“There is no one left, it’s horrible”: in kyiv, the disarray of the inhabitants who decide to stay

Sixty years of squeaks, but a Soviet elevator that usually arrives at its destination. On the sixth floor, on the left, the apartment 57 of Lioudmila Mikhailovna, a Ukrainian grandmother living in a building in the south of kyiv, the capital of Ukraine. The special envoy of Europe 1 Nicolas Tonev was received by the retiree, who shared politeness and modesty with him. She is one of those Ukrainians who have decided to stay in the capital, despite the war and the risk of an assault by Russian forces.

Alcohol to help “unwind”

For those who stay, it’s a strange life that takes shape in buildings empty of life, which have become silent. Rare are those who agree to testify by welcoming someone into their home, especially since in the patriotic spirit, it is rather frowned upon to display one’s moods. Despite everything, Lioudmila Mikhailovna agreed to receive the special envoy of Europe 1, while her children and grandchildren took refuge in the west of the country. She confides to him her distress at the exodus, at this life without life.

In the retiree’s kitchen, on the table covered with oilcloth, there are bread and two bottles. “A little bit of cognac? Vodka?”, offers the grandmother to Nicolas Tonev, when it is only 10 o’clock in the morning. The retiree explains that her neighbor “came” to her house. “She was very anxious, because her son took the terrible road with her child, she did not know when he would arrive. So in her coffee, I put something to relax her,” she says, assuring that this alcoholic addition had helped his neighbor.

“Half the apartments are empty”

This helps especially when the anxiolytics have disappeared from the pharmacies, especially when a heady living room clock makes the time ring too loudly. “At our building entrance, half of the apartments are empty,” says Lioudmila Mikhailovna. “All those who could have evacuated the children. There is no one left. It’s horrible,” continues the retiree.

The Ukrainian grandmother remains marked by her 40 years of living together with these walls. “I won’t go anywhere, I won’t run away. I stay with the light on day and night,” she insists at Nicolas Tonev’s microphone, sharing a feeling of dismay. “Is there any noise?” Asks the Europe 1 reporter before leaving. “Yes, we are silent, like threatened mice,” says the retiree.