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Olena Grozovska: «We have not yet told the world our story»

«At the Tretyakov Gallery, the old art section opens with St. Demetrius of Thessaloniki, stolen by the Russians after the demolition of St. Michael’s Monastery. Nowhere does it state that this is a Kyiv mosaic, taken temporarily to Moscow in the 1930s. They were supposed to return the work home, but it remained in Moscow and is now presented as a «masterpiece of Russian art», says Kyiv artist and art historian about Russian art thefts

Oksana Goncharuk

Olena Grozovska against the background of the mosaic panel «Wind» by dissident artist Alla Horska. Photo: Nastya Telikova/Local History

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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 Alla Horska exhibition resonated with many. Photo: Ukrinform

«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
Alla Horska’s Mariupol mosaic before and after Russian shelling

- 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.

Olena Grozovska’s painting «Interrogation of the Reptiloid», 2014

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.

Fedir Krychevsky’s triptych «Life» at the Belvedere Museum in Vienna as part of the exhibition «In the Eye of the Storm. Modernism in Ukraine», 2024. Photo: NAMU

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.

Volodymyr and Olena Zelenskyy listen to Olena Grozovska at the Alla Horska exhibition at the Ukrainian House. Photo: OPU

- 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.

«In Borsch We Trust» by Olena Grozovska, 2014

«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.

«Refugees» by Olena Grozovska, 2023

- 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.

Oleksiy Sai’s sculpture I’m Fine at the 2024 Burning Man festival in America. Photo: Eleanor Preger

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.

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Ukrainian journalist, singer and composer (music came first and still is a part of her life). She began her journalism career by writing for the music magazine «Galas». For many years, she worked as a cultural columnist for the newspaper «KP in Ukraine» and also had experience as the editor-in-chief of the «Atelier» magazine. In recent years, she was a music critic for the publication Vesti.ua, and with the start of the full-scale war, she found her niche as a journalist in the genre of social reporting.

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portraits, Oleksandra Mezinova, puppy, shelter

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.

Oleksandra Mezinova with her beloved pets. Photo from a private archive

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»
The territory of the «Sirius» shelter. Photo from a private archive

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.

Volunteers with their canine friends. Photo from a private archive

- 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.

Oleksandra Mezinova. Photo from a private archive

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.

A life saved. Photo from a private archive

- 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.

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When the Russians entered, not a single dog barked

Aldona Hartwińska

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.

Anastasia Huley. Photo: Janos Stekovics

«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.

Cover of the book written by Anastasia Huley about her life.

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...

On 2 April 1947, the Supreme National Tribunal in Warsaw sentenced Rudolf Höss to death by hanging. The gallow used to execute the criminal was erected next to the crematorium at Auschwitz I. Photo: Wikimegia.org

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.

Anastasia Huley in 1950. Photo from a private archive

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.

In the cellar, hiding from Russian bombs. March 2022. Photo from a private archive

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.

Anastasia Huley (in a blue Vyshyvanka), Tetyana Pastushenko (in a white Vyshyvanka), Anastasia’s daughter (bottom left), and Mike Reichel. Photo from the author’s private archive

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.

Anastasia Huley asked the German Chancellor to quickly send weapons to Ukraine. Photo from Olaf Scholz's Instagram

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.

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«I outlived Hitler, I outlived Stalin, so I must outlive Putin» - former Auschwitz prisoner, Ukrainian Anastasia Huley

Tetyana Pastushenko

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