Pokrovsk, 14/11/2024
Konstantinopel is the final stop before the heavily affected Kurakhove. The Russian army is now just five kilometers away to the north and south. Around noon, police officer Basil and two colleagues depart in an armored van that was previously used for cash transport, heading to the farthest eastern point of Kurakhove to evacuate three civilians. Together with two volunteers, Daniil and Dima, we wait for their return at a house surrounded by pepper fields, where the last peppers still hang on the plants. At 4 PM, it’s getting dark, and Basil has not yet returned or made contact. At 7 PM, in the pitch black, a white Trabant pulls up—the smallest car ever produced in the Soviet Union. From the trunk, four legs emerge—those of Basil’s two colleagues, with Basil behind the wheel. The three evacuees are also inside. Basil’s adrenaline is high, and he struggles to stay composed. He explains that he first went to the home of Tonia, a 67-year-old woman whose house was destroyed two days earlier. She survived the bombing because she was in her garden at the time but has a head injury and can neither speak nor eat. For the past two days, she’s been able to drink small amounts of water.
Basil and his team pick up Tonia and her neighbor, then head to Tania’s house. As they near, Basil spots a drone overhead. He orders his passengers out of the van, and they run to a nearby ruin. From there, one drone after another attacks their vehicle, completely destroying it. The Russians also targeted their new location with explosives. Once the drones left, they walked to Tania’s house, and Basil disguised himself as a civilian by donning Tania's son’s clothes. He then rode a bicycle to a nearby church, hoping the priest could help. Though the priest’s car was gone, he still had a key to a Trabant, which Basil used to make the frantic drive to Konstantinopel. “Thank God nothing happened during that drive,” Tania says later.
After transporting Tonia and Tania to Pavlograd, Tania tells me that she had to leave her dog behind. The priest promised to care for it. She hadn’t been in touch with anyone and had no idea what was going on—her only source of information was the sound of bombs. When she learns I’m from Belgium, she greets me with, “Bonjour, Monsieur Poirot.” As we drive, she receives a message from the Donetsk administration warning everyone to leave Kurakhove immediately. Tania responds nonchalantly, “Don’t worry, I’m already gone.”
Konstantinopel / Kurakhove, 13/11/2024
Pavlograd, 09/11/2024
Pokrovsk, 15/11/2024
In Pavlograd, a medium-sized city between Pokrovsk and Dnipro, a temporary shelter has been set up in a cultural center for evacuees from the Pokrovsk region. Upon arrival, evacuees are registered to receive 10,800 UAH (250 euros) from the government, regardless of age. This modest amount explains why many evacuees return to their homes in the warzone—financially, they cannot survive in the new location. Through the state program IOCELA (which means “home” in Ukrainian), the government works to find communities that can offer housing for displaced families, with the rent paid on their behalf. However, evacuees have no say in which region they are sent to, and they are given only one housing option.
At the center, I see several elderly people who are too traumatized to speak. On the stage of the theater hall, a woman is changing in full view of everyone and is urged to use the designated changing rooms. An elderly man in a dated suit and heavy leather boots lies on a cot with his eyes fixed on the ceiling and his arms raised. When he lies with his arms at his sides, he resembles a corpse in a morgue.
In the hall, Fjedir, a man in his seventies, sits with his wife looking at a map of Ukraine. He appreciates that I’m taking a photo of the situation. "That’ll be a good photo," he laughs. Fjedir only hopes for one thing in his new home: access to water. Fjedir is a passionate fisherman.
Natascha, 33, was born and raised in Pokrovsk. To escape the war, she moved to Dnipro with her three children. Her husband, a firefighter, is required to stay in Pokrovsk, and her father fled the nearby village of Lysivka due to heavy fighting. In his haste, he left behind important documents. After contacting the military in Lysivka, the family managed to have the papers retrieved. Natascha is now in Pokrovsk to collect them.
Her suitcase contains winter clothes for friends still in the area. She has just walked five kilometers from a bus stop to the outskirts of Pokrovsk. Her husband couldn’t pick her up because he was on duty. Attempts to hail a taxi failed; with the curfew in effect and few taxis permitted to operate, one driver demanded 800 hryvnias (€20), far above the usual 100 hryvnias (€2.50).
Vulhedar, 21/06/2024
Serebryansky Forest, direction Lyman, 16/11/2024
