Some war stories are stories about good people

Full-scale Russian invasion into Ukraine took place at dawn on the 24^th of February, 2022. This was the bloody day for all Ukrainians.  During the Russian aggression against Ukraine, Tetiana was in Mariupol with her four-year old daughter Varvara. They lived in the house where a military shelter was situated on the ground floor so Tetiana was able to relocate to a safer place on the very first day. The basement of that house became home to hundreds of people, including two Romani families. 

The First Acquaintance: Between Humanity and Stereotypes

Tetiana descended to the shelter on the very first day. Eventually, more and more people joined them until the number exceeded two hundred persons. 

«Initially, there were few people in the shelter but then, more and more started coming. Few days later, two Romani families joined us: men, women, and children. At first, we barely talked to each other. Then, they started giving some sweet treats to our daughter. They did that without saying a word. Just handed over some food, juice, and sweets. I was uneasy about that, bit unwilling to accept, but they insisted: this is for your daughter, love. A couple of days later, two Romani girls, Nelia and Tasia, came to me and asked me if it was possible to cook some food at my flat. Girls told me they had no one else to help them as the others just shunned them»

Tetiana was one of the few persons who agreed to help the Romani women. She realised she would not be able to refuse, even though other people stared at them with suspicion. So Tetiana brought the girls over to her flat and told them they could use the kitchen as they saw fit. There was a moment when emotions overwhelmed them and the girls burst into tears. Eventually, they teamed up to cook meals using their last reserves. The scarce, modest dinner was shared among them. 

“We were monitoring our phone by night, just to be able to say «I am alive»"

The situation in Mariupol exacerbated day by day. On the 1^st of March, electricity was turned off. On the next day, water supply was turned off. People were unable to get access to water, not even some water to drink. Mariupolians were cut off from the world, unable to contact their relatives, and ever more afraid to leave their underground shelters. 

«Once there was no water and no power, the husbands of the girls whom I allowed to cook at my place approached me. Moisei and Vasyl brought car batteries and asked me if I needed to charge any of my devices».

Inside the shelter, people were panicking, trying to fight for their life in any way they could. Sometimes, one could feel a bit of tension between people inside the shelter. No one was able to charge their phones and get in touch with their family. The Romani men who stayed in the shelter, next to everyone else, offered their batteries to anyone willing and in need—even to those who had earlier been afraid to let them into their kitchen.  Moisei and Vasyl were likewise grateful to Tetiana—who helped their wives first and them eventually. 

«Some time passed, and Kyivstar stopped working in Mariupol. The only mobile operator working was MTS/Vodafone but even their coverage was only sketchy. As luck would have it, the Romanis whose story we are now telling were actually using the services of this exact cellular operator. So anyone willing just borrowed Nelia’s phone to call their relatives. I was unable to get in touch with my Mum for over a week. I was aware of the condition she was in. We tried calling over and over again but were unable to establish connection. I went to sleep; several hours later the girls came over and told me they tried calling again but to no avail so far. And then finally I was able to tell my Mum that I was alive. These people were so amazing that we defended them against any newcoming Mariupolians who kept arriving at our shelter».

 “Amid shelling, they drove to get some water, and then distributed it”

In view of rocket and artillery attacks, any restoration of water supply was out of question. Potable water was running out very quickly; you had to risk your life to get some replenishments. 

«Emotions were high; I went out into the street, in tears, and saw Vasyl and Moisei. There was not a single shop nearby where I could buy any foodstuffs or even water. But the lads had a car, so I asked them to give me a ride if they were heading to a store. I would be unable to get their by foot; it was too far away and too dangerous. And the water reserves were running out... They opened the trunk and started sharing whatever they had. They assured me they would take care of me as far as they are able to help me. Guys were packing their car with empty plastic bottles, drove to a well, filled the bottles up and then just distributed bottled water around. These Romani families were sharing whatever they had. They were helpful as no one else was». 

After Tetiana’s father was hit by an artillery projectile, Tetiana feared staying outside for too long. Lack of gas supply forced people to cook food outside, in the yard, as the missiles were flying above. She had to address Vasyl and Moisei from time to time and they always agreed to help: light a fire, cook some water, or just to nurse a fire.

«Sometimes, I asked them to keep an eye on my daughter; upon my return, I saw her eating some tasty treat or something. If it hadn’t been for Vasyl and Moisei, I wouldn’t have had any water at all for two weeks. There was no one else willing to help by that time, and I was so scared to put myself at risk, with my little daughter and all that. I kept receiving some food packages, cans and suchlike. We were not merely a team; we became real friends». 

“Under shellfire, lads rushed to the Theatre of Drama to find out if any green corridors were open»”

For three weeks, people stayed in the city under occupation, hoping to get out of it and into Ukrainian-controlled territory. There were sounds of cannons, shelling of artillery and Grads (multiple rocket launcher systems) all across the city immersed in pitch darkness. It became even more frightening when Mariupolians lost any connection with the world and were thus unable to understand if it would even be possible to leave the city at all. Then a window of opportunity opened on the 15^th of March, and Tetiana took her chances, along with the other people from the shelter. 

«It was the lads that brought us the news about the opening of a green corridor. They were running to and fro, to the Theatre of Drama, and asked around if it was safe to get out of the city. Once upon a time, after a series of shelling, our men came back and told us it was the time to leave the city. The day was March 15^th. I knew that the families of Vasyl and Moisei also rushed out of the city that day but, at that time, I knew not if they did or did not manage to get to safety in the end. It was only after I got to Western Ukraine, I managed to get in touch with Nelia. She told me they were safe and were staying in Dnipro City».

Some people then refused to leave the basement and did not rush out of the city. Those who did leave the shelter that day, enquired about the Romanis, asking if they managed to reach safety. People who spent those three weeks side by side with them, were grateful to Romani families for their help and support. Tetiana says that, unbearable conditions notwithstanding, the Romanis were the ones who kept believing that the hell of Mariupol would eventually come to an end. Tetiana is no longer afraid now. The Romanis have become reliable friends of hers: the ones she shared a basement with, under enemy shelling.

After all, some war stories are stories about good people. So says Tetiana.