"My only dream is to be buried at home"

I was born in the village of Shyrokyne.  I worked at a concrete plant, then on a collective farm. Then I retired. Our collective farm was very nice. The village was very beautiful. It was located very nicely.

When you ascend the Spire [we call this place the Spire because is is above the sea], you can see the village in all its beauty. The height there was great. Pushkin would come there to have a look from the Spire. 

We could feel that war would come to us when it all started in Maidan. Sloviansk was among the first that were affected. Then it came here. Then they came to Siedove. They came to Siedove, then to Novoazovsk, then to Bezimenne. This goes on up to this day. 

They dug trenches dug on the Spire. The Spire takes half the village: a mountain takes a half of it, and the entrance to the sea takes the other half. Donetsk Lighthouse, Azovstal's Scarlet Sails, Brigantine, and the big Kramatorsk Recreation and Retreat Center are located on this mountain. The centers were all newly built at that time. There were garages behind the Spire, a hotel, a restaurant on the shore. 

They have been shooting at us since April 14.    The bullets went above our heads. It did not concern us. There was a buzz, there were explosions, but it did not concern us. They did not affect us in any way. And then on September 4, when they fired, one man was killed in an instant. The next morning, another local resident was killed. Then it all started.

Things settled shortly afterwards, but they they started shooting again.  The attacks in the village became more frequent, but somehow no one got killed.  Some people began to leave. There was panic in everyone's eyes. many people left for the city. They left their homes. They left everything behind.

I just wondered, "How is it possible to leave the house and go somewhere to live?" But I had to do it myself.

It was very scary. Once, there was a shot. I got so scared that I started waving my hands, wondering if my head was intact. 

On 12 February 2015, we were taken out… They came, knocking on the door, on the gates, “Come out, we are taking you away for three days. Don't take anything with you." Well, they took us to the city to this day. 

The Urals have arrived and the military vehicles. Even getting into the truck was hard. Upon arrival, people went in different directions. I went to stay at my relatives' house. I had to stay there for a long time. Then they started doing some repairs. They wanted to sell the house.

I went to live at my husband's brother's place. He died three years ago. His daughters wanted to sell the house, but I convinced then otherwise. I have live here ever since. Not long. It is so hard. Some say that they have already adapted, settled down. I don't believe that.

I wish we were, at least, given some housing, so that we could live somehow. If anyone told me to leave this place, I would have nowhere to go. Where would I go? I have worked all my life on hard work, and it is felt in old age. I saw many things. I had a garden, a pension... I lived how I could and tried not to disturb anyone.

We have 11 or 12 men killed, fellow villagers. One woman has been killed by snipers. It was such a misfortune.

It happened on the day after we were taken away. Son came to pick up his mother. He lives here, in the city. So he arrived, told her to get in and rushed to pick up some staff from the house. When he came, his mother was already dead. So he took her, dead, back to her home.

This month we really wanted to come back home. No. It is impossible.

My only dream is to be buried at home. I wish no one would have to drag me around like this, My son, husband, and sister are buried there. That is the only thing I dream of.