'They don't belong here’

Even after five months of Russian occupation, Kherson residents haven't lost faith in the Ukrainian army

Ukraine’s Kherson region came under Russian occupation on March 3, less than two weeks after the full-scale war began. In the months since, the occupation authorities have repeatedly announced their intentions to make Kherson a part of Russia. In late June, Kirill Stremousov, who Russian state media refers to as the deputy head of the region’s new “Military Civil Administration,” announced that preparations were underway for a referendum on joining Russia to be held in the fall. But Ukraine has other plans: in late July, the Ukrainian Armed Forces started shelling the Antonivskyi Bridge, a roadway across the Dnipro River that’s crucial for Russian forces to transport supplies. Belarusian news outlet Zerkalo spoke to Kherson residents about what it’s like to live under occupation as Ukrainian forces inch closer to liberating the city. With Zerkalo’s permission, Meduza is publishing an abridged translation of the article.

'We’re thrilled when shells land here'

23-year-old Alexandra (name changed) lives near the center of Kherson. She says it’s been quiet in the city lately; most of the explosions she’s heard have been off in the distance.

“As far as I remember, we did have one explosion, when they were firing on the military base on July 10 — you could feel it. There’s also been shelling in the legendary Chornobaivka; I feel really bad for the poor locals. And now it’s reached the Antonivskyi Bridge as well. But as for the city itself, well, there is the machine gun fire we hear at night, but we got used to that a long time ago,” says Sasha, laughing.

Chornobaivka is about 11 kilometers (7 miles) from the center of Kherson. 43-year-old Tatyana lives on the outskirts; one of her windows looks back on the village. Chornobaivka is home to an airport, and Russian forces periodically show up there, provoking fire from Ukrainian forces. On July 10, Ukrainian presidential adviser Oleksiy Arestovych reported that Ukraine’s military had shelled the airport 26 times.

“I see when the shells land, and it happens even more often than the authorities report. Just yesterday evening, something was burning and rumbling. Today, too: something exploded over our village earlier. Tiny pieces were raining down from the sky. That's what you call having a front row seat to the show. Yes, it’s loud; everything trembles and clinks. But all of the doors and windows in my house are still in one piece,” says Tatyana.

“We’re fully aware that it’s the Russians who are firing from Kherson on our Ukrainian Armed Forces and on our [other] peaceful towns," she continues. "So we’re thrilled when shells land here, when [Ukrainian forces] fire on Chornobaivka. And we cross our fingers that as many [Russian soldiers] as possible get scattered down the ravines, you know? It sounds really cynical. We didn’t used to be like that. Rejoicing at someone else’s death isn’t right, but after so long, we’re sick of it. They don’t belong here. After what they’ve done, nobody’s sad to see them go."

Kherson is on the right bank of the Dnipro River. To the east of the city is the Antonivskyi Bridge, which has been under fire by Ukrainian forces for over a week now. On the other side of the bridge, the road continues to Crimea, then to Russia’s Krasnodar Krai. On July 27, the Ukrainian authorities reported that the bridge had been damaged.

“I can’t see it — I can just hear [the explosions],” says Alexandra. “I imagine the bridge is ‘injured but not dead yet’: not as destroyed as we’d like, but not something they can transport large vehicles over. And the bridge is strategically important: it separates the occupied territories. There’s been heavy fighting there since day one. Though if something happens to it, the occupiers will still have two bridges left: the dam at the Hydroelectric Power Plant in Nova Kakhovka [Editor’s note: the dam is over 70 kilometers (43 miles) away from the center of Kherson] and the railroad bridge."

Tatyana’s not upset about the bridge’s destruction either, but she did note that the price of groceries will likely go up without a direct path across the river. In fact, according to local journalists, they began rising on July 28.

“We saw that the bridge had been taken out," she says. "Wonderful news! At least military vehicles from Crimea won’t be able to go that route, which will prevent missile strikes in Mykolaiv. Right now, the bridge is closed for travel, but it’s not completely destroyed — you can still cross it on foot. But the road’s surface was battered by explosions; the whole area is completely destroyed. You wouldn’t be able to cross it in a car, let alone a cargo vehicle."

Kirill Stremousov, deputy head of the regional collaborationist authorities, confirmed that the bridge is closed for travel and said that ferries are being used to transport people across the Dnipro, but he denied that the bridge was severely damaged. During wartime, it is not always possible for journalists to independently verify official claims.

‘Nobody’s happy the Russians are here’

According to Tatyana, Russian soldiers sometimes walk around her area and ask her and her neighbors where they live and work. Lately, she says, the number of soldiers around has gone down, but the situation varies between districts. Sometimes, the soldiers try to blend into the city and befriend the locals.

“A couple weeks ago, they organized a celebration for Russia Day," she says. "You could tell they had bussed people in from somewhere. Our beautiful main pedestrian street was full of boys in ‘Z’ shirts. Some of them sat in the cafes and talked to people. They asked what we thought of them and what the general mood is like here. [...] They’re probably probing to see how loyal the population is."

Tatyana says the soldiers seem to have recently been given orders to avoid harming civilians. Still, some can’t help themselves.

“My friend knew someone who was hit in the arm with the butt of a gun [by a Russian soldier]. There was a huge bruise; she was lucky it wasn’t broken. She probably just looked at them with great hatred in her eyes,” she says. “...Most of them wear glasses, so you can’t really look into their eyes, but still, you want to see some awareness in their faces that they’re in the wrong and shouldn’t be here.”

Most of the city's residents, Alexandra says, are just as unaccepting of the invaders as she is, but people generally don’t oppose them openly. Alexandra herself tries to dress inconspicuously and leave her phone at home whenever she goes out to avoid attracting attention.

“Everyone is feeling aggressive, but they keep their mouths shut," she says. "What else can we do? Our only choice is to shut up and keep on living our lives. Nobody wanted them to come and nobody is happy they’re here. It’s all very distressing, of course. The city is still quite dangerous, in fact, and every way out carries risks. We’re all stuck here. We’ve started whispering whenever we talk to each other; we're glancing around constantly, and we often don’t talk at all. [...] But they can’t make us like them.”

‘The referendum has become a tiresome meme’

The occupation authorities are planning to make Kherson a part of Russia in the fall — they’ve reported that a referendum is in the works for September. Both Alexander and Tatyana are confident it will never happen.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read that they’ve scheduled it, and then they’ve postponed it. I don’t worry about it anymore; they’ve named different dates so many times,” says Alexandra. “People don’t even talk about it anymore — it’s just become a tiresome meme. It won’t change anything. They’ll write on some piece of paper somewhere that we’re a part of Russia now.'

Even if the referendum does occur, Alexander doesn't think the annexation will be permanent. "There’s no world in which we don’t return to Ukraine. But if this ‘Russia’ thing keeps going on for years, I’ll probably pack up my suitcase and leave. I don’t want to spend my whole life on pause. I wish I could get this time back, because I haven’t lived it — I’ve just endured it," she says.

‘I could be killed by a Russian bullet — or a Ukrainian shell'

On July 28, Alexey Arestovich said on the YouTube channel Feigin Live that the operation to liberate Kherson had already begun. According to Arestovich, the Ukrainian Armed Forces will start by using high-precision weapons to eliminate Russia’s warehouses, ammunition, fuel, and communications. After that, Russian soldiers will have “three choices: retreat (if possible), surrender, or be destroyed.”

Tatyana says that Kherson residents are preparing for every possible scenario.

“People understand that they might die, but they don’t talk about it. I could die from a Russian bullet, or from a Ukrainian shell — our guys could hit me, too. But this is war, and you can’t spend every second thinking about that. It’s too hard on you and it’s not right. We’ve gotten used to it; we’ve hardened our hearts," she says.

After five months of waiting to be liberated, Alexandra is no longer sure that staying in the city was the right decision. She says her mind poses the question when she’s overcome by fear, but nonetheless, she’s not going anywhere. Neither is Tatyana.

Near the end of the conversation, Tatyana falls silent and concentrates on the sounds in the distance. “Oh, they’re firing in Chornobaivka again,” she says. “A single explosion. I’ll go out and see where the smoke is coming from. That’s all we do here.” Since the start of the war, she hasn’t gone to her basement even once. She doesn’t know what it would take to make her hide down there. “Maybe if they hit the neighboring street, but not if they just hit Chornobaivka,” she says.

Abridged translation by Sam Breazeale