War. Stories from Ukraine

Ukrainians tell stories about their life during the war

Veronika’s story from Mariupol: Game of Survival, Street of Life, interrogation, and moving to Georgia

by | 22 May 2023 | Mariupol, War. Stories from Ukraine

Authors: Yana Shynkarenko, Marina Kuraptseva

Illustrator: Nataliia Shevchenko

Veronika Borodulina from Luhansk, after the occupation of her hometown lived on Morskyi Boulevard in Mariupol and worked in the NGO “Women’s Council of Donetsk Region”. On February 24, 2022, she was at home, survived the russian air raids, and a few weeks later left the city surrounded by the enemy on foot.

The story was recorded for the publication War. Stories from Ukraine by Yana Shynkarenko and Marina Kuraptseva, a documentarian of the Vostok SOS Charitable Foundation.

On February 15, my colleagues discussed the algorithm of actions in case of a full-scale russian invasion of Ukraine. We believed nothing would happen but I remembered the shelling of the Skhidnyi district in 2015, so when we woke up to explosions on February 24, I immediately realized that the invasion had begun. There were no sirens at first but only in late February, I heard an unpleasant sound… Later I realized that it was an air raid alarm.

On February 24, I planned to dye my hair and get a new haircut. I even left the apartment to go to the hairdresser while hearing the explosions. What war if I have a beauty routine? However, relatives persuaded me to return home.

The next day, I wanted to go to work, my office was near the Drama Theater but my family convinced me to stay at home. After that, I never got from the Livoberezhnyi district district to the city center. As far as I remember, public transport stopped on February 27.

Occasionally, I went out for cigarettes, water, etc. On February 28 or March 1, planes flew over the city, so when I heard the sounds of airplanes overhead, I quickly returned to the flat. The explosions were getting closer. On March 2, a russian rocket hit the kindergarten near my home, on the same day the windows were blown out, and only one window remained. Near my building, there was a school, a rehabilitation center for children with disabilities, and a territorial center. On the same day, everything was cut off: communication, electricity, heating, and gas.

Before the full-scale invasion, my colleagues and I implemented initiatives with the youth of the Donetsk region and focused on supporting young people. The project chat turned into a help group: systematized the information and looked for opportunities for psychological support.

I was cooking on the street, and that’s how my survival as a woman during the war began. I looked over and saw a neighbor cooking in the yard. I asked him to heat the water but he said: “Look for another place”. Later we got along, and I also met other neighbors. But in those conditions, it was difficult to win a place in the sun from men. Eventually, we ran out of food.

Since February 24, the shelling was constant, so on February 3, I started sleeping in the corridor. When it was loud, my cats would come running to me and hide behind my back.

That day, there was an “Operation Evacuation”, as I called it. A police car was driving through the yards; nobody knew who was inside. People were running after them and shouting: “Evacuation to Zaporizhzhia! Buses will leave from the stadium, and we will drive our cars to PortCity”. People ran, and I told my neighbor it was a provocation. The police would have been driving around with a loudspeaker. We decided to stay, and then we heard explosions. The stadium and the Manezh on Lomonosov Street were being targeted. About an hour later, those who had left in their cars returned, and they were turned around at a checkpoint and ordered to flee because there was no evacuation.

We went to the sea for water, there was a spring with drinking water near the Manege. It wasn’t of very high quality but we had no choice. There was a checkpoint of the Ukrainian military but they did not stop us, it was on March 5.

Street fighting with machine gun fire started on March 7. Then I went to fetch water with other women and heard shooting. We ran to the fishermen’s garages, and the shooting started. When the shells began flying, the women sat down under the wall and covered their heads while two men were running and screaming: “Why did we need water?!” We couldn’t get water; everything was burning around us. A woman was injured that day. The men found a wheelchair for building materials and brought her to the Ukrainian military but they had nothing to help her. I don’t know if she survived.

The worst shelling happened on March 15. Then there was a hit on a shop on Morskyi Boulevard. The owners, a whole family, were hiding there. Luckily, they survived. They survived because of the deep basement in the old house.

A dead man was left lying on the balcony of one of the apartments. There was also an alley near the square where people buried their dead relatives and friends.

I stayed at home because I didn’t know where or how to go, and as soon as I was about to go out, explosions sounded. On March 20, our building was hit four or five times. I was sleeping in the hallway, and some residents went to the “basement” at night (a room under the stairs where the cleaner kept the equipment). I didn’t want to go down there.

Then, at about 1 AM, I heard a tank approaching the house. A point near the house was convenient for shooting at the crossing of Meotyda Boulevard, and the occupiers were standing there. I realized that the tank would be followed by shelling or an air raid by the occupiers. After a while, it started flying near the house.

I threw on some clothes over my pajamas and put the cats in the carrier. Then I decided to go to the bathroom. When I went there, a rocket hit the entrance of the house. Later, my neighbors and I realized that there had been several shell hits around the house, including our and the neighbor’s part of the building. A brick hit me a little during the attack but I was not really injured. The blast wave blew out the door. I went with the cats to the basement. There were five people there. It was about 3:30.

On March 20, our neighborhood was heavily shelled by the russian military. I went out to smoke and saw a nine-storey building burning nearby. Like a candle in the middle of the night…

One of the flats on the second floor was heavily damaged. Neighbors dug out a woman and her dead dog but they did not find her husband, who probably died in the rubble. There was no possibility to search for the body because there was shelling around. I lived in the same building but on the first floor.

I decided that after this episode, I could not stay at home: I wanted to go to my friend’s house, and I found out that she had left the city and that the people in our house had left too. I went to my dilapidated apartment, and my bug-out bag, which I had packed on February 25 was still there. I took it and left.

A neighbor and his mother sheltered me and my cats, and another neighbor from the fifth floor in another building. Soon, the shelling started there as well. We spent the night in the basement. There were about 40 people, mostly seniors and people with children. There was no food, and the shelling intensified. The next day, many people left for the village of Prymorske (it has been occupied since 2014). Only seniors and us, 15-20 people, remained.

The game of survival began. People in the house made food supplies. In the afternoon, we cooked over a fire: I would quickly run out, turn the cutlets over, the shelling would start, and run back as fast as I could. At that time, I could pass the running test excellently. I had never run so much in my entire life.

We stayed in that basement until March 27. Then it got terrifying, and the shelling intensified significantly. At least two people fell asleep at the second entrance – we heard their screams, then they died… On March 25, the shelling was continuous, and we spent a day in the basement. The plaster was falling on our heads, and we were sitting there, unable to do anything.

On March 27, at 6 AM, we went to Vynohradne. Before that, I cooked some food for the older women who decided to stay. I didn’t want to get closer to the enemy, I wanted to go toward Ukraine but there were no options.

We crossed Azovstalsk; it was scary. This part was called the “Street of Life ” because it was like a demarcation line, shot by russian snipers. They also took the corpses of civilians there because there was nowhere to bury them in the yards. They were lying on the road’s edge, wrapped in something or not.

We crossed and immediately saw Chechens everywhere. I am very afraid of meeting the occupiers, because back in 2014, when I was fleeing Luhansk, I was being stopped at checkpoints. I still have that fear. Fortunately, only men were inspected. No one was detained. However, one Chechen frightened me. He insisted on leaving and promised to feed me. I said that my grandmother was walking nearby and I had to help her. He did not touch me again.

When we went down to Vynohradne, there were some representatives of the DNR and some russians. They harassed me. I was wearing a vest. And I have a habit of keeping my hands in my vest. The military started looking at me, then one of them asked: “Did you serve?” I said: “No”. And he asked me, “Why are you holding your hands as if you were wearing armor?” I explained that I like vests and always wear them. But they started rechecking my passport and hands and asked me to show them my shoulder. Later they let me go.

They let everyone out of Mariupol who wanted to leave. At the same time, no one was allowed back in the city.

Five of us came to Vynohradne, where our neighbors’ relatives lived. On the spot, it turned out that the russian invaders had occupied the house. We needed clarification. Fortunately, other people invited us into their homes.

Later, in the house, we remembered that we hadn’t taken any food. People fed us but then there was a moment when russian soldiers gave us food. At first, I and another guy could not eat this soldier’s porridge. We had to. There was no choice. The cats were more intolerant than me and didn’t even touch the russian porridge. The russians who occupied the house did not hurt us. When they left, they gave us firewood, water, and food. A “shop” came to Vynohradne with food but it was impossible to buy anything – some people bought it and sold it for enormous prices.

We settled down in that house, planted potatoes… It was spring, and everyone was doing that. And then we met a friend. She told me that there was a mobile connection in Novoazovsk. I asked her to contact my relatives in russia. On April 5, they came and took me to the lipetsk region. I stayed there for about two months. I needed to recover. The russians told us that there was no Ukraine anymore. There was no connection.

Another story is the interrogation by the FSB (the Federal Security Service of the russian federation). You can’t stay in russia without registration, so I got a temporary residence permit. Two hours later, they knocked on the door and started interrogating me. They asked who was shelling Mariupol and whether I had seen Azov there. I said that the Azov base was nearby, and they were: “That’s terrible!” I said that the Ukrainian military did not touch anyone.

I have worked with international organizations, which is terrible for russia. And they asked me about it. I was thinking about what to say. Working with women who have experienced violence – no. Youth political leadership – no. HIV-positive women in the sex business – no. I found something from the field of innovations for young people, and they said: “What is the UN? Who gave you money?” They asked if I was forced to speak Ukrainian, and I said: “Are you forced to speak russian? We are not forced to speak Ukrainian. It is the official language”.

In early June, I moved abroad. I needed to find a place to refresh myself and move on with my life, so I chose Georgia. My cats are with me. They are fine; one of them has even grown fat again. We survived. My family and friends are alive.

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