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20
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A Destroyed City’s Newspaper: how Bakhmut’s Paper publishment Saves People from Sorrow and Propaganda

Before the war in Ukraine, much was said about the death of print newspapers, yet a Bakhmut local print newspaper played a crucial role in the lives of the devastated city's residents. When the Russians flooded the town with propaganda, «Vpered» newspaper was the first to deliver the truth to Bakhmutians. It then became the thread holding the community together, even as the war scattered people across the world

Galina Halimonik

Bakhmut residents reading their favourite newspaper. Photo: «Vpered» archive

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I had been waiting for weeks to speak with «Vpered’s» chief editor, Svitlana Ovcharenko. Finally, late on a Saturday evening, she called me while I was walking along the waterfront of a small Polish town. My thoughts were in the destroyed Bakhmut, among the dispersed community of Bakhmutians scattered by the war.

Eighty-four-year-old Vasyl from Bakhmut now lives in a retirement home in the Czech Republic. In the newspaper «Vpered», he shared, «They gave me a new mattress! I did not want to lie on the old one, and now I do not want to get up from the new one - it is so comfortable». Comfortable furniture, like everything else of value to the people of Bakhmut, has disappeared in the city's ruins. All that remains are the people, the keys to their destroyed homes, and... the city’s print newspaper.

Svitlana Ovcharenko (in the middle) with colleagues during the artistic process of creating a newspaper for Bakhmutians

Readers in the underground

Before the war, the editorial office of the Bakhmut newspaper «Vpered» was located on Peace Street. Chestnut trees grew in the yard, blossoming with soft pink flowers in the spring and dropping shiny brown nuts generously in the fall. Once, they even cracked the windshield of the editorial car.

The eight windows of the office witnessed life: late-night newspaper layouts, meetings with readers, emotions, and debates. Now, only charred trunks and ashes remain. «Those windows are gone, and there is no life behind them. Where there once was a porch where we loved to drink coffee, now there is a black void», says Svitlana Ovcharenko.

The newspaper’s release was only suspended twice: in 1941 when Nazi Germany attacked and on February 24th 2022 - because of the Russian invasion

«Bakhmut was bombed on the first day of the invasion», - Svitlana recalls. - «We had prepared the newspaper on February 23rd, but on the 24th, we could not retrieve it from the printing house in Kramatorsk because the road was under constant fire».

Pro-Russian militants had attempted to seize Bakhmut back in April 2014, but on July 6th of that year, the city returned to Ukrainian control. The war raged 30 kilometres away for eight years, but no one imagined it would reach the city itself.

They would build promenades, lay tiled pavements, develop parks - instead of building defence fortifications

In March, the editor of «Vpered», Svitlana Ovcharenko, left for Odesa with her mother, hoping to wait out the «escalation». She dressed in a tracksuit, packed essential items in a backpack, and slipped two sets of keys - one to the newspaper office and one to her apartment - into her pocket.

The first issue of the newspaper was printed in the Autumn of 2022, in the midst of the war.

During the first months of the war, Svitlana lived glued to the news, keeping track of what was happening across the country. Bakhmut had become one of the most dangerous places on Earth, yet people stayed.

The Russians cut off electricity, gas, and mobile connections, while their propagandists misled the population via radio signals, claiming that everyone had abandoned them, and even local authorities had fled.

«Kyiv has fallen», - blared from the radios

In the first months of the full-scale war, nearly 50 thousand people left the city of 73 thousand. Yet some returned, saying, «There is no one waiting for us there, so there is no point in leaving».

The Russians launched an active offensive in August, and fierce fighting broke out among the city's buildings, the most intense battles since World War II.

Efforts to persuade the remaining residents to leave were unsuccessful. By October, local authorities started bringing in basic heating stoves, firewood, and coal. Every trip outside the basements could be a resident’s last, but nearly 20 thousand people remained in the city.

This jolted Svitlana Ovcharenko out of her stupor. She decided to revive the newspaper to provide accurate information to those who were afraid to leave. There were countless challenges: accounting records, passwords, and access codes had been left behind in Bakhmut. However, thanks to the efforts of the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine and a Japanese foundation, the first issue was printed on November 4th 2022, right in the midst of the war.

The first printed edition was brought to Bakhmut by Italian journalists.

Foreign journalists helped bring the newspaper to Bakhmut

The residents took the paper with surprise and joy, believing it was a sign that the end of the war was near. «It was a ray of hope in our hell», they later wrote on social media.

«Vpered» published an interview with the mayor, Oleksiy Reva, who urged civilians to evacuate immediately. «Kyiv has not fallen, and Bakhmut residents will be welcomed in any Ukrainian city», the newspaper wrote. And people began to leave...

Before the war, much had been said about the death of print newspapers in Ukraine. But it turned out that the local newspaper, which people had trusted for years, held great influence. It was no coincidence that Russian occupiers repeatedly forged «Vpered» to spread their propaganda among the locals.

In February 2023, Deputy Prime Minister Iryna Vereshchuk reported that fewer than four thousand residents remained in Bakhmut.

One of the last issues of the newspaper was brought to Bakhmut by volunteer Mykhailo Puryshev’s team in May 2023.

In a room lined with sandbags, stacks of newspapers lay in the middle. People with weary faces gathered around, reading with hope, longing to hear they could stay in their homes. But no - the newspaper reported that the city was close to falling under Russian control. On May 20th 2023, Russia declared the complete capture of Bakhmut.

«Should we keep publishing a newspaper for a city that no longer exists?»

In response, Ukrainian soldiers released drone footage showing collapsed roofs, destroyed apartment blocks, burned-out vehicles… a dead, deserted city. Russian forces had taken control of Bakhmut's territory, but the city itself was entirely destroyed. Experts estimate it will take at least ten years to clear the landmines, and another decade to remove the rubble.

The remains of Svitlana’s apartment in Bakhmut

Svitlana Ovcharenko received a call from Serhiy Tomilenko, the head of the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine (NUJU). He asked whether it made sense to continue publishing the city’s newspaper, given that Bakhmut no longer existed. Ovcharenko responded: «Bakhmut lives in each of us. As long as we breathe, the city remains alive. Because Bakhmut is more than just bricks and concrete. It is us - the people».

The NUJU involved Ovcharenko in the IRMI (International Institute of Regional Press and Information) project, which was implemented in partnership with Fondation Hirondelle and financially supported by Swiss Solidarity.

The newspaper started being delivered across Ukraine to refugee centres where most Bakhmutians now live. There are already 12 such centres. Some former residents of Bakhmut even pay to have the newspaper delivered via Nova Poshta, spending 55 hryvnias (about 5 zlotys) to receive each issue. «Even the smell of the printing ink on Vpered reminds me of home», admits 62-year-old Nadia, who now lives in Poltava and goes to the post office every two weeks to collect the newspaper.

«Vpered» newspaper arrived at one of the refugee support centres

«I can not part with the keys to my bombed-out apartment»

Svitlana Ovcharenko continues to live in Odesa with her elderly mother in a rented apartment. «Where my apartment in Bakhmut once stood, there is now a massive black hole. My mother's home is nothing but ruins. I was asked to donate my keys to the «Time Capsule» installation about Bakhmut, but I can not bring myself to part with them. As long as I have them, there is still hope that one day I will unlock the door to my home».

«Time Capsule»: keys to apartments that no longer exist

In one of the newspaper's photo illustrations, keys of various sizes and shapes are laid out on an old fabric. These fragile symbols of lost homes each carry the pain and memories of lives destroyed.

In a newspaper story, 71-year-old Lyudmyla shares her experience: «My husband and I settled on the left bank of the Dnipro. The room is small and without repairs - old wallpaper and outdated plumbing. The windows do not work, and the ventilation is poor. It is painful to compare it to our previous home. So much time has passed, yet we are still adjusting to new streets and these everyday inconveniences».

The topic of lost homes resonates deeply with Svitlana Ovcharenko. I had seen her photos and heard her voice - she struck me as a much younger woman. As if reading my thoughts, Svitlana clarified, «I am already retired. I understand my readers. Like them, I still can not sleep soundly in an unfamiliar bed».

Despite her personal struggles, she continues to publish the newspaper. For a long time, she prepared each issue alone. A colleague, who had found refuge in Sumy Oblast, helped format the text for the eight-page paper.

Sometimes, they would start work at 2 AM and continue until morning—this was the only time they both had access to electricity due to the destruction of the energy system. «I set my alarm for 2 AM, wake up, go to the kitchen, brew coffee, and turn on my laptop. I am in Odesa, my colleague is in Sumy».

Now, four people work with Svitlana on the newspaper. They also manage the website, fill social media with updates and shoot videos.

German politician and film director Rebecca Harms pointed out the «Vpered» newspaper as an example of a preserved printed mass media on a meeting with Ukrainian journalists

«Do not repeat Bakhmut’s mistakes»

One of the latest issues of the newspaper features a profile of soldier Volodymyr Andriutsa, call sign «Talent». He was born and lived his entire life in Donetsk Oblast. He died defending Bakhmut. His father, Mykola Andriutsa, recalls with sorrow how long it took his son to accept that Russia had become the enemy.

- There was even a time after 2014 when Volodymyr travelled to Crimea and then to Russia, - recalls Mykola. - Even on a day-to-day level, he saw how much they hated us, Ukrainians. The full-scale war turned him into a true patriot and defender.

Recently, the newspaper editor received a message from an acquaintance asking to anonymously share her husband’s story. He had gone through so much trauma that his life had become a nightmare - he wandered around a foreign city, collecting trash and food scraps, and bringing them back to their rented apartment. His actions seemed senseless, but perhaps he was seeking some personal meaning and stability in the chaos of war.

The people of Bakhmut are now scattered across the world. They are learning to live again, but they still remember their city and dream of returning. «Bakhmut lives as long as we remember it», says Svitlana. And as long as the «Vpered» newspaper keeps them connected, that memory remains alive.

Each new issue reminds the Bakhmutians of their home left in ruins

Next to me, a peaceful Polish town drifts off to sleep. In the quiet evening, I ask the editor of the Bakhmut newspaper what she would say to Polish and Ukrainian readers.

- Do not repeat Bakhmut’s mistakes. Do not forget about the war. Protect your lives. Otherwise, nothing will be left but ruins and memories…

Photos from the «Vpered» newspaper’s archives

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Editor and journalist, author of articles on local governments, ecology and human stories, as well as an advocate for solutions journalism, explanatory journalism, and social campaigns in the media. In 2006, she founded the municipal newspaper «Visti Bilyayivky». The publication successfully underwent privatisation in 2017, transforming into an information agency with two websites - Біляївка.City and Open.Дністер - along with numerous offline projects and social campaigns. The Біляївка.City website covers a community of 20 thousand residents but attracts millions of views and approximately 200 thousand monthly readers. She has worked on projects with UNICEF, NSJU, Internews Ukraine, Internews.Network, Volyn Press Club, Ukrainian Crisis Media Center, Media Development Foundation and Deutsche Welle Akademie. She has also been a media management trainer for Lviv Media Forum projects. Since the beginning of the full-scale war, she has been living and working in Katowice for Gazeta Wyborcza.

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LGBT Ukrainians Germany Berlin war

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

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

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

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

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

And there are countless such examples.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Kwitne Queer team consists of five people: Kyrylo Kozakov, Maryna Usmanova, Loki von Dorn, Hala Korniienko and Mariyana Polevikova. All of them are in Berlin due to the war. Private archive

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mayor of Berlin Kai Wegner (centre, in a white shirt and jeans) and Ukrainian Ambassador to Germany Oleksii Makeiev at the CSD Pride. Photo: genderstream.org

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

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

«I chose Berlin because I felt safe here»

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

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

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

Loki von Dorn: «In Germany, there is a voice for everyone. Unfortunately, that includes Russians too. That is why it is important to have our Ukrainian community». Private archive

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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«Free translators for Ukrainians in Germany - most of them are homophobic Russians. We decided to protect the queer community»

Kseniya Minchuk

Про смерть Світлани Олешко повідомив у Фейсбуці письменник Сергій Жадан.

Журналіст та громадський активіст Євген Клімакін зазначив, що прощання з режисеркою відбудеться 23 грудня о 12.00 у Варшаві.

«Не стало Світлани... Людини, яка створила Teatr 'Arabesky'/ Театр "Арабески", привносила в театр поезію, повставала проти штучного і заскорузлого, розповідала про Шевельова і Юру Зойфера, про наших закатованих і репресованих. Людини, яка втілювала Харків і була частиною його серця», — написала Тетяна Терен, журналістка, виконавча директорка Українського ПЕН.

«Талановита, харизматична, світла, вона була джерелом натхнення для багатьох з нас. Своєю енергією та добром Світлана змінювала світ навколо себе, несучи любов, підтримку й силу кожному, хто її знав», — пише у своєму пості лідерка ініціативи Євромайдан-Варшава Наталка Панченко.

Після початку повномасштабного вторгнення Світлана Олешко переїхала до Польщі, де працювала у Польському театрі ім. А. Шифмана у Варшаві.

<span class="teaser"><img src="https://cdn.prod.website-files.com/64ae8bc0e4312cd55033950d/6512974ff15ba88aec92030f_Yuliia_Natalia_Svitlana_Fot.Tymofii%20Klubenko-male.jpg">Мої три сестри. Ми зараз у різних країнах, але хочемо знову всі разом жити у Харкові</span>

Наприкінці березня цього року у Варшаві відбулась прем’єра вистави Світлани Олешко «Харків, Харків». Вистава створена у формі мюзиклу та розповідає про діяльність театру «Березіль» та його засновника Леся Курбаса. Текст до вистави спеціально написав Сергій Жадан. «Це дуже харківська історія про те, як театр “Березіль” приїжджає до Харкова з Києва і що власне з ним стається потім, — розповідала Світлана Олешко. — Сергій Жадан дотримується історичної правди. Майже. Тільки ми змінили фінал. Ми подумали, що досить вбивати наших митців і ми залишили Курбаса жити і вручили йому Оскар».

У січні цього ж року в Польському театрі імені Арнольда Шифмана режисерка організувала читання антології «Війна 2022». До книги увійшли твори 42 українських авторів, написані після 24 лютого 2022 року.

Фото: Tymofii Klubenko

Світлані Олешко був 51 рік. Вона двічі була заміжня. Першим чоловіком режисерки був письменник Сергій Жадан. Другий — лідер гурту «Мертвий півень» Місько Барбара, який помер у 2021 року.

Світлана Олешко – засновниця, директорка і режисерка театру «Арабески». Проходила стажування в Польському інституті театру. З 1993 по 2019 рік працювала науковим співробітником Літературного музею в Харкові. Світлана Олешко є ініціаторкою створення Театрального інституту в Харкові. Найвідоміші постановки – «Декалог: локальна світова війна», «Червоний Елвіс», «Чорнобиль™ », «РадіоШансон: Вісім історій про Юру Зойфера».

Світлана Олешко від початку заснування онлай-медіа Sestry.eu була його авторкою, робила інтерв'ю з видатними постатями сучасності. Вся редакція Sestry висловлює свої співчуття рідним та друзям Світлани Олешко.

20
хв

Померла режисерка Світлана Олешко

Sestry

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