Pensioner from Kyiv region Halyna Tyshchenko: Last Russian tank was retreating and shooting everything around

Author: Violetta Kirtoka

Ten years ago, the woman and her family relocated from Kramatorsk, which was under occupation for several months in 2014, to the Kyiv region. They believed there would never be war here... What Halyna endured in her own home in March 2022 is something one could only wish upon the enemy — that the same be done to each of them for the rest of their lives.

Halyna joined the organization SEMA Ukraine, which has been part of the global SEMA NETWORK since 2019. It was founded by Nobel Peace Prize laureate, gynecologist Denis Mukwege. He has dedicated his life to helping women who have survived sexual violence during armed conflicts. The network now includes representatives from 27 countries. SEMA NETWORK provides women from different countries with the opportunity to meet, exchange experiences in seeking psychological support, and fight for their rights, because Ukraine is the only country that, after the full-scale invasion, began supporting these women by granting them official status. This is an important step and a model for others.

Halyna, along with other Ukrainian women who have suffered violence at the hands of Russians, speaks whenever possible at European committees and organizations, sharing accounts of the enemy’s atrocities. This is very difficult for her, but staying silent is even worse. It is crucial that every Ukrainian man and woman humiliated by Russian scum is heard, that every voice is heard worldwide. Because only this way can the evil that came to our land be punished.

"RUSSIAN TANK CREWS LEFT DMYTRIVKA ON MARCH 30 AT 5 P.M. AND AN UNBELIEVABLE SILENCE FELL."

We spoke with Halyna in the very same house her family built near Kyiv, following their own design, making sure there was enough space for everyone, including a small workshop room for the woman, who started embroidery during construction, and a backyard with a greenhouse, flower beds, and a small garden with fruit trees. Everything was cozy and neat. And it was right here, behind the fence of this little house, that in March 2022 a Russian tank unit was stationed…

"Those tank crews saw everything happening in my yard, sitting atop the turrets of their huge machines," Halyna recalls, shuddering. "They didn’t even enter the gate, which they immediately broke the lock off, but just jumped from the tank into the yard… I was constantly afraid of those unexpected visits. You never knew what they would want."

The woman was forbidden to go into the yard. They didn’t even allow her to draw water from the well to make tea or even wipe herself, let alone wash.

- "The Russians entered here after March 5," Halyna recalls. "Fortunately, on that day my son-in-law, daughter, and granddaughter managed to leave… but I stayed behind. There was no electricity. The poles with wires were broken. No light, no heat, the temperature inside the house didn’t rise above five degrees for the entire month. I didn’t take off my hat, jacket, or sweater. I got lice in my hair, which after a month looked like some kind of haystack. I sat in the boiler room, saying prayers. When my legs went numb from the cold, I covered myself with blankets. Mobile connection didn’t work, so for a long time, I didn’t know if my family had survived"…

- Were you sleeping in the boiler room during that time?

- I don’t know where I slept… You could say I didn’t sleep at all. What sleep? Look here, the boiler room, I sat in the corner, and the iron door shook from the shelling. We stuffed the window here with firewood…

- Did you heat the place with firewood?

- To heat with firewood, you need to turn on the pump. But there was no electricity. On the first floor, the radiators are under the floor. Water has to be pumped through them, otherwise the boiler would explode… That’s why I didn’t heat. I cried nonstop. My face swelled from tears. My gray hair grew out terribly. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I looked like an alcoholic. I was unrecognizable. Just a complete disaster… And those tank crews called me "old woman." They stayed here until March 30. Now they celebrate the liberation of Irpin and Bucha on March 29, but they left here on the 30th at five in the evening. And then a terrible battle happened, I saw a black curtain of smoke. There was a final slaughter on the road in Dmytrivka. They now want to build a monument there; from the burned-out convoy, a few vehicles were left and fenced off. 

All those tanks that were hiding here with us lined up, and somehow they brought in four jeeps. They also joined the column. I think those vehicles carried some kind of command… They drove off, and suddenly it became very quiet (whispers)… They were moving, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. Then they left — silence! I went out onto the house terrace and it was like a fairy tale: the sky opened, and a big, big ray of sunlight shone right over the place where we built our house. Right here, above us, the "Mriya" always came in for landing, that was its route. It was an unforgettable sight. Coming out from behind the forest, a huge plane slowly approached to land. I was always happy when I saw it. And what a horror it was for me when Russian planes with red stars on their wings appeared in our sky on February 24, 2022…

So, when the Russians left, I stood there crying and thinking, "God, have they really gone? Will they really not come back?" Then I heard the clatter of tracks. "God!, I was scared. Are they coming back?" And those last vehicles were shooting everything around. Before the column left, the Russians set fire to the house where they had set up their headquarters. It burned terribly. Local guys later told me that one tank, which was last in line, fled along the road and turned its gun toward us. It kept loading and firing, loading and firing… That was the first time I heard a shell casing fly off, "dzen," it was so loud, clearly audible and then "bam." I counted forty-one "bam." Forty-one! They were firing — anywhere. I have a small greenhouse, and it was spared. But the bathtub was pierced. We had to patch the hole later. It was a fragment. I later checked the trajectory, it flew right over the greenhouse.

- But you were standing on the terrace — the shell could’ve hit you too...

- Of course. After the first "bam," I rushed inside, and it began! Everywhere at once, all the houses, all the plots. I fell down by the fireplace and just listened. I thought the roof was going to collapse, the rumbling was terrifying. Later, they found several holes in the roof. I lay there screaming for about fifteen minutes, I guess.

- Was that when your windows fell out?

- Yes, during those 15 minutes while the shelling was happening. Not the time when they lived here for a month and went off shooting somewhere. Back then, everything remained intact while they were in charge here. They went to the houses... looted. They pulled cars from everywhere, hauling green metal boxes with shells that they used to load tanks. They brought water in big plastic containers for themselves. It’s cold to sit and lie on tanks, so they took blankets from people and lay on those blankets. And in the houses where there were probably fireplaces, they heated up and somehow cooked food. Although, they had plenty of rations. We had a shelf here with candies that my daughter Katia made herself, made with meringue. At night, I went to the chicken coop, got some poison, and stuffed it into those candies, thinking I'd "treat" the occupiers. But then I thought, "Well, I’ll treat these ones, but in Vova’s house on the second floor, there are 32 of them, I counted. And in Ihor’s, the one in the red brick house, there are also many, no one knows how many." Just young guys, I didn’t see a single older man. No one over 25. If someone dies from those candies, they will immediately figure out what’s going on and they will kill me… So I threw the poisoned candies away. I think the older men, the commanders, rode in jeeps, lived in distant houses, hid, and didn’t show themselves, so I didn’t see them.

- You said the first person who came in was an adult man.

- He was about forty years old. My family left on March 5, which was a Saturday. On Sunday, explosions, the house was shaking, but no one was there yet. On Monday evening, columns moved from Stoyanka toward us. They didn’t come to me on the first day, nor the second. I was running around, looking through windows. I think they were spreading out, scouting, checking things. Only on the third day did I see through the window, five men were walking, tall guys, and with them an older man.

- You have a big dog in your yard...

- The kennel was open. But everything was exploding around for more than a week, so she stayed behind the garage the whole time and didn’t come out.

- Was he scared?

- Yes. She’s a female dog, and for a year after that, we were afraid of her ourselves. She growled at us, didn’t recognize us. Now, she seems to have recovered. Then the Russians came inside. They asked who was in the house. That’s when they forbade me from going into the yard. I never saw that older man again. Only the young tank crews stayed.

- And our forces didn’t spot them during the entire month of occupation?

- No, because our troops didn’t fire on them. It turns out no one was here in the whole corner except me. And there was no connection at all. I hid my phone in the firewood under the yard’s canopy. But what’s the point of using it? Taking photos? Later, an investigator from the prosecutor’s office told me: "You could have photographed someone." I said, "You’re so brave… All my windows were covered with blinds." Then he "advised" that I could have slipped the phone between the blinds… I replied, "Are they stupid? They sat on their tanks with their machine guns; some came, others left… They constantly watched me."

"WHEN I HEARD OUR UKRAINIAN LANGUAGE, I WENT TO THE PEOPLE. I CRIED AND ASKED FOR MEDICAL HELP. BUT THEY ONLY SHOWED ME ON TV - NO HELP WAS PROVIDED."

- "After those 15 minutes of shelling, did everything go quiet?" — I steer our conversation back to the Russians’ departure.

- Yes, those were the last terrible events. On the third morning after they left, an eerie silence fell. I probably would have heard even a fly flying outside. And it warmed up so much! 

These photos were taken on April 5 from a vehicle passing between burned-out tanks in Dmytrivka. Through the hatches, parts of dead, charred Russian bodies were still visible. Photos by Yuliia Datsenko

I went out into the yard to look for my dog and called her. Then I saw a drone above me, flying high, small and black. I got scared and ran back inside. Probably our guys were checking what was left here, if anyone remained… The next day, I heard some voices outside. I ran upstairs to the bedroom. I saw many soldiers had come in. One big man in a bulletproof vest with "Press" written on it. With him was a civilian woman. I stepped out and peeked from under the canopy. I thought: "Russians?" I couldn’t hear what language they spoke or what about. They were looking at the burned house, smoke was still rising above it. I stood there for probably an hour, listening. I wondered whether to go or not. What if the Russians came back? Then I’d be done for. But I really needed a doctor. I shouted across the whole house when I went to pee…

I listened and listened, and finally slowly went closer. As I got near, I heard Ukrainian being spoken. I couldn’t even say anything — I was shaking all over. Plus, I’d had a fever for so many days…

I approached them. The soldiers immediately asked, "Who did they kill here?" I said, "I don’t know. I didn’t leave my house at all." I was crying and pleading, "I need a female doctor, a gynecologist." But they kept asking, "In which houses were they?" I told them what I had seen: how many men were at neighbor Vova’s place, how they dragged the loot on carts… "You see," I said, "the marks where the tanks stood, where they kept them." They replied, "Alright, go home, we’ll contact you later." I said, "But there’s no connection." They asked for my name, surname, and age.

It turns out they were filming me the whole time I was speaking. Later, they showed it on a telemarathon. They blurred my face, but they never asked for my permission or told me anything… Do you think I’d want to be shown like that — ugly, dirty, in an unstable state, with a fever, after torture and rape? That’s why I hardly talk to journalists, especially ours. They aired it on TV but didn’t help…

On April 10, I got a call from someone claiming to be from the SSU. Two guys came to pick me up in a very old green Mercedes — where they dug that up, I don’t know. Sitting in the back, I was even holding spare wheels in my hands. Probably there were wheels in the trunk too; they couldn’t fit everything inside. So they drove me around all day with those wheels — to the investigator, for questioning… I was examined and photographed by gynecologists. I had a fever, tears, and then the bleeding got worse…

During the examination, they told me, "Take off your clothes." Two men were standing there, and behind the chair was a frightened female doctor… I thought she would be the one examining me. The room was cold, and everyone was dressed. One man said, "I’ll examine you myself, without a mirror." I had already taken off my underwear and was trying to lie down on the chair, but it hurt so much… He said, "Well, there’s no need for a mirror here…" He used some medical terms. It was so painful that tears ran down my face. The second man was photographing everything up close. Then they left.

- Did they finally provide you with any help then? You had tears and bleeding and no one helped you?!

-  No. They barely spoke to me. So, when we ended up in the hospital and a forensic examiner checked me, I asked, "Can I speak with a gynecologist? They’ll take me home, but I won’t be able to get to a doctor on my own from there. What should I do? I have a fever and tears in my perineum. Maybe the doctor could recommend some medication." They allowed me.

- Excuse me, but could you explain why you had those tears?

- The tank crew member who raped me had dirty hands… You know, covered in fuel oil. He shoved his hands deep inside. He held a rifle in one hand, and with the other, grabbed my leg… I resisted, I didn’t just lie down and let him do whatever he wanted.

The couch in the room was unfolded and covered with a blanket. And I was completely naked. I pressed myself against the wall, and he grabbed my leg, pulling me back and forth… Then he pointed his rifle at me, shouting, "Shut your mouth or I’ll kill you! Shut your mouth or I’ll kill you!" I begged him, pleading, I was having a seizure, my whole body was convulsing… When my blood pressure rises, this happens. Once an ambulance came, and they couldn’t even give me an injection; they had to hold my arms because I was shaking so badly. That was the final part of the rape. Before that, he dragged me naked outside, walked me around the house, stabbing his rifle into my body. I cried, begged him not to do it, I spoke to him in Russian: "Don’t do this! You’re old enough to be my grandson." But he shouted at me, "Shut up!" He wore a helmet and a St. George’s ribbon… It was freezing outside. Those tank crews wore many sweaters. Before they left, they bathed, I saw how much clothing they had on because they stripped down to their waists. And he wore that black sweater… They asked me how tall he was. With the helmet on, he was about my height. We stood side by side, I barefoot and naked, he in a greatcoat with a belt, grenades and magazines on the belt. Then he took off the belt and put the rifle aside…

And about the tears... He shoved the rifle barrel into me... I was screaming, not from pain; by then, I couldn't feel any pain. Just some dizzying spasms, and I thought: "That's it, he's going to kill me now, these are my final seconds, he’ll shoot inside me now, and it’ll be over..." But he put the rifle aside, grabbed my leg again, pulled me toward him, and started... He didn't fully undress; he just took off the belt, unbuttoned, and lowered his pants. During questioning, they asked me if I noticed any tattoos, any distinguishing marks... But he was fully dressed, only his hands were black, covered in oil, and black grime under his nails, that’s all I remember. And he was smiling the entire time, clearly enjoying it... His eyebrows were black, dark. His eyes weren't Buryat, I didn't see any narrow-eyed soldiers here. There was only one among them who visited and constantly boasted about something, always saying: "Me, me!"

- You mentioned you still have biological evidence from the rapist…

- When he left, I didn’t even have water to wash myself. I tried wiping with some wipes, rags, a towel. Then I remembered he’d shaken his semen onto the blanket, so I crumpled that blanket and threw it on the bathroom floor.

When Nataliia Boretska, an SSU investigator, questioned me, I told her about it. "That’s good; it’ll be evidence. When they take you home, can you give it to us? Did you wash it?" I said, "What are you talking about? Are you joking? No power, nothing. I just remembered it now and thought: when I get home, I’ll burn it, I have a metal box for burning things in the yard." She said, "No, no, you have to give it to us." At home, I put the blanket in a box. The guys who brought me told me to wrap it with stretch film. I wrapped it, and they took it. Andriy, my lawyer, said during our second interrogation over a year later, "I checked it, they did the forensic exam, everything was there, they extracted DNA." They even estimated his approximate age from the data, truly a young man.

- And you wouldn’t recognize him?

- No. Only his eyes were visible between the helmet and the high collar of his sweater. Besides, they all looked the same to me. All young, all Slavic appearance…

When we were on our way to the Prosecutor’s Office in Pechersk, a woman named Olena Suslova, about my age, joined us. Later, she introduced herself as a representative of a women’s public organization. She probably had clearance to attend interrogations. At first, forensic examiners questioned me, then at the Prosecutor’s Office, where Suslova was present. She gave me her business card, which I put into a pouch containing all my documents, I had just completed all medical exams at Oxford Medical right before the full-scale invasion. I had undergone all ultrasounds and tests. My family and I did this checkup every two years. I was healthy, including gynecological, everything was perfect. And I brought those documents with me…

"WE NEED TO TAKE YOU TO A SHOW, TO TELEVISION." — "ARE YOU CRAZY? GRIEF, DEATH, OCCUPATION… WHAT SHOW???"

From April to November, Halyna stayed home alone. Her son-in-law, after taking his wife and daughter to the border, returned and worked at a factory in Kyiv. Only in September was he able to come home and bring food to his mother-in-law. "But so much that it should last for a year," the woman says. That’s why she didn’t even leave the yard, she had everything she needed.

- How did you survive those six months, alone with yourself and what happened?

- It was like I was frozen.  I didn’t think about anything at all. I had no one to talk to, didn’t watch anything, only kept an eye on the phone to make sure there was connection, that it was charged, so I could call my family. I treated myself. Neighbors took me to Irpin’s Dobrobut clinic, I asked, and they took me

And one more thing… A woman from the UN came. I think her name was Oleksandra. She said, "I know you’re a victim. May I ask you some questions?" I talked with her. Then twice more, closer to the end of summer, they came and knocked on the fence. I looked and saw them talking with the neighbor. I opened the gate, and he said, "Halyna, the journalists want to ask you something." Then I heard them say, "We need you for a show, for television." I said, "You’ve got it all wrong. What show? Grief, death, occupation — what show?" They tried to convince me, "There’s nothing terrible… What’s the big deal?" They came twice. After that, I didn’t want to hear or see anyone.

And at the end of November, I received a call from Olena Suslova: "Good afternoon! Halyna, why don't you call me?" I asked: "Who are you?" The number was not written down in my phone. She: "I gave you my business card, I was present at the interrogation with Nataliia Boretska". I began to remember: yes, there was a woman. I said: "You know, I don't remember you". - "Well, I've been waiting for your call, but you haven't called. So I decided to call you myself." She kept in touch with Boretska and asked about me several times.

On December 16, Suslova invited me to a meeting with other women who had experienced violence. There, I met the head of the organization SEMA Ukraine, Iryna Dovhan (Censor.NET has reported about this woman from Yasynuvata, Donetsk region, several times), and Olena Lazareva, a doctor from Donetsk who was also a victim. She and her husband were held in torture chambers. At first, everyone introduced themselves and shared their stories. I gave my full name and age and said that my husband had died in 2013. Each of us described how we had suffered. That was the first time I tried to say something about myself. But a lump caught in my throat, tears poured down... I felt uncomfortable, ashamed, I cried out, "Sorry, I can’t…" And they told me, "You don’t have to if you can’t."

- And during the interrogation, you told them…

-  At the interrogation, I was like a corpse.

- Didn't you feel anything?

- I don't remember what I said then. I answered whatever they asked me.

- What happened to your husband?

- He worked as a refractory bricklayer at a metallurgical plant, laying small bricks in the furnace vaults after each melt. But there was an accident, the vault collapsed, injuring his back. The accident was covered up, as is usual in large enterprises. He had surgery at the neurosurgery department in Donetsk. It seemed to help a bit, but later he still barely dragged his legs. By then, we were living in an apartment in Kramatorsk. I worked at the market, rushing home after work, then to pick up my grandson from kindergarten or school. Sometimes I’d come back and find him lying in the apartment vestibule. His legs had given out, and he couldn’t get inside the apartment… Neighbors would help lift him, bring him inside, and lay him on the couch. It happened more than once. I worked at the market, but my heart ached: How is he doing there? Things got worse, and then he finally became bedridden.

We lived on the ninth floor. I saw my husband was getting worse. I called an ambulance. The team said, "He’s so big, we can’t lift him on soft stretchers. Call the neighbors." I went to one apartment, then another, no one was home. So I helped. The elevator was small; he wouldn’t fit, so we carried him down from the ninth floor. When we arrived at the hospital, he was alive but already didn’t understand anything. They admitted him, took him upstairs, and started IV drips. The doctor came and wrote down the medications I needed. While I ran downstairs to the pharmacy, I came back, and the nurses said, "It’s over…" It was June 14, 2013, a weekend. My Katia was a bridesmaid at her friend’s wedding. They went to Sviatohirsk for photos, and I called her, "Dad died…" She cried. I told her she could stay and enjoy the wedding, but she took a taxi and came home…

…In January 2022, Iryna Dovhan invited me to the Carpathians. I agreed to go. There were many women there… SEMA Ukraine was just in the process of registering as a public organization. We were drafting the organization’s charter. It was there that I slowly began to open up about myself, though I still couldn’t share all the details. At some point, my breath would catch, tears would flow involuntarily, and I couldn’t control it. But Iryna started taking me to various events. And I’m very grateful to her for that: the more I speak, the more consciously I tell my story each time.

- And did being among women who had also suffered help you?

- First and foremost, I felt ashamed that something like this happened to me at my age… I had faced other traumas in life more lightly. I thought, thank God I’m still alive. My husband is gone, I don’t have a sex life. Everything else somehow healed, God be with it. But I’m alive. I could only start to speak a little among women like me. Then I thought: I have to speak out. There’s a war going on, terrible things happening… When I learned what happened in Bucha… Here, not far away, only God saved us. I survived by some kind of miracle. I realized it was truly a great miracle… And that’s why I started talking about it more and more.

- Did the words about the need for the world to know the truth motivate you? The Moskals say it’s all fake... Does that hurt you? Like, "What fake? Am I some kind of fake?"

- At some point, I told the women, "Forgive me if I cry, but I’ll try to speak out. Don’t stop me, I’ll talk, even through tears, for those who can no longer say anything…" When I saw those infamous footage from Bucha on TV… God, what went on there!.. That woman’s hand with the pink manicure, someone’s hand with a bracelet…

"I LISTENED TO ZELENSKYY EVERY DAY: ‘SPRING WILL COME, WE’LL GRILL SHASHLYK’… AND HE LEFT ME HERE FOR SHASHLYK."

- Did it make you feel at least a little bit better that you started talking, that you stopped keeping it all inside?

- It doesn’t get any easier. Everything that happened weighs like a stone inside me all the time. And the constant shelling of cities, the killing of children, adults, the elderly, it only pushes me harder to shout. Just shout. I tell myself, "Halyna, find the strength, because you have to scream it out to the whole world."

- How does your family feel about this? I understand that sooner or later, they found out about everything...

- When my daughter and granddaughter were preparing to leave Germany and come home, we agreed, "Let’s not talk about this." But Katia, my daughter, said, "Mom, I won’t ask you anything." And that was it, no more conversations between us. I’m so grateful to God that my girls survived. So many people trying to escape the villages around Kyiv were shot… And for a long time, I didn’t know if mine made it out or not… They were the last to leave, the very last! Along with them, our neighbor Vitalik left with his family, his children, and some others Vitalik was friends with. The occupiers set up their headquarters right in Vitalik’s house and then burned it down as they left…

- Your house doesn’t have a basement? You had experience, knew what shelling was like, and built the house from scratch. Why didn’t you make a shelter?

- I don’t know, I never really thought about it and somehow didn’t suggest it to the kids… First of all, it’s very expensive. We initially wanted to build a cellar under the garage. But that didn’t work out either. Some of our acquaintances thought my son-in-law made big money in Kramatorsk. But after 2014, there was nothing to earn, people left, many shops closed.

- They were involved in bread and confectionery production, if I understand correctly.

- Yes. The kids had a large, good-sized bakery workshop where they made baked goods distributed across Donetsk region and surrounding villages. It wasn’t just kilograms, it was tons. But with each passing month, things got worse and worse; there were almost no places left to sell everything. Maksym consulted with his friends and said, "Katia, it’s time to wrap things up. We’ll finish the house, walls, roof — and move near Kyiv." In May 2015, we bought this plot of land and completed the paperwork. There was only a sauna and a small room where we lived with my granddaughter while construction was ongoing. There was also a well. We kept building until 2022. Every penny went to materials and paying workers. Anyone who’s built knows how hard it is. When the building shell was ready, my daughter moved in. Maksym and his friend Sasha planned another project in Kramatorsk. But… Maksym came for a day, probably about a week before the full-scale invasion. He said, "Listen, they say the war might start here too." We said, "Come on, Max, what are you talking about…"

- Had you already moved into the house? Was everything finished there?

- Yes. Well, some wallpaper wasn’t hung yet, and a few things were still being finished. Maksym started the conversation: "If I’m there and the war breaks out, where will we meet? Let’s agree on at least some city." And I told them, "Don’t be ridiculous. Max, come on! Kyiv is nearby — what war? What Russians could be here?" We understood they were only there, in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions.

-  And what about the troops stationed along the border? Didn’t you pay attention to those news?

-  Every day, I listened to Zelenskyy: "Everything will be okay! Don’t listen to anyone. Spring will come, May will come, we’ll grill shashlyk…" And that’s how he left me here for shashlyk…

My son-in-law left. Two or three days passed, I don’t remember exactly. On the night of the 24th, Katia, my granddaughter, and I woke up to a huge explosion… So loud! I didn’t understand what was happening… My nephew, my cousin’s son, had lived in New York for ten years. We talked almost every day through messenger. Sometimes I had trouble sleeping at night, so it was convenient considering the time difference. He’d say, "Aunt Halyna, do you want to travel with me?" We "walked" all over New York together; he showed me everything. He kept inviting Katya: "Katia, come to America, open a café, and make money — easy." And she’d say, "Dima, what are you talking about? Where’s America!" Then he called me just before 4:30 a.m., right after that first explosion: "Aunt Halyna, it’s war!" I said, "Dima, wait, some plane is flying!" I ran out through the boiler room into the yard, flying low and so slow. A small military plane with a red star on the side. It flew by — then boom-boom, everything around started exploding… We ran around the house, crying, not understanding anything.

- Did you have anything packed? A go-bag?

- Absolutely nothing! My son-in-law called: "Katia, Katia, stay home, I’ll find a way to get to you." When he arrived, the closest metro station to us was still Beresteiska in Kyiv. No buses were running. He hitched a ride to Irpin and then came here through the forest.

At that time, we still hadn’t seen any Russians. Mobile connection was working, and then suddenly, nothing. No signal on anyone’s phone. The men were running around, talking among themselves. My family stayed put until the last moment, not knowing where to go. Vitalik, our neighbor, suggested going west in Ukraine. In some town, he or his wife had a cousin who was already volunteering by then. So my family stayed with them for a week. They helped cook food, huge pots, containers. Katia said they stood by the stove 24 hours a day, didn’t even want to sleep. They fried cutlets, chopped meat, did everything for our guys and sent supplies to the front. But the number of people grew, and my family was told, "You have to move on." They reached the border, the women went to Europe, and the men returned to Kyiv.

"OUR FAMILY IN KRAMATORSK IN 2014 WAS NOT WAITING FOR THE 'RUSSIAN WORLD'"

- When tanks were stationed around your house, did you ever think, "Why did we move here from Kramatorsk?" Did you ever regret it?

- I never felt regret like that… On the contrary, it felt like the world had turned upside down, and I kept wondering, "What’s next?" It never even crossed my mind that Ukraine might come to an end. Everyone sees what’s happening! The war started in the East, everyone saw it, but the world stayed silent. But surely some great people on this planet must respond to such an invasion! That’s what I thought.

- How did you decide to move from Kramatorsk to near Kyiv? You mentioned that in 2014, there were Russians in Kramatorsk too, not just the "militias."

- I personally saw with my own eyes how they took over the city police department, which is right next to the market where I sold goods, I sold men’s and women’s underwear, good quality. I started with cheap stuff but gradually moved to better, more expensive assortments. I was walking home past the police station. I came around the corner, wasn’t in a hurry, but for some reason stopped. I didn’t understand what was happening: a crowd of young men was standing there, all wearing tracksuits. That always made me uneasy. There were so many of them, and each had a St. George’s ribbon attached. People began to approach, noise started. Across the street was School No. 15, where Maksym studied, there were people there too. Then, from Mayakovskyi Street on the other side of the police station, a bus pulled up, and people in camouflage jumped out with rifles and started running.

- Was this in March 2014?

- Yes, yes. It was March or April, already getting warmer. More and more people were coming. That’s when we first heard the phrase "beyond the Russian-Ukrainian border." By then, the Russians were already in Sloviansk; they had entered the day before, young people from my market saw them driving tanks. People were saying, "Why the Russian flag? What’s the point of the Russian flag?" That’s how it happened: yesterday Sloviansk was occupied, and today, it turns out, it’s us. The guys in camouflage shouted, "Beyond the Russian-Ukrainian border! Beyond the Russian-Ukrainian border!" and fired at the police station, but the windows didn’t break.

- Were they shooting blanks?

- Probably, I think so. Some went inside, others stayed near the police station. That’s how they took the city. At the same time, as we were told, something similar happened at the city administration, a bus pulled up there too. At that time, we didn’t understand anything at all…

- But you didn’t expect the "Russian world"?

- No, no, our family definitely didn’t expect it. We never thought there would be a war.

- By the way, did Maidan in Kyiv annoy you? What did you think about it back then, how was it discussed at the market?

- At the market, people said, "What are they planning there? Doesn’t the government have the means to stop it? They should’ve just thrown some smoke grenades, poisoned them all to hell. That would’ve been it, quiet as a mouse." That’s how it was. Across from me, a young family sold household chemicals, they were ten years younger than me. We were of one mind, pro-Ukrainian. But other women, two or three years younger, were happy: "Soon we’ll be in Russia, soon retirement, and the pensions will be amazing!" They were ready to sell their homeland for those pensions. And many eventually did… At those words, the young couple and I just exchanged looks…

- Didn't you want a good pension?

- Not a Russian one! But everything happened very quickly. When they took the city, the occupiers flooded in everywhere, they spread out all over the city, to the markets. Everyone had rifles, and St. George’s ribbons tied everywhere. They took whatever they wanted, grabbed things, nobody paid — and our women were like, "Yes, yes, take it, take it!" (says ingratiatingly). One of them came up to me and grabbed a pack of men’s underwear. I sat silently but thought, "May your balls wither! May everything fall off you forever!"

- At that time, Ukrainian troops were still surrounded at the Kramatorsk airfield…

- Nobody knew the exact situation at the airport, but rumors spread among people: there aren’t many left there, the Russian troops will crush them soon. No one said "troops," just "Russians." And all this shit would end, everything would be peaceful, everything would be fine.

- Was it during that time you decided you needed to leave Donetsk?

- As soon as we were de-occupied, my son-in-law was the first to bring it up: "Maybe we should go somewhere?" I said, "Max, I’ve worked here all my life…" I bought Katia an apartment in the city center. I never even thought about leaving. I said, "What? Just leave everything behind?!" But by then, the market had completely stopped — nothing was selling. Each day things got worse and worse; the war was getting closer. And I finally agreed: "Alright, let’s go." But where? Besides Donetsk region, we had no one anywhere else. Relatives were in Kostiantynivka and Kramatorsk, nowhere else.

We started counting money. We knew we wouldn’t be able to sell my apartment or Katya’s — the market was dead. We decided to leave and see what’s what. I said, "Max, let’s go near Kyiv, we’ve never been there, let’s see what the prices are."

- Had you ever been to Kyiv before?

- Never. Max got in touch with his compadre, who he once worked with, and who has a house in Motyzhyn. He had bought a plot about 40 kilometers from Kyiv and built a house there. He said, "Yes, Max, come over, there’s plenty of land for sale here." So we spent whole days driving around the villages. We wanted to live in Motyzhyn too, looked at all the plots, but it was too expensive; we couldn’t afford it. So we kept searching, and my son-in-law constantly monitored listings online. We were about to head back home the next day when he saw a plot for sale in Dmytrivka. He said, "I remember we drove past there." We contacted the owner, came to see it, Max even bargained a bit, and we put down a deposit. The owner took us to a notary he knew in Kyiv, and we completed the paperwork. We quickly sold our apartments in Kramatorsk, at least for something, and paid for the land.

The kids rented a small one-room apartment in the old town, close to the workshop, just a place to sleep; sometimes they even stayed overnight at work. I sold my spot at the market too. There was a woman after me, she was my age, she and her husband sold radio equipment. I called her over and said, "Yuliia, take everything from me, even for a thousand hryvnias, so I don’t just give it away. I invested a thousand dollars in this kiosk when I was setting up. I still have underwear left, I’ll sell it at cost price. Good quality underwear." She said, "I see you always had lines of customers; everyone praised you. I bought from you myself. Well… I’ll take the risk." So she and her husband took everything. Later, acquaintances told me, "Yuliia walks around so happy, praising you all the time. Your clients are going to her now." I gave her all my notes and experience.

After the de-occupation of Kyiv region, Halyna found a pursuit that helps her stop endlessly reliving those terrible days of March 2022. She started sewing and embroidering, creating clothing and accessories. People buy her vests and shirts, and she receives orders for dresses and bags.

- I saved up for a long time to buy my first sewing machine because I had given everything I had to my children for the house and land. It was during the construction here near Kyiv that I began hand embroidery. I searched for patterns online and came across information about embroidery machines. I watched many videos on the topic and found sellers. I was $200 short of the one I wanted — I asked my children to gift it to me, and I finally bought it. I taught myself how to use it through the Internet, on my own. And how much I love it! I invent things, combine patterns.

Halyna shows me a hand-embroidered cross-stitch picture, a deer in the forest. The framed piece hangs in the central room, above the fireplace.

- During the occupation, I finished stitching it by the window, the woman says. Only a small part was left. Sometimes I’d pick it up and sew a few stitches. It helped calm my fear a little. Because the rest of the time, I walked around the house holding an icon in my hands and saying prayers. Sometimes I didn’t pray quietly, I shouted them out loud…

- You try to speak Ukrainian, and you're doing well. When did you start?

-  It’s bad that sometimes I still speak Russian, but I try to use it less and less… When I speak at various conferences and meetings, if I get nervous, Russian words slip out automatically. But I try to fight them. I just need to speak more slowly, then it works better. I write correctly because my granddaughter went to school, and I studied with her. We wrote essays and other assignments together, and I corrected her work. Sometimes my daughter scolds me: "I see it’s hard for you to attend conferences and organization meetings — why do you do this? You have high blood pressure. Tell those women you can’t." She feels sorry for me. But I answer: "Katia, I can’t — but I want to, you understand? There are words like can’t, but want. I want the world to hear everything the Russians did to ordinary people, how they tormented them. And I will shout about it as long as I have strength."

…At the beginning of June this year, Halyna Tyshchenko and Iryna Dovhan set off on a six-day journey aboard the world cruise ship Pacific World. On this "Boat of Peace," there were nearly two thousand people from Japan, South Korea, and China. "For us, women with traumatic war experiences, with families near Kyiv who still endure shelling every night, it was necessary to quickly realize that the world around us is saturated with pacifism," wrote the head of SEMA Ukraine, Iryna Dovhan, on her Facebook page. "Our task is to break through this wall with at least a small breach, through which these peaceful people can see the dark reality of war. To explain to them that we have only two options: either fight or die. And we chose war, the very war they so strongly oppose here. We have no inflated expectations. We are simply doing our job, to the fullest."

Violetta Kirtoka, Censor. NET