My first encounter with Ukraine was a bus full of Orthodox Jews. I had crossed the border into the country that Russian President Vladimir Putin had attacked because he thought it had to be “denazified”. And there, at the petrol station a couple of kilometers from the border with Poland, suddenly stood 20-30 men in black coats, wide-brimmed hats and with side locks along their cheeks. They were to buy SIM cards for their Israeli mobile phones. – Can you take a picture of us, asked one of them. In the middle of the war, they had decided to go to Uman in southern Ukraine to celebrate the Jewish New Year, they said. – But there are no combat actions there, are there? they asked me. A little unsure of exactly where Uman was right then – since we were going to pass the town on our way to Odesa – I replied that it probably wasn’t. Correspondent Åse Marit Befring on assignment in Ukraine for news. Photo: news Nobody cared about the flight alarm Photographer Gunnar Bratthammer and I got into the car to continue our journey towards Kyiv. It was September, the leaves had changed color, but the weather was still quite warm. Kyiv was experienced as anything but a city at war. People went to coffee shops, they enjoyed a glass of wine and good food in a restaurant, took the ferris wheel that lit up in blue in the square and went to work as normal. None of this stood out from other capitals in Europe. The illustrations of this building in the capital send the mind far away from war and suffering. Photo: Åse Marit Befring The only reminders of the ongoing war were the checkpoints we passed on the way into the city, some abandoned Russian military vehicles in a square and the stickers on the floor of the hotel, which pointed in the direction of the bomb room. But when the flight alert went off in September, Kyiv’s residents continued undisturbed. No one pulled down into the bomb bays. A colder and darker city Then came December, and I’m back again. This time the city feels colder and darker. The atmosphere is gloomy, people walk like shadows through the streets, squares and parks resemble black holes and the Ferris wheel is no longer lit in blue. Mostly it’s completely black. Because with winter, the war came to all of Ukraine through blackouts. The atmosphere in a darkened metropolis is very special. Photo: Åse Marit Befring And people take the flight alert seriously, everyone finds their way to the bomb bay when Russian drones and missiles rain down on the city. By Wednesday this week at the latest, they arrived, the drones. They drove over the center of the city. I found my way down into the bomb room with many others, after being woken up a little before 06 o’clock local time. A little dazed, I pulled on some warm clothes and went to the hotel garage. It is suitable for the purpose. There they have cleared space for some chairs, sofas and a coffee machine while the cars are parked on the street. It was quiet while we waited for the drones. From hip destination to city at war Before the war, Kyiv had emerged as a hip destination. With its pulsating folk life, alluring shops and urban art, the city could compete with any European metropolis. Beautiful and gilded cathedrals and church buildings, together with Stalinist architecture, told of a capital with a rich history and special atmosphere. One of Kyiv’s many beautiful church buildings. The architecture made the city an attractive destination before the war. But you could also catch up with more recent history here – all the young people who died during the Maidan revolution, shot dead by President Viktor Yanukovych’s security forces when he wanted to tie Ukraine closer to Russia, while a large part of the population would rather turn their eyes to EU. The uprising against the pro-Russian president in 2013–14 was a turning point for the direction Ukraine took. After the Maidan revolution and the fall of the president, Ukrainians turned increasingly towards the West. When Russia invaded the country on Thursday 24 February this year, Kyiv was again at the center of events. The world held its breath and wondered if the capital would fall. At the start of the war, the mood was that it could happen within a few days. At least that was what President Putin had expected. Everything depended on the ability of the Ukrainians to resist. The City That Didn’t Fall Although the Ukrainian forces were few, they managed to attack several Russian columns. In early March, Russian forces appeared to plan to march into Kyiv with an endless military convoy of tanks, armored vehicles and artillery. They were approaching the city and were only a couple of miles away. But unexpected resistance combined with fuel shortages and poor planning on the Russian side put a damper on the plan to take Kyiv. The convoy hardly moved. Western fears that the Russians were encircling the city were put to shame. The Russians were defeated and made a full retreat. After that, the city slowly but surely returned to a kind of normality. But in the darkness of December, nothing is normal anymore in Kyiv. War-inspired street art in Kyiv. Photo: Åse Marit Befring Own power outage menus It’s a strange feeling to move around in a modern metropolis with well over 3 million people and hardly any light. Neither street signs nor buildings are illuminated, and crossing the road has become a risky sport. The police report an increase in the number of collisions. But even though the city is blacked out for large parts of the day, it does not seem to make the Ukrainians kneel. Provisional charging points and warming rooms have popped up all around the capital. The hum from the units outside the cafes is deafening, drowning out the noise from the cars. Many restaurants have acquired aggregates. They make noise and noise, but ensure a certain normalcy. Photo: Åse Marit Befring Restaurants have created their own menus that show what they can offer when there is a power cut, the candles give a little Christmas atmosphere and waiters use headlamps. In the hotel too, the power goes on as it is, without anyone batting an eyelid. The abnormal has become normal, and war – with its brutality, unpredictability and absurdity – has become everyday. The war has entered the living room President Volodymyr Zelenskyi has called this “the winter Ukraine will remember”. Although the suffering at the front as a result of the actual warfare is enormous and bloody, the citizens of Kyiv have also had the war in their living room. – What I fear most is that the Russians will continue to send their rockets at the power stations, so that we will be completely without light and heat. Then we will also have problems getting food, 31-year-old Oleksandra tells me. I meet her at home in her small two-room flat, which she shares with her husband and her 6-year-old son, Timur. It is located on the 12th floor of one of the drabant towns on the outskirts of downtown Kyiv. The sofa in the living room turns into a bed when evening falls, in the kitchen they have a small table with room for three. When the power goes out, they also lose their internet connection. Longing for normal everyday life She remembers what it was like here before everything happened. Then they could go out in the evening and enjoy a dinner, go bowling or go to a cafe. She longs for the very simple, like inviting guests or meeting friends for a carefree evening out. An everyday life without war. Now everything is about survival, she says. But she tries to create a normality for her son in everything. That’s why they decorate for Christmas “and come up with whatever they can”, as she says. – Yesterday we went out hunting, threw snowballs and laughed. For a short while we forgot everything. But then the siren sounded again. The sound carried something very deep in the quiet forest. It brought us back to reality, says Oleksandra. Oleksandra’s screenshot shows two worlds colliding: an image of a winter idyll, and a warning message about a possible missile attack. Photo: Åse Marit Befring/news It feels like a long time since September when the leaves had changed color and people could have a glass of wine in one of Kyiv’s bars or cafes, seemingly without worries. At the time I was surprised that this was a capital at war. Now there are enough reminders that the war is present, here too.
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