Voices of occupation. Melitopol

On February 24, residents of Melitopol woke up to the sounds of missile explosions. On the same day, the Russians entered the city. The local authorities worked for a few more weeks, but later the mayor Ivan Fedorov was kidnapped. After that, mass abductions began in the city. Fedorov was exchanged, but Melitopol remained under occupation. "Svidomi" recorded the stories of local residents about life after February 24 in one of the largest cities of the Zaporizhzhia region.

The following is a direct speech, the people's names have been changed for security reasons.

We did not believe the war would start. I had an ordinary working day and worked as a singing teacher. When the children heard the explosions, they began to text altogether: "Will we have lessons? Are we going to continue studying?" I was gripped by fear. When there were explosions in the following days, I just cried. I thought I was about to die. Something was about to happen.

I lived in a corner apartment on the 5th floor, so I feared the missiles might hit there. We went down to the basement, and it was so dark there that the eye couldn't adapt to it at all, it was complete darkness. It is a terrible feeling, especially when you are sitting there and do not understand what is happening around you. One day, a tank was blown up right next to us. The explosion was so strong that it became hard for me to breathe.

My mother is a pharmacist, and we helped her all the time because there was a high flow of people. Also, the pharmacy could be robbed at any moment. People just broke the windows and took the medicines because everyone was intimidated that they would no longer be able to buy medicines. Especially those people who are dependent on life-saving drugs were intimidated. I remember how people waited in line for days, and young mothers called and begged to find baby food for their premature babies. I remember how my grandmother stood in line from 5 am and did not have time to buy medicines because, at 17:00, they announced a curfew. Then my father drew numbers on the hands of the people in the line so that they would be the first the next day.  

At my work, in the Palace of Arts, we were on duty in shifts because the Russians settled in the next bigger building, and it was necessary to monitor so that they might not steal anything. We were in the smaller one. 

In the evening, there was no transport, it was possible to get home only on foot, and the streets were deserted. It was like the apocalypse. No one even looks out of the windows. And here you are walking, somewhere in the distance, you hear an explosion, but no one will help you because there is no soul on the street. 

Many people have disappeared. 100% something happened to activists. I have friends whose fate I still know nothing about. My friend's father is a former Ministry of Internal Affairs employee. He had a stroke, so he got a disability. Russians forced him to work for them. He said: "Guys, even if I wanted to work for you, I can't physically do it". In response, they intimidated him: "If you want to see your daughter alive, you have to". 

We had to leave through Russia because we were not allowed to enter Ukraine then. Russians checked us at checkpoints every 10 minutes. Each time they asked men to undress completely. A guy with a tattoo was travelling with us, so the Russians looked at each of them and asked what it meant. It was challenging to dare because we feared there might be some criminal liability in Ukraine for leaving through Russia. But there was no other way out. There is no life in Melitopol.  

But I am sure that justice will prevail. I am sure that life in Melitopol will be restored. I miss my home very much.

On February 24, the first explosions were heard in the city. I was in the hospital then, but they sent everyone home. There was panic in the town: ATMs no longer worked, no fuel, and all the food was quickly sold out. People were hastily preparing "emergency cases", making water supplies and arranging shelters. In the evening, Russian tanks were approaching the city. 

Even at the beginning of the full-scale invasion, local authorities and citizens organised themselves and patrolled as vigilantes to prevent looting. When the mayor was kidnapped and the temporary occupation "authorities" seized the administrative buildings, they were beaten. After that, people quietly began to disappear — they were abducted. 

There is a massive flagpole with the Ukrainian flag in Melitopol. When the Russians lowered the flag, we cried. It was just when Ivan Fedorov (the mayor of Melitopol - ed.) was kidnapped. Then the awareness came that the city was under occupation. It was a kind of point of no return. It was as if the family was orphaned, and it was unclear what would happen next. There was an oppressive silence. We were told that we would rather hear explosions because we would know that we were not forgotten and would be saved.

If earlier the mayor, city authorities, and public utilities still somehow held on and organised humanitarian aid headquarters, after that, everything was stolen. Then part of it was presented as "help" from Russia, and the Russians took some of it for themselves.

On the first day, they "raked" everything from ATMs, and then there was no money in the city for about a month. Those who did not have time to withdraw cash had nowhere to get it. People exchanged everything they had because the products in stores were sold out immediately, and no new ones were brought to the city. Twists that were closed in previous years came in handy - during the occupation, they ate everything. 

Later, banks began to give out cash that remained in the branches. We had to stand in line in the morning, write in a notebook - our serial number was more than 6 thousand - we came every day and only in a week or two could get 1-2 thousand hryvnias. The city would use two currencies no matter how hard the Russians tried to introduce rubles. Most stores have price tags in both rubles and hryvnias.

You could buy a pack of pads for a thousand hryvnias and adult diapers — for a thousand and a half. When the Russian occupation "authorities" were established, the prices quadrupled. Russians brought their medicines through Crimea, but the medicines did not work - people bought and took them, but they did not help. I don't know how, but volunteers still bring humanitarian aid to the city.

Until June, Ukrainian telecommunications kept breaking through. It was silenced, sometimes for almost a month. And then, the military cut the wires, destroyed the towers, and the connection disappeared utterly. Only the Russian one remained.

We had everyone: Buryats, Dagestanis, Russians, and the so-called "L/DPR". Apparently, at first, they were ordered not to touch anything but to hold the city, but then they felt their impunity. We left because what is called "lawlessness" broke out. The military from the so-called "L/DPR" began to flow to Melitopol en masse - they were immediately visible because they behaved like a "mob": they threatened, looted and kidnapped people.

The last straw was when they poked my 11-year-old child in the back with a machine gun. We were at the market, and their soldier came to buy water with a loaded weapon. There was a stampede, someone pushed someone, and the machine gun was near my child.

I am a Ukrainian language teacher, and everyone knew I was waiting for Ukraine. When the news about Bucha and Irpin came out, there were talks that Melitopol could be de-occupied. We were afraid not of the hostilities in the city but that our neighbours, whom we had known all our lives, could "betray" us. 

You can leave Melitopol through the temporarily occupied Crimea or with minibuses or people in their cars. We raised funds for several months and went with trusted carriers through the checkpoint in Vasylivka. We paid $200 each. We were held at the checkpoint for two days. 

War, as never before, tests people. We have many local heroes who risked their lives to take people out to organise help. And when someone says there is no one pro-Ukrainian left there - it is not true. There are people for whom it is worth liberating the city and preserving this territory because those waiting for Ukraine live there.

A message from a person still under occupation

Today, the days are the same. Almost nothing happens. Life under occupation is like between heaven and earth. I can't tell you everything, but there are some episodes that I want to share. Their flags of the colour of Aquafresh and banners "Rossiya is here forever" on every pole are sickening to look at. They throw out our cherries from the festive illumination of the city and insert their "stars". 

Dump trucks carry crushed stone, wooden pallets, and concrete slabs to the Zaporizhzhia direction - not for the offensive, but for defence. In the spring, their vehicles were with flags; now, there are none. The railway station is full of grain wagons. There are many strangers in the city: green spotted uniforms, poorly dressed, confused or frightened.

The mood and conversations of the locals are different: "It's so good - I get two pensions, I don't pay utility bills yet. As long as our people do not come to liberate us, as long as they do not shoot". Near the bread bakery kiosk, I heard a conversation: the seller could not give the change in rubles because she had no small bills. The woman refused to take 5 hryvnias because "what am I going to do with them? They will soon be abolished". To which the seller replies: "How quickly everyone became Russians".

Our houses and apartments are warm, and there is almost always light and water. Many people have several mobile phones: one for a Russian SIM card, another for reading news and communicating with relatives. Everyone is focused and collected; no one starts conversations with strangers — they are afraid. Russian channels show stories of our "happy life after release". Before, I could not even imagine the level of lies and hatred of propagandists. I also could not imagine the level of zombification of their population.

But every "today" ends, we are getting closer to liberation, to victory! We are waiting! We will withstand everything!