Sergey Panashchuk from Zaporizhzhia
800 people are trying to survive in Stepnohirsk, a frontline town, just a few miles from the Ukrainian counteroffensive line in the Zaporizhzhia region. There is no work, drinking water, or centralized heating, and shelling rarely stops. The last survivors of Stepnohirsk are the elderly, disabled, and their relatives who take care of them. The local school, which was turned into a town hall office and the humanitarian hub, became a life support system for those who were still trying to hold on here. "We are begging people to leave with tears in our eyes, but there is only little we can do to convince them," says Irina, a representative of local authorities. Irina knows what she is talking about. A Russian shell hit the exact classroom she was in last year.
A window pane hit her on the back, and she was showered by glass shards. Only by a miracle did she survive with no major injuries. But the shock of her life she experienced in December last year. Irina witnessed a 56-year-old woman being torn apart by a Russian shell. The victim was just getting back home from the humanitarian hub, carrying bags of aid, when the shell found her.
'All of us were having hysterics when her husband came crying. Forensics were trying to allocate her body parts and put them together, and at the same time, locals were still coming and asking for humanitarian aid, just like nothing happened, says Irina. All the town hall workers are severely traumatized and afraid to leave the school building and approach the spot where the woman was killed, just as if it is cursed.
Despite the fact that the Russians aimed at the building, they believe that it is more safe inside, though the school had been hit several times and shrapnel stuck in the walls is a great reminder of the attacks. The city's perspectives were not that bright even before the war. Stepnohirsk grew into the town from the village of Sukhoivanivka in the 1980s after vast deposits of manganese ore nearby were discovered. When there is no shelling, you can hear roosters, birds chirping, and guard dogs barking. An illusion of village tranquility. There are still private houses from the village times, but there are no Manganese factories or mines anymore. They were closed in 1996 because they did not fit into a new economic system and operated with losses. Stephohirsk started to plunge into the big depression.
Nevertheless, before the full-scale invasion, around 4500 people lived there, getting by on the benefits or commuting 30 kilometers to Zaporizhzha.
'We put so much hope in the counter-offensive. We believed all that would be over; now we don’t know what to believe anymore, says another town hall worker, Olga. 'We evacuated all the children from here. All that is left from them are drawings glued to the school walls'
Now the citizens and the representatives of the administration do not even think about the future; they only think about surviving any given second. They have no power over the future, and even in the present, their lives depend on the plans of the invaders. The Ukrainian army so far does not have enough resources to move the enemy artillery to a safe distance from the city.
People come out of the situation by living in the basements of multi-story buildings that are equipped with makeshift wooden stoves and generators. Still, some of them break from time to time.
'I cannot take this anymore; I am done. Please help me to get out of here. A distressed woman's voice cries on Irina's phone.
And some of them became collaborators. The secret service of Ukraine arrested a kindergarten guard in Stepnohirsk, who, according to the lawmakers, sent out the coordination of the school to Russians and helped them aim at the building.
