My mother loved to travel to the Donbas before [the] school [year], to shop at the White Swan, as I remember now, it was in Donetsk, the White Swan department store. She would take a relative — her Georgian daughter-in-law Rosa, may she rest in peace, aunt — and together they would go and buy everything for school. They would go in and buy everything completely. I remember that we were different from Georgian children because in those Soviet times, we all had the same clothes. My clothes were different because my mom was shopping in the Donetsk region, she went to Ukraine specifically to clothe her daughter, herself before [the] school [year] as a teacher, specifically in the Donetsk region. And I loved, so that you know, we have sausage products — at that time it was not very developed — it was all in Donetsk. And we really liked Doctor's sausage. And always, I remember, I would come and say, “Mom, why are people different here — what beautiful saleswomen in the store!”. I'll never forget what they were like, they all had big hairdos, they were the very picture of health, so chubby, so beautiful. I said, “Mom, what beautiful saleswomen are here.” They're different from ours. That's what I remember well.
In Soviet times, like now, you could submit documents to different universities. But if you submitted the documents and the exams were going on everywhere at the same time (I submitted, I failed [the exams]), that's it, you miss that year. And I entered in Ossetia, because [they were still accepting new submissions of] documents due to the war, I enrolled there. I had to be there for six months. When it started to get very violent, they took me away from there by helicopter. — Did you live in a dormitory there? — No, a former military, he used to serve with my father, he found him and took me in. It became difficult to get food there. And my father said, "I will send you groceries for my daughter, you won't go hungry". And I lived in this former soldier's family. On the territory of Ossetia. And then they had to take me away by helicopter. Because the voting had already started there, the takeover, then, as they say, the collapse began, the attack, well, so that the Russian troops would leave. My father sent me to the Donetsk Medical College six months later. And I ended up [attending] the medical college in Donetsk.
I was still in school. I was still attending school because my father would come and bring me cheques [due to the ruble being inconvertible at the time, foreign currency had to be exchanged for ruble-denominated cheques], at that time, it was a deficit, and I would go shopping in such stores like Beryozka used to be [state-run retail stores in the Soviet Union that sold goods in exchange for foreign currency]. I was also different from other children because I was the first to have electronic watches, I had pens with electronic watches, those were scarce, chewing gum, different sheepskin coats. In Georgia people were used to sheepskin coats, my sheepskin coat was different — I bought it in cheque stores. Uh, what was I trying to say? That I was in high school, I don't remember what year. I must have been about 12, 13 years old, at that age. — How long was he there? — For two years. Every knock, every knock... We were always afraid that they would knock and tell us that my father was gone. It was very hard to bear it, and this war was for nothing too. I don't understand what it was all about. — What did your father say about it? — He was, you know, he was like, you're supposed to do what you're ordered to do. — He didn't tell you anything? — Well, he... about how they were shooting dushmans [Afghan mujahideen] there? What could he tell me about? No, my father was like that. He didn't talk about the war much.
When all these upheavals with coupons [single-use coupons issued in 1991 to buy groceries and living essentials] and all that was happening, I found myself in the village. And the only way to survive there was to have a farm. So I traveled. The first thing I started trading was taking dairy products to the market to sell. And I made money with that. Then we sold pigs, farming [produce]. Those who had a farm didn't feel all that much. Why? Because grain was available — it's not [like it is] now — you can buy it for whatever and however, [but back then] you could get it essentially for free, you know? And you could run a household. If you had the intelligence, the strength. To be honest, I didn't [like it] that much... I moved to the city — here in Kramatorsk they tell how they received some rations here, how they were starving here... I didn't observe famine here. Because I... we ran a farm, and that's why we survived, and I did not suffer from this period.
We had the opportunity to hire a bus with this family, another family there, they were going to Lviv. We also had some savings, me, those relatives too. We rented a bus, and thank God that we rented this bus... He also asked me, "Shall I go to the railway station?". “No,” I said, ”let's go near the dentist's office, we don't live far away." Oh, and on the same day we left, there was this terrorist attack on the train station. I took it very hard on the road, too, because my husband got caught right there: he saw me off, went shopping at the market. He says, “I thought an airplane had fallen.” And people rushed to watch the airplane, because it was a new experience for them, because people had not realized it yet. Now they understand everything. And the crowd rushed. As you know: everybody rushes — and I will rush. And my husband rushed. And he saw the bodies. And he calls me, dials me, and tells me who is on the ground, how they are laid out, and what... Imagine that. I was hysterical — when I arrived before my son, we had a very hard time getting there, because it was a long trip: we went to Lviv, then a transfer, then on from [the Polish border]. In the end — I was near Germany, it's a small town, it's between Germany, and it's a long way to get there. I looked in the mirror — my face was...distorted. I was afraid I'd have a stroke. I didn't expect all this, you know, that it would happen like this, and then this terrorist attack on the way, and the road was hard — I was affected.
If I want to achieve something, I will strive for it
Olha Haiduk, née Kovtun, is a medical worker and entrepreneur of Georgian descent. She was born in Gori on June 3, 1974, to a military officer and a Russian language teacher. In 1991, she enrolled in a medical college in the Tskhinvali region, but due to the armed conflict, she transferred to Ukraine. After graduating from Donetsk Medical College, she did not return home because of the Abkhazian war and settled in the Donetsk region. She worked for many years as a paramedic in four villages and, in 2000, became a member of the local council. Since 2010, she has been building her life in Kramatorsk, where she worked as a nurse. After divorcing her second husband, she started her own business, a secondhand clothing shop, while continuing to work as a nurse. During the summer of 2014, she stayed home throughout the entire occupation of Kramatorsk by “DPR” militants. In April 2022, she moved to Poland, hoping for a quick end to the hostilities. There, she won a grant and opened a Georgian cuisine café. At the end of 2023, she closed the café and returned to her hometown, where she now works as a nurse in a family medicine outpatient clinic.