Ukrainian villages try to build a future near the war front
![Ukrainian villages try to build a future near the war front Ukrainian villages try to build a future near the war front](https://images.csmonitor.com/csm/2024/06/0624%20OUKRVILLAGE%20new%20building.jpg?alias=standard_900x600)
From Staryi Saltiv’s brand new school building, smoke can be seen rising from a distant town across the river valley, a contrast that vividly illustrates the hope and fear that reigns in dozens of villages along the front lines of Ukraine’s war.
The school in Staryi Saltiv was built to replace one that Russia destroyed in 2022 when Ukraine recaptured the lakeside resort town in a counteroffensive that fall.
Why we wrote this
A story about
In small villages near the front lines of Russia’s war in eastern Ukraine, the ups and downs of territorial gains can make it difficult to have confidence in the future. Instilling hope is a task for community leaders.
“If there is no school, no hospital and no government services, people will not stay here or consider returning,” says Anton Palyey, the military-appointed administrator of Staryi Saltiv.
“Our job as a government is to show local people that these villages are not abandoned and that they can trust that this place has a future.”
This determination to keep Ukraine’s traumatized villages alive can be seen everywhere in Staryi Saltiv – from the numerous construction projects to the vegetable gardens behind many houses.
“I’ve decided that I’m not afraid anymore,” says Lidiia Chatchenko, the unofficial mayor of a small village outside Staryi Saltiv, stressing that she is careful not to sound too naively optimistic. “I’m just going to do what I can to help the people in my village who just want to stay in their homes.”
Anton Palyey stands proudly in front of the new three-story school building, whose cheerful accents in bright colors will soon greet the returning students.
It was built to replace the school that was destroyed by Russian shelling in 2022, when enemy troops captured this lakeside resort village just 19 kilometers from the Russian border. Staryi Saltiv was recaptured in a counteroffensive in the fall of 2022.
“If there is no school, no hospital and no government services, people will not stay here or consider returning,” says Palyey, who has served as the military-appointed administrator of Staryi Saltiv since the village was recaptured by Ukrainian forces.
Why we wrote this
A story about
In small villages near the front lines of Russia’s war in eastern Ukraine, the ups and downs of territorial gains can make it difficult to have confidence in the future. Instilling hope is a task for community leaders.
Pointing to the northern horizon, where a dark cloud of smoke rises over the town of Vovchansk—devastated in a surprise Russian border offensive in May—the village administrator describes his role as being equal parts service provider and pacifier/morale booster.
“With a so-called neighbor like ours who can do something like this at any time,” he says, nodding toward the smoke, “it’s understandable that people are so afraid to live here.”
“Our job as a government,” he adds, “is to show local people that these villages are not abandoned and that they can trust that this place has a future.”
Hope vs. Fear
The brand new school building and the view of a smoldering city about 30 miles across the river valley offer a stark contrast between the hope and fear that prevail in the dozens of villages along the front lines of the Ukraine war.
Many of these villages, such as Staryi Saltiv, were once occupied by Russian forces and are now trying to rebuild and recover – despite nagging fears that war could engulf them again.
On the one hand, it is true that many of Staryi Saltiv’s residential streets are quiet and deserted, and that the population no longer rises above 20,000 in summer, as it did when residents of pre-war Kharkiv – Ukraine’s second largest city – sought out the calming banks of the Siverskyi Donets River reservoir.
Yet there is also a deep sense of hope for the future. This is evident not only in the new school, but also in the ongoing renovation of war-torn homes and the repeated repairs of the makeshift pontoon bridge that serves as a lifeline for families across the river. Hope is also evident in the welcoming committees welcoming evacuees from nearby besieged towns such as Vovchansk, where fierce fighting was still raging on June 17.
“I decided I’m not afraid anymore. I’m just going to do what I can to help the people in my village who just want to stay in their homes,” says Lidiia Khatchenko, the unofficial mayor (she says that’s a big word for the modest help she provides) of the small settlement of Rubizhne outside Staryi Saltiv.
After losing her house in Rubizhne during the Russian invasion of the region in 2022, Ms. Khatchenko moved to Staryi Saltiv. Now she loads her old station wagon with food from the World Food Programme almost every day to deliver it to the mostly elderly residents who remain in her village.
Doing what is possible
Like others here, Ms Khachenko is careful not to be too naively optimistic about the future. She says Russia has used bigger bombs and more lethal tactics in its recent attacks, so she is bracing herself for what might happen if enemy forces move through the area again.
But at the same time, she feels obliged to do everything in her power to alleviate the worries and enable people to live in their village for as long as possible.
“Before the war, our little village was so beautiful. People were proud to preserve their little piece of our beautiful area and show it to the world,” she says. “I really hope that what I do helps people stay in their homes so that one day we can be that beautiful place again.”
This determination to keep Ukraine’s traumatized villages alive is evident everywhere in Staryi Saltiv – from the numerous construction projects to the well-tended vegetable gardens behind many houses that promise a future harvest.
While at a construction site installing new insulation and basalt cladding on an apartment building that took a direct hit in a Russian attack, Vadym Morozov talks about how he can restore Staryi Saltiv to its glory days as a summer retreat for families.
“Before the war, I sometimes took my family to the resorts here, and most of the time there were so many people that you couldn’t find a place on the beach,” says the construction manager from Sumy, a neighboring region. “People here want to have this again in the future,” he adds, “and I feel like we’re doing our part to make that possible.”
Still, Morozov is careful to temper his lofty dreams with some realism. For example, he points out that in all the repairs to multi-story apartment buildings he has carried out in Staryi Saltiv, the top priority was to convert the basements into fortified shelters.
“Given where we are and the uncertain future we have,” he says, “building the shelters now is a really important part of our work.”
Hope for a tomato harvest
Across the highway, in a neighborhood of traditional single-story homes and manicured gardens, Alla Nahorna expresses the same mix of optimism and caution shaped by more than two years of grueling close-quarter warfare.
“We love living here. It’s really an idyllic place,” she says, offering passersby a bowl of freshly picked strawberries. “But it’s also true that we have no other place to go.”
In the shade of a neighboring tree, his husband Anatolyy tells how he grew up in the house where he and wife Nahorna live, how as a boy he fished in the reservoir in a peaceful village and built the wooden cross that still hangs around his neck.
But he points up and down the quiet street in front of their house and sighs. “Now only four families live here,” he says. “Everyone else has moved away.” The couple’s son, daughter and grandchildren now live in Kharkiv, 45 kilometers away.
Ms Nahorna says she cannot blame people for leaving. “You can feel the walls shaking when the bombs fall. You don’t know when and where it will happen.” In fact, on June 12, a bomb hit Staryi Saltiv, destroying a house and injuring three residents.
But then she pauses, seems to reconsider the dark path of her words, and looks into her garden.
“I really think our biggest problem is the lack of rain,” she says, looking at her rows of tomato plants. “As long as it rains, I’ll keep canning my tomatoes like I do every year.”
And she adds – not, it seems, in passing, but out of conviction: “And we will fight and we will win this war – and this will be a very good place to live again.”
Oleksandr Naselenko contributed to the research for this story.