Stories that you confided to us
This was our lifeline route, which connected us with the outside world. It connected us with Mykytivka, Horlivka, Donetsk and Mariupol. It was the main southern route to Rostov, to the Caucasus. All trains went there through our place. My children used the road to get to school, and now we are severed, we are cut off from the outside world completely. We have no public transport coming here, no shuttle buses, no commuter trains as the railway track has been dismantled.
I have worked at the railway for my entire life, 32 years. Before I moved here, to Dyliivka, I had worked in Kostiantynivka. I was a railway station master in Kostiantynivka. Then, I was offered the place of a station manager here. This is how I came here, to Dyliivka. Because of the apartment. Since 1994 we have been living here.
When it was peaceful time, it was perfect. Here, my husband and I have had two more kids. We have got five children in total.
As long as it was peaceful time and commuter trains were running when the railway was operational, life was wonderful. The air is clean and fresh here. You could travel to any place in the world from here. Then, from 2 May 2014, we have been cut off from the outside world. So, now we live in a place forsaken by God and people. There is no store here. We have to walk about six kilometres to get to the nearest store. In summer, we cycle through all those gullies and ravines to get to the nearest shop. That is how we survive. The best as we can.
We also have a bed-ridden granny. She is a labour veteran, and a war [WWII] veteran. It is not a good place for an elderly ailing person though. It would be impossible to get her to the hospital, for the matter. We are coping on our own at home. So, I am a nurse, a masseur, a hairdresser, all in one. I have to learn to do everything I can.
It is very hard morally. You know that practically no one cares about us. People here are abandoned, left alone; in our settlement, they are left on their own. People here just survive; they live on the edge. It is about 20 poor families left here, all are pensioners, and we try to help each other, somehow support each other.
Thanks to Rinat Leonidovych for this assistance, for the food packages. Big thanks to him for this. As for our authorities... Even the roads to our place are not cleaned in winter; people survive on their own, to the best of their abilities.
To get through as far as you can – this is scary. There is no light ahead, no hope for a better future. You no longer believe... Your only thought is: let our children have it better, let our children have a better life. We will live it out somehow. You do not believe in a better future. You only think: let there be no war, let there be peace. No more war. This is our only hope.
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/
