Елла Нестеренко Ehlla Nesterenko

Desolation. There was no construction, nothing. A pervasive lack of money could be felt everywhere. This Soviet atmosphere… — Did public utilities work back then? — They worked, but barely, because everyone worked without pay. Nobody wanted to do heroic deeds. After work, people would catch the commuter train to Rostov, and that’s where commerce began: they would bring cigarettes there and bring back some beer or sausage. All these commuter trains, everyone transporting and reselling goods to survive somehow. — Did anyone ever suggest you join such a commercial venture? — No. <…> My mother-in-law was involved in it. She worked at the Alpha plant and would take these [glass] ears of grain — little tulips, glass ears of grain, beautiful items made at the plant. She brought them to sell in Moscow. On the way back, she’d bring Pavlovo Posad shawl. We’d sell them here. I sold them at the market. I also crocheted plant hangers. I had yarn and would crochet hangers where you could place a flower pot and hang it somewhere. One hanger cost 2.50. I can’t remember the currency — maybe karbovanets, I don’t remember. Obviously, it wasn’t rubles anymore, but some [other] sort of money. If I sold one hanger, I could buy Rama — butter. There was no butter at all. None. Just this Rama substitute, margarine in a tub with different flavors. If I sold one hanger… I’d stand in the market with some kind of stick, and my hangers would hang from it. I’d stand there praying to sell at least one, just one.

It was complete chaos. We were given a task — to stuff a certain number of ballots. As usual, I was either the secretary or the chair of the commission. It was all so fun, nobody really thought about it. Sure, we had to make sure he won, and that was it. Observers came from Western Ukraine and said, "What are you doing? Do you understand what you’re doing?" They looked around and saw the mass insanity, nobody thinking about anything. It was all like, "Well, elections, ha-ha, hee-hee, Yanukovych is our guy."

I’ll tell you about something that happened in Serhiivka. Serhiivka was Ukrainian. The city was under occupation. At the local council in Serhiivka, the Ukrainian flag was always flying. Our paratroopers, who were coming to help and were stopped everywhere by our grandmothers with icons, were stationed somewhere [nearby], stationed somewhere in the treelines, perhaps calibrating their weapons or something. But some weapons [shots] were flying over us. Then I saw a young soldier running to see where it had landed. He was running, and I looked — there was the Ukrainian flag! I hugged him so tightly, tears and all. He said, "Don’t cry, don’t worry." I told him, "Sunshine, you’re ours, Ukrainian, that’s all." And he said, "Why are you crying? Everything’s fine." Till this day… I’ll remember that moment forever. — When did you return to Kramatorsk? — We came back right away, as soon as they left. We returned and realized it was our liberation day, while in Donetsk, it was the most terrible day for them — the day they were captured. That’s how fate played out. We came back, and the happiness was indescribable. I kept going to work; we lived a normal life. But we still followed everything closely: where they were going, how it would all end. By then, the shelling had stopped. — Did you celebrate the day of liberation? — With rallies. Right away, on the move. Now, July 5th is the day the whole city gathers. We march, we shout, and soldiers with us. One year, we even had helicopters flying with us as we walked. The soldiers were leading the march — it was such a celebration for the city! It’s incredible! Everyone wears embroidered shirts. And just like that, patriotism soared! The separatists quieted down; they just stayed silent and kept their heads down while we came out. But still: "We’re photographing you, we’ll remember you, we’ll turn you in." Fine, go ahead. We marched freely, knowing we were simply lucky. It could have turned out completely differently. Donetsk was also a pro-Ukrainian city. It had so many intellectuals, so many rallies, so much going on. The bigger the city, the more intelligent, smart people there are. But it turned out the way it did. For some reason, Kharkiv was successfully defended, even though it’s close to the border. But Donetsk…

When I took my mom to the Vizium [medical center], I wasn't working yet. We left Vizium, and as we walked out, a missile flew overhead and hit near School No. 12. I had left my mom at the intersection and thought, “I'll quickly run to the pharmacy to buy eye drops.” So I ran, and then — explosions. I [hesitated]: should I keep running to the pharmacy or [go back for] my mom? She's deaf, thank God, just standing there waiting for me. Then the second [missile] came. Glass started falling around us. People told me, “Get inside.” I went in, shaking, and said, “Give me the drops, my mom's out there.” Like a little kid. I grabbed the drops and ran back, asking, “Mom, aren’t you scared?” She replied, “I thought it was just a car passing by, and a tire blew out.” I thought, thank God. Then she started walking in another direction. I caught up with her, still shaking for half the day, while she was fine. Walking while glass rains down was the [worst] of it. I saw that missile… When it flies close by and explodes, it's not as loud somehow. But if there's an echo, the shockwave travels, then [it’s loud]. Another time, I was walking along Dvortsova Street to meet my mom. Literally, about a hundred meters away from me, there was an explosion. The shockwave hit me, but I didn’t really grasp [what had happened] at first. My head hurt for about a week afterward. The wave must have got me after all. That was right in my mom’s courtyard, too. Glass shattered too, but somehow, we were spared, it missed us. My friend was at the filtration station [during one attack]. It was her shift when a missile struck the filtration station. I called her, and she said, “I’m alive, I’m at work, but I’m alive.” There were only about three other people in her shift group, all of them in the same building that the missile hit, but they survived. There was a wall in front of them, and the lockers fell on them. And they remained intact behind the lockers, maybe a scratch somewhere. The scariest part was that the building was plastic, with plastic paneling, caught fire. They began suffocating — that was the problem. Thankfully, they all had water; they soaked rags and breathed through them. My friend Sveta was walking through a passageway at the moment of the explosion. She got stuck there, the staircase collapsed. Rescue workers pulled her out. The shockwave went right through her. She was covered in bruises. Her chest, stomach — everything was blue. The shockwave passed, she had a torn wound on her leg, one on her head, too. Rescue workers took her to the trauma center, treated her wounds with brilliant green [antiseptic], and sent [her home]. She’s left the city now to recover. But out of all the recent [events], that was the most terrifying.