戰火陰云下的烏克蘭

It isn’t yet dusk， but the sky to the south is darkening with an approaching storm as Denis Dragusevich and Zhenya Kucheryavaya play with their three small boys in a dusty apartment-building playground in 1）Slavyansk.

After pro-Russian rebels declared their own republics in eastern Ukraine this April， Slavyansk quickly became the 2）focal point of the fighting between government forces and the steadily growing 3）militias. Since the end of May， 4）Kiev’s “anti-terrorist operation” has 5）shelled the city on a near-daily basis， hitting dozens of residential buildings and reducing most of the suburb of Semyonovka to rubble.

“Everyone talks about the same thing， about when the war will end，” says Katya， who lives in a two-room apartment with her mother and her eight-year-old son， Gleb. The distribution centre where she worked has closed down， and instead she spends half the day hauling water to the apartment.

The people I speak to tell me that life here has changed 6）drastically： because of the damaged 7）infrastructure， water has been cut off for many since early June， 90% of the city lacks electricity， mobile reception is 8）elusive and some neighbourhoods no longer have gas.

Denis and Zhenya live in a two-room apartment with her father， disabled mother， sister and their three boys， a one-year-old and threeyear-old twins. The family wakes up at 9）first light； now that there is no electricity， the day ends much earlier. After a quick breakfast， Denis and Zhenya go to haul water in plastic bottles from a nearby well. Elsewhere in the city， water towers have run hoses for lines of thirsty people to fill up.

Several times a week， they buy milk at a small cottage in the city where a man keeps a cow， pig and chickens that have been abandoned by their owners. It costs 20 hryvnia （￡1） for three litres —not bad， Denis says， but more expensive than it used to be. Many products have grown pricier as food supplies have been stretched and stores have closed， with the UN estimating that seasonal vegetables are four to five times more expensive than before. The few supermarkets that have electricity are still open， but their many bare shelves portray the difficulty of delivering goods to a city under siege.

Zhenya says her biggest worry is finding food for her mother and children now that the family’s income has dropped off. She previously received 3，000 hryvnia （￡150） a month in child benefits， her parents received 2，600 hryvnia in pension payments， and Denis earned 50 to 100 hryvnia a day working at a tableware factory during winter—Slavyansk is known for its 10）ceramics—and on building sites in summer. But social payments have been cut off， the factories have shut and no one is building anything during the 11）bombardment.

“Earlier， we didn’t have to 12）scrimp on the kids’ food； we bought veal， chicken， milk and sweets，” Zhenya says. “Now we go home and they say， ‘Momma， give me sweets’， and you can’t explain to a child that there’s no money.”

Zhenya says the constant fear has changed the way she looks. “If you look at my old photos， my face has completely changed，” she says.

Only one pharmacy is open， and prices there have risen， so finding medicine for her 13）diabetic mother is another constant concern.

After cooking lunch， the family typically sleeps through the afternoon， while the grandfather often goes fishing. After they get up， the parents take the boys out to play—no farther than the playground in front of their apartment building， though， in case the shelling starts. In the evenings， the neighbours sit outside the stairwell entrance and listen to the news. When it starts getting dark， it’s time to go in， eat a snack and go to bed， Denis says.

The yard smells of waste because of the nearby dumpsters， which residents leave open for the many cats and dogs that now roam the city， having been abandoned by their owners. Tens of thousands have left Slavyansk， and the fruit from apricot trees in the yard is rotting because not enough residents are left to pick it. Life in a war zone is a 14）fetid affair， first and foremost because it’s hard to flush a toilet with the precious little water you’ve managed to haul in that day.

Like many families， Denis and Zhenya have harrowing stories of the attacks they have witnessed. The most infamous of them occurred on June 8th. One shell landed in the belltower of a church. Casualty counts varied， but both sides admitted civilians had been killed， including a six-year-old girl.

When the shelling started in the distance， Denis went to look for Zhenya， who wasn’t home from her daily errands. As he was walking down Svoboda Street， he heard the whoosh of an incoming shell and dropped to the ground. A few dozen yards away， a shell hit the corner of a high-rise and two more hit the apartment building next door， sending bricks flying.

“There was no fear or surprise， just emotion，‘What are you doing， you dogs？ When will it end？ Bastards！’” Denis recounts.

When the shelling starts， Denis and Zhenya take the kids into the entryway of their apartment or the bathroom. The others stay with 15）Babushka in one of the bedrooms where Denis has piled four mattresses against the windows. When the shelling started around 8pm on a recent evening， he took the cushions off the couch and they slept in the entryway. Otherwise， the family sleeps all five together in one bed. One of the twins， Yaroslav， often cries and is almost always in one of the adults’ arms ever since a shell fell nearby.

“When you have to give a three-year-old 16）valerian to sleep， it’s awful，” Zhenya says.

Katya and Gleb try not to leave their neighbourhood in case more shelling starts. They fetch water in the mornings； in the afternoons， Gleb draws pictures or plays with his action figures or his favourite Porsche Cayenne toy car. Katya worries about where Gleb will study in the autumn as his school was recently hit by a shell.

Asked why they don’t leave the city， Denis and Zhenya explain it’s because of their 17）precarious financial situation. Because of Babushka’s condition， they would have to hire a taxi， and that costs 500 hryvnia （￡25） for a trip to the nearby town of Svyatogorsk where thousands have taken refuge， an “unreal sum”， Zhenya says.

The story is similar for other families. Gleb spent much of May at summer camp， but Katya says she doesn’t have the money to send him back. “We all want to run， but where to？ If I go away for a month， I’ll come back to an apartment with no door and no windows，”she says. She worries that her home could be 18）looted.

Katya and Gleb left to stay with her grandparents in nearby Kramatorsk this week after their neighbourhood came under intensive shelling that hit nearby apartment buildings， killing residents. 19）Shrapnel was sprayed across the yard where Gleb played.

“I had such a home， such a family， I was working， but the Slavyansk we knew is gone，”a crying Katya said by phone from Kramatorsk.“What will we do now？ Where will we go？ We left with only underwear practically. They keep killing us and killing us.”

還未到黃昏時分，但南邊的天空卻因即將來臨的暴風雨而變得陰沉沉的。此時，在斯拉維揚斯克市一棟公寓樓下滿地塵埃的游樂場上，丹尼斯·德拉格塞維奇和珍雅·庫舍雅瓦雅正陪著他們的三個小男孩玩耍。

親俄民間武裝人員今年四月在東烏克蘭宣布建立其自治的共和國，之后，斯拉維揚斯克市馬上成了政府軍隊和持續增長的民兵組織之間的戰斗焦點。自五月底起，基輔的“反恐行動”幾乎每天都在炮轟這座城市，擊垮了幾十棟居民樓，并將謝苗諾夫卡村周邊的大部分地方變成了殘垣碎瓦。

“每個人都在談論著同一件事——戰爭何時才會結束，”卡雅說道，她和母親還有八歲的兒子格里布一起住在一間兩居室的公寓里。她工作的那家配送中心已經關門了，而她得要花上半天時間提水到公寓里。

與我交談的那些人告訴我說，這里的生活發生了徹底的改變：由于基礎設施被破壞，從六月初以來很多地方都斷水了，城市90%的地區斷電，手機信號很難收到，有些社區也不再供氣了。

丹尼斯和珍雅住在一間兩居室的公寓里，同住的還有珍雅的父親、行動不便的母親、妹妹，以及他們的三個兒子，一個才一歲大，還有一對三歲大的雙胞胎。一家人天一亮就起床；如今屋里沒電，日間生活更早結束。簡單地吃完早餐后，丹尼斯和珍雅便用塑料瓶去附近的井里提水。在城市的其他地方，水塔連著膠皮管讓排成長隊的口渴民眾裝水。

他們一周到城里的一間小農舍買幾次牛奶，那里的住戶收留了被主人們拋棄的一頭奶牛、一頭豬和一些小雞。……