Stories that you confided to us
Sverdlovsk is a mining town of many thousands with a great future. There are two “over million” mines: Dolzhanskaya-Kapitalnaya and Krasny Partizan. The city developed, children were born, high-rise buildings, restaurants, playgrounds, stadiums were constructed. Holidays were celebrated – The City Day, May 1st, Miner's Day. Life went on as usual. People were happy, upset, solved their life problems. The city lived a quiet, calm life until the war broke out.
This diary, these notes, may become my way to let it out. I’m sitting and I thinking: “What to write so that later, when my son grows up, he would read these notes, and it would become clear to him that there is no place for war in life, that war is always pain, abomination and fear, that this is the suffering of millions of people and maybe if he understands this, then our world would become much better and kinder ".
Sverdlovsk is a mining town of many thousands with a great future. There are two “over million” mines: Dolzhanskaya-Kapitalnaya and Krasny Partizan. The city developed, children were born, high-rise buildings, restaurants, playgrounds, stadiums were constructed. Holidays were celebrated – The City Day, May 1st, Miner's Day. Life went on as usual. People were happy, upset, solved their life problems. The city lived a quiet, calm life until the war broke out.
The war is in our house. Yes, it’s exactly so. If previously everyone around called it differently, now, of course, it’s clear, it’s the war.
Explosions, like clangs of thunder, and constant anxiety, and then, you get used to it, a kind of. The whole city is as if driven by anxiety. It’s felt in everything, even the air is filled with anxiety.
I never thought it could happen to us. Somewhere else, but not here.
A couple of months ago, it seemed purely impossible. Now it is reality, fear, pain and anxiety.
The city is empty. People are leaving, abandoning everything: housing, work, relatives. And how can you not leave?! When you fall asleep and wake up with just one thought: “When will this all end? "
The hardest thing is that very moment, when the silence comes. When gun fire is not heard and cell communication does not work; when the radio and TV are silent. It feels like the world is dead. Melancholy and confusion are coming.
On a bus, when you go to work, you see only frightened faces and eyes filled with fear. At work, you get a little distracted from your thoughts, from the war, but it's still temporary. The black wall of hopelessness is that you call thoughts.
A thought - to leave and escape from the war. But with a small child, this is almost impossible to accomplish. And we have no money to escape.
And with each passing day it gets more and more difficult to explain to the child why when we hear thunder, we are hiding in the cellar. And I have to look for this explanation for myself too. And really, why? Why is this all happening, how did we deserve all this? Who is to blame? Questions to which we do not find an answer, despite what is said in the news and by people.
Well, a new day begins, maybe it will bring something good.
Maybe this lull will last a bit longer. Maybe fear will go away and the old time will return, the time of joy and laughter.
This diary, these notes, may become my way to let it out. I’m sitting and I thinking: “What to write so that later, when my son grows up, he would read these notes, and it would become clear to him that there is no place for war in life, that war is always pain, abomination and fear, that this is the suffering of millions of people and maybe if he understands this, then our world would become much better and kinder ".
And now I need to go to work. Now, it seems, this is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy in this situation. At work, every client expresses their point of view, their thoughts. But everyone has long understood that there is a war going on, and it has dragged on for a long time.
July 1, 2014 evening
This evening is over. It was a noisy day. More shelling, explosions are heard, shells fall on residential buildings. There are victims.
Today I saw several ambulances with sirens and flashing lights.
Now this can be seen: wounded civilians are being transported, but before there were practically none of those. When I hear a siren my heart stops.
One of my clients told me that they were going to leave. It was a pity to leave everything, but there was nothing to do, they said that the war would last for a long time. I believe her. Now it seems, that it would last forever. Everyone is talking about this in the bread line.
I had already forgotten that there may be a line for groceries, but now this is quite a frequent event. Some products are not available at all. There is shortage of basic necessities (e.g., medications), at least temporarily, but it is very noticeable. Moreover, there is no water, ordinary city water from the pipes – we lack it most of all. Fortunately, some people have their own wells, and these people provide water; some people take places in queues since the evening.
Human is a strange creature. We lived next door, sometimes we didn't even know each other by name. The trouble has brought us together, despite the situation, people have become somehow kinder. There is empathy that was not there before. There is mutual assistance, which was never heard of before. People have become more responsive, or maybe it is always like this! Why then, for something good to happen, evil needs to show itself?
It has long gone dark, the street is quiet and there is no one around. Only the sounds of exploding shells are heard for a far of. When will this all end?!
July 2, 2014 morning
The morning started early again. They were shooting very, very loudly, apparently, somewhere nearby. The connection has disappeared again, time passes slowly. And in my head there is a swarm of thoughts.
This situation resembles a headache or even a toothache. How long can I stand this?!
I recall those mornings when there was no war with irony and some nostalgia. When I could wake up smiling from a sun beam, to smile to the world and to hear the birds singing, and when a storm roared, the soul was filled with some excitement, joy.
Explosions now cause anxiety, irritation and fear. And I wake up not from the light, but from the sounds of war. Even the earth suffers, all living things suffer.
Evening of July 2, 2014 and
It's evening once more. I get so tired of all this ... I don't want to do anything, not watch TV, only thoughts: what to do next. To leave or to stay? Where to go and how to leave my home, parents, friends? How to tell my son Kiryusha that we are leaving, because he loves his toys, his house, his grandmother, his grandfather so much. From these thoughts I want to scream, to cry, and most importantly – I wish they were unreal. Another day is over.
The morning July 3, 2014
How long will this last?! How painful and disgusting it gets from all this. For how long will I think only about the war?!
For several days in a row, we wake up from the roar. Some of my acquaintances can tell by the sound, from which gun they fired and the approximate distance to the place where the shell fell.
Backpacks and bags have been packed for a long time, if case we suddenly have to quickly leave. They contain essentials, documents etc. They are near to the exit, because at any moment it can be used.
I want to give up, give up desperately; The only thing that holds me is my family – my loved son and husband.
It’s only thanks to my relatives that I have hope and confidence in the future. It's good that they are all close, because it would be much worse if during the war we were separated. As I imagine it, tears ome up in my eyes.
Not sleeping worrying about my life is one thing. I do not sleep, worrying about the life of my loved ones, it feels a thousand times worse.
July 3 - our family will remember this day of war for many years. The shelling, Kiryusha's crying, grandfather and grandmother were wounded, a pool of blood ... An ambulance siren, a hospital bed for many months. I don't want to remember it; tears are rolling in my eyes.
We felt the terror of war in reality, not from the TV screen or from people's stories, but with our own eyes.
I’ll continue to write.
August 10, 2014
There are many things in our life, both good and bad. Life is made up of events. And there is always something what makes life what it is. Whether they are moments of joy or moments of sadness. Sometimes sadness comes into our lives, sometimes trouble. Then it seems that the whole world has turned upside down and will never be as it was before. And it won't.
Trouble each time comes unexpectedly, even when it seems that you are ready for almost anything. One cannot prepare for woe and misfortune, one cannot get used to it, and one cannot calm oneself with practically nothing.
When real trouble arises, everything around, no matter how bad it is, turns out to be even worse. Certainly, after that the world will never be the same again.
Grief-misfortune came to our house on July 3rd. We, as usual (although how can it be usual what we have experienced for several weeks?), Woke up to the noise of explosions. Then everything calmed down, giving some break to the exhausted nerves.
My husband went to work. As I write, my thoughts return to that unfortunate day, and though a week has already passed, my heart does not know rest. I still want to cry and scream in pain and fear.
The day at work was no different from others. People were just as gloomy and silent as ever. Everyone was tired. Everyone was just weary of what was happening around us. But meanwhile everyone was pulling their own strap of life. The war was around us all.
The working day was drawing to the end. We were working less than before. Several times the connection was lost again. After the day of work I got into a van and drove home. Somewhere halfway home, my world turned upside down and will never be the same. Let them say that the time heals wounds, that everything in this world passes away. Even now, after a week has passed - already a week, when everything has improved a little ...
It is difficult and almostimposible impossible to describe a state of shock, in which you get after receiving bad news.
It is difficult to describe how slowly the van can go, how slowly the minutes can drag on, how the heartbeat quickens and blood rushes to the head, how all sounds around disappear, merging into a single hum, how tears of pain fill your eyes and how the thought pounds in your temples: you have to make it in time.
My brother was at home. He was surfing on the Internet. After some time, a friend called – and my brother went to visit him. He was out for only half an hour. There were some explosions. There was a war, it was something that we can't get used to.
By the words of my brother, when he returned home, the cannonade was unbearable, as if war has come in its glory, and here - here was something to take place. “I heard a loud rumble, which had not heard before, the air whistled. A shell fell on our street”.
He was running, but it is impossible to run faster than war and grief. The shell fell on a neighboring house and from the rupture all the fragments flew into our yard, there were mom, dad and my two-year-old son Kiryusha. My father was sitting in a pool of blood - a splinter got into the artery of the left leg, he was pale, like a wall. Mother moaning and said that she had strong pain in the stomach.
It was only later in the hospital the doctors said that the shrapnel had crushed the entire intestine and got stuck in the spine.
Kiryusha was crying a lot, there was a big wound on his leg, blood was flowing like a stream. His grandmother calmed him down, saing: " I also hurt, but I am not crying. "
It was essential to call an ambulance, but there was no connection - they could not get through. An ambulance arrived in 40 minutes. Crying, screaming, a pool of blood - and it stands before my eyes. Even now, I want to cry, I’ve got a lump in my throat.
The thing I was most afraid of has come true. My family, my loved ones fell victim to an unbearable creature called war.
I can’t and do not want to see it. I try, but I can’t convey everything that I feel now. After all, everything has changed. Grief and trouble are not only changing the person, but the whole world around. A week has passed, but, perhaps, many more years will pass before I cease remembering the events that happened to me and my family on an ordinary day in July.
Now I need to assemble my thoughts and strength. Because we need to live on, no matter what. In spite of fate, in spite of war, we must try to live - to overcome fear and despair. Even in the hospital, every time I shuddered from the phone call. Time will pass, God willing, everything will work out. I want to believe it.
2017
So much time has passed. My child is undergoing rehabilitation at the Velikiy Lug center (Zaporozhye) supported by the Rinat Akhmetov's “Here to Help Foundation”. Now he does various sports sections. Kiryusha's physical condition is being restored.
The war has shown that there is a lot of evil around. That the war is evil, that fear may be permanent, but even more war has shown that there are people around you. There is humanity, faith and hope.
Now we live far away from the war, and it does not collect the bloody harvest from my family. Although not long ago, it was the case.
Now it’s quiet in our city, but this stillness is oppressive and unnatural. Yes, shell explosions are not heard, tanks are not driving, and the wounded are not moved to hospitals. But still, it is not like it should be. Such a high price has been paid – the war!!! I would like to erase this period from my life.
The town is quiet; the population has diminished. Most of the miners left to other towns for work, that’s to feed their families. Nobody believes in the bright future that we were promised.
For those who have survived the war, there are two times - before and after. For those who were touched by the war, there is still the third time – the time of pain. Let us forget before and after, even the time of pain; let everything pass; and let there be only our time. A time of faith, of hope and of love.
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/
