Frank Wilde: «Photos in the elevator - my diary of your war»

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.