In the house of Tamara Antonuk, in Hostomel, north-west of kyiv, a dozen volunteers are busy in a rapid ballet, entering through the back door and then coming out with large bags filled with debris which they place on the edge of the road. The corpse of the missile that partially destroyed the house lies on the ground.
All of Tamara’s possessions have burned inside, and they need to be cleaned up. But the structure is still fortunately in good condition. “I want to save the first floor and build a new roof. It has to be done quickly because of the rain, which damages the house even more,” explains the To have to the 35-year-old woman, who pays for the repairs out of her own pocket, among other things with the help of a loan. She estimates the cost at US$30,000. “I don’t think the government will pay,” she drops.
The airport of the locality of nearly 17,000 inhabitants was the target of Russian forces at the start of the invasion, at the end of February. Since then, Ukrainian troops have regained control of Hostomel, as well as the nearby towns of Boutcha and Irpin. A few weeks ago, the road was jammed with long lines of cars from area residents heading home.
The country is still at war, and attacks can occur at any time, even though the Russians left the region at the end of March. But this does not prevent Ukrainians from returning.
In a hurry to rebuild
Tamara, who had left Hostomel on February 25, returned on April 3. She wanted to quickly see the state of her house. She expects to be able to return to live there in two months, while admitting to fearing another attack: the day before her interview with the To have to, missiles hit kyiv, and a journalist died in a residential building hit by the attack. So why be back and rebuild now? “I can’t just sit around and do nothing,” she replies. In the future, if fate makes it happen again, it will be like this. »
Clearing and demining operations have been going well in the region since the Russians left, a sign that the inhabitants want to resume their lives as quickly as possible. On Tuesday, Oleksandr Pavliuk, the governor of the kyiv region, indicated that around 8,000 hectares had been inspected to identify Russian mines. Technicians expect to complete the inspection of the area by the end of May.
But a lot of work remains to be done, says Andrii Titarenko, who organized the cleaning operation at Tamara’s house. The 39-year-old, who usually works as a marketing manager in Kyiv, has set up a group of volunteers to clean up and renovate schools, daycares, parks, streets and other buildings.
“It’s important that people feel comfortable, as they come back,” he said. If there are no child care centers, people cannot go to work. The children are currently on leave, and we want the schools to be able to open next September. The group can count on the help of nearly 300 people who have joined their Telegram channel.
The damage is extensive in several Ukrainian cities, and it could take years for everything to be rebuilt. In the pages of The Economist of April 30, the Prime Minister of Ukraine, Denys Chmyhal, estimated that the cost of large-scale reconstruction would be around 600 billion dollars, in a context where the country’s economy has been seriously disrupted since the beginning of the war. The government has created a recovery fund for long-term reconstruction, and the total damage to infrastructure could already exceed $100 billion.
Funded by donations and its own members, Andrii’s group hopes to take a financial burden off the government by reducing reconstruction costs. And, like many other Ukrainians The duty met, he wants above all to quickly regain some semblance of normality.
After May 9
Andrii has an easy laugh and he speaks with contagious enthusiasm about the magnitude of the work they have accomplished. But many things remain to be done, particularly in Irpin.
In the city, several businesses have reopened, and Ukrainians are walking the streets, jogging, cycling and hugging as they see each other for the first time after a long separation. At checkpoints, soldiers are more relaxed. But all this in an apocalyptic setting, with in some neighborhoods whole buildings the color of soot, smashed and riddled with bullets, with collapsed roofs and broken windows.
Hannah Sylenko, 66, who was born in Irpin, will have the damage done to her home assessed to qualify for funding. But there is a long list of people like her, she says, and she has little hope. “I don’t know when that will happen,” she says. If by this fall nothing changes, I will take a loan from the bank and rebuild myself. I need a place to live. »
The duty the meeting in the cemetery of Irpin, while she collects herself in front of the tomb of her husband. He was shot in the head when the Russians came to their neighborhood. He didn’t want to follow her when she evacuated, she says, because their well was the only source of water in the neighborhood and he wanted to help. If she wants to rebuild her house, she nevertheless has difficulty projecting herself into the future because of the rapid succession of tragedies that have affected her. “I live only for my son and my granddaughter,” she says, crying.
Others prefer to wait until May 9, Victory Day celebrated by the Russians, before starting to breathe again. This important date in Russia marks the end of World War II and speculation is rife about what Vladimir Putin might do or announce regarding his invasion of Ukraine.
“Before May 9, I will stay at my son’s house in kyiv,” explained Volodymyr Khlukhotskyi, 61. “Then I’m going to go back home and clean up the mess the Russians left behind,” said the man who worked as a garbage collector for the town of Irpin before the Russian onslaught. “In the future, we will elevate Ukraine,” he promises.
With the collaboration of Anton Shynkarenko