Лада Богомолова Lada Bohomolova

Yes, my grandmother and I also sewed a lot. Those aprons, cuffs, collars. She made beautiful ones. We sewed them ourselves with lace. We washed them there. You had to replace them, hem them as needed. I remember that too. And the beautiful aprons — she made a white one for me for special occasions. I remember that as well. — Why did you sew? Do you remember why? To make something different from everyone else? — Yes, most likely. — Or because it was hard to buy them? — You could buy them. They were available. But they were plain and identical. For everyone. But those white aprons, they were wearable. And probably the black ones too. Well, that was just how my grandmother was. She even sewed her own bras because she had a large bust, a big size. You couldn’t find anything like that. And she made beautiful, high-quality, orthopedic bras for herself. She also sewed dresses for herself. She had a sewing machine, a Czechoslovak one, I think. It was called Lada. I remember that too. It was a foot-pedal machine. And she sewed. She also had a knitting machine. She knitted clothes. She loved doing that.

There were very few children. People weren’t having children. This was because of the different coups and all that. And there were few children. In our yard, there were a few kids, and they were all boys. And we would even say, “What’s going on — only boys are being born.” They say that if they grow up, there will be a war. Well, with so many boys being born. In our yard, there were almost no girls. It was all boys. And we played with the kids in the yard, and they were boys. I don’t even remember a single girl.

I remember that exact moment when I came to a physical education class, and that happened. Someone among the girls told me, “Chornobyl exploded.” Well, I didn’t know what Chernobyl was, what exploded, or what it [meant]. But, like, it was bad. So, we spent the whole day on that sports field. I remember how it felt that day. I can’t say it affected me in any particular way, that we were irradiated or anything. Later, I remember seeing people returning from there, and they were suffering, those cancer patients, Chornobyl people, or maybe I became aware of it only later. But at that moment, it was just: well, they’ll tell us something. Well, maybe they will tell us something scary. — And did your parents say anything about it at home? Did the adults talk about it among themselves? — Well, my mom understood because she [worked at] the sanitary station; she knew what it was about. But they probably couldn’t openly discuss it even in that sanitary service. So, they must have taken some measures, things we didn’t even understand. I remember that we didn’t go to open areas for some time. My mom was always very aware of the environmental situation in Kramatorsk. Even when we bought a summer house, she knew where the wind patterns were, to avoid anything coming from the factories. So somehow… I heard about it at school, maybe on TV. And those films, and what they showed on TV. Later, in 2014, I had this, how to say it, a déjà vu, I guess? I was driving to work, and the streets were empty, grass and bushes taller than a person, dogs running back and forth. And no people, I was driving down an empty street, and I thought, “Chornobyl! This is like Chornobyl, just like what they showed about Chornobyl. It was like how it was for us in [20]14.” Our store never closed even once, and I drove to work from the village in the suburbs by car. And I remember how it was then, how the wind carried all that grass. And that grass grew, it grew. It’s always mowed down, all cleaned up. Nowadays, it’s also cleaned up — they’re always doing something, planting flowers, keeping things tidy, the city always pays a lot of attention to this. And for me, it was such a picture, that déjà vu, and I thought, “Look, just like Chornobyl, exactly.” That’s how I felt at that moment. But back then, during Chornobyl, I listened like everyone else. I can’t say it impacted me as much as it did people in Kyiv or elsewhere. And, as I understand, that cloud, it wasn’t radioactive; it didn’t affect us as much as it did other cities.

Finding [a place to live] was very difficult. And we received help. There was this house we were supposed to go to — it had metal doors, plastic windows, and a fence, you know. But they wouldn’t send us any photos. The person said, “Well [you need to pay] just for utilities, maybe for some repairs, nothing major for now.” But then, when they finally sent us the photos… Inside, well, even the ceiling was leaking. We would have [repaired it]. But we needed at least a week to do that. And where would we let all our dogs out? There are about thirty of them if you count them all, plus the puppies. We had carried them into the basement with my mom, we’d put them in hats, carry them, and their mom would follow us. And then we received… The GAZelle [minibus] was already packed. My son with the dog and the cats, and my brother with his dog, cat, and spider had already arrived at our place. And then we received those photos. We were so shocked. It was already 11 p.m. I was so shocked. I started frantically looking for another place for us to go. And thanks to the dog trainer community. I wrote in a chat. Sort an official message. It was a chat for Ukrainian club leaders. Our chat. I wrote that “The city’s military administration insists on evacuation. Blah-blah. Blah-blah. But the place where we… It’s not, well, livable. If anyone knows of something, please help [us find something].” And everyone started sending me links. Anywhere anyone had seen something. One woman, from Kropyvnytskyi, I think, she said... Called or messaged me, “Tell me how many dogs and people you have”. But while I was trying to count the dogs — I had never actually counted them before — they just kind of… grew on their own, like that house. And I didn’t know how many there were. I just knew that this one is called this and that one is called that. So, as I was counting to give her an answer, she was already calling me. I couldn’t even talk. I had a lump [in my throat]. “Don’t cry,” [she said.] “Just tell me how many people, how many dogs. Don’t cry.” So I, well, sort of told her. Said, this many and this many. We had already gathered. She said, “Go. I'll find it. Drive out. I have a person there. And if not, I'll find more. Go.” She’s just that kind of woman. She runs an equestrian club, works with dogs, and her kids, I think, are in the police. Well, that’s what kind of person she was. “I’ll find something. Don’t worry. Just go. Don’t worry.” And we went. We left at night. Or, rather, it was in the morning. Yes, we arranged to leave at 5 a.m. We went, all of us, in a caravan of sorts.