Ukrainians talk about the war: “Squatting here in the basement we were zombies”

An entire country fighting for its life. Seven people in Ukraine talk about what the war took from them. And about what gives them strength to carry on – when hope is sometimes too big a word.

Maksim – about loss
A drone shot my legs off. We were stationed near Zaporizhia. A comrade was hit and I tried to rescue him. A small Russian first person view drone came flying in and the explosive charge hit me. The fighting was so fierce that day that I lay there for nine hours until someone could evacuate me. It was too dangerous before. Due to the loss of time during the rescue, the amputation had to be carried out so high that I completely lost my legs.

Maksim – from moving on
There is war in my country. My calling is the fight for our freedom, and I want to continue it in my old company. I’ve gotten used to the phantom pains. The two prostheses will be delivered soon, and then of course I have to train first. I’m already building arm, shoulder and abdominal muscles every day on the parallel bars. Even with this injury, I am still officially part of my front-line unit and keep in touch with my comrades. That’s where I see my future: I want to go back to the front as soon as I’m fit enough. Only – my family doesn’t know about it yet.

Anna – about loss
I come from Avdiivka. I lost my home to the Russians. I know current pictures from there, our house no longer exists. So basically everything I owned was destroyed. Some friends and relatives fell – my cousins, for example. Now I live here in Odessa with my two children, my husband, my mother and grandma. I work as a teacher, we just try to get on with life.

Anna – about carrying on
I find hope in the eyes of my children. I won’t give up for her, even if it takes so much strength. They should have a future.

Ivan – about loss
My village was under Russian occupation for 27 days in the winter of 2022 and we residents were locked in the basement under the school. This time made me sick – the four weeks without fresh air, without light or source of heat. We were crammed into a room with 37 people, condensation was constantly dripping from the ceiling, and we were always damp and cold. The babies suffered the most; they lacked oxygen. Some of the little ones died in those four weeks and the time in the basement ruined my heart. I’ve just come out of the hospital. My family survived the basement, but it took away my health.

Ivan – about carrying on
Our village is very close to Kiev, which is why we see Russian rockets and drones flying towards the capital in the sky every day. Many of them are shot down here. I hope for victory. That’s what we need. During our time in the basement there was actually nothing that gave us hope. During the occupation, sitting here in the basement, we just existed. We were zombies.

Oleksandra – about loss
What I’ve lost is my attitude to life – one that I’m sure many people in Europe still have. We grew up with the idea that war was actually unthinkable. I had plans for the future, normal ideas for my life. There’s nothing left of it. In the first months of the war I had the feeling: “They stole my life.” Nothing bad happened to me physically, my family was briefly under occupation but survived, but I still had this feeling that my life had been stolen. Only over time did I manage to accept our new reality. Now I don’t even think: “After the war everything will be the same as before.” Things will never be the same again, and that’s okay with me.

Oleksandra – about moving on
I don’t think the term “hope” fits the life I’m living right now. When people ask me what gives me hope, I think: “Do I have hope at all?” That doesn’t mean I’m totally hopeless, it just means the word is too big. I don’t have anything to give me hope, but I do have a few things to think about when things get too hard. I then think of the friends who have already died. Some good, brave, young people who had life ahead of them. The only respect I can show them is not to melt into sadness and longing, but to try to fill the void. To keep going to be worth the sacrifice they made for us. Because they died so that we could live and carry on. In the end it’s not about hope, it’s just about making sense of it all.

Olga – about loss
The Russian occupiers took my home away from me. When they came to our village, they drove past my window. At first I could still feel the vibration of each individual tank. At some point there were so many people here that it was just a noise. We hid in basements. They burned my house down completely, nothing was left.

Olga – about carrying on
I never thought I would have a house to live in again so quickly, that gives me strength. These young people from “Repair Together” suddenly found themselves here in the village one day. They said you could hire people to help. I was assigned to the group with the red ribbons, and the first thing I thought was, “My God, they’re skinny, and then there are so many girls!” To be honest, I didn’t expect much. But they worked like crazy and now my house is up and I’ve moved in. These boys and girls – they are like family to me.

Valeriya – about loss
2024 will be the tenth year in which I cannot go home because I come from Donetsk Oblast, which has been under Russian occupation for ten years now. So for me the war didn’t start two years ago, but a decade ago. What have I lost? My home.

Valeriya – from moving on
When the major invasion began two years ago, I could have gone abroad. But I knew the experience from the previous war years and decided to stay here in Ukraine. The opportunity to show my country in a global context gives me hope. I help cultural projects to present themselves and also to exchange ideas with artists from other countries. That’s what I’m concentrating on. That is my mission.

A villager – about loss
I lost friends and relatives in the war. And my inner peace.

and from moving on
My belief in victory gives me hope. Confidence that Ukraine will be free.

Recorded in Kyiv, Johidne, Lukashivka and Odessa by Frauke Niemeyer