Українською мовою: Дарія з Мелітополя
Vic: What part of Ukraine are you from?
Dariia: Zaporizhzhia, well, Zaporizhzhia region. Closer to…. Well, not as close to Crimea. Near Azov Sea, to be precise. Melitopol, well, maybe you know?
Vic: Okay. So, during that time, I guess you had a bit of an information blackout, like you couldn’t really communicate with people outside of the occupied area?
Dariia: Yeah. Well, it was complicated, honestly, because first… Well, we were there until month of August, and for the first months, they [russian soldiers] were putting out jammers, so we had no cell connection, internet connection, no wi-fi, nothing… they were putting out jammers, and, as far as I remember, were tearing the wires down with their tanks, like fiber optics, stuff like that. So we had no connection, literally like XVI century. So, our little town had like 11 thousand residents, and you have to make plans [with people] right away. If you missed a person, well…
Vic: Were people able to more around the town freely, or did they have to stay at home?
Dariia: Well, firstly, the curfew was from 19:00 or 18:00, that’s firstly. Secondly, people were afraid, so for the first few months they tried to stay at home, and only then did they start to move around, but then, after I left, and I’m receiving information in pieces, because, again, the connection [between occupied and non-occupied territories of Ukraine] is severed, a ton [of people] came there. So, for example, when you leave your house and go to some destination, you will see, at max, three people you know. Because those… buriats [ethnic minority in Russia], no, because buriats are only soldiers… well just those russians came, a fuckton of them. The thing that pisses me off so bad is that in Melitopol there was a huge…
[..]
Vic: So, going back to, um… if we can talk about her time during occupation, how long were you living in the occupied territory for? And how were you able to leave? At the time that you left, was it still occupied, or was it you left after deoccupation?
Dariia: I was there for half a year, again, until the month of August. When I left it was occupied, and it still is. How I left… through Vasylivka. There were two ways: through Vasylivka, a village, to Zaporizhzia and then to wherever in Ukraine, or through Crimea. As for now, both pathways are closed, everyone are forbidden from entering or exiting.
We left, honestly, this is… how can I say it without swearing… fucking hell. We were promised ‘green corridors’ [an agreement for safe evacuation for civillians], that Ukrainian side and russians will agree, there will be a green corridor, and people will leave by a bus, for example. I don’t know… I’m writing a memoire about all of this, and I even googled information about this, how it was all over Ukraine, so, as far as I know, only in Sumy region there was a single green corridor [once].
Everyone was leaving by themselves. If you have a car, great. If you don’t, pay a fuckton of money. We, as far as I know, paid 6 thousand hryvna to leave, but I know, that during the first few months [of the full-scale invasion] in Mariupol all the prices were in dollars, and [the amount was] about the same, like, 8 to 14 thousand dollars. That’s how it worked: you had to find a person, a carrier with a car, you leave and pay them. I think we paid 6 thousand per family, not per person. But I won’t be able to remember now. And it was difficult to find a carrier. We were trying to leave two or three times before we finally did, because at the last moment they, some of them, refused to.
And to leave, it was, actually, hard. Firstly, we were really afraid. We didn’t leave until we absolutely couldn’t stay anymore, because it was more… psychologically hard. Firstly, we were really scared to leave everything we had behind, because me and my father were building this house for 18 years, I learned to build heating, to pour formwork, to solder pipes…(laughs). And a lot of similar stuff. That’s why it was hard to leave behind it all, plus both my mother and my grandmother were working at a hospital there. All Akymivka [Yakymivka] only had two neuropathologists, my mother and my grandmother.
Well, and we didn’t know until the last moment, if we should leave or not. Plus, people who were outside of the occupation, like my godfather, who moved to Lviv 7 years ago, and my godmother in Israel, it was pissing me off so bad… my godmother, well… she drove my mother to ER with her psychological pressure, like “Leave, your children will be raped in front of your eyes, their eyes will be cut out, it will be fucking hellscape”. And like that every day. And my mother is thinking, should we leave or not, two children, girls, to say the least, what should we do at all. Yeah… Also someone said, “You will be killed there, your arms will be cut off and hanging off of trees”, I don’t remember, some relative, again, from outside of occupation. We were so scared. Firstly, we didn’t know what could happen during the leaving.
At the time I was dating a different guy, and he left first, a month before me. I was hysterical, I just cried all day, because what I know for sure is that russians really love to shoot cars. They say “Have a nice trip!”, and then…
Vic: I’ve seen in Kyiv the display they have with the car that says “Children” on the side and all the bullet holes in it…
Dariia: When we passed Vasylivka, it was an absolutely dead village, all the houses were shot through. Or abandoned cars… I don’t remember now, if they were burned or just abandoned, but I don’t think that enough time had passed. Something was done to them. (pause)
So we decided to leave. Because collaborants [колаборанти – Ukrainian people who choose to work with russians] were visiting all houses and saying that all people should enlist children to a new russian school, and if they didn’t, then russian juvenile services will take them away, and where those children will go then… who knows. So we decided to leave, because my parents knew, that they have to give us normal education. russian schools only have classes about “the important [things]” [she is talking about russian military propaganda taught in schools], and that’s it, there will be no education.
Well, I can tell you more in detail about how we were leaving, how it happened, if you’re interested.
Vic: Yeah, yeah.
Dariia: It was… a gas station. It was the month of August; the heat was unbearable. The only good thing was the gas station working, it had a mini-café where you could buy water and food. We were pouring cold water all over ourselves, because it was unreal. We were there from morning to 17:00, but we were lucky to get out on the same day, because a lot of people were held there for days. It’s just that, how it was: 145 columns, each column had 10 cars. On the day we were leaving. Count just how many cars were there, about 1450 cars… and just how many people were in them, plus a column of trucks.
Vic: A lot of people decided to leave exactly then?
Dariia: To be honest, I don’t know. Not only people from Akymivka [Yakymivka] were leaving, but also from adjacent villages. Maybe, other cities like Berdiansk. Because Vasylivka was probably the only way [to leave], that’s why there were so many cars.
And every column was inspected for 40 minutes. And there was a man, such an asshole, from the 10th column. We were in the 8th, he was in the 10th, and I was walking around as it was unbearable to sit in the car all day, well, the heat. He was walking, telling everyone “That’s it, turn around, they won’t let anyone through today”. And I was thinking, well, damn, if they did stop letting anyone through, then this russian soldier would come and say it. Then I went to our carrier, told him this piece of information, and he said “Nah, it doesn’t work that way, everything is by a list, even if we decide to go back, leave this column, we won’t get out sooner”.
Well, I just started to wonder, that is russians [we’re talking about], they have no such… normal structured behavior, why is everything by a list, working great? As I’ve been told, it was grounds for a shooting once, that’s why they decided to use lists. As far as I know, then that 10th column was shot. Maybe because of that man. I’m almost sure of it.
By they way, when I talk about occupation with people, I ask all of them one question. Which woman, do you think, from a russian soldiers’ perspective, is a ‘complete’ woman? A ‘complete’ woman is a married woman. We are incomplete.
Vic: So the russians are looking for married women?
Dariia: Nah, well, there was a bus. In it, were children, women, etc. And they are just asking “How many complete women are there in the bus?”. Yes, it was really weird…
Vic: So that’s just russian terminology?
Dariia: Yeah. It can’t be translated to a normal brain. What else happened then… they did, like, the inspections depending on wealth. Before us, there was a family, and they had two purebred, well-fed cats. And I was so pissed… they [russian soldiers] would rummage through all the suitcases, bags, with their dirty hands, fuck. We just, we were taking our cat with us, his shortened name was Zhora. He was so little, almost bald, he had such huge ears, like he was so bad-looking, ugh. They didn’t inspect us, we said “This is the best we are taking with us” and he [a russian soldier] was like “Okay”.
Despite us having things to take with us, we were just told that there is no sense in taking anything like electronics, something valuable, as it all will be taken away. How much of it is true I do not know, but I think that it depends on the soldiers you happen to meet and through where exactly are you leaving. Because we had it easy. Like, I know that other regions, for example, Mariupol, had those… filtration camps. We did not have those in Vasylivka. My grandmother was leaving through Crimea. There, you go to Crimea, then literally to russia, and then from russia to, for example, Georgia, and from Georgia to Europe or Ukraine. She went to Israel. Something like that. Well, that’s all I can say about the day of leaving.
Vic: How old were you and your sister when you left?
Dariia: I was 15, and Lisa, probably, was 13.
Vic: You came straight to Lviv or did you go somewhere else before coming here?
Dariia: No. I moved to Lviv three years ago, well, two and a half. Before that I lived in Zaporizhzhia, and they are still there.
Vic: You came here to study at the university?
Dariia: Yes.
Vic: So when you left the occupied territories, was there a big shock of information that she suddenly had access to everything again?
Dariia: I wouldn’t say so.
Vic: Was it difficult to adjust to, um, not normal life, but a more normal life, after leaving?
Dariia: It was and it is right now. Firstly, in Zaporizhzhia, I had mental problems before, then I got a really bad PTSD, I am still very much afraid of anything resembling of explosion, loud, abrupt noises, I can get a panic attack really easily, despite me taking antidepressants [before], well… it didn’t help much. It’s just, I got PTSD because in Zaporizhzhia, it’s pretty close, it has a status of a city near the battlefront. First, the shelling happens and only then the air raid alert starts. You don’t know if anything else will explode. And even now I’m feeling like a black sheep, or someone, you know, out of place, despite me being there for 2.5 years, because some people still blow up my mind. Well, Lviv residents, to be exact.
Vic: Because they don’t understand what you’ve gone through?
Dariia: Well, this too. For example, it’s hard to count just how many stupid questions I was asked, or just stupid commentary. Like, I’m telling something, we’re touching the subject, I say “No, I’m not from Lviv, I’m from Zaporizhzhia”. And they’ll be like…(pause) “You’re not from Lviv???”. I say “Imagine!”. Do I not seem like I’m not from Lviv, should I write it on my forehead? I’m so pissed by it.
And this is only one of the stupid questions. What also pisses me off, and this situation occurs both in Lviv and Zaporizhzia. As soon as I open my mouth, like, people learn that I am not from Lviv, they say “Your Ukrainian is so good, I wasn’t able to tell you’re from the East [of Ukraine]”. Yeah. There, in Zaporizhzhia, I, for example, was in the Epicenter and I come up to a consultant to ask something. I live here for a long time, and I’m used to asking in Ukrainian. And they look at me like I’m speaking Mandarin. With a [dumbfounded] face like this. I ask once again. He looks the same way. I think… we are living in Ukraine, which language should I use speaking with you? Why do you look at me, like I’m some sort of alien?
There was also a fucking stupid occurrence in university this one time, with my Advanced Maths professor. I didn’t enroll right away, took this, what was it, a gap year. And he says “You’re not doing good at advanced maths, are you a last year graduate?”. I say “yes”. And he’s making a face and saying “So you were in Germany then?” and laughing. I say “I was in fucking occupation”. He was dumbstruck, said “Really???”. Then the dumbest question followed: “Was it scary?”. No, it was fucking fun! “Were there no power and internet?”. No, there weren’t! (laughs).
We had those medical students, so they had to take their exams this way. They would go to a forest, because jammers were malfunctioning there, and they would go there, climb somewhere high, or, on the highway to Kyrylivka, there was this one particular place where the jammers didn’t reach. And they would stop there, passing tests, that’s how they were studying in a medical university! In a forest, literally. This is how we lived.
Vic: What question do you wish that people would ask you? Or would you rather no questions?
Dariia: Like what?
Vic: About the occupation.
Dariia: I want no stupid questions. I understand that people who never experienced occupation have no idea how was it, but you can just straight up ask “How was it there?”. Or, ideally, “Can I ask you this? Is it okay for you to talk about it?”, well, that’s ideally. If they wonder how it was, they can turn on their brain for a mere moment and to construct a question normally, instead of [asking] to my face “Was it scary?”, “Was there internet connection?”. Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that it was scary and there was no internet connection for the first 3 months, it’s obvious.
Vic: Do people tend to just ask stupid questions when they want to talk about it?
Dariia: Yes.
Vic: Okay. So, during the time in occupation, were you able to have some communication with people outside, still?
Dariia: Well, truthfully, I didn’t have many people here, in Ukraine, not a lot of acquaintances. Factually we could talk, but not too often and not too long.
Vic: When your boyfriend left, were you able to hear that he had, you know, successfully left?
Dariia: Yes, he texted me as soon as he got to Ukraine that he is unscathed, and my happiness was immeasurable. There was also this fucking stupid story connected to all of this, well, with my mother’s boss, how he reacted to it all. Basically, the day he [boyfriend] left, as I said, I was hysterical, I was so afraid that he’ll just get killed, and it was reasonable to be scared about it. And my mother says to her boss “Let me go earlier, I need to console my daughter”, and we were all pretty closely acquainted. He says “Nah, will you be wiping her nose until she’s 40?”. She says “Yes! She is my child, if it’s needed, I will be wiping her nose!”. The funniest thing is, russia coming was beneficial for him, because he had a debt in Ukraine. And he was like “Nah, I won’t let you go, let her cry, so what”.
Vic: So he remained and lived happily ever after?
Dariia: The boss? Well, probably. I do not, fortunately, have contact with him.
Vic: Did you ever consider leaving Ukraine after you escaped occupation?
Dariia: Nah. By the way I feel like a black sheep in this regard too. I once talked to my groupmates, and there was this conversation about who wants to leave where, like Canada, USA, etc. And they ask me “Where do you want to go?”. I say “Nowhere”. Well, this is my place. They say “How come, how come you don’t want to leave?”. I say “This is my Motherland, this is my place, I do not see myself abroad”. Though, about my then boyfriend, I was supposed to be married already and be in Germany (laughs). But it didn’t work out, and I realized, that my place is here.
Vic: So he was able to leave Ukraine after he escaped?
Dariia: Yea. He lived in Dnipropetrovsk region for about a year, and then, before he turned 18, he left for Germany.
Vic: Oh, cause he’s still young enough to…
Dariia: Yeah. They were letting [people] out in those ancient times.
Vic: So, during the times when you were in the occupation, what kind of kept you going and living and continuing through what life you were able to leave?
Dariia: Well… firstly, my boyfriend being there. It’s the first love, all this shit. We saw each other a lot, and, well, because we were close to the sea, we traveled to the sea, one time, but for 5 minutes, because it was impossible to look at.
I mean, Kyrylivka is resort town that was gathering people from all over Ukraine. There wasn’t a place for an apple to fall [similar to English phrase “packed like sardines”]. The upkeep was done every half a year, everything was shining, it was loud, the city lived. But when we arrived… there were no people, absolutely zero. Burnt out signs, amusement park was taken apart, periodically some tanks are parked around, well, maybe two cafes were there, there were so little people. It was just impossible to look at, so we were going to the river, to the estuary.
There was a time when we nearly got shot there though. We simply exited the bushes, went to the estuary, exited the bushes, and there was a sigh saying “Stop or I will shoot”. We freaked out, started a tactical retreat (laughs). We were just walking around and bam, a sign. On an estuary, where there is nothing! But me laughing while talking about doesn’t mean it’s funny and entertaining. This fucking shit hurts me so bad.
Vic: Would you like to say something to people outside of Ukraine?
Dariia: I need to think. It’s just, I don’t know. To not forget about us. To understand, that if we fall, then a lot, I think, a lot of European countries will fall then. Poland, at least, and all such not so big countries, that are not really ready for war. They will fall very quickly, so do not forget about us. If you can, support [us], something like that. And if you can, spread the real state of things, because a lot of people can’t even distinguish between russia and Ukraine.
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