Donetsk. Confession phantom

Донецк. Исповедь фантома

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“We are, we are not a myth, not a Mirage. We happily snatches in reality blue and yellow combination – there is a couple in love: she’s in heaven jeans and t-shirt wheat color… It’s we, life outraged the writings on the houses, now rejoice on the walls of the “Donetsk is Ukraine” and “DND is evil”. We buy in souvenir shops unsold magnets with a Trident, trying to convince sellers that “for fun”. This, we hope and expect…

How many of us? I think a lot. How much roughly? I do not know. We gather in small groups. Not even flocks. Not more than three or four people at a time. You can no longer. More will be louder (of the neighbours) and suspicious (the neighbors might see). But I know that a friend in the country going, and new girlfriend like this “the circle” met. Dream to get together. But not the time. No time even to meet “live” (although it is sometimes practiced). So I sit in the social networks under nicknames, in closed groups. And not the fact that some “Faith Ukrainka” is not a provoker “MGB”, and some zatyanuvshayasya “Vasya Vasya” not outlines our response to the calls of “Faith”. We for these two years have studied the intricacies of such communication.

We immediately delete the correspondence in PM. This is us before going out in case of inspection clean their phones. We keep the stick outside of the apartment, and one, “duty”, like this is hidden in that itself occasionally forget where you hid last time. We disconnected the doorbell, so as not to flinch at every peal. If they came to check the meter, in this case a neighbor has my cell phone number. And I have it. And it’s a real godsend when you’re with a neighbor on the same wavelength.

Now your home is truly your castle in which you cherish your own world, where even to think freely, and the headphones to watch and listen to what your heart asks. But you go over the threshold and feel like a shrimp without its shell. You hurt all: tricolor entourage, rubles in your wallet, the talk of the crowd. And you’ve read about how our Zakharchenko answered people? Good for you, tell me! Soon passports will receive, and wanted to spit on this. But Russia did not leave us and further will not leave You… curses to yourself and walk past. Six months ago, could respond, to join with the sacred “fools you, Baba.” After the winter wave of arrests have agreed to restrain themselves. Because each of us here your problem. We have each other is not particularly devote. “Fine” I know that our men sometimes “acting up”: Doris on the streets the poster. For some it will seem silly. In our situation is also a manifestation of the position.

On my block there’s a Bulletin Board. So since August of 2014 someone had taken the notes about turning off the water or on the appeals go in the “militia” to ascribe “Glory to Ukraine!”, I did it in block letters answered “to Heroes glory!” Residents, seeing such a “mess”, the announcement broke, Jacouzy hung new. And here again appears a “Glory to Ukraine!” I have a pen for there was no answer, returned from the store and “glory to the Heroes!” It’s an incredible feeling. You first understand that your staircase looks “soul mate” (that he lives near you, you just reject, you have to be a madman so “palitsya”), then you realize that such a shower at least two. We haven’t met, but know of the existence of each other, and this is easier. As the officer walked around the floors, collected explanations (not you? – no I’m not him? – I don’t think) and our “roll call” has ceased. But here came to me daughter (she’s more than a year on the “mainland” – in Ukraine). Have fond memories and I told her: “And remember, we have in the entrance someone had signed the Declaration?” – “So I wrote”. I was ready to kill her, as I could not even imagine could not imagine that my daughter and rewritten, and that at any moment could pick up “the basement.” And who was the third in the “roll call” I learned early – my roommate. She is a pensioner with no skills “the guerrilla”, so it is not heard, as I crept down the stairs and found her “hot”. To whom, to whom, and on it I would never have thought of. However, as she at me.

We constantly ask – why do you sit there? Why not go? We have many official responses: old parents, work, home, the farm… We don’t understand. And rightly so. Because I can’t on the phone to say: after all, someone has to meet people coming out of the “cellars”. Here I though small can help in the search for human contacts, sounded, sometimes just moral support: relatives here in Ukraine, they call about the arrest of his nephew, and they don’t know how to behave in this situation, where to go. Three happened to meet at the exit from the “cellars”. But that was a year and a half ago, when all was tough. And it’s not about war, it’s civil. You know how they go? Scurvy, ulcers, if the man is beaten. Without documents, without money, without phone… And where are they? Who will they? So their friends who could not come (otherwise would have been on the same “basement”), was informed about the date of “issuance”. Meet. She doesn’t know you, you don’t know her. But you are relatives of each other. Away, last meal, then b/ushny cell phone with a new SIM card, which scored me your phone number and people who you came to help. She calls back for confirmation, reassures them that they are – it. Go to her house, well, if somebody stores a spare key. The apartment is all upside down after the search. Until she wakes up, you run to the pharmacy, in the grocery store. Then months for search of documents in their “courts” – at least passport. Because, for example, in women after experiencing the fear of even approaching such buildings, not to come and write a statement. Someone passport was returned, some don’t. Parallel to decide the question of sending humans to vacant land. That is, to each his own. I know that a friend is making photos of Donetsk to one of the editors, here at the Ukrainian journalists the ban, in this situation, and help Amateurs.

In the meantime, we continue to stay here. For me “here” is in occupation. For my co-workers “here” is “in our young Republic”. Already former colleagues. Could not, could not stand, resigned. Not have the strength to constantly hear the praises, “we can all live” as Ukraine is crumbling, and “the Republic becomes independent”. Yes, and your position is I don’t. Once I was invited by the Director and warned: don’t wait for denunciations, go away “on its own”, and I financially help. He kept his word until he wrote a denunciation on him. He and his family had to leave.

And we stayed with my mother. I live by longing, mother – fears. At first she was afraid of fire. Then go in a dark musty cellar in the stairwell, because once upon a time saw a rat… Over time, she felt queasy from the smell of mold. She stopped to respond to something gray, smirnovskie in the dark. Mom is a cat. Yes, my daughter, cat. Then she was afraid to miss a day of receiving Akhmetov humanitarian aid, if for a couple of days delayed, began to panic. The strange thing with this humanitarian aid. In the kitchen hung a calendar first for 2014. Mom would encircle with a marker the date of the next receiving help, and each time lamented: here and another month to not die. Then she hung the calendar on 2015, the old tear is not given. Now hanging for the third, and also with the marked circles. But talking about the fact that a month can not die stopped. Now she has a new “motivator”: die when you’re 60 years will pass, then I’m sure that you will be with food (just ahmetovsky assistance for pensioners here goes with 60 years). In General, each has its own anchor to hold on to life.

But only the mother becomes accustomed to one fear, another appears. Time I drove in Kramatorsk on the design of the pension. (Yes, we initially drew up the mother of the Ukrainian pension, as there was no other income. In “the Republic” I cannot work, not overpower, and it protocil their flags and portraits of Zakharchenko in the most seemingly neutral company). Mom barely survived the trip. From the first view “dangerously” roadblocks and gunmen her blood pressure was spiking. She’s in Donetsk, the maximum in the yard and went into the basement down. And as they began to drive up to checkpoint, and is found clearly showed the Ukrainian flag, then worked promotion Yes conversations with my roommates. “Daughter, where are we?! They have a hymn sing will make, will be to mock Me… Valentina Fedorovna was telling you about. Go to vertitsja…” Barely talked. While checking passports, I pills Yes drops were giving him, she didn’t let go of my hand, I took “terrible!”. I thought to call an ambulance. Cost. Nevermind. Our grandmothers, moms, what have they done?! Then there was a hard road back, but the fear of “stolen” her to overcome and failed. So after six months of no drive to extend pension and speech could not be. Are based on my side that my friends throw. And, alas, the mother issued a “dangeresque” pension, her to her house. Condemn? Well, probably correct. But otherwise we will be unable to pull.

This question of assimilation. Us remaining in occupation, often accused of “Stockholm syndrome”. As for me and those around me. The first year we continued to live in “Donetsk”: Yes, fire, Yes, in shelters. The war would have overshadowed some “DNR” was the life of a person and help others. When the fighting ceased, for such as I lasted without Donetsk “people’s Republic”, and with the same streets, “Donbass Arena”, the Botanical garden, the Park of forged sculptures. We existed from “DNR” and “citizens” as if in parallel worlds, intersecting only at the household level. They have their own life, we have our own. We continued to believe that it will be over soon. Heads were occupied with survival, health of family, attempt to understand what is happening.

The turning point came a year later. Last spring it was noticeable that many undecided. Someone just tired to resist, immunity ran out. Even initially Pro-Ukrainian-minded citizens of Donetsk quietly began to perceive the ideological surround: to go on holidays, to feel normal developing under flags, to support the “right” conversations, to focus only on the positive, and ignore negative. One of my such friends, let’s call it Light, said: I’m tired of hope, we will never be free, but at work and on TV all dripping and dripping, in the end I humbled myself and accepted that it permanently; stopped the bad thoughts and doubts on your mind and, you know, came harmony. Light was all she merged with the crowd, she were copying.

Such as Light “took” on the theme of love to the city: everyone here is a true Pitmen, honor and praise, and who left – the traitors, who will never understand the rest. We say, do not pull you to join the “Donetsk Republic” (the primacy of the political organization), it’s just, times like Donetsk, so let’s work together for its good. And it worked. Because of the free territory was not of messages in contrast, only the cries and accusations against the locals as “living under the occupation”. Indiscriminately. One size fits all. Of course, “he who has ears to hear, let him hear.” But many were exhausted and unable to resist. And resigned, they became easier. And I understand them, at first I even envied them. Because too tired: Wake up and immediately in the news – and suddenly the night had vacated the airport. But the tape is silent. Go to bed, and again in the news – and suddenly…

But a year later there was another bright reaction – it is the ultimate rejection of all “dangerousdave”, even among doubters. Final and irrevocable, at times, burning all the bridges for retreat. And we also became easier, as we have determined. And we, too, in his harmony and reality: we now live not in a parallel, virtual Donetsk, and in the occupied Donetsk. And we understand the need here and now, and that gives us the strength to hope.

Here wrote, poured my heart out. Now hit “Send”, the text will remain until tomorrow in the cloud, but will clean the computer and e-mail… And tomorrow, make sure that the letter came, and deletes from the cloud. And go to continue their lives. Life under occupation… And you just know that we are, we are not a Mirage and that we are waiting for you…”


The letter ended with the words “If you want to publish that name create it yourself. We even their names can not indicate. Or just put phantom from Donetsk”. However, this is not a phantom, but a living person…