^{Valera's flat. Pavel Kanygin / Novaya Gazeta}

We drive along Mariupol Vostochy residentialarea, populated mainly by the workers of the Steel Works of Ilyich, we are accompanied by the local volunteer Eduard, the owner of the private urological office. Eduard says, that the recent shelling was last night— “grads” targeted the checkpoint, located in the district outskirts, but they did not reach the residential quarters.

We enter a small shop in the ground floor of the affected nine-storey building. The shop is open, a woman in her 40-s, wearing a suit, is behind the cash-desk.

— Are you going to ask who was shooting? No idea, not even interested, — snapped the woman.

— We want to check if you need help, — says Eduard.

— Gee, — the woman briefly responded in surprise. — Why, is anybody planning to help us? Let them better stop shooting, nothing else is needed!

The woman behind the cash-desk is Anzhela. As we found out, she is the owner of the store— she works to replace the staff, refusing to go to Vostochny.

— Who is them?

— Do I know? “Them” means everybody! Whoever was shooting at us — them over there!

— Are you talking about DNR (Donetsk Peoples’ Republic) or the Ukrainian military?

— I don’t care, who! Let them bring peace back and let them all leave.

— Don’t you carewhoshootsatyou? — broke down Eduard.

— What are you getting at? —Anzhela said. — I’m beyond politics, I’m not interested in all that, anything to keep peace and this shop I have! Let them all go away from town, and those military men as well! Tell me, what for are the military men in town? They have come in numbers from everywhere…

 

***

“Now they speak so, —Eduard said to me, when we stepped outside. — They are simply scared. And when DNR comes slightly closer, these ones immediately creep out. Bloody vatniks! ”Somewhere, not far away in thee ast the sound of mortarbursts was heard. Again and again. But neither Eduard, nor others in the street even paid attention to it.

— But people are insulted to hear such things about themselves, — I say.

— But they do not even understand, what it means! And this is mycity, I accepte very one here: from fitters to factory director, I know all of them inside out. Thepeoplearenotcapableofthinking, damnSoves, you can get all bunged up trying to explain it or to tell them about a different life  - our Mariupol responds to the force only.

 

***

On the 9^th day after the shelling attack Vostochny district is scrubbed and washed clean. Here and there are piles of shredded slate and stones. Here and there pale walls of multi-storeyed buildings demonstrate fresh patches of recently poured concrete, windows have new glazing, lights are on, voices are heard. Bu tmany panel buildings still have gaping holes— up to half a meter in diameter, with crumpled bars sticking out, fragments of furniture, glass, twisted metalware could be also seen. These apartments have been deserted.

Volunteers from all over Ukraine come to Mariupol. Besides food and warm stuff, they distributed film(in some buildings glazing was broken by blast waves), made a list for window glazing replacement, walls repair, etc. Those, who suffered no harm, returned to their homes almost immediately. 

 

***

Valera’s apartment — three rooms in 9Maya, 5В — was smashed by a direct hit. Missile struck from the East. There’s a hole in the sitting room wall, interior walls are destroyed. Intact remained just the bedroom in the back, where Valera’s daughter and her boyfriend stayed during the attack. Volunteers and journalists also came to see Valera. He roams in his apartment ruins, wearing shapeless old leather jacket. It slightly smells of stale alcohol. Gaps and window openings are covered with film. Valera’s tools are scattered everywhere, here is the newly fixed arm chair. Valera asks us, when new plastic windows will be set and what is about the damage compensation.

— So they promised, — Valera says. — But this is the second week already.

— And what about your children? Do they need anything?

— Kids are OK, — hums and haws Valera. — My son-in-lawis a right boy. When he heard the initial bursts, he instantly threw Svetka to the floor and covered her with his body. Shewasn’tevenscratched, and he had some glass cuts in his back, legs, bottom...As for the apartment, you see, what happened to it. I gave all my life to it!

— They’ll help you, don’t worry — the volunteers comforted him.

 

Trying to be unnoticed well-knownUkrainianjournalistAndreyKulikovhanded over to Valera a bundle with money before leaving. “Holdon, justholdon”, — Andrey said. Colleagues have left, but we stayed for a little while in the apartment. Valerawasshowingcrushedbathtuband washing machine, fridge door, broken by the blast wave: “Can’t understand, how it was caught”. Finally, Valera stopped and said in a low voice:

— Ukes,scums, this is the mall.

— How do you mean?

— Well, it was them who shot us here! I saw it myself! Red fire balls were coming from Sopino!

— But it is 4 kilometers to Sopino, too short for “Grad”! — Eduard interfered again.

—I say, I saw it myself! See, they can’t get enough blood, they kill people, they create genocide.

— What can you say about DNR activists then?

— What shall I say about them? I don’t care, sort of — Valera said. — We want to live as we used to live, and they force war to us.

— What will you do, if the town is taken back by DNR?

— I don’t even know, — Valera got embarrassed. — Well, if no victims are involved, we’ll accept them, probably, I, personally, don’t care; the main thing is to get stability back.

— There’s going to be arallyat the dramatheatre today – 9 days commemoration, — I told Valera. — Are you coming?

— I don’t even know, I’ve never been there… Have nine days passed already?

— Just demonstrate your civic position, — said Edik.

— Say it again? — asked Valera.

When we go out and get in thecar, Edik again swears long and fiercely. After he calms down a little, he says: “Such a thing will never go anywhere…Complete desperation”.

 

***

^{Slava and Natash.Photo: Pavel Kanygin / Novaya Gazeta}

One more destroy edapartment — second floor in Olympiyskaya, 163. Married couple, Sasha and Natasha Sklyarovs, are cleaning out debris. “Grad” warheadbrokethroughthewalland the splinters sprayed the bigger room, where Natasha’s 14-year old son was sleeping. By pure magic the splintershit the upper part of the room, without hurting the kid.

— So far he was diagnosed with hard ness of hearing, but there’s a possibility, that they’ll identify a shell-shock, — Natasha says. — He’s in ENT department of the hospital. Hears nothing with his left ear.

Tears well in Natasha’s red eyes. She buries her face in hands.

— We lived as we lived, never asked anybody for anything, never touched anybody, — she cries. — What is the war for? We are common people.

Her husband Slava is stirring the pile of house hold be longings in the room next door, He tells us, how he was late for the distribution of humanitarian supplies.

— While we were busy taking our son to the hospital, everything was taken away! The dust hasn’t even settled down, and half of the city was already standing in a queue for the film. They even made thei rway from Primorsky District! — Slava says. — How come? Those, who really suffered, didn’t think about it during those first days. And what are those parasites?

—We’ll see people’s seedbeds under new film in spring, — Natasha says.

— They say everywhere, that we are the first in the line, so we’ve been waiting up till now.

— We’re common people,common — Natasha repeats. — What are these torments for?

— Who is tormenting you? — I ask.

— Whois?This Obama is, why does he stick his nose in here, — Natasha said. — And Merkel also. What do they need here?

— Ii it all their fault?

— How do I know, and you ask me about it! Who else can be guilty? Sick and tire do fit. Good God, when will it be over?

At first Natasha and Slava refused to be photographed: “Oh no, we are untidy, and it is messy around”. But finally they pose on theb ackground of their apartment twisted interior.

— Maybe, thisisthewaytospeed up with the aid, —Slava says in the end.

Its hould be said, that they are hospitable in Vostochny. While in other Mariupol districts journalists are looked at with anxiety.

Here, inVostochny, almost each house hold is convinced, that media arrival is somehow associated with humanitarian supplies distribution. That’s why locals were speaking awkwardly, hesitantly and cautiously. Both volunteers and journalists had a feeling, that these people would never communicate under different circumstances. They were embarrassed.

 

***

District shooting attack claimed 31 lives. In Kuzbasskayastreet, where private housing is, “grad” killed the entire Bobylev family, married couple with two kids. Theyjustleftthehouse, headingtoworkandschool, whenthe shell landed at their feet. The family died at once. The shell pit has been already filled in by the municipal services, but splinter marks are still visible at the chest level in the riddled steel fence. Theonlysurvivorsare 75-yearoldgranddadAnatoly Yanvariyevich and a shepherd Alfa, which were in the garden on the opposite side of the house.

Anatoly Yanvariyevichis silently sitting on the stool in a dusty kitchen. Broken out windows are fixed with that same film. A pile of swept up trash is in the corner. The shepherd scampers in an open-air cage like a scalded cat and can’t stop barking.

— Poorgirl, she’sonlyyear-old, scared, — an old man says and adds for some reason. — She has nothing to do with it.

— Howcanwehelpyou? — local volunteer Evgeny asks. — May be, windows, repair, medicines?

— Perhaps, windows need to be fixed, — old man says. — So cold.

We go out. Anatoly Yanvariyevich points to the broken out window and says, tha the wil lnot be able to fix it himself. He suddenly halts behind the wicketand looks at the steel fence.

— When I ran out the son crouched, leaning against the wall. Here the daughter-in-law was lying, kids were over there – the old man broke in tears. — I couldn’t realize immediately, screamed, and they were still lying there, so small. They desertedmeand Alfa. Why did they do it?

Alfa was still howling in the cage. I stepped inside to calm her down, but when I tried to reach her out, the dog set her ears back and dashed behind the shed. 

 

***

Memory rally gathered 200 persons in the center of half-million Mariupol. About 300 persons, including volunteers and militia. People brought candles, somewere holding flags, othershad icons. Politicians and activists made speeches, they spoke about war and victory. The mayor Yuri Hotlubey’s speech wasm et with whistles (half a year ago he was wearing St. George ribbon, and when the army entered the town he turned into the Ukrainian patriot).

— Dear Mariupol citizens, the tragedy pulled us together!

— Shameonyou! — themayorheard. — Shameonyou!

— Russian propaganda will be pleased, you are setting up the occasion for them! — Hotlubey was protecting himself.

— Screw you…

The people were drinking coffee from paper cups during the meeting. Somebodywashummingthe anthem. In the middle of the crowd I saw that Valera from 9 May street. Moving his lips he was with curiosity reading some leaflet. After all he came.

Mariupol