Three Ukraine families give personal accounts of their lives since Russia’s invasion as they prepare for Christmas and a New Year. As told to Peter Macky. Translated by Yaroslav Kravchuk and Aryna Satovska.
Vadym Furmanchuk, 30, and Tetyana Boiko, 31, and their two children, Hnat, 7, and Ostap, 1, were caught up in the maelstrom of Russian President Vladimir Putin’s invasion in February 2022.
Vadym: It’s been a tough year for us, the worst since we married seven years ago. We’ve always lived in Bucha, a suburb of Kyiv and for most of that time, no one had heard of it. All that changed in February when Russia invaded. Within 24 hours our town was the front line. Now it’s a place known for the atrocities.
Tetyana: We’re used to uncertainty. During the Maidan Revolution [in 2014] we were still students and we skipped lectures to be there. I helped at the medical centre. Vadym, together with other students, occupied the Ministry of Education and demanded changes to the education system. We helped build cobblestone barricades to protect against the police and special officers from the Berkut unit, which was on the other side. We won, but for a while it was very dangerous. Ukraine is a new democracy and we thought everything was settling down but we never expected this war.
Tetyana: On February 24, I woke up at 5am because Ostap wasn’t sleeping so well - he wakes up early. I was reading the newspaper online and soon learned the news. Vadym [woke] and I told him: “It’s started.” He knew exactly what I meant; I didn’t need to say more. I expected this news but didn’t want to believe it. We knew it would be a terrible war and didn’t think it could happen. We immediately started packing up the car to leave Bucha for Vadym’s parents in Makariv, 40km away. This was the safest place for us.
What we didn’t know as we drove towards Makariv that morning, was that our city of Bucha would become well known for the atrocities committed there under occupation by Putin’s troops. There would be headlines worldwide for weeks, as the evidence was uncovered. We were lucky; we’d made a very good decision to leave.
Vadym: On March 1, we saw a Russian column driving down the main road, a very big column, near our house in Makariv. It was a scary sight, all that firepower.
Tetyana: At first there was a general misunderstanding of the situation. When the sounds of explosions began to approach and everything around was smoking, we realised we should prepare a shelter.
Vadym: We’d not got much time and hurriedly equipped the basement. We stayed there and slept there, fully dressed so we could leave in a hurry. The situation deteriorated very quickly. Helicopters began flying directly over the house, there were explosions outside. Columns of Russian equipment, which had no beginning or end, were only a few hundred metres from the house. We realised we would be spending a lot more time in the basement. It was still very cold, so I installed a wood-burning stove and took all the products we needed from the house to the basement. It was just in time. Soon after, electricity and mobile communications went out.
Tetyana: From now on, we were completely cut off from the outside world. That was the scariest thing. The isolation.
Vadym: In April we’d heard the Russians had gone from friends and relatives who’d stayed behind in Bucha. They told us it was safe for us to return. We went home with my father and brother. We saw the damage to the apartment buildings, houses and infrastructure. The exterior of our building wasn’t damaged but our apartment was trashed and looted. Russian soldiers had been living in it. They stole things and what they didn’t take, they vandalised: things like my son’s telescope and an old laptop. They left garbage everywhere.
Some of our possessions were in other apartments. It was a big job finding everything, returning items to our apartment and buying replacements. We cleaned it up and it was okay. We had no choice. We had nowhere else to go. Besides, despite everything, it was good to be home.
But it was terrible to see what the soldiers had done to our home. They were animals. Some apartments were worse than ours, with their kitchens and bathrooms destroyed. We had friends who were worse off than us, who’d lost everything. We’re grateful for what we have.
Tetyana: We’re thinking about Christmas now. In the past we’ve gathered together as a family at our parents’ house. We decorate the Christmas tree, give gifts to children, cook delicious meals. The children go from house to house singing carols, glorifying the birth of Jesus.
This year our plans are the same. We’re determined to carry on as before. We’ve started early because of the uncertainty. We’ve already ordered new decorations for the Christmas tree and some gifts. We’ll start learning some new carols soon. For the first time this year, there’ll be musical accompaniment on my son’s bandura. One thing’s true now: everything can change at any hour, but we plan to celebrate as always. We’re not going to let Putin mess up our Christmas.
“We want to celebrate the fact we’re alive and to cherish this family moment”
Kola, 33, and Nastya Taras, 26, have lived their entire married life in Demydiv, a 45-minute drive north of Kyiv, on the western bank of the Irpin River. It’s one of the oldest towns in Ukraine, founded in 1026. It has a population of 2500. It’s in a very pretty setting on a peninsula with a bridge to the south providing its only link with Kyiv. The couple have two children: Yaroslav, 7, and Polina, 5. Yaroslav is at school and his younger sister is at kindergarten. Kola works as a landscaper, looking after a private 15ha estate. Nastya has two jobs, looking after the children and in a grocery store.
Nastya: Our lives since we met 12 years ago were routine. We worked hard, looked after our two children and vacationed every year in Odesa.
Kola: All that changed on February 24. I had the feeling the Russians might invade and took some precautions. I saved some money, bought extra food, made sure we had enough petrol. Nastya prepared a document bag and some clothes.
Nastya: At 6am I got a message from the kindergarten saying: “Bad morning. No classes today.” I woke Kola up and said: “It’s started.” I thought I heard actual sounds of the war, even on that first morning.
Kola: We couldn’t decide what to do with the children. Whether they were better at school or with us at home. It was difficult because the school has an underground shelter.
Nastya: It’s funny, because I was cool, but Kola was panicking. So, I had to cope with him and the children. We told them that it was a rehearsal and they helped us establish a shelter in the cellar, transforming it into a kind of bunker. We moved mattresses, warm clothes, a month’s supply of food. Kola laid an electricity cable and installed a heater; essential in February when the temperatures could be freezing.
I asked Kola to make a last visit to the shop. He told me it was very busy, with a huge queue, but the atmosphere was very polite, respectful and orderly. He bought bread and something he’d not bought for years: cigarettes, “just in case”.
Kola: The first day it was more or less okay. We saw Russian planes overhead. It was only when we saw our troops being pushed back that evening that we were worried. Our village was on the route south to Kyiv. There was a loud explosion from the direction of the bridge and we knew there was no escape; we were trapped on our peninsula. The situation became more dire that evening, when we heard a town 10km to the north was occupied.
That same night, an advance party of Russian troops, their intelligence and forward troops arrived.
Nastya: We all stayed in our cellar with three friends, seven in all. We could hear explosions and as they got closer, we could feel them.
Kola: In early March I noticed a diesel tanker outside our home, and decided to steal it. I knew the Russians had supper at 5pm every day and that the convoy was unattended. It was part of a line of Russian vehicles that had been parked on the road. I hopped in, found the keys and drove it into the forest. We knew that when the Russians discovered this they would be out for revenge, and our house was a target, being the closest.
That night, there was a large bang, and I realised it was centred on our house, which started to burn. There was a small fire and I could have extinguished it, but the Russians pointed their guns at me and I had to retreat.
All I could do was watch as the fire spread. I opened the packet of cigarettes, took one out and started smoking while the house was burning. I don’t know why, but that’s what I did. I couldn’t take anything out. I had to leave everything.
Nastya: What’s important is that we weren’t inside. We can always rebuild. Until then, we have our tiny house. We can be grateful for that. And we have a future for our children.
Kola: Now that the Russians have gone, we can think about what’s ahead. We celebrated New Year’s very merrily this year with fireworks and a grill outside our house. This time we want it to be very quiet - just to celebrate the fact we’re alive and to cherish this family moment.
The family tradition is that children write letters to St Nicholas and stick them on the fridge. At night, magic assistants come to pick them up. Kids usually get sweets and presents for New Year and Christmas. They decorate the Christmas tree before December 19 and all the family takes part. They adore snow and can even wake up late at night when the first snow appears, to go outdoors to play, make snowballs and ride a sledge. They also make gingerbread cookies together. For Christmas, kids go out to sing carols and get small treats from friends and relatives. Although we want a quiet Christmas, we want it to be the same as it’s always been, for our kids.
Nastya: They both believe Santa will find them wherever they are, even in our new tiny house. Yaroslav’s dream is to have our old house rebuilt, and Polina wants us to be safe.
Kola: They also dream we can travel to the sea and to the mountains. They’re too young to know we have to win this war first.
“I wish everything would be the same again - with the tree and presents...”
Ruslan Cherkashin and Rita Bryhadina are from Nova Kakhovka, in Russian-controlled Ukraine. Between them, they have three children: Madeline, 23, Mischa, 18, and Sophie, 10. They managed to escape the territory and to settle in Kyiv in September. Before the war, Nova Kakhovka was an important port city of 100,000 on the east bank of the Dnieper River not far from the Black Sea. It was occupied by Russian forces within days of Putin’s invasion, unleashed on February 24. Just 6 per cent of the population of 100,000 are left, of which the majority are very old or infirm.
Rita: “The war’s made a big mess of our family. We had our own apartment in Nova Kakhovka where we lived for 20 years. Ruslan had a good job as a builder. The economy was buoyant, and we had a nice life. From my perspective our city was the best in the world.
Madeline had already left to live in Poland but otherwise we were together when the war started on February 24. That’s not the case anymore. Our son Mischa was 17 then. Our city was invaded in the first weeks and our lives were turned upside down.
We were worried Mischa would be mobilised by the Russians. They were taking anyone they could. We encouraged him to leave, and Poland was the best option for him because his sister Madeleine was already there. We were happy for him to go because it was too dangerous for him to stay.
They’re both settled in Poland now. Madeline is a cook; Mischa is working in a warehouse. He’s had to grow up very quickly. Although he’s only 18, he’s stepped up and is an adult, making his way in life. He’s been helped by the fact that Ruslan taught him how to be a builder, so he’s had a good start. We’re proud of him.
Ruslan: We’re pleased for them, but we’re pleased for us too, now that we’re safely settled in Kyiv. Nova Kakhovka seems a world away now.
Rita: It was the randomness of life under occupation which incensed me; you could be walking or cycling along a street one minute and be imprisoned in a dank cellar the next. Worse, you could be tortured and killed. The world needs to understand what we lived through. How families were shot dead when they tried to leave the city. How friends disappeared.
Everything was bad. The Russian schools are very brutal and cruel. The teachers beat and abused children. Their education is very basic, with the teaching involving a lot of military propaganda about Putin and Stalin. We wanted to leave because on October 1, every child in the occupied areas had to attend a Russian school. If they didn’t, they could be taken from their parents and sent to an orphanage in Russia. For parents, there was a choice: “leave or enrol your child in one of the schools”.
Ruslan: Rita was right. Everything was bad. I’d been out cycling to buy some bread. It was something I did, looking for food or work. A military police car started to follow me. All this was happening in my city, the best city in the world. I was very proud of my city, but not with these occupiers. The vehicle pushed me into the wall and I had to stop. I was beaten; they tried to break my legs. Now I have trouble walking.
With Mischa’s help, we were able to escape, travelling towards the front line to the north. He’d arranged our escape with the help of a volunteer organisation.
Rita: When we arrived in Ukrainian-controlled territory, I cried non-stop for half an hour.
Ruslan: We hugged each other. We hugged total strangers. We didn’t care who we hugged, we had to hug someone.
Now that we’re safe in Kyiv, even though we don’t have power or water for most of the day, we dream about Christmas. We have nothing, and our dreams give us hope.
Rita: I know we’re going to have a quiet Christmas. Before the war it was the custom to celebrate with family and friends, and to sing carols. In past years, Ruslan would buy a duck or chicken, which was a treat for us. It was his responsibility to bake it. I would make 12 salads - including fruit salads with oranges and bananas - to make it all pretty festive for our family.
Ruslan: It was also my job to go looking for a real Christmas tree, when all the trees had been sold, and a few strays were left - for free. They’d be thrown away on the streets and I felt sorry for them. We would decorate it as a family.
Sophie was allowed to stay awake, waiting till Santa came, but of course she’d soon be asleep and find presents in the morning under the tree. We celebrate the Orthodox Christmas on January 7, when we have another tradition. We’d always visit my mother who’d cook a lot of traditional dishes. I would cook kutia [a traditional Christmas wheat berry dessert] and Sophie would bring it to her grandma, as well as to all the godparents. The tradition is that kids bring kutia and sing carols and grown-ups treat them with sweets, chocolate, fruit or a small amount of money. It was something Sophie and Misha would do.
Sophie: [who had been silent until now] I wish everything would be the same again - with the Christmas tree and presents ...
Rita: We can dream, but Christmas is not going to be the same. We know that already. But that’s okay. We’re just grateful for what we have. There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.
