Where war never seems to end – # 5

Memories from Ukraine

In February 2022, Russia declared war on Ukraine, turning a conflict that had been going on for almost ten years into a military operation affecting almost the entire territory of Ukraine. Although Kyiv held its ground, many areas of Ukraine were occupied, and even today, two years later, there are active fights and bombings.

Huge numbers of people fled their homes and country to search for refuge or in the hope of a better life. The first waves of the refugee influx mainly affected surrounding countries, including Hungary. Over time, however, fewer and fewer people left Ukraine, even though the situation only eased in certain areas. Life in Ukraine is far from normal to this day.

This article describes the subjective experiences of a Hungarian girl who spent the last two years in Ukraine. In 2022, the author spent more than half a year in Transcarpathia to understand the situation of this region during the war, and then travelled to Kyiv to document how life went on during the war and how this kind of life started to become the new norm. The following stories are true, but names have been changed. In the series of articles our goal is to gradually get closer to the war, all the while guided by the dialogue between the external observer and the reflections of an inner self. The photos taken on the spot are not only illustrations, but they also provide a structure to the aforementioned dialogue based on facts and personal experience.

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All is well

I’m not a war correspondent, I don’t think it is my cup of tea. There is nothing beautiful about war, and in many ways, there are only losers. Everyone lost a lot after the first half of the year – I am writing this article two and a half years after the outbreak of the war. As I followed the journeys of these few people, I unwittingly became part of the story. I was not ready to go to Kyiv for a long time. Autumn had passed by the time I decided to go. The people who were there had become accustomed to the situation; they kept saying that the capital wasn’t being shelled much and life was normal. They encouraged me to go, saying there’s nothing to be afraid of, life there is just like anywhere else in the world.

I spent most of the summer with Jura and Transcarpathian people. They had got used to the new life as well. It was quiet. Larissa and her family had already settled in their new home in Europe. Artom went home to Odessa in September. Dima had moved into his own apartment in Kyiv, after having stayed temporarily with a friend. Life, with its difficulties and absurdity, became completely ordinary for my heroes and moved on slowly. 

Finally, on December 22, I went to Kyiv for the first time…

The last time I left Kyiv and came back to Budapest was a week ago. That’s why it’s hard to write about my first trip; the last one is always the strongest memory. Last Monday, Dima also experienced an airstrike on his street in Kyiv; for a moment, war felt much more real, but life went on after a couple of quieter days. On the day the children’s hospital was hit, more than 40 people died. In a multi-million capital city that is not a lot, right? Dima said that during war there is no such thing as almost; had he been two houses farther away on Monday, he wouldn’t have made it. But others were not so lucky… It is interesting that it was exactly one week before, when Dima had his surgery, that I asked the head physician what the protocol was, if any, regarding the air-raid alarm in the hospital. He said the shelter is far away—approximately 500 metres—and they don’t have enough staff to deal with the situation, especially when it comes to inpatients or those who have recently undergone surgery. Dima and I concluded that they must also check if the alarm is general or if something is specifically heading towards Kyiv, but who knows…

Later, it turned out that they didn’t know either… 

The hospitals here are full of war stories. The chief physician had spent a year at the front, volunteering at the beginning. He was not happy about my camera; he said he might be in danger, as he had become a military target, but he was happy to tell me his story without showing his face. His second son was born the minute the war broke out— the first air raid sounded a moment before the baby cried. The chief physician told the story like this: first the alarm, then the little boy. 

Dima and I used to get a line on current events through a couple of more or less credible channels that warned people before air raids, that something was fired from a ship in the Black Sea or from Belarus or Russia, stating that the missiles fly towards the capital. But even this method can only give a false sense of security. At night, people rarely get up for the third air raid warning to find out which region is being targeted and how many missiles or drones are flying…

July 18 was the final deadline for mandatory military registration for all Ukrainian conscripts. Two years ago, in December, this wasn’t a hot topic— or at least, not only one… That was the time of the first big blackouts; people’s homes also lost electricity, heating, and internet access, and cities had to quickly switch to generators. There’s still no electricity, but it’s not a big issue anymore. You can’t talk about it for years. It’s frustrating and uncomfortable, especially when it’s forty degrees outside, but that’s it. Life still goes on…

…But let’s go back in time to two years ago… The beautiful train station in Kyiv was full. Christmas was approaching. This was my first image of the capital; indeed, everything seemed so normal: people were travelling home to their families, just like anywhere else. conscription notes were already being distributed near the train station, but Dima still ventured out; he came to pick me up with a friend, and we went to his place first. We were sitting in the car when we caught a glimpse of an officer [of Territorial Recruitment Center] intercepting someone.

There was a power outage in Dima’s friend’s neighbourhood, so I got a taste of that right away. I had never seen such deep darkness between such large blocks of flats. Flashlights were on in a few apartments. People were walking wearing headlamps or tried to light their way using their phones in order to avoid slipping on the icy road. The friend was alone; his wife and children were staying with their grandparents in the countryside. It’s safer there.

I lived with Dima, and we arrived at his place a little before 10 pm. We had to, because at that time, there was a curfew from 10:00 p.m. … (Now it starts at midnight. It’s so quiet in the party districts of Kyiv at midnight on Saturdays, as if everyone has left the city.) … Dima told me that after Covid, they only had a little time to breathe before the various restrictions started again due to the war. Dima had a family before the war— though he isn’t into parties anyway —but for teens and young adults who enjoyed going out previously, the last four years were completely different, much more limiting than usual.

The very first morning I woke up to the air raid warning, it felt normal; I had never seen a bombing, and I knew that in Kyiv, the warning rarely meant an actual attack. Without the experience it didn’t affect me. (Nowadays, I sometimes wake up at home at night when the sound of a motorbike resonates with the sound of the alarm, but of course, I’ve seen and heard a lot since then.) … Dima and I only went down to the underground —which in most places is the shelter itself, even if it’s barely a few metres below the ground—when it was convenient. We didn’t bother to go at night or before breakfast. We tried to keep the two-wall rule, but this is the minimum: one wall further in from the room with a window, if there is one in the apartment.

Then, the next night, I heard the first sounds that were still strange to me. This experience is something that you can either put up with or take the first train back home– if you are lucky. 

They were anti-aircraft missiles; they have a slightly crackly sound. That’s when I found out that one of the anti-aircraft stations was in the larger park not far from us. Although from a tactical point of view, they were packed here and there. I couldn’t even fall asleep until it was over. 

Then that particular Christmas and New Year’s Eve came when I experienced the war a little more closely for the first time.

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