less about our present in terms of the war, but who we are, where we come from, why we were overshadowed by an empire, and the mechanisms of oppression and destruction applied to our culture - all this still needs to be voiced. Because the fact that we managed to survive under such conditions is a miracle. And it happened precisely because of our culture.

Ganna Yarovenko is a Ukrainian journalist and filmmaker. Since the start of the full-scale war, she, along with her mother and children, found refuge in the Polish town of Mława. Despite everything, Ganna continues to work on her film projects. She is currently working on a documentary titled «Mama's Voice», which tells the story of an extraordinary friendship between a Polish and a Ukrainian mother amidst the war and the psychological crises their families have faced.

Waking up in Kyiv - falling asleep in Warsaw

I was in Kyiv when the full-scale war began. We had not prepared any emergency suitcases, just gathered our important documents. At 5 am, I woke up to the sound of wailing cars. My windows overlook the Batyeva Hill, and there were flocks of crows, screeching as if we were in medieval times. I immediately knew something was happening. When I turned on the TV, everything became clear. Putin was on the screen, announcing the start of his so-called special operation. My godfather called me and told me a missile had landed near his home. That is when I gathered my children, my mother, and our documents, and we headed to a village near Irpin, where my father lived.

Back in the 1990s, when I was making a program about the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina, one of the key lessons I learned was that when fighting begins, you should head to the countryside. Supposedly, you have a better chance of survival there

There is firewood, water from a well and a garden. However, one saying stuck with me - if you have children - you are as good as dead because they will slow you down in every way. Almost immediately after we arrived, we could hear the sound of fighting and artillery fire in Hostomel, not far from where we were. Fighter jets flew over our house.

I knew we could not stay there. That night, we slept fully dressed, but I could not close my eyes. I did not sleep for three days from the start of the war. At 1 am, I heard a powerful explosion. I screamed, «Get up! You have ten minutes to pack. We are leaving.» As we drove toward Kyiv along the Warsaw Highway, huge columns of military equipment were on the move. At first, I thought they were our Ukrainian tanks, but it turned out they were Russian. Later, I learned that by 6 am, those tanks were shooting at civilian cars in Bucha. Those three hours saved our lives. My mother left with us, but my father stayed behind. The next morning, he found himself under occupation.

Simply fate

We spent 25 hours in the long queue at the Ukrainian-Polish border. During that time, I remembered a journalist who once interviewed me when my film «Free People» was shown at the Jagiellonian Festival in Lublin. I wrote to her: «Marianna, I am terribly sorry, but right now I am standing at the border with my mother and two children. What would you recommend I do in this situation?» Almost immediately, through social media, she found a Polish family who agreed to take us in.

Adapting to a foreign country was not easy. First of all, you know nothing. It feels like being thrown into water, like a kitten. Suddenly, you drop to the level of a five-year-old

But the biggest surprise was the Polish family we ended up with - Kaja and Janusz Prusinowski. When they showed us around their home, I saw a disc on the wall titled «Heart». I had brought the same disc home from Lviv in 2015. My ex-husband and I listened to it so much that we practically wore it out. And now, five years later, I found myself meeting the creator of that music in person. I had spent my whole life working with ethnography, making films about folk musicians, and here, under these circumstances, I found myself in the home of Poland’s most renowned folk musicians.

The Poles have a beautiful word: «los». It corresponds to the word fate - something inevitable. And this was exactly that kind of «los» in our lives. The very next day after we arrived, Kaja and I went to the local school. At that time, Orest was 13, and Malva was 5. Orest was immediately accepted into the 7th grade, and Malva into kindergarten. We lived with the Prusinowskis for three months, and it was there that the idea for a new documentary film was born - this time, an autobiographical one. My sister Larisa encouraged me to pursue the idea and even helped with the finances.

«Mama's Voice»

The completed film tells the story of my life with the Polish family from my perspective. It is a story about female strength and mutual support, about how my daughter Malva longs for her father, and how my son Orest is forced to grow up quickly. There are several storylines in the film: one focuses on the strength of women, another on the relationship between father and daughter, their longing for each other, and the impossibility of reuniting. There are also scenes with my parents. In fact, I have a lot of footage that did not make the final cut. With the material I have filmed, I could create a four-part series. Every scene says something meaningful to the viewer.

One of the most philosophical scenes in the film takes place early in the morning when Kaja and I sit by the lake. After surgery on my throat, my voice had become raspy, as if I had smoked my entire life. I wanted to talk about my voice while we were by the lake. Could it ever be restored? Kaja gave me advice and guided me through vocal exercises. We even sang together. It was a strange, dreamlike state - there we were, holding hands, singing a song about the sun, with the lake bathed in sunlight. It was not rehearsed, we had not planned anything in advance. At one point, Kaja whistled a tune and asked: «Do you hear the frogs croaking?». I replied: «Yes, everything alive has its own voice, but I feel half-alive». That scene became the inspiration for the film’s title - «Mama's Voice». Another interesting scene involves making a traditional doll called motanka. I taught Kaja how to make one, and as we worked, we talked about life, children, and our marriages, eventually transitioning to the topics of war and Putin. I suggested: «Let’s make a motanka doll of Putin, cast a spell on it, and burn it». It was a kind of protest, with the hope that the doll would take Putin with it. It was all spontaneous, without consulting any witches or fortune-tellers - it came from a place of genuine impulse and sincerity. The hardest part was watching myself on screen.

It is a purely psychological challenge because you never see yourself objectively. You focus only on your flaws, and I had to wrestle with that. Twice, I have battled cancer. I was a completely different woman before the illness, and it had taken a toll on me physically

The overall concept of the film was to express gratitude to Poland for welcoming my family and four million other Ukrainians as brothers and sisters.

This film is not about how poor and unfortunate we are. It explores women’s friendship and core human values. We started filming in April 2022, and the last day of filming was January 2nd 2024 when a neighbouring building in Kyiv was bombed. The blast shattered the windows and doors of both my apartment and my parents' home. Unfortunately, I do not know what tomorrow will bring, so the film ends with that scene and the acknowledgement that the war continues.

Freedom is the most precious thing

But my life is not just about the films. In the town of Mława, where we still live, we have established a community centre with the support of the St. Nicholas Foundation. We work with Ukrainian children there. Sadly, many of them still speak Russian, and it is during my lessons that they hear Ukrainian. They also open up about their problems. I have introduced a historical component to the centre as well. From time to time, I organise museum tours so the children can learn about the history of Poland, which has been eye-opening for me. Many did not know what the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was. Some thought it was a type of sausage, while others believed it was the name of a medicine. We also have creative workshops where we sculpt, draw and sew. Currently, our team consists of just three people: me, a Ukrainian English teacher and a psychologist. The psychologist helps the older children - those after 8th grade - take career aptitude tests and figure out their future paths.

Of course, we want to return to Ukraine, but only once the war is over

I also have health issues, and I am dependent on medication for the rest of my life. I worry that I will not be able to find the necessary medicines in Ukraine. Currently, I am under the care of an oncology hospital in Warsaw and undergo regular checkups. You know, during the first six months in Poland, I did not feel any emotions. I could not cry or laugh. It was as if I had become like my favourite character from Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow. I do not know why, but sometimes I feel just like him - always finding a way out of the toughest situations. That is how I manage.

Sometimes, I wonder what post-war Ukraine will be like. I hope our neighbouring countries become independent states, and that Russia collapses. I want Ukraine to become a member of NATO and the EU, and for everyone to stop lying. I do not know how realistic this is. I am deeply angry that this war and the Russians have robbed me of time with my father and my children of moments with their grandfather. Those are moments that will never return. I am furious that the windows of my apartment are shattered, our cities and villages are being destroyed, and people are dying. It is terrifying to think about the world our children are growing up in. My grandfather, who survived a concentration camp, always taught me that the most precious thing in life is freedom. I dream and believe that freedom will always remain with the Ukrainian people.

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.

Tetyana Bondarenko is an actress. Before the full-scale invasion, she played at the Kyiv theatre on Mykhailivska St., acted in episodical roles in movies, translated English content for Ukrainian TV channels, worked as a lab assistant in the scientific research laboratory at the Borys Grinchenko University. On February 24 2022, her life, like the lives of millions of Ukrainians, changed completely. During that time, when many were already leaving Kyiv, Tetyana came into the recruiting office with a strong intention of joining the Territorial Defence. She has been fighting since Autumn 2022. At first as a shooter in the infantry, now - as a drone operator. Tetyana with the codename «Bond» told Sestry about her life at war, her motivation and battling sexism on the frontlines.

Making the recruitment office listen

- The plan to join the Armed Forces of Ukraine actually formed even before the full-scale war, - Tetyana says. - In 2014, when the fighting in Donbas broke out, I came to the «Kozatsky» hotel on Khreshchatyk St., where volunteers were being recruited, and said that I wanted to join one of the battalions. The recruiter looked at me with apparent scepticism: «And who are you? A medic? Cook?» «An actress» - I replied.

I think he threw away my application the moment I left the hotel. Since that day, I was often haunted by thoughts that I was doing nothing while someone else was protecting the country. And at the beginning of 2022, I had no doubt about the imminence of a full-scale invasion and decided to apply to the Territorial Defence in January. I considered it to be a good way to, firstly, prepare myself for the war, and secondly, learn to handle weapons, which would be useful in my career as an actress (I have always wanted to play strong and belligerent women).

The full-scale war began when I already collected all the necessary documents for the Territorial Defence - the only thing left was for me to write a short autobiography. Having heard the first explosions outside my window, I began writing it at once - and at 9 AM I was on the spot with all the required papers.

Women do not belong here

- People often ask me when I was really scared during the war. And so I think that it would be the moment I was first given a weapon, having no idea how to use it. I was horrified of doing something wrong… Our first target practice took place on March 8th. It is an important date for me as a feminist - a day of women’s struggle for their rights. Being at a training ground that day with a weapon in hand, I felt that I was doing what I had to.

- When in particular did you end up on the frontlines?

- This did not happen immediately. At first, I was stationed at a checkpoint near Kyiv. We spent the whole Spring learning combat tactics, explosives and more. Before long we went to the combat zone but stayed in reserve for a while, 3-4 kilometres away from the battles. Our company was sent to the frontlines specifically at the end of October 2022. Then a situation happened that became a great disappointment to me.

There were only two women in my company: me and a combat medic. And we were the only ones to not be sent «to die» until the last minute. The commander of the unit we were in proclaimed stubbornly: «We do not take women to the frontlines!». While half of the men in our company were laid off at the trench digging stage in reserve: there were many people 40+ years of age in the Territorial Defence, and some strained their backs, for some problems with the joints or blood pressure «appeared». As a result, only 35 people went to the line which was supposed to be «held» by 70 people. The female medic and I, who were prepared and motivated, were not engaged because of the fact that we were women.

Our unit’s leader tried to convince the commander of the air assault company that I and my comrade could fight but he said: «Alright, you can take them with you. But if they are going to start crying the next day, you are going to be at fault»

But they did not take us anyway. When wrote a report to the commander, he sent my comrade to a field hospital and me to a different company, whose positions were easier. He said I have to stay there for a while at first, and then if I manage it, I could come back to my company. Unfortunately, my company did not stick around for me to come - the enemy literally destroyed it, only three people were unharmed. The rest - all «WIA» and two «KIA». Then, I told my mother that it would not be an enemy’s bullet that would kill me in this war but instead sexism that becomes absurd, and stupidity shown by my own people.

By gender

- What do you think is the reason for sexism?

- This is, unfortunately, our culture. 90 per cent of people in the army are yesterday’s civilians. This is a kind of section, a mirror of society, in which 70 per cent of men single-mindedly refuse to see an equal in a female. They think in stereotypes indoctrinated since their childhood, like: «The man is a defender, the woman is a caretaker». I think if they admit that women are strong, smart and can perform the same tasks as them, their worldview would crumble. If women are decent soldiers, it turns out that men are not exclusive in their heroism.

- What methods are effective in fighting sexism?

- I often see how some girls try to be kind and gentle in hopes that it would help establish good relationships with their comrades. Thinking that if they act like a girl, they would soon start acting like gentlemen. I have not seen this strategy work even once.

Personally, I have a strong reaction towards any signs of sexism. I am not afraid of being hated. At least I will be heard. And by the way, I am on good terms with most of my comrades. Thankfully, there are some reasonable people.

Sexism presents itself in many forms, most of the time in offensive comments or jokes toward women. And, in my opinion, men often underestimate women’s role in civil life during the war, when it is the women especially on whom the responsibility to care for the children and the elderly lies - and there are no medals, awards or prizes for this.

I even conducted a survey among my comrades - what would they choose: staying home alone with children like their wives or going to war. The overwhelming majority chose the second option.

One time, the wife of one of my comrades thanked me - she said that after speaking with me, her husband became more considerate of her «invisible» home duty

As for fighting sexism coming from the management, you can, for example, report it, which is what I do. But this might not always be effective, as orders like «We do not take women to the frontlines» are not documented on paper. They are given in verbally, and proving that the reason for you not being accepted somewhere was particularly sexism is difficult.

I am not an infantry soldier anymore, I am a drone operator - there is much less sexism in this area. Here I am allowed to participate in any operations with no questions, but I do know a girl, for instance, who was not allowed to take part in combat missions just this Winter. A lot depends on which management you will end up under. Which is truly absurd, since the army has a catastrophic lack of people.

But commanders continue dividing people by gender. For me, it is the same as segregating people by, for example, eye colour: «We do not send blue-eyed people to the frontlines because they are tender». I can not think of a single war task that a woman could not handle.

A machine gun is a quite heavy weapon but we all know successful female machine gunners. My comrade, a combat medic, received her call sign «The Ant» for carrying the injured twice her size out of the battlefield. The difference between a man and a woman is only that a woman does not have the right to make a mistake. If a man makes a mistake - it is normal, happens to everyone. But when a woman does it, she will immediately hear that her place is not in the war.

What women want

- The girls on the frontlines point out issues with female military uniform…

- In my battalion female uniform is unheard of. My physique is more or less boy-like, with small breasts, which allows me to wear a male uniform, tunics and T-shirts. There was a girl with a curvy shape in our unit, to whom the men’s body armour became a real problem. And even then, she was told she just did not know how to wear it.

The reality is that girls are forced to buy female uniforms themselves. The underwear provided is also only men’s. AFU’s pants are not suited for women’s thighs, they are uncomfortable in combat. That is why I bought a «British» uniform back in 2022 - the pants are much wider there, and I also purchased a women’s plate carrier and plates myself.

- Women’s everyday life is also connected with other difficulties - for example, painful periods. How do you manage this problem?

- In this matter, I got lucky once again because everything goes on relatively painless. I know girls who experience this much harder but they perform their duties and do not complain. And personal hygiene items can be changed even in blindages and on the frontline - it is enough to ask your male comrades to turn away. When the situation is that people can not leave the trenches for multiple days, they are even forced to relieve themselves into jars or bags, and this concerns both men and women.

It is not the time to die

- You literally burst into the fight, to the frontline. Are you not afraid?

- Obviously, there is a fear. I strive for combat but it does not mean I will be running under enemy fire and putting myself in danger on purpose. Last year, I was on the very combat line, when the enemy was 200 metres away from us and bullets really were flying over my head day and night. You sit in a blindage, look deep into the darkness and realise that an enemy grenade could land before you even see the enemy. In these moments you act on adrenaline - and this adrenaline does not let go of you for some more time after arriving at a relatively safe place.

You are exhausted and exhilarated at the same time because you realise: you went through hell and lived. There are moments when it really is a miracle you survived. I recall a situation when the enemy was shelling us with artillery, and our observation posts were in a ravine on the slope of one of the hills. We were hiding there in dugouts, dug by the Russians (it was impossible to dig new ones due to the constant presence of enemy drones).

At that time, I had a small individual dugout. The likelihood of a direct hit on our dugouts was low - it was quite difficult to hit them. And then I had a conflict with the company commander, and he sent me «into exile» to a control observation post (COP) - a place between the frontline and the permanent deployment point. Another soldier replaced me at my position. So, I was sitting at the COP and heard on the radio that a tank was shelling our positions. The next message was that there was one «KIA». It turned out that a hit landed near my dugout, a fragment pierced the roof, and the comrade who was in my dugout died on the spot...

- What helps you cope?

- Talking to my mom and friends. It is important to have people you can share your feelings with. Cigars also help to relieve acute stress. Not cigarettes, but cigars specifically; I learned to smoke cigars while in the Territorial Defense. This year, I sought help from a psychologist and I already feel a positive effect. Motivation also helps me to hold on.

- How can you outline it?

- When the full-scale invasion happened, I felt like I had been slapped. My country, my Kyiv, was hit so brazenly and deceitfully. I wanted to retaliate once and for all against the one who dared to do this. That is exactly what I am doing now.

Despite all the difficulties I face, I will defend this country because it is mine. While at war, I discovered Ukraine’s East for myself - unbelievably beautiful and now dear places to me.

As a feminist, I am used to standing up for my boundaries, defending my rights. The same is true here - I am defending my right to be myself in my country, defending its and my own independence.

And even if something were to happen to me, I would be peaceful, as I was fighting for a noble cause.

Photos from the heroine’s private archive

One warm evening, my love for music brought me to the Kyiv Spring Sounds Festival at the National Philharmonic in Kyiv. They would lure people in with Chopin and the name of the American pianist Kevin Kenner, who is considered one of the best performers of Chopin’s pieces today. At one time, a famous Polish conductor Stanisław Skrowaczewski, who worked with one and only Arthur Rubinstein, stated that Kevin Kenner’s interpretations of Chopin were the most expressive ones he had ever heard…

«Ukraine has its own identity and culture that have to be protected»

Kevin Kenner has been supporting Ukraine since the start of the full-scale invasion. He came from America to Kyiv for a concert with his wife, a Polish violinist Katarzyna Cieślik, for a single performance. The musician couple did it on their own initiative and at their own expense. For Kyiv to hear Kenner’s interpretation of Chopin’s concerto №1 for piano and orchestra, the musicians had put all their business aside and covered the distance of half the globe.

- For me, everything going on in your country today is a kind of cultural genocide, and I simply can’t and don’t want to tolerate this, - Kevin Kenner told Sestry after the first movement of the concert.

- Before 2022, I probably couldn’t have named even three Ukrainian composers. I had never heard of Lyatoshynsky, or for example, Kosenko before - and these are outstanding artists.

Their work has become a wonderful discovery for me, and now I am happy to promote this music worldwide. It enriches us and proclaims very clearly that Ukraine has its own identity and culture that have to be protected.

After these words, the pianist excused himself and hurried onto the stage, where, during the concert’s second movement, the orchestra of the National Philharmonic of Ukraine was playing Borys Lyatoshynsky (a suite from the music for Shakespeare’s «Romeo and Juliet» tragedy).

But before that, Kevin Kenner suddenly approached the microphone and announced that he wanted to present a close person for him to the audience. A small delicate brunette went up the stage and illuminated the visitors with he smile.

- Meet Yulia, - the American introduced the woman, - she is a Ukrainian, a meeting with whom was gifted to me by the war. And today, she and her children are a part of my family…

In February 2022, right after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Kevin and his wife, Polish violinist Katarzyna Cieślik, decided to shelter a Ukrainian family at their apartment in Krakow’s centre. Kevin asked his colleague - a Ukrainian pianist, to help him find a family that needed shelter. As a result, the musician’s apartment in Krakow became inhabited by a poet, writer and journalist Yulia Berezhko-Kaminska, who miraculously managed to leave Bucha with her son and daughter alive.

- My wife and I wanted to make the lives of people who became hostages of terrifying events a little bit easier, - Kenner explained. - There are things that we do because we feel like it. Only later did we find out that Yulia was a poet and a writer - a genuine treasure of the Ukrainian culture.

He got to know Yulia personally in half a year after lending her the keys to his home. And then their roads became interlinked - both in life and art. Apart from the previously mentioned concert in Kyiv, he and Yulia Berezhko-Kaminska performed several music and literature concerts in Poland supporting Ukraine. One of them took place in Warsaw, in the Royal Castle. Yulia read her poetry on stage, and Kevin played his favourite music by Chopin and the Ukrainian composers, whom he had discovered thanks to her.

- Our rescue from Bucha and relocation to Krakow were like a moment of miracle for me, - Yulia Berezhko-Kaminska shares with the Sestry. - At the beginning of the invasion, there were such intense fights around us in Bucha that the rumbling of gunshots rarely stopped. There was no electricity, water or gas. At some point, we discovered that they were organising a «green corridor». I remember hesitating for a long time since we had been receiving information that people who left in convoys were getting shot.

On March 15th, my daughter left our hideout. We were all hiding in a cellar together, and then her friends started trying to get us out of that hell in their car. They had one free seat left, and my already adult daughter decided to go. But they got stuck for 5 whole days on the Yablunska street - the «road of death», where most of the cars with people trying to leave were shot up. I had no way to contact my daughter. At first, she stayed with her friends at a house with broken windows, and then they decided to break through. They were letting cars through one at a time. And the cars that came after my daughter’s were shot up…

Me and my son left separately. It was a lottery, I still hesitated and asked God to send me a dream with an answer on how to go on. And then I dreamed of standing at a railway station in Kyiv almost naked and barefoot in the winter’s cold with many people around. And because of this feeling of distress and of being so unsettled and helpless I woke up.

And I thought - no, we will stay, this is our home, and we have a supply of food and matches. But a neighbour came by later and told us that we had 5 minutes to decide whether we were going or not. And my son convinced me. This was the right decision as later my neighbours told me that the occupants had been going from house to house and asking about me.

After escaping Bucha, I was hit by a wave of despair. Where do we go? What do we do?

And then I pleaded: «God, just walk me on your roads the way it’s supposed to be, and bring me together with people I’m supposed to be with»

I wrote on Facebook about my problem. Offers came pouring in - me and my children were invited to France, Italy, Germany… Later, one of the musicians from Kyiv I knew asked me: «Do you want to go to Krakow?» I intuitively answered «Yes». Everything immediately started to fall into place, and unfamiliar people opened the doors of their wonderful apartment in the centre of Krakow to us. They were in America at the time, but they were not afraid of letting strangers into their Polish home.

Kevin and his wife became our guardian angels. When we finally met, they took us for a vacation. They rented a house out in the nature, and we spent over a week together talking. We spent time outside in the fresh air, played games, laughed and organised a concert there with Kevin. Thanks to our friendship, he began discovering Ukrainian music and then sharing his discoveries with his students (Kevin Kenner teaches at Frost School of Music at the University of Miami - Author). He also started performing in a Vyshyvanka (traditional Ukrainian shirt) I gifted him.

The visit of the American pianist and his wife to Ukraine is the fulfilment of Kevin’s promise to Yulia. He promised to visit Kyiv despite the war and play for the Ukrainian people, and also visit Bucha to see the place from which the refugees came to him in Krakow.

- I told Kevin and Kasia a lot about Bucha, and they dreamed of seeing my garden, our house, my library and the books I had been working on. And they fulfilled their promise, though this visit was hard to arrange as musicians of their level have their schedules planned down to the last minute.

They arrived a day before the concert. Before the visit, I asked Kevin what he would like to taste from Ukrainian cuisine.

Kevin ordered borshch and ate two whole plates. And after we had returned from our tour of Bucha, he asked for borshch again

Kevin also visited Vorzel’ and its «Uvarovsky House» Museum of History and Culture (where Borys Lyatoshynsky’s memorial exposition is located - Author) and even played Lyatoshynsky on the museum piano, paying respects to his favourite composer.

Kevin Kenner confessed that the situation with the war in Ukraine has forced him to become a «soldier of music», as Rostropovich said, and to fight Russian aggression and disinformation.

- I have stopped performing Russian music since the beginning of these terrible events, - Kevin Kenner says. - I also encouraged my students and the musicians I know to replace the pieces of Russian composers in their repertoire with Ukrainian works, which most pianists had never even heard of. Among others, I urged them to pay attention to Viktor Kosenko’s works, whose formidable level makes them worthy to perform worldwide. I think that this is a great opportunity to prove to everyone that Ukrainian music is not inferior, it speaks for itself louder than any words.

My interest in Ukraine was stirred up by Putin’s assertions of Ukraine not being a legitimate state and that Ukrainian language and culture are supposedly nothing more than shades of much clearer Russian language and culture. These statements have caused a scandal in the world discourse, made me very suspicious and sparked my interest towards learning Ukrainian history and culture.

I supported the decision of the International Music Federation to suspend the International Tchaikovsky Competition. Because it is wrong - applauding the Russian musicians, exalting the Russian music culture, and simultaneously expressing our concern about Russia trying to commit cultural genocide on its neighbour.

«In Poland, I’ve experienced a turning point: I had outlived the old but had not found the new within»

Yulia Berezhko-Kaminska returned home a year after her evacuation from Bucha but she confesses she still dreams about «her» home in Krakow.

- I had been getting used to the bed for so long over there until I bought the same pillow I had at home - before sleep I needed to imagine for at least a moment that I was in my room. And after returning to Bucha, I couldn’t come to my senses for a week: I was thinking of Krakow the whole time. It is now my hometown as well.

Shortly afterwards, the house in Krakow, where Yulia and her children had found shelter, became a centre of Ukrainian culture.

- Kevin and Kasia gave us the opportunity to not just live but to invite Ukrainians over and arrange music and poetry evenings, - the heroine reminisces. - That house has a rather spacious hall with two grand pianos. A month after our relocation to Krakow we began giving concerts and streaming them on Facebook.

I have also written an essay called «Communion»: how we, Ukrainians, having found ourselves in such a difficult life situation, returned to our normal lives thanks to these musical evenings. For a long time, we were afraid to live, drink wine, or even taste candy since we thought it would be a crime against people in Mariupol, who had nothing to eat. Poetry and music pulled us out of this.

Yulia says that there, in the Krakow apartment, she had been born for the second time:

- My «Gravitation of the Word» book was brought to me in Krakow - I sent it into print two days before the war. The book was first presented in Poland but I felt a certain turning point in my art, as if I had outlived the old but had not found the new within. Alongside this, my personal life has also changed- I got divorced during the war, and when I left Ukraine, I met my 40s. It is a turning point for a woman to realise that you are not the way you were before - but what are you now?

In Krakow, Yulia could not write for a while, but then essays began to be born as if ice was melting from her soul.

In her first essay «Krakow - Bucha» Tram» the woman described her experience and outlined the moments from her return home where the garden would blossom, a dog would jump and a cat would meow from the tree, the animals she had not seen for over a year (they remained with her ex-husband in Ukraine). She visualised how she would run into her room, walk through the whole house, and meet her old life:

- We came back exactly when the garden blossomed, - Yulia smiles. - And the tram that would rumble outside my windows in Krakow (it took a couple of months to get used to the fact that it was the rumbling from the tram, not the war) - I imagined I could get onto it and it would take me home. And when Kevin and Kasia appeared at my doorstep in Bucha, I told them so: «Well, the tram from Krakow to Bucha has arrived!»

Over the year in Poland, Yulia Kaminska-Berezhko has created several books. The idea behind «The Rhyme War», which included poetry from over 80 Ukrainian poets, was born in Krakow, where it was compiled, wrapped up and presented in May 2024 in Kyiv. The «Ukrainians in Poland: A Rescue Story» book was prepared for print in Krakow, Yulia cooperated with the Institute of Literature of Poland while creating the book. Berezhko has already managed to create a new book with the same institution called «Reflections on the Most Important» - translations of radio performances of modern Polish authors to Ukrainian, made in her edition. Yulia has many cultural plans regarding Poland. After all, someone has to build these cultural bridges between us.

- Today I feel colossally thankful to life. After all I’ve been through, I realise that life - is a big miracle, - Yulia concludes. - And I’m also thankful to Kevin and Kasia, who essentially have given me faith in people and that the good must win.

Photos from the private archive of heroes

«I have never even considered leaving my country. To reside temporarily in another region? It has already happened to me once, and I have had enough. I understood that the only way out was to go and get rid of the occupants of my land. I had waited 8 years for the opportunity to get back at them».

This is how 32-year-old Olga Bigar describes her feelings in the first days of the full-scale Russian invasion when she and her two younger brothers went to the recruitment office. Olga is an artillerist, officer of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, deputy battalion commander and head of a joint fire support group. Call sign - «The Witch» because, as Olga says herself, she can «set the sky on fire».

How to set the sky on fire

- You once said that the beginning of the full-scale war with Russia was a relief for you in a certain way. What did you mean by that?

- I understood the imminence of this war. And the anticipation of death, as it is well known, is worse than death itself. When it all began, it was a kind of relief because this time Russia invaded openly, and we were able to respond properly. Until February 2022 Russian troops that occupied the territories in Donbas did not wear chevrons - formally, «they were not there». In the eyes of the international community, this was rather an inner conflict, and we could not retaliate properly.

I saw with my own eyes everything that happened in Donbas in 2014, as I am from Kramatorsk myself. I participated in resisting the occupants. I brought my close ones to Kyiv and enrolled in a law faculty because I realised one has to know how to defend one’s rights. I already had a degree in neurobiology at that moment. Studying for my second degree, I worked in law firms and then opened my own company. In 2016 I also gave birth to my son.

I enjoyed my job but knew well that I would enlist when the great war began.

- Did your mother and brothers enlist as well?

- On February 25th, our whole family went to the recruitment office. Now we serve in various units of the Defence Forces: One brother - a combat medic, another - a scout. Our mother also serves in the AFU (Armed Forces of Ukraine)

As for me, I did not choose the branch of the military - most of the enlisted people ended up in Territorial Defence at the beginning of the great war. I became deputy commander of an infantry company. Later I was in charge of a platoon, and after the Kyiv campaign, we had our first serious military operation on the outskirts of Bakhmu.

I learned a lot - both in theory and in practice. I became a mortarwoman. Four mortar operators were assigned to my platoon, and I saw how a well-constructed fire control system could change the situation on the battlefield. That is why I put my efforts into fire support. Some people might find it hard but for me, it was simultaneously easy and interesting.

- Do artillerists work with numbers and calculations?

- Knowledge in mathematics (thanks biological faculty), topography and topogeodezie are required. There is no higher maths here but there is trigonometry: you calculate the ballistics and distances.

These are the same sines, cosines and cotangents you learn at school and think you will never need in real life. But this knowledge is vital to an artillerist

A shell bursts - and you need to adjust this shell, calculate the angle by which it deviated, measure it down to a thousandth, transfer it to the map, and determine how to adjust the firing settings. We already have unique automated systems but we still perform the initial calculations ourselves. We adjust not just one fire asset, but several simultaneously.

One time, I had ten firing positions simultaneously. An enemy assault is underway. I plan the fire, adjust it, distribute targets, give commands to fire, record the hit emplacements and keep all the statistics. The drone footage often leaves much to be desired, but you have to determine the coordinates of the explosion, remember who fired, quickly provide corrections, and promptly record all this in the log. In front of me are several monitors, a radio, a headset - and I simultaneously perform calculations, write down coordinates, and respond on the radio…

Skills are honed gradually. Initially, I had three mortars, then six, and then we got cannons. Since we don't have weekends or holidays, the process of learning and working is virtually continuous. My resting time is spent going to check the positions. To fire the mortars myself, check the condition of the weapons and arrange the dugouts. This is also part of my duties.

- Mortars are very heavy. Do you often lift them yourself?

- Of course. But you have to understand that I do not move the mortars on my own. It is usually transported to places within driving distance and then pulled by quadricycles or my comrades and I pull it with belts.

There are many nuances to this work but I manage. In the Autumn of 2023, I temporarily became the acting fire support officer, and in December, I became the deputy battalion commander for artillery.

- You mentioned that sometimes a mortar operator has to perform precision work to avoid hitting their own troops. What situations are you referring to?

- The war has changed now: it is no longer manoeuvrable but positional. We are in defence, and the distance between our trenches and that of the enemy can measure up to 25 meters. According to doctrine, artillery is prohibited from working with large calibres at distances of less than 400 meters. But if the enemy takes a position as close as possible to ours, I take responsibility for measures to cover our infantry, and then we work like surgeons. We calculate 10,000 times, make a few precise shots, and keep the position under our control. The battle may seem chaotic from the outside, but in reality, it is a complex and carefully planned process.

- What is the most difficult for you in the war?

- When there is no communication with the position, and you realise you might lose people. As a commander, you understand that if this has happened, it means the work was done incorrectly, and it is your mistake. And even if it's not your fault, it's still hard to tell yourself that it's normal to lose personnel.

The hardest part is when it concerns guys aged 20-25 - they remind me of my younger brothers. Recently, one of our best grenade launcher commanders came under fire, and I reacted too emotionally; my hands were trembling. My subordinates should not see me in this state.

A lot depends on the mood and behaviour of the commander, especially if it is the first battle for some of the subordinates.

About 70 per cent of people experience stress from the first battle similarly: they seem to withdraw into a shell. They are unable to process information or follow orders. Instinct tells them to run - it doesn't matter where.

In such a situation, a calm commander who smiles, reassures and even jokes can play a crucial role. Say there is a soldier at my position, and we are adjusting the mortar. Then the shelling starts. I understand that if the first shell fell a hundred meters from us, the second will also miss. But the third one might hit. So we have three minutes to retreat to the positions.

I tell the soldier to take down the tube, but he can't do it - his hands are shaking, he's panicking. I calmly sit on the ground, showing by my demeanour that nothing extraordinary is happening, and begin to calm him down. Even if the enemy hits our position or the roof is on fire, we don't panic: we put on masks, cover our faces with wet cloth and wait for the shelling to end so we can calmly exit.

- Do you get scared at all?

- Yes. I remember when one position reported that three enemy GEDs (guided aerial bombs. - Author) were headed towards another position, everything inside me froze, and I caught my breath... I quickly mobilised the evacuation teams and told them to take crowbars and pickaxes with them. So that if someone got buried, we could dig them out.

«Attitude towards women in the army has changed»

- Have you, as a female commander, ever faced prejudice or sexism?

- Until 2016 there have not been any military jobs for women in the Ukrainian army. Since the beginning of the full-scale war, there has been a large number of young NATO-oriented commanders, and the attitude towards women in the army has changed.

But, undoubtedly, sometimes I do hear things like: «Female commander? Well, well». However, I do not take it personally. Not all people are educated and have good manners. And if you are too sensitive and can not turn the situation into a joke, it means the army is not for you.

- There is a video on social networks where you can be seen polishing your nails under a gel light in the middle of a war zone.

- Actually, I hate doing this. But it's necessary. A manicure in wartime is not a matter of beauty, but first and foremost, convenience. Gel polish better protects the nail plate from the cold and injuries, from aggressive substances you use to clean weapons. On adrenaline, you might not even notice getting injured. You might hit your hand, fall, sorry for the details, on a corpse. Then you scrape yourself out of there, your hands are in the dirt, and there's nowhere to wash them... When nails are protected by gel polish, the likelihood that the skin underneath will survive is higher.

Long nails perform many practical functions. For example, it is easy to cut open a gunpowder package using them. Recently, I used a long nail to remove a splinter from my leg... And nail polish and gel lamps are also necessary for sealing plastic or soldering some parts.

- You are saying adrenaline blocks off the feeling of pain. How does it happen?

- Your heart rate increases on adrenaline, and it feels like you can do anything. The state itself is cool, euphoric. But eventually, what we call the comedown sets in.

The last time I came under «Grad» rocket fire in Chasiv Yar, I was able to run 10 kilometres afterwards on adrenaline. However, after that, I completely crashed - I slept for three hours and did not hear the enemy hitting us with GEDs. This is the comedown - the body takes its toll.

After this, for about two weeks, you are in a terrible mood, you can not eat or sleep, you feel nauseous and have headaches. In such moments, staying at the company's location and loading yourself with routine work is better. And if you are given time off, go to your family later - when you have recovered psychologically.

- You have a seven-year-old son. You said you sometimes feel the need to distance yourself from your close ones, even your child. What does it mean?

- It may sound wild, but I realise that I could die. My life is currently dedicated to the state, not my family. And my efforts are aimed at making my son as independent as possible. So that if something happens to me, he can cope relatively well.

Another point is that it is not always right to share your mood and state with a child who is still psychologically immature. Before going to see my son, I try to clear as much military-related stuff from my mind as possible.

- Since the beginning of the full-scale war, you have placed the interests of the state above your own. Why? What does Ukraine mean to you?

- For me, Ukraine is not just certain boundaries on topographic and geographic maps. It is a cultural code. It is traditions, language and inventions. We have much to be proud of.

At the same time, when Ukrainians go to Poland, Germany or the UK, they are pleasantly surprised by the perfect roads and quality of life. When we go to NATO bases for training, we are impressed by how all their processes are organised. So, I am fighting for us to be able to build the same comfort, peace, and democracy in our own country.

But first, we need to defeat the enemy. We will only be able to live and develop normally if we separate ourselves from Russia and Belarus with barbed wire and a 10-kilometre mined zone. We need to drive the occupiers from our land. And my comrades and I are actively working on this.

Photos from Olga Bigar’s private archive