Two weeks ago Ukrainians’ phones were filled with the exuberant texts and photos of happy daily life — fresh snow fallen on a daily jog route, the blaring melody and flashing lights of a concert hall, a selfie of a new hair style snapped en route to meeting friends for a hot drink.
Then, on Feb. 24, it all changed as Russia launched an invasion on the country.
The daily jog route was destroyed by shelling. The blare of sirens replaced that of live music. And selfies taken in joy became ones taken in fear. For many living in the country of nearly 44 million people, life transformed overnight, and their phones became surreal artifacts of this sudden shift.
Four Ukrainians living in Odesa, Kyiv and Kharkiv — the three biggest cities in their war-battered nation — shared their experiences with The Washington Post. Through text messages, photos, videos and interviews, they tell how swiftly their normal lives were upended, how fresh the trauma feels and how torn they are over whether to leave their homes.
Kharkiv
Volodymyr Hashenko • Digital animator • 36
From the first day, it’s seemed like a bad dream. A day before the war, I was running in a nearby Kharkiv park. Everything was quiet and covered in snow. But now the sounds of fighter jets approach and you just hope they won’t bomb over your head.
I live in the center of the city with my wife, her mother and our two cats. One morning we were awakened by a very loud blow. We saw later that the central square about two kilometers away from us was destroyed — a place we’d visited countless times, the heart of our city. And throughout the whole day, things started to get more intense.
We moved from our apartment building to a big house in the city’s center where we’re staying with friends of ours and their families. Tall buildings don’t seem safe anymore. If there are no carpet bombings, we may have a chance at survival.
Leaving is really a last resort for us. Our cats are 12 years old, we don’t have a car and my parents — who also live in Kharkiv — are just not really willing to go. Besides, it seems that Russia won’t stop in eastern Ukraine, so it’s not like it would be safe in the west.
Odesa
Anastasia Varvarina • Artist • 38
The sea is really important to me. It is my strength and it is my friend. Since I was a child, I told it all of my secrets. And now when I look at it, I am afraid I’ll see Russian warships and missiles.
I woke up at 5 a.m. on Feb. 24 to the sound of explosions. I thought: “Okay, maybe something happened.” But you never think it’s going to be war. I called my friend and started crying. I think I’m still in shock. I live in the same apartment complex with my parents. They are in denial, but they also want to stay and help. Now we only get a few hours of sleep a night.
I made a hiding place for myself within my apartment. It is near my front door, it has several walls and it doesn't have any widows. With every new siren, I adjust the setup to make it more cozy.
I like to cook. And I’ve been a professional food photographer for a couple of years. But now I’m too stressed to eat.
It’s strange being angry. As an artist, I never knew I could hate so much. But this is my sea, this is my prairie. This is my steppe. Those are my trees. This is my land. You can’t take it.
Kyiv
Olha Pariieva • English teacher • 32
This is not my first time experiencing war. I’m from Luhansk, which was taken by pro-Russian separatists in 2014. My parents and I have been in Kyiv ever since. But this experience is different. In 2014, we weren’t ready. Now, everyone understands that the Ukrainian army is something you can’t mess with.
To be honest I’m not afraid, I’m furious. I’m staying here because I have no dependents and I can be helpful here. I volunteer where I can, helping deliver supplies and aiding local hospitals.
Last week, I was at a concert seeing the band Kryhitka at one of Kyiv’s central concert halls. Now the only thing I watch is the news.
Pariieva’s life had been filled with music and friends. Now the sounds of a concert she attended just before the war have been replaced with the sounds of sirens in her city of Kyiv. (Olha Pariieva)
My dog Chewy and I sleep together now. Well, I don’t let him sleep on the bed, but now I sleep on his bed — the floor.
Kharkiv
Olena Benko • Screenwriter • 34
I don’t go outside a lot. It’s too scary because there are fires and bombs everywhere, all the time. Even when it’s quiet, it’s difficult because you don’t know when it’s going to happen again.
I have family in Kyiv and Dnipro, but I’m alone in Kharkiv. I’m trying my best to live my regular life. But that’s hard when you can’t really buy the same food products you used to or be outside freely.
Last Sunday, I had just gotten my hair done and was walking to meet my friend for a coffee — it was a very warm and sunny day. Now I’m mostly afraid. But Peaches, my cat, keeps me safe. He’s the best therapist. He reminds me that life goes on because his life didn’t really change.
Eventually, I decided to leave Kharkiv. It’s too dangerous to stay there. I don’t know where I’ll end up.
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March 05, 2022 at 08:36PM
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