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‘How can anyone live that way?’: Ukrainians flee grim life in Russian-occupied Kherson

Russian soldiers stand near a truck with white Zs painted on it
Russian soldiers stand guard in Kherson, an occupied city in southern Ukraine.
(Associated Press)
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It was early one morning when life under Russian occupation became too much for Volodymyr Zhdanov: Rocket fire aimed at Ukrainian forces struck near his home in the city of Kherson, terrifying one of his two children.

His 8-year-old daughter “ran in panic to the basement. It was 2 o’clock in the morning and [she] was really scared,” said Zhdanov, who later fled the city on the Black Sea and has been living in Kyiv, the Ukrainian capital, for the last three weeks.

Kherson, located north of the Crimean peninsula, which was annexed by Moscow in 2014, was the first city to fall after Russia’s invasion began Feb. 24. The port remains at the heart of the conflict and Ukraine’s efforts to preserve its vital access to the sea. For Russia, Kherson is a key point along the land corridor from its border to the peninsula.

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Zhdanov and others who made the hazardous journey to escape from the region describe increasingly grim conditions there, part of a heavy-handed effort by Russia to establish permanent control.

The streets in the city, which had a prewar population of about 300,000, are mostly deserted. Rumors swirl about acts of armed resistance and the sudden disappearance of officials who refuse to cooperate with the Russian authorities.

Occupation forces patrol in markets to warn those trying to use the Ukrainian currency, the hryvnia, in transactions. Pro-Moscow officials have been installed in local and regional governments, as well as on the police force. Workers at various municipal services face pressure to cooperate with Russian managers. Most schools have closed.

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Couples in Ukraine’s capital flock to tie the knot as war nears six-month mark.

Supplies of essential goods are uneven, halting most commercial activity. There are shortages of medicines and spikes in the price of other commodities.

Many residents had been determined to hold out as long as possible for a promised Ukrainian counterattack that hasn’t materialized.

“There was physical danger in the city, because there were many soldiers,” Zhdanov said.

A referendum on the region becoming a part of Russia has been announced by Moscow-installed officials, although no date has been set. Meanwhile, officials are pressuring those remaining to take Russian citizenship.

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The village of Novoselivka, nearly 90 miles north of Kyiv, was a scene of intense fighting during the 36-day attack on the capital.

Income from Zhdanov’s family flower business dried up after the currency change.

“It’s difficult to survive with no money and no food,” he said. “Who would want a Russian government if your life, business and kids’ education are taken away from you? They’ve all gone.”

When he left Kherson with his family, Zhdanov risked arrest by hiding a Ukrainian flag in the bottom of his pack. He had kept the flag from a public protest of the Russian troop presence.

Journalist Yevhenia Virlych also stayed for five months, writing about officials who had allegedly cooperated with the Russians. But she worked while in hiding and feared for her safety, frequently changing apartments and posting photos of Poland on social media to give the impression she had already fled.

Protester wrapped in Ukrainian flag in Kherson, southern Ukraine
A woman wrapped in a Ukrainian flag stands in front of Russian troops during a rally against Russian occupation in Kherson, Ukraine, in March.
(Associated Press)

“They have tied a knot around Kherson, and it’s getting tighter,” Virlych said, adding that locals were being pressured to accept Russian passports. “Russia, which came under the banner of liberation, but came to torture and take us captive. How can anyone live that way?”

Last month, Virlych finally fled to Kyiv with her husband.

Those wanting to leave Kherson must pass a series of Russian military checkpoints. Soldiers search belongings, identity papers and mobile phones, with anyone suspected of supporting the resistance facing interrogation at so-called filtration camps.

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As Kherson sinks into poverty, it’s getting harder to leave. A bus ticket to Zaporizhzhia, a city 185 miles to the northeast, now costs the equivalent of $160. Before the war, it was $10.

Virlych said she admired the bravery of those who are staying behind as well as of those who risked their lives to join anti-Russian protests in the early stages of the occupation. She recalled a major demonstration March 5 attended by more than 7,000 people.

“In all my life, I’ve never seen people take such action,” she said.

By April, the protests had stopped as occupying troops began responding to them with lethal force, Virlych said, adding: “The Russians were opening fire [at crowds] and people were getting wounded.”

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has upended the operations of what was the world’s fourth-largest grain exporter, with global consequences.

Moscow wants to maintain its hold on Kherson, strategically located near the North Crimean Canal, which provides water to the Russian-annexed peninsula. Ukraine had shut the canal after the annexation eight years ago, but the Russians reopened it after they took control of the region.

Like Zhdanov, Virlych is still holding out hope for a Ukrainian counteroffensive to wrest the region away from Russia.

“I believe only in God and the Ukrainian armed forces,” she said. “I no longer have faith in anything else.”

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