A family returned to one of the liberated villages in the Kyiv region. They cautiously walked into the yard, and they saw a brazier, a dozen empty bottles, and dried-up vomit in the young grass right away. Then they saw their house completely devastated. Every single thing was stolen: spoons, forks, high-heeled shoes. Even the old pair with lost heel taps. Graters, nutcrackers, and scotch tape were taken as well. The bathroom can not be repaired. They messed it up to such an extent that no bleach would return it back to life. It was clear that the Russians lived and ate here, slept in the house… The most “exciting” thing was yet to be found in the living room. The woman who owns the house counted 14 pairs of army boots, dirty military underwear, socks, pants, and shirts. There was nothing left of her husband’s business wardrobe as well. Apparently, before solemnly going home, they dressed up, tied new ties, and put on leather shoes.
In my friends’ apartment in Borodianka, Russian fascists settled in a children’s room. A white, cozy, and bright one. There was a bunk bed, a tiny chair, and a little table, teddy bears on the shelf, and a collection of trucks in the corner. Embroidered grandmother’s paintings hung on the walls… The Russians turned the white room into a black one. Neither bears nor a single unbroken car remained. However, the main gift was left on the carpet. A soldier just sh*tted on it.
A man was taken captive in the Chernihiv region. Apparently, dying of boredom, the ruscists decided to have some fun: they were faking the poor fellow’s death by shooting at him five times a day. They would take him outside blindfolded, make him kneel, and later “invite” his son and wife to watch the execution. They took their time and pleasure from the delicate moment of farewell, and after that, they would shoot. The soldiers were purposely aiming for a bullet to whistle a centimeter away from his head, ending up in the wall. Then they would take the prisoner to the barn, in an hour the torture would be repeated once again. Over and over…
In the Brovary district, the “liberators” broke into the cellars, losing their heads because of the abundance of the home canning, at the very sight of tiny pickles, spicy plum sauce, and strawberry jam with rose petals. But it was impractical to take glass jars inside the tanks, so they had to shatter everything.
Frightened cows are running through the fields between Rozhny and Bohdanivka. It’s impossible to catch them or to get close to them. Chernukhas, Zorkas, and Iriskas [typical cow names in Ukraine — Ed.], with eyes full of tears and swollen udders, are rushing through the young and fragile grass, mooing and blowing themselves up on Russian mines.
One of my friends who live in Bucha lost her stretch ceilings — the fascists cut them off. Now they will install them in their village called Sh*thole. Another friend of mine got a broken plasma TV. It was clear that the Russians tried to take it off, but couldn’t do it, they smashed it, full of embarrassment. The owner of a beauty salon lost her scissors, hairdryers, and even hair color mixing bowls. On top of all that, in a single-family residential neighborhood the Russian soldiers pooped in a children’s sandbox, right into the sand bucket for kids. After all, nothing special. Everyone shares what they have. One gives bread, hospitality, and love. Others give bullets lies and sh*t.
Russian Text by Iryna Hovorukha, translated into English by Ukrainianvancouver team — 30 Apr, 2022
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