Stories that you confided to us
In the pre-war time, Liliya Malytska headed the Mariupol Development Foundation. Dozens of projects were implemented with the participation of the Foundation, including the Cosy Yard project and re-design of the theatre square.
From the very beginning of the war, Liliya saw how her beloved hometown was being destroyed sweepingly. Explosions thundered everywhere, houses were on fire, and people were dying.
They survived together with their neighbours and tended to support each other. They cooked their food on a bonfire. Once a mine flew into the yard and killed a neighbour.
Wood was worth its weight in gold. People cut down trees and collected wood chips. Liliya still has a terrible picture before her eyes, how she pulled a cut tree for a bonfire and noticed a human body torn apart by a shell. When she had no more strength to stay in Mariupol, she decided to leave. And that is why she believes that she is guilty before those who stayed there.
The war started with a telephone call. At dawn, a friend from Kyiv called with the words,
“Liliya, Kyiv is being bombed. This is a war.” That was the first thing that got us out of bed and our TV set was the first thing we ran to immediately.
That day, the understanding of the fact that not only Kyiv was being bombed came to us first. Sartana village was under attack, and given the fact that I lived in the 20th micro-district, my house was located in such a way that it actually overlooked a huge part of the city. So our house witnessed all the first bullets, shots and explosions. It heard it all and passed it over to us.
In the first days, we tried to help those who already lost their homes, those who were in TERRASPORT, residents of Sartana village in particular, who were brought there. In peaceful, pre-war life, we had a hobby. We loved nature very much. We went fishing, we liked picking mushrooms and, naturally, we had some respective equipment, like mattresses and sleeping bags. And those were the first things that we packed up and took to TERRASPORT. Well, as well as some food that we had at that time. I do remember that when we were coming back, I thought, “We have no bread at home”. Well, we did not really eat it, and then we ran out of it completely. So I thought, “We need to buy some bread”.
Obviously, there was already no bread in the shops. There was not much food already as people gobbled it all up in a panic quickly, and then, on 24 February, I ate the last piece of bread until 22 March.
On 22 March, I could have some bread again. First. As we were getting out of Mariupol, I was grateful to those friends I was able to get through to, just by some miracle. They told me that they were waiting for me in Zaporizhzhia. Basically, they said that I needed to get to Berdiansk first. There was a telephone signal available there, and they helped. We were given a shelter there with the help of some volunteers. So we spent one day in Berdiansk. And the first thing we wanted to buy in Berdiansk was bread too. However, it turned out that it was also impossible to buy bread in Berdiansk. Well, those volunteers who sheltered us, for which we are thankful to them, they had some bread, and this was probably the most delicious thing we could taste. As I said, in the first days we tried to be helpful. We went to help with some food, but… But on one of the days, it literally was… I am getting confused about the dates now.
When we went out again, a shell just exploded not far from us, and then I realized, for the first time, that life is so fragile and can end so instantly.
That was probably the biggest fear that I experienced then for the first time, as I wanted only one thing – to run back to my... to my flat, huddle myself up into a corner and sit there, and not go anywhere. And then, basically, we did just that. That is, that fear gripped my heart, and I remember that I came back home but I could not make myself take a step and put my foot over the threshold to go out. This was the first feeling, which was the feeling of fear, yes, which I felt really badly. I also remember the airplanes. This was probably the most terrible thing after Grad and Hurricane MLRS. I don’t know what they bombed us with, but when this plane was flying, our house was shaking. It was shaking just like a burning candle. We struggled to survive... How did we survive? We managed to make some reserves of water for the first time, but we understood, and the most...
When the city was already plunged in the darkness, we could see a huge flare. As I understand, it was a damaged gas pipeline and a huge flare arose. I cannot even imagine the size of this flare, as it was burning somewhere on the left bank, and the feeling when looking from the window was that it was burning somewhere nearby.
I remember that fear, too, when you look at the city completely plunged in darkness and this huge flare that illuminated everything. And I had that… Fear. My God, that was a plane…
That flare illuminated the whole city for that plane… That was some feeling of… I was afraid all the time. “Oh, put out this flare, as the whole city is seen to that predator up there, the whole city is in full view for it.” That was the first fear. I expected that the situation with gas supply would be bad, maybe in a day or two... Literally in... On the second day, I think, there were already two flares, and then I realized that there would be no more gas in the city. And literally the next day, there was neither gas nor any other utility supplies. They were gone completely, and only this silence remained. When shooting and shelling stopped and the planes did not fly and did not drop their bombs, that silence set in. This was probably the second strong fear, as we did not understand how this silence could end.
We lived on the seventh floor. It was virtually a corner flat with a view, as I said, with a view on... It overlooked the whole of Novoselivka, the whole city centre, part of Illichivskyi district, well, and we could see the left bank in part too, so before our eyes...
We saw the bombs flying and falling on residential buildings. We saw some kind of mushroom-shaped pillars of smoke rising up and the houses catching fire after that. We understood that there were people in those houses. We knew that not all could go out.
That was also scary. I mean, scary because we felt powerless. We could not help in any way, we absolutely could not... You just see how people are killed, how... how residential areas of cities are bombed, how everything is bombed just mercilessly and brutally. Speaking of how we survived, we had some cereals, we had some rice and buckwheat too. We also had some small amount of water. But the problem was that there was no place where we could cook our food. It so happened that one of the houses damaged first was a 14-storey building that was next to our house. It was bombed and so all the residents of this 14-storey building who survived the bombing... they all moved to our basement, both young and old, and there were so many people in the basement that... To be honest, I went down there once and felt scared.
I was scared by the fact that I saw how the houses were bombed, how they collapsed, and that we could be buried in that basement – that was probably another fear I felt.
That is why all those days I naively believed that the rule of two walls would save me. So those two walls of my flat, basically, became a cover where we spent all the time. Yes, our house was hit more than once. It was at the time when people started to kindle bonfire and cook their food outdoors. It just flew in from nowhere right at that time. It flew in such a way that completely smashed and swept two flats and, unfortunately, killed a man who... who was just walking from one section of the house to another one. I remember how people fled away in horror. They just ran inside, in the entrance halls. Naturally, that bonfire went out and everything that they cooked remained there, on that fire. It was lying there for three days, same as the body of that man. His body was lying near the entrance door and then people dragged him to the electricity control room. There was a control room or a switch room nearby. It was 12 degrees below zero then and no one understood how long it could last.
And there was still television broadcast then. Surely, we did not stop watching the news even for a minute – the only source of information that we had. However, after it all disappeared, we then just dreamed in the silence between the bombing attacks while sitting behind our two walls, as it was rather dangerous to go out. As five minutes of silence were followed by bombing again...
And as we were sitting there, we understood that, well, we need to be patient and wait a little more, and that help was already here, it was really close. No wars in the 21st century can last really long.
Today, we certainly understand that there is no end in sight yet, but at that time, the mood and morale were completely different. We thought that help from Europe was already coming here. Well, that Ukraine was already in the European Union, and basically, the airplanes and all NATO were for us and were already on their way. And we thought that the second phase was about to start and that Mariupol would be liberated. However, this has not happened yet, unfortunately. Speaking of what we ate… We had very few outdoor bonfire places in fact.
Trees were worth their weight in gold. We also scouted around and cut down some trees. We collected them, dragged them to our housing and stacked them. Our housing maintenance and utility office (ZhEK) used to be located in our section of the house and so some people from the 12-storey house and some of my neighbours from the eighth and ninth floors moved into that premise. The latter said that it was absolutely impossible to stay on their floors. Although I understood that it was just as impossible as on the seventh floor, because the feeling, the perception of it was absolutely the same for everyone. And so they moved over there. We walked around, in the frost, looking for trees and then bringing them to our location.
And when you go out, beyond the perimeter of even your own yard, you realize how many deaths are around, in the neighbourhood. We then saw some human bodies that were just lying on the streets, on the sidewalks. And there was a very terrible episode in this story. I saw a tree, which was... I realized that it was cut down by a shell. I started to pull it, as I knew: the larger the tree, the better the firewood. I tried to drag it, but could not move it. After that, I heard my husband crying, “Liliya, don’t look!” But that “Liliya, don’t look” phrase in fact, vice versa, made me look around with my eyes widely open.
Then, I realized what was holding this tree. It was a human body torn apart. Well, what did I feel at that moment? I felt horror and even greater anger to that damned Russia, to that entire horde together with their Putin. It was such a strong hatred, it... it still doesn’t subside.
I am a peace-loving person by nature, but the feeling of hatred… It surges up in some way and builds up with time. Probably because the war continues. We started to go out when bombing attacks had already stopped in our district. We started to go out for water, and our source of water was the kindergarten. No one actually understood what kind of water it was in that kindergarten. Well, it was liquid and... Well, it was transparent too. We went downstairs... There was a huge queue because the 20th micro-district is densely populated. To get this water, we had to go down to the basement of this kindergarten. We did not know where we were going. We saw some people carrying water from somewhere. We survived consuming our own reserves of water sparingly. That is, a glass of water a day. That’s all we could afford back then. And getting just a glass of water a day... we, basically, managed to survive on our own water. Well, and then we had to go out and look for water elsewhere.
I remember that when we entered that basement, some underground technical premise, there was a mess of mud, liquid clay with a stream of water under our feet. When we got out of there, we were knee-deep in mud. We were dirty. However, I remember that humane attitude was highly manifested even in such places and circumstances. When elderly people wanted to go down there with some water flask or bottle, all the people stopped them and said, “Don’t go there. Please stop. Don’t go there as you can fall and hit yourself.” So all the people there helped each other, poured that water in bottles or containers and passed it over along the queue.
It was some technical water but we still partly used it for making coffee and it seemed to me that there was nothing tastier than that. We could afford such coffee only once a day because we had to save our candles and matches. These things were worth their weight in gold.
That is why we made ourselves such morning coffee. Not far from us was a private houses area, which I mentioned earlier. We had been renting a garage in that private houses area for eight years. One day we went there to see what was going on there. We learned a terrible story that two houses were destroyed completely and children were taken out [from under the debris]. Since people lived in their private houses there, they burned bonfires outdoors, in their yards. We knew that and so we took our water, we took a thermos of water with us and came to them. We hoped that if we are lucky, we could have access to a bonfire. And it worked. We got access to the fire and boiled our water for the first time. I don’t remember what date it was. I remember that shells flew over our heads all the time, and they exploded somewhere very close by.
I remember that on that day I lost my sense of fear, not forever, but just for that day. It was either the effect of that bonfire or those people whom I was very glad to see and was glad to know that everything was fine with them.
I don’t know, it was some kind of emotional upsurge. I’ve recalled that date. It was 6 March... It was on 6 March. That day we brought back a thermos of boiling water for the first time. When we were going upstairs, we met our neighbours who took their chairs out of their flat to the staircase and were sitting there. I saw Masha there, and as always, smiled and said, “Hi.” She asked, “Do you live here?” I said, “Yes.” We then gave some boiling water to the neighbours. We shared it. We could not have big cups of 350 milligrams, but they were still cups of hot tea or coffee – depending on who chose what. However, we made a big cup of tea for Masha and I had some cookies left. Some ordinary big cookies for tea. I brought these cookies and a bar of chocolate. I had a bar of chocolate that I couldn’t eat for some reason... I wanted to eat it, but I just could not. I kept it for Masha.
I gave her the chocolate bar and the cookies. The girl drank hot tea, ate the cookies, and I remember her words, “I have never eaten anything tastier in my life.”
It was another shock for me, when the child told me, “How do you sleep? As for me, I sleep with my boots on. I sleep with my jacket and my hat on, and you know, I feel warm. I cover myself with two blankets, but until the plane flies. When the plane flies, then the pillow moves and I wake up.” I listened to her stories. When I remember Masha, it really feels like a ray of light in this whole story, as the child doesn’t know what it is to lose her heart. Despite all the fears, she always remained optimistic. She was always friendly and said, “Hi. I’m glad to see you again.” Naturally, when we were going to leave, we took everything to our neighbours. Well, everything that was edible. I don’t even remember what. I remember some jars of jam, some honey in jars, not to mention some cereals and everything else. But they didn’t want to take it. They just didn’t want to take it, “When you come back, it will come in handy for you.” I said, “When we come back, everything will be available there. We will bring everything for you and for ourselves.” Now I even feel guilty to some extent. I feel like a traitor in relation to those people who stay behind, amidst that cold and hunger, under bombing and in fear.
It was very difficult to leave but I understood that I could not stay on there because fear really gripped my heart.
Fear and lack of any information. We lived just in some information vacuum. On some social networks, I came across a question, “When you return to Mariupol, what would you like to do first?” I know what I would like to do. I want to hug all my neighbours and Masha. Of course Masha too, that sunny girl. Because we became close friends and helped each other. We shared everything with each other... I don’t know if we would know each other that closely if it weren’t for this terrible war. My biggest pain today is about my friend.
I think there is probably not a single person who has not seen a photograph of the house at 47 Metalurgiv Avenue. The house where two entrance sections were destroyed. Part of the house was missing and the Ukrainian flag was still hanging there. The part of the house that collapsed was the flat of my friend, my best friend. You know, everyone has a friend in their life who is like air. She could leave. Her daughter wanted to take her out but something stopped her son. He said that if they go (some kind of fear attacked him), if they go, they would be killed on the way. So he said that they would stay at home. She told her daughter to leave and she herself stayed with him.
They did not have such a strong feeling of fear. They were not afraid of the war.
She told her daughter that their place would not come under shellfire or artillery strikes. Literally the next morning, she called and said, “Take us out.” It was on 16 March. It was at the time when we had no telephone connection, none of that. We already know this story today. She said that they were ready to leave and asked to come and take them out. While her daughter was already in Berdiansk. She was taking out her little son. So she went back in order to evacuate them, and at that time a truck... Some military vehicle, I think. I don’t remember exactly. Some military truck hit and damaged her car. So she was left without a car and could not come back to Mariupol for them. In the evening shelling began and in the morning this house collapsed. I don’t know and I tend to drive that thought out of my mind.
Her daughter let that situation go. She accepted it… She accepted their deaths.
She believed they were gone. I am the person who is not yet ready to accept it. I am trying to look for her as best as I can. I have not found her yet but I don’t lose hope. I don’t know. Well, I mean, I do not know her fate and the fate of her son. Pain, horror, and hatred towards all who did this, and the desire to restore. Just a wish, and that’s all. Previously, I all the time thought about the desire to have everything back. But today I don’t know if we need to make the city the way it was before the war.
I understand that the Drama Theatre can never become a place... a place where people are entertained. This place will always be a place of mourning.
It is difficult for me to speak about Mariupol because I believe that no one loves Mariupol the way I love it. I could talk about it for hours. A lot of my colleagues visited to take part in the training. They came from different cities and I showed them Mariupol. I showed them Mariupol all the time. I was proud. I was just bursting with pride telling them what the city had achieved in just six years. I liked to talk about each of our assets, achievements, which I contributed to. I loved to talk about our cosy courtyards, about the involvement of our people, because “Cosy Yard” was one of the basic programs that our Foundation kicked off. Then the municipality continued it in an expanded format. Yes, it was a targeted program, but all the projects and programs that the Foundation implemented were not just about giving people fish, so to say. We tried to give people a fishing rod.
We tried to give some basic things but in order for people to have the opportunity to develop all this further on their own, in order to cultivate this sense of responsibility and ownership.
Because if a person is involved in the process, he or she will always take good care of everything. That was one of the distinguishing features.
All the projects where the Foundation took part or those spearheaded by the Foundation were about this, including even our events and celebrations. That is, we tried our best so that the festivities, like Europe Day, would be not just about bringing together some people, but about making them interested. For them to find something of interest and take out something useful from there. That is, it was our [credo] throughout our lives... That’s what we strived for. That is why it is very painful for me to see the theatre square today. And it is probably even more painful because some time ago I was one of the coordinators of this project. In particular, I worked with designers with whom I was staying in touch constantly. And certainly, when somebody decided in a wink to deprive us of everything we put our hearts into, everything that we loved, everything that we valued… It’s some insane pain.
It is terrible pain and anger. It is the feeling of anger and a wish to see a hundredfold payback to them. For everything that they did to us. Now I feel like I have not said anything at all. This is probably the feeling of everyone who speaks about what happened to him or her in Mariupol, what they came through, and what they feel now. None of us is able to open up the whole ocean of our emotions and feelings we have. But only a drop that we can share. It is just a drop.
When quoting a story, a reference to the source – the Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation – is mandatory, as follows:
The Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation https://civilvoicesmuseum.org/
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