Paweł Pieniążek - Greetings from Novorossiya - Eyewitness to the War in Ukraine

The separatists can now proclaim a huge success—Kiev has lost, at least for the time being. Everyone still remembers the “Crimean referendum” that was the last step before annexation by Russia. That’s how it is perceived by the most enthusiastic proponents of the Donetsk People’s Republic, who don’t seem to notice any difference in the questions posed. In Crimea people were asked about joining Russia, in Donbas they were asked about independence or autonomy (the Russian word can be interpreted in many ways). The Kremlin is more reserved in talking about the future of Donbas than it was in case of Crimea. It respects the results of the so-called referendum, but at the same time it doesn’t encourage breaking relations with Kiev. Instead, it pushes for dialogue.

In Donetsk the separatists’ success is hard to notice. The indifferent still live their lives and don’t pay any attention to what’s happening around them. The cautious decided it would only get worse later, so they packed up and left. Along with them many people with pro-Ukrainian views who had doubts until the very end said good-bye to Donetsk. The referendum was the symbolic end of opposition to the separatists. From now on nobody will dare challenge them.

The day after the referendum the separatist authorities decided to celebrate independence. In the evening a round of fireworks was fired from the administration building. The cannonade lasted a few minutes. A tiny group of spectators stood in front of the building. The indifferent ignored it. Creation of the “republic” didn’t take them away from their dinner plates and private discussions in the local bars. They still hoped they would live as before.

On May 25, two weeks after the referendum, Ukrainians were about to elect a new president. It was the number one topic in the entire country (except for the occupied territories). It was stressed that the election results would determine the future or even the existence of the state. Many Ukrainians decided to vote for Petro Poroshenko, although he was not their dream candidate. Yet they wanted to elect him in the first round to legitimize the authorities fighting the separatists and to continue the reforms. But it looked as if nobody cared whether in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions these elections would take place.

A few days after the referendum I go to one of the polling stations that is getting ready for the Ukrainian presidential elections. It looks like a meeting of an underground organization.

“Are you looking for the commission? You have to go this way,” a lady janitor tells me. Only one door is open in the empty building. The members of the commission have gathered there. The most important part of their session is excluding those members who don’t want to hold any formal position or who want to sabotage the commission’s activity. In this case it is a woman sent by the Communists. The Communist Party has declared that its members will not participate in the elections. The Communist representative has stopped attending the meetings, but she has no intention of leaving the commission. If other commission members followed suit, its activity could be blocked for its lack of a quorum.

The commission makes its decision to exclude the Communist. The two OSCE observers are staring at their smartphones. Noticing their lack of interest, the interpreter doesn’t even try to tell them what is happening. They sit there in silence minding their own business.

Will the elections take place?

“If Kiev doesn’t help us, I don’t think so,” says Volodymyr, one of the commission members. He explains that the polling commission is a very fragile structure that can be blocked easily. There are many ways to do this: hold its members by force, take away their computers, and so on. There is no security and nobody to rely on. The members of the polling commission are the last group who oppose the separatists and support a united Ukraine. Yet Kiev is doing nothing to help them with the election. Three days before the vote, the chairman of the commission whose session I attended is kidnapped. In the end, no polling station in Donetsk will be open. In the entire region voting will take place in 20 percent of the stations and a little more than 10 percent of the voters will cast their ballots.

MAY 9, 2014. I am planning a trip from Kiev to Slovyansk and Kramatorsk, and from there to the territories controlled by separatists. Another journalist is coming with me. There have not been any direct trains for a long time, but you can reach Donetsk by taking a roundabout route. A night train from Kiev to Kharkiv turns out to be cheap and relatively fast. After that we could get around by bus, taxi, or private car. “To Slovyansk and Kramatorsk?” asks Irina, who is sharing a compartment with us. She is coming back with two children from Kiev, where she was resting from war and the sight of the wounded people brought to her city. They are going home, to Izium, where for a long time the headquarters and the base of the antiterrorist forces have been located. When the front moved into the Donetsk region, the military and the National Guard relocated.

“You can go there. These cities have been liberated,” she adds. “Liberation” is a very popular term, although “escape” would be more appropriate. Three days ago these cities were abandoned by the separatists without fighting. They had been surrounded, but they got through the Ukrainian positions and reached Donetsk.

Irina is telling me how to save time and how not to overpay. You can go by private car instead of by bus but it isn’t easy if you don’t know Kharkiv. I don’t.

“When you get off at the last metro station, you will see a supermarket. In the parking lot there will be cars going to Izium. You will find them for sure,” Irina tries to convince me. She was right. It wasn’t difficult. The biggest problem in the parking lot is to find people going to the regional border. I have to walk around a little. In the end, I find them. Three men are talking at the edge of the lot. Now, we have to wait a while. When the car is full, we will be able pull out.

In Izium the driver lets me off at the bus station. “A bus to Slovyansk? The next one leaves in four hours but all the tickets are sold out,” says a cashier. Although a lot of people hope to get home, there has been no increase in the number of buses. This situation makes a perfect business opportunity for taxi drivers, both legal drivers and others who have sensed a chance to make money. They charge one hundred hryvnias per person, so they take four hundred for a ride (this is about one hundred zlotys or twenty-five dollars). For a distance of a little bit more than fifty kilometers, it is a horrendous price. It is twice as much as you paid before the conflict. Why?

“They are shooting there,” explains the driver. I let him fool me, and I don’t even try to bargain. In reality that area has been peaceful for a few days. Anyway, even if I were to dispute the shooting, he would come up with another argument: the price of gasoline. I don’t have any choice. I could waste the entire day at the bus station.

The traffic jam at the Ukrainian forces’ post north of the city demonstrates that there are many people willing to take a ride to Slovyansk. In April this very post was burned down by separatists fleeing the Ukrainian army. Now, when I approach it by taxi, a dozen cars are waiting to get through. These are Slovyansk residents who want to return home. Many of their cars are packed up to their roofs with food and other necessities. In Slovyansk there are shortages of everything. We wait a dozen minutes for everyone to be checked. The taxi driver says this is nothing. Once, when President Petro Poroshenko came to Slovyansk, they all waited several hours.