Russia-Ukraine War: after the massacre, Bucha seeks to live again

The breeze stimulates the cherry blossoms in almost every block in this small town in Ukraine, the white petals flying in the streets where new cement covers the damage left by Russian tanks just a few weeks away. ago.

Spring came in Bucha six weeks since Russian soldiers left this community outside kyiv, leaving the graves of massacred citizens, many of whom were cut down, as well as the broken ones. streets and destroyed buildings.

Back in the city a seemingly normal life. Residents have returned to Bucha in recent weeks, as the town struggles to repair the physical damage caused by the invading Russian troops and their weapons.

Now, on the leafy spring streets of the city, it’s hard to imagine the horrors that took place here.

On a newly paved street with newly painted pedestrian lines, the rotating brushes of a street-cleaning machine removed remaining broken glass and pieces of steel shrapnel.

In one of the neighborhoods where many of the approx 400 corpses of Ukrainian citizens in April, technicians laid cable to restore Internet service.

In one house, a resident removes pieces of a destroyed Russian tank that are still in his garden.

Relive

Remove all possible traces of destruction caused by the Russian occupation was an important step in healing the wounds suffered by the residents of Bucha, said Taras Shapravsky, a Municipal official.

Shapravsky said 4,000 residents remained in the city while it was occupied, terrified and many hiding in basements without enough food. Even after the departure of Russian soldiers, many residents remained traumatized.

“They’re in a very bad psychological condition,” he said. “Specialists explained to us that the faster we remove all possible warnings, the faster we can get people out of this state.”

Shapravsky said telephone reception was restored a few days after the Russians left, and then water and electricity.

returns and weddings

He added so far about 10,000 residents have returnedapproximately a quarter of the population before the war in this small town located 32 kilometers from kyiv, the capital.

As a sign that life will return to normal, he said the marriage registry office reopened last week and almost every day couples apply for marriage licenses.

Bucha is a city where many people move in search of a quieter life, a place where they can build a family away from the noise of the capital, where many travel to work. This is a place where the people of kyiv can go to eat on the weekends.

Six years ago, Sergo Markaryan and his wife opened the Jam Cafe, where they served Italian food, played early jazz and sold jars of jam. He described the cafe almost like a child, decorating it with an eclectic mix of hundreds of paintings and scores of customer photos.

When Russia invaded the country, Markaryan, 38, brought his wife and three -year -old son to the Georgia border, where he hails from. As a Georgian citizen he could stay out of the country, but he returned to Ukraine as a volunteer, sending food to the front lines.

Two weeks ago, when power was restored, Markaryan returned to Bucha alone to see what was left in the cafeteria and repair the damage caused by Russian soldiers.

“Knives and forks were stolen,” he said, listing the missing items. He said soldiers dragged chairs from the dining room to use for controls and stole the sound system. And, he said, even though the toilets work, they defecate on the floor before leaving.

Two days before reopening, the café and its outdoor terrace looked clean, and Markaryan seasoned the espresso to see if it was affordable.

“A lot of people have come back, although some are still scared,” Markaryan said. “But surely we’ve all become stronger than ever. We faced things we never thought would happen.”

Across town, in an array of boarded-up shops with high roofs and boarded-up windows, Mr. B – a former cocktail bar run by Borys Tkachenko – has been fixed and turned into a coffee shop.

Tkachenko, 27, returned to Bucha a month ago, repaired the roof, which like most buildings on the street seemed to be damaged by shrapnel, and checked to see if the espresso machine was still there. It was reopened to sell coffee, or in the case of customers who were soldiers or medical workers, to give as gifts.

Tkachenko, who has worked at clubs in Florida and Canada and studied hospitality in Switzerland, opened the bar with his savings in December. Russia attacked two months later.

She said she knew they had to leave when her 14-month-old daughter started running around the apartment, covering her ears and “boom, boom, boom” in explosions.

Tkachenko brought his family to the Slovakian border, where they eventually landed in Switzerland. He returned to Ukraine as a volunteer, helping to send supplies to the front lines and to displaced civilians.

“We had big plans for this place,” said Tkachenko, who despite everything had a wide smile the equivalent of a tattoo on his arm that read “Born to be happy” about his bar.

He said that when the war was over he would likely go with his wife and daughter to Switzerland.

“Right now I don’t see a future here,” he said.

scars

While the frantic activity of the city’s workers and residents helped remove most of the remnants of the Russian occupation, the scars of what happened here are deep.

On a quiet street corner, a bouquet of dandelions and lilies of the valley was placed on a blooming handkerchief on a small monument on the sidewalk.

Volodimir Abramov, 39, said the monument honored his brother -in -law Oleh Abramov, who Russian soldiers took the gun from his houseThey ordered him to kneel and shot him.

“They didn’t even ask him,” he said.

Abramov’s house was destroyed by Russian soldiers who threw grenades. But he said that was worthless compared to the suffering of his 48-year-old sister, Iryna Abramova, who lost her husband and home.

“I try to help her and take care of her so she doesn’t commit suicide,” she said. “I tell him that his wife is looking at him from heaven.”

Abramov, a glazier, said he was now wondering if he should rebuild his house. “I want to get away from here,” he confesses.

Outside of mortuary of the citywhere French and Ukrainian investigators continue to work to identify corpses from massacres committed by Russian troops, a small group of residents gathered hoping to find out what had happened to their relatives. son.

Yulia Monastyrska, 29, said she came to try to get a death certificate for her husband, whose body was among those discovered in April. My hands are tied he was shot in the back and legs, and one of his eyes was burned, he said.

Monastyrska said her husband, Ivan, was a crane operator who disappeared while he and his 7-year-old daughter, Oleksandra, were hiding in the basement of their apartment building.

Oleksandra, wearing princess sunglasses and sneakers, leaned against her mother while listening to clearly familiar details.

“As far as I know, everyone wants to come back here, but they’re still scared,” Monastyrska said. “Here we were born, here we live, a lot of good things have happened to us here.”

Yulia Kozak, 48, along with her son Daryna, 23, and Daryna’s son Yehor, 3, arrived for a DNA test to see if there was any match between her son’s unidentified remains. . missing, Oleksandr, 29, who fought in the war against Russia in 2017.

Prosecutors found his military ID, dirty and filthy, in a basement where the Russians were holding prisoners.

Sobbing, she said that the last time she spoke to her son on the phone, in March, she told him he had been shot. In his apartment, there was a bullet hole in the window, where the sign of the cross was engraved.

Kozak, a chef, said he plans to stay in Bucha until he finds his son.

“I’m sure he’s alive, 100% sure,” he said. “I feel like I’m somewhere, but I don’t know where.”

New York Times

CB