Ukrainians are rebuilding their lives and helping each other since the invasion

(Kyiv) When Katerina Mischenko looks out the window of her apartment at 14^e upstairs, in an old and somewhat dilapidated part of Kyiv, she doesn’t notice the graffiti on the buildings opposite or the old lady rummaging in a trash can down the street.

Instead, she focuses on children laughing while playing tag in a small park – and the thought that she is safe and free.

After fleeing the bloody invasion of Mariupol by Russia, a port city some 740 km southeast of the capital, the teenager has rebuilt her life, sharing a home with her sister and her husband.

The small elevator comes to an abrupt halt with a thud, and when the apartment door opens, her hungry kitten lets out a cacophony of plaintive meows. As she finds a bottle to feed “Sonyi”, M^me Mischenko recounts what happened in his hometown just before he left.

“When the war started with the invasion of Russia, Mariupol was shot at by Russians who entered the city. It was very scary. There was aerial bombardment all around the city. The ground was shaking,” she said through an interpreter. M^me Mischenko says his family lived through this siege for two months: they spent nights underground, with little food, cooking over campfires.

“The Russians were laughing at us. We were very upset because we couldn’t help each other. The Russian soldiers were saying that there was no more Kyiv, only western Ukraine remained. I contacted my sister, she says. I was not afraid of them. »

She and her mother eventually managed to leave Mariupol, but her father stayed – he worked with the Russians. “I don’t talk to him anymore,” she blurts out.

Katerina Mischenko, now 18, says she has no reason to return to Mariupol, even if the war were to end. “I just wanted to get out of there. I don’t know what could keep me there, she said.

Help the soldiers at the front

In Irpin, a suburb of Kyiv, the devastation of Russia’s temporary occupation can be seen everywhere. Shaved shopping centers, burnt houses, a devastated building. A sign indicates that the community is intended “for convalescence”. In a parking lot, a small car has no windows, its side riddled with bullets.

Dima Niekazakov is happy that his sister Julia, her husband and children fled the first week of the invasion and now live in Toronto.

“I can see from photos and videos that it’s another world, huge buildings, intense pace of life. They haven’t yet understood how it works,” he said in an interview in his small business in Irpin, which sells coffee and animal feed. “At least there are no rocket attacks [à Toronto] and they have two young children. I think they did well. »

Mr Niekazakov, a 36-year-old graphic designer, has spent the past 15 months donating time and money to charities in the area. He assures that he would not leave, even if he was authorized to do so. At the start of the invasion, most Ukrainian men between the ages of 18 and 60 were banned from leaving the country, in case they were drafted.

“I don’t want to leave anyway: I stayed here during the occupation. We moved people to safe places. It was a great adventure, says Mr. Niekazakov. We gave people generators, water, humanitarian aid, food and clothing. »

He now focuses on helping soldiers of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. He worries about the long-term psychological effects of this war, but he sees an even more pressing issue right now: making sure soldiers have body armor, helmets, and weapons.

“I bought out of my own pocket about five bulletproof vests and two or three helmets, then some food for the soldiers. On some battlefields, it makes a huge difference,” he says. Mr. Niekazakov said that soldiers from poor families do not have the opportunity to get help, and it is common to see fundraisers to buy them protective equipment and even weapons.

“They may die every day, but they are not afraid, and to show them my respect, I want to do more for them. »