Three people who have managed to escape from the besieged city tell Opendemocracy the horrors they have witnessed.
The local population often calls the city of Marioupol, in the south of Ukraine, "Marik".This affectionate nickname recalls the culture of the city, which includes Greek, tatares and Jewish traditions, as well as an industrial culture, remarkable landscapes and the coast of the sea of Azov.
Before the war, many residents of Donetsk were four hours by train to Marioupol, in order to enjoy the view of the sea and, let's be honest, delicious the city of the city, a traditional Crimean Tatar dish made of fresh doughand farce [salted slippers stuffed with meat], which were sold in a small seaside coffee, not far from the level of level crossing.The remarkable landscapes of the city appear in the paintings of the eminent Greek and Ukrainian Greek artist, Arkhip Kuindzhi.Recently, the local museum bearing the name of Kuindzhi was damaged during the bombing.We do not yet know how many works of art have been lost.
Today, "Marik" is subject to a blockade by Russian forces.We do not yet have a clear image of the horrors that have dropped into the city.People had to travel long distances on foot and at their own risk to try to flee and survive.
Opendemocracy asked three people who left the city to tell their experience of the Russian headquarters.
For four years, Katya and I were side by side when we studied at the University of Donetsk.After graduating, she became editor -in -chief of a little Donetsk newspaper.Katya is small and funny.She has always had a fierce craze.For Katya, war started in 2014.Her parents stayed in Donetsk, while she moved to Marioupol where she lived with her husband, while working in her newspaper.Her son was also born there.Like many Ukrainians, she learned of large -scale invasion on February 24, but did not believe that Marioupol would be attacked.She managed to leave the city on March 17.
"We faced the total war at home.The anti-aircraft alarm sounded two or three times a day.So we went out in the corridor of our apartment and we waited until the sirens stop ringing.Then, a few days later, electricity stopped working in the city.My husband's mother called and told us to come home - a private house not far from home.So we went there.We were new, including two children - my son and the son of my husband's younger brother, whose family joined us.
We did not believe that war was rampant throughout the country.We were constantly reading the news, hoping that everything would be over soon.But the situation only worsened.Soon we had no more water or gasoline.There was no mobile phone cover and no internet connection.We felt like we were cut from all over the world.
As soon as the shots started, we were running in the basement, a small room of two square meters near the summer kitchen.It was cold in there.We installed two benches and carpets there to be at least a little comfortable, and we all sat down everything.Not everyone could sit in this small room;Part of our family was still hiding outside.My husband's brother has a one -year -old and a half daughter.She couldn't spend all her time in the basement.They therefore only descended when the bombings were intense.They spent the night in the house whenever it was possible.Later, when the bombings became intense, the children slept on benches, and we sat on small chairs nearby.
Then, the situation was still worsened: all the stores were closed and some people have looted supermarkets, taking everything away.But everyone must understand that they had no choice: people could not buy anything.They panicked and there was grabuge.Only one store was open, the Zerkalny supermarket.Some residents have established a list to help people buy things.The prices were raised.There was no more bread in stores.Shortly after the start of the siege, people bought all the sugar, flour and yeast, so that they could make bread themselves.We had food reserves, but they quickly exhausted because we were very numerous.
We had the impression that a humanitarian disaster was looming.We tried to feed the children three times a day, preparing soup and giving them porridge.Finally, my husband's father asked me and her other daughter-in-law, Karina, to find a better place to stay with children in order to have a better chance of surviving.We knew there was a refuge in the kindergarten that my son frequented.We took clothes and toys, food and we went to hide there.The basement was large, and many families were already lodging there.But it was not a real shelter, it was crossed by sewer pipes and a heating system.Soon our whole family has also settled there.Up to 90 people have stayed inside, including 30 children of different ages.
The basement was always cold and humid.We were continued by a feeling of cold.We could never warm up.Children ate three or twice a day;adults often ate once a day, sometimes two.We cooked on a wood fire.The women went upstairs, prepares things and did the dishes;Our men made a fire in the street, installing a country cuisine on a wheelbarrow.We cook bortsch, soup and wheat porridge.Some days, because of the intensive bombing, we had no water at all - we could not go.So our husbands collected snow and rainwater and boiled it.But we wouldn't die of hunger.Our men always managed to go somewhere and get food from the Ukrainian army or in warehouses.Once, they brought several boxes of cookies and we distributed them with kompot [from the compote: a drink based on boiled fruit] to children.On rare occasions, there were candies, oranges or apples.And the new people who arrived always brought food.We were trying to hide a cabbage with rotten leaves in Bortsch.Some days, we ate mayonnaise or salted semolina with water when there was nothing else to eat.I never tasted anything like that.Men ate Gruau.
We were lucky that the kindergarten was not bombed, but the neighboring houses were damaged.When there was no bombing, our men patrolled in the street.The air strikes were horrible.Whenever [the planes arrived], we thought that our kindergarten would be destroyed.The ceiling was shaking, and the children woke up and cried.We were all afraid.
Once we went out and saw a corpse in the street.He had been there for a very long time, a week for sure.Finally, we asked someone who was.It turned out that an elderly woman had died at home and that her loved ones took her body on the street, so as not to have this smell in the house.People continued to die.People buried their loved ones in the courses around their house, in their garden, everywhere.Sometimes the corpses were simply lying in the street.It was as scary when the curfew arrived;It was dark, and there was no bombing, but there was a burned smell in the city.This silence was terrible.
Sometimes I managed to connect.We immediately called relatives to let them know that we were alive.When it was possible to call someone, we learned that there was a possibility of going in one way or another towards Mangush [a city to the west] and further towards Berdyansk.We were not sure what to do.We were afraid of being slaughtered on the road.But one morning, my husband came and said that we were going.He was organized so that other people leave at the same time.So there were several cars.
We had spent most of the time sitting in the basement and had not seen the destruction that had already taken place.When we left and traveled the city by car, we saw the horror of what had happened.Everything was broken, everything had collapsed.There were craters in the streets, burnt buildings.It was terrifying.
We rolled, and we prayed all along the way.We asked the Lord to keep us alive.And I think he helped us because we arrived relatively quickly: we left Marioupol around ten in the morning and arrived in Berdyansk at three in the afternoon.
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Egor Zakharov, a 22 -year -old student, spent a little over a month in Marioupol blockade.His father, the artist Sergii Zakharov, nicknamed "Le Banksy [Street Art art] by Donetsk", who has already spent almost two months in prison in the "People's Republic of Donetsk" after having made the satire of the pro- Russians was waiting for him in kyiv.
"On February 24, my parents called me early in the morning to tell me that the Russian troops had entered Ukraine.We didn't know what to do at that time.I am a student and I lived in a dormitory in Marioupol with my friends.Some of my friends first left the city, but I decided to stay.At the beginning, there were 19 people upstairs, the seventh.On March 25, we were only eight, including two foreigners - a Turkmenistan student and another Sudan.After that, we all left the city together.
At first, we spent the nights on the seventh floor, in the corridor, thinking that the walls would protect us.On March 10, we moved to the basement, where there were other students and residents of neighboring neighborhoods who had fled their homes due to intensive bombing.
During these first days, I had no fear.But we have started to fear that something will fall on our building, because we saw how neighboring houses had been destroyed.Once there was a powerful explosion in the central districts.The shock wave has shattered the windows of our dormitory.Despite everything that happened, we tried to hold on.But some people could not bear it, emotionally, as we saw in the basement.A woman won each noise, even if this noise had nothing to do with war.It was difficult to be confined there, so we only passed the nights in the basement and passions the rest of the time on the seventh floor.There we built a stove and cooked food.Sitting on the balcony, we looked at the Russian warships attacking the city from the sea.We have seen how the planes stole and drop bombs and the glow of explosions as well as destruction.Every day were the same.
The first two weeks, we were able to go out.We were going to go shopping and looking for water - some stores sold food packages at a slightly excessive price (with cereals, flour, buns, vegetables, candies, sometimes beans).The very last time we went to get water, there were only three of us.The others were too afraid.
Once we went to the Zerkalny supermarket.There was a long queue, and we spent some time standing in the street.The building next to us was on fire.Residents could not put out the fire because there were no more firefighters in the city.After that, the bombings started and intensified.A shell fell 50 meters from us.We frozen.At this precise moment, it was terrifying.People were running, but we hid behind the store.When the bombings stopped, we were finally able to buy food.On the way back, we saw how our neighborhood had suffered.There were shell craters.A woman asked us if we knew doctors.A man was sitting on a bench and smoked in silence.He looked at three dead people who were lying next to him.As soon as we returned to the dormitory, the bombings have started again.
The Adastra medical center was not far from us, and the military [Ukrainians], which distributed humanitarian aid, allowed us to enter.They had a reserve of water and food.We also found an old mobile phone completely loaded and a radio.We tried to find frequencies where Ukrainians were talking, but we did not succeed;We only heard Russians.By listening to this radio, we heard the Russian soldiers who urged Ukrainian soldiers to surrender, and conversations between Chechens.I was able to speak to my father on March 24.He told me I had to leave.My classmates and I decided to walk.We have suffered two bombings.But I finally managed to leave the city.»»
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For several days, Ukrainian cultural institutions tried to locate the artist Daniil Nemirovskiy, based in Marioupol.They stayed long without news.The artist of Marioupol was seated in the shelter of the famous metallurgical factory Ilyich, without being able to contact anyone.While he was there, he drew civilians.He managed to take only three drawings when he left.
"On February 24, I was in a residential area of the city's suburbs with my grandparents, far from any basis and military unit.The war was quick to invite itself into this peaceful place - the Russians chased the Ukrainian forces.When the Ukrainian soldiers returned to take it back, the Russians began to bomb this quiet neighborhood almost immediately, and the civilians began to suffer.
I chatted with my grandparents: they did not think it was necessary to go to an anti-bomb shelter, they thought it was prudent to stay at home.So when their street was bombed, I decided to leave, but they remained.Recently, my parents were informed that my grandmother was in the hospital following an injury by bursts of shells.
City residents had no information, especially on any green corridors for evacuations.Our fighters and police said they were going to seek help from the battalions of Zaporijjia, a city located about three hours away, and we all prayed to come.But no one came.
Marioupol is divided into two parts by the Kalmius river: the left bank and the right bank.Forces Z [Russian army] first captured the left bank and began to move forward.Then, fights took place everywhere, especially in the city center.And it was not clear who controlled the center of Marioupol.
At the beginning of March, I moved to an anti-bomb shelter located at the first entrance to the ilyich metallurgical factory.It is a well -equipped Soviet anti -iental shelter with two outings, but it is difficult to stay there for more than two hours [because it is so small].The shelter had four sections, each of which measured 4.5 by 4.5 meters.There were eight people and only four benches in my block.We spent there all our time and did not have the right to go out because it was too dangerous outside.
Initially, the factory was put on the uphens for two to three weeks.But the workers did not return.We constantly heard the bombs falling on the factory.
In wartime, food is precious.We ate using a campfire in the street.The first two weeks, he gave, so our food was sure, but she started to spoil when he was warmer.On March 10, we had no more food and humanitarian aid could not arrive in Marioupol.The city was besieged.One day, police entered certain warehouses and shops and they distributed food to people.It was not looting.Once, [the police] brought us nine boxes of sausage without label or expiration date.I think such important food deliveries could not have taken place if the police had not helped.
If you want to live, you go on foot.On March 21, I left my shelter and walked to the occupied areas, avoiding all the control points on the way.I knew that buses had left regularly for the city of Volodarske [since 2016, the city is called Nikolske], which is close [and controlled by the People's Republic of Donetsk (RPD) self -proclaimed].I met volunteers there.Russian flags and RPDs were everywhere.The Russians and the people of the RPD organize transport to Donetsk and Rostov-sur-le-Don, but a Russian soldier told me that if I wanted to go, I had to undergo a "filtration"».I didn't understand what he meant by that.And of course, I wanted to go to Ukraine, although it is difficult to do it from Volodarske to Ukraine, because there is no direct connection.
RPD forces have stolen Ukrainian buses and used them to send people to Rostov, without even changing the plates.So I decided to go to Berdiansk, who is controlled by the Russian military forces, but I would say that she is still Ukrainian.I waited a bus for two days, then I finally decided to manage on my own.At the end, I managed to make an agreement with a local man who led me to Berdiansk for 750 Hryvnias [23 euros] We went through four checkpoints on the way, two of the RPD and two of the'Russian army, before finally arriving in Berdiansk.
In Berdiansk, even if Russian soldiers welcomed us at the entrance to the city, there were Ukrainian flags and posters "Russian warship, will make you fuck!"».Almost immediately, I received a message on my phone concerning an evacuation to Ukraine, which was supposed to take place from a sports complex.I went there, but there was no volunteer, no evacuation, no information.
Only Russian propaganda radio worked.She said that soon all the city's television channels would go to the Russian channels.The Ukrainian buses were not allowed to enter the city itself, so they started from a place called the Azov Ring [a place at the entrance to the city].I learned in one way or other than 15 Ukrainian buses had to arrive, so I arrived at the Azov Ring and went on the first bus.Then there were four other control points, but they seemed less brutal.
Marioupol still resists.But day after day, the situation in the city deteriorates: people have less food and water and it is more and more difficult for them to go to Ukraine.»(Report published on the Opendemocracy site, April 8, 2022; editorial translation against)
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