A village of life and a place of strength
The story of a woman who could not leave home
She has never lived anywhere but here. And she never wanted to live anywhere else. She was born here, gave birth to her children, and buried her parents and then her husband. It was the city of her life and the place of her strength. And when the war came, she did not want to go.
You could feel the war from afar. My daughter was calling and crying: "Mom, I am with the children. My husband is at war. I will not come for you, please, come to us! We are in Warsaw, and we are waiting for you". And the Woman gathered her things in the evening and put them back in the morning. "Where are you going? To whom shall I leave the goat and a cousin in the village? And grandfather's nut? And what will happen to me here? This is my land, and I am just a woman."
So she didn't leave. Vehicles with white letters on their sides came, and people who spoke and looked different flooded the city. Dirty, blatant, and hungry, they walked around houses, broke down doors, looked for phones and smashed them, took food and everything they saw, and then not only that. The Woman was afraid and hid the affectionate red dog, which was playful and gentle but barked properly - doing its canine service. And she couldn't hide it - on the third day, the dog was shot. And on the fourth day, she killed a white goat herself, because the last crumb of bread ran out.
A week has passed. Every night it thundered. The tall buildings in the center of the town were shelled. On Sunday, a neighbor from the end of the street came. Her house had been shelled. The roof and the boiler were crushed, and a shell killed her husband. The Woman had a stove, so you could keep warm, so she and the neighbor lived together since then. Later others came. The women gathered together: they cooked together, looked for firewood together, and fed the goats together all day long so that the goats would be silent. But they were found too soon and taken away.
Days passed, and some occupiers left, but others came. And searches became different. Four or five would come in, drive all the female companions into the house, swear at them, and order them to undress. And somehow...
This "somehow" the Woman forgot. As she wants to remember - the fog fills her head, thick as smoke, and nothing can be found in it. She only remembers that she seemed to separate as if she left her body and looked at everything from the side. "And as I thought: I have to survive it. I still have to see my children." The Woman remembers no names, no faces, only the smell. Heavy and sticky, smell that stank up the whole house. The Woman suffered and could not abide it - she collected everything that was there and burned it behind the cellar. But the smell still remained. She still feels it, especially when she hears stories about the war.
When the enemy troops left, the Woman went to see her relatives in the city but soon returned. Whatever happens here, this is my home and my people. There are fewer of them left, but they are still there. Some, however, do without a roof over their heads, some without a family, and some without legs. And she is a nurse. She used to help. So the Woman helps and thus saves herself.
In the evenings, the Woman talks to a psychologist. At first, the words did not come out. Sometimes the Woman just sat and was silent or cried. But the words appeared later. Not all yet, just a fraction, but week after week, month after month, and there will be more. The psychologist advises: imagine things in your life that you would like and dream about them. And the Woman dreams: to wait for the end of the war, to get a goat and a red dog, to wake up in the morning, to go out into the yard wearing a flowered robe, to greet the neighbors through the fence - as before. And then the daughter and grandchildren will return, and the son-in-law will come home from the war, and the Woman will arrange a dinner for them.
So the Woman will think about the grandchildren, about the dinner, about the goat, and it seems that the heaviness in the chest recedes a little. For a very little, just for a tiny bit, but the Woman already knows that the day will come and it will be easy. And she will finally find the words and tell her story.
This story is based on the experiences of real people who have suffered sexual violence at the hands of russian and are now on the path to recovery. Their stories were heard and retold by psychologist Iryna. The heroes themselves are not yet able to speak out. They need time and help. We hope that one day they will feel strong enough to testify to the war crimes committed by the occupiers on our land against our people.
