“Yaika, kurka, mleko [eggs, chicken, milk – Ed.]”, – my granny’s story about the German soldiers exchanging soap and other goods for food [during World War II – Ed.] came to my mind.
Yesterday, my neighbours brought eggs – the product that has gone from the shelves these days; the day before yesterday they procured microgreens somewhere and shared it with everyone. We give potable water to everyone in need of it, as we possess a filter, and when somebody moves out – the products from the fridge are shared among the elderly who stay in the apartment block.
In the group chat, when a person goes to a store or pharmacy, they ask if someone requires anything, and together they also examine the apartment block, the boiler room and the suspicious cars.
Just a week ago, they were strangers, who would not even greet each other.
There are about one-third of the staff left in the stores, but they are doing their best, the personnel of the underground which is now turned into the bomb shelter spent the whole week working without changing shifts; a new coffee shop opened in my district yesterday.
And it was the best coffee I’ve ever tasted in my life.
The day and a half wore on almost peacefully. We have already experienced the first range of emotions. And now the city goes on to exist reasonably in wartime – in the new reality.
I am observing Kyiv as if I were watching after some different creature with a historic memory. As if the city itself was urging people: you should go on with your lives!
March 5, 12:03
Ukrainian Text by Yaroslava Kravchenko. Translated into English by Ukrainianvancouver team – Mar 06, 2022
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