Ukraine lived yesterday with 'normality' the first day of the second year of invasion.
Alarm bells sounded across the country on suspicion that Russia was moving supersonic missiles. But people continued walking without flinching, the three rave venues –daytime only– on Kyiv's Niznioyurkivska street were still full and –to top off 'normality'– you could visit the Museum of the History of the Toilet on Rybalska street in a relaxed way. , unique in Europe.
Kyiv always surprises. The war, too.
In Ukraine, each city adapts in its own way to the theater of war. The Mikolaiv theater, for example, reinterprets its stages for safety. They have covered the amphitheater, from 1881, with white sheets. They have installed a theater –stage and chairs– inside the historical setting. And they have created a micro theater in an underground space. Scenarios are chosen based on the intensity of the Russian projectiles.
Until the day of the invasion, this institution was called the Russian Academic Drama Theater, and since then it has been called the Academy of the Ukrainian Drama Theater. But the drama, in the end, is the same: in the patio, a Russian projectile has knocked down the statue of Dionysus, God of the Theater, who survived two World Wars but not Putin.
"At the beginning of the invasion, the Ukrainian government prohibited layoffs, so we could not fire the pro-Russian actors, we simply did not renew their contract in the summer," Artem, the theater's artistic director, explained a few days ago. They went to European countries, and some have denounced us. In the Kherson theater, the pro-Russian actors pointed at the pro-Ukrainians”.
In Kherson, also in the Black Sea, impacts sounded in the distance. “For Kherson this is nothing”, commented Olga.
It is 'normality' in this city within range of Russian cannons – they are on the other side of the Dnipro River – and with packs of abandoned, hungry, dirty dogs that gather together to protect themselves from human irrationality.
The streets of Kherson are almost empty, only old people walk who never know where and when a projectile is going to fall and kill. “Every day they come looking for food and every day they ask you if you will give it to them tomorrow too,” says Olga, who works as a volunteer in a soup kitchen.
‘Normal’ begins and ends on social networks. Starting with the anti-aircraft alarm installed on the mobile.
In Kherson, Katerina and Lilia learned via Telegram about the entry of the Russians into the city, and also about their withdrawal, last November. But one thing is the mobile screen and another is the weight, in three dimensions, of an occupying army.
After finding out through the networks, Katerina went to the market with her daughter. "Mom, orcs," the girl said, pointing to some Russian soldiers. Lila saw the Russian withdrawal on her mobile and her body asked her to go out: "I had to see it with my own eyes."
It was in the networks where they woven the resistance against the occupation. But the resistance is a two-way channel, and it is in the networks that they are now trying to detect pro-Russian groups, just as the pro-Russians used to try to detect them.
The gray area always passes through yellow: in Kherson, the resistance to the occupation took the yellow ribbon as its symbol – “yellow is freedom”, says Lilia – and they were painting and placing ribbons through the streets. The Russians were removing them and they were putting them back.
The Russian army is gone, but Russia has stayed.
“We keep putting up yellow ribbons and there are people who keep removing them,” says Lilia.
"For those of us who have survived," says Olga, "the fear that the Russians will return does not leave you."
Because Russia never just left. For this reason, Lilia, Olga and Katerina prefer not to give their last names. During the occupation they hid Ukrainian flags in their houses. Between your clothes. When the Russians left, the Ukrainians made bonfires with the Russian flags. But not all of them were burned: the Russians who stayed behind are now the ones who hide their flag in their underwear.
This war will continue even if peace is signed tomorrow. Because the problem reaches as far as Vladivostok, and because invaders and invaded hardly recognize each other as humans anymore.
“Russians are like zombies,” Olga says. And they say that we are the zombies”.
