Svitlana Kharseyeva:
In 2015, it was not possible to live here, just unreal. Shelling was every day and several times a day. You do not know where to run, in which direction, to escape it and not be hit.
There used to be so many young people here – all left, and old people left too. Those ones that are very old and whose houses were destroyed or damaged all moved to villages. They just rent some apartments. Nobody is going to restore anything to them.
The street is 50% empty. People left. Some of them just could not stand it psychologically. For example, my uncle was pretty healthy, but he died. Cancer happened suddenly. Young people cannot stand it here either. It is very difficult psychologically to be here.
Well, and we... we just have nowhere to go. I do not want to leave these places. This is the land of my ancestors. There are four generations here, I am the fourth generation, and I do not want to leave this land.
My son and daughter lived here. They left in 2015, when it was just impossible to be here, when it was terrible here. My son has a family – his wife and their kids. They packed up and left for Zaporizhzhia. Their friends called them. My daughter lived in Dnipropetrovsk before the war.
In Zaporizhzhia, one more daughter, Sofia, was born in my son’s family. She is one and a half years old. I am so sorry and so disappointed because I cannot help them to take care about my granddaughter. She has her teeth coming in and it is not easy for them now. If there had not been this war, they would be here and I would be close and could help.
My husband, his brother and I virtually live on the front lines. My husband was in Chornobyl and Afghanistan, and he has health problems with his legs and kidneys.
Husband:
My health used to be – oh, dear! [strong]. But after Chornobyl, after Afghanistan, my health, naturally, began to fail me already at that age. I have osteochondrosis and problems with kidneys and legs. My left leg, one foot where the fingers are, almost does not function.
I feel very sorry for people. I wish God gives them patience, health and happiness. So that it all ends sooner, so that they do not see it.
Shelling. Just imagine running fire. The shells explode further and then closer to you, and you have a feeling, you think: now, for no reason at all, this shell will explode near you. And then you think, either you will be blown to pieces, or your leg will be torn off. And then the thought continues – who will need you then? And the final question: what is this for? There were many such cases when shells were bursting very close here. But God had mercy.
During the shelling, dry grass catches fire. This grass is knee-deep, completely dry, and there are hectares of such areas. With a wind speed of 15–20 meters per second this all turns into a two-meter-high fire, which is moving at great speed towards the village, that is, towards our houses. Houses on the left and on the right of our building are uninhabited, so we have to extinguish these fires single-handedly.
Svitlana, wife:
The most difficult thing is when they start bombarding. All the time I thought: why does it all happen to us? What is it for? What are we guilty of before God that we are going through this, that we learn it the hard way, these bombings?
Shelling is terrible. We are tired of this shelling, and we got used to it too. We just know when and how to react, when to hide. Sometimes you walk around the yard like this and are not afraid of anything.
When going out into the garden, I always pray. I say the Lord’s Prayer. Grandma Maryia Petrivna taught me. She told me to address the Guardian Angel when I go out. I feel that he is watching me. I don't remember when exactly, but probably in 2017, my neighbour was wounded in the garden. So, of course, it is scary.
There is no confidence. We live like on a powder keg. There is no stability, no certainty. It is a cross-your-finger kind of living. We cross our fingers hoping everything will be okay. We have lived a day, and we thank God for that.
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