Yevhen Ryschuk talks about how people live under occupation, prepare for the return of the Ukrainian army and are nostalgic for their former lives.

Text by: Dmytro Syniak

When the troops of the Russian Mordor appeared on the outskirts of Oleshky in the Kherson region on the morning of 24 February, they were a little confused: their maps showed them the town of Tsiurupynsk. However, the old name, associated with the main ideologist behind the creation of Bolshevik food detachments that took bread from Ukrainians in 1918, was discarded six years ago, along with the Soviet past. Liberation from this past went hand in hand with the economic growth of the Oleshky municipality which, due to its successful location and relatively large population (almost 40,000), was poised to become one of the richest municipalities in the Kherson region. But its flourishing was interrupted by Russian tanks. Yevhen Ryschuk, head of the municipality, managed, without direct cooperation with the ‘Russian warship’, to govern for exactly forty days from his new office set up in the town hospital. Now Mr. Ryschuk is proud that none of the public officers in the municipality supported the ‘Russian peace’: all of them refused to collaborate with the occupiers. Yevhen Ryschuk told Decentralization about how the Oleshky municipality lives ‘under the boots of orcs’. It has been two weeks since he left Oleshky, but despite that, he continues to stay on top and address all issues by phone. And in order to keep people informed, Mr. Ryschuk records daily videos and posts them on Facebook. They have up to 14,000 viewers.

 

Invaders with syringes

 

When was Oleshky occupied?

At around 9 a.m. on 24 February, Russian troops were advancing near the town. Everyone first saw Russian helicopters, and then military convoys drove in from the Crimea as well from Skadovsk and Hola Prystan. Woe to those who came their way: they mercilessly shot everyone. However, these convoys did not enter the town, going to the Antonivskyi Bridge across the Dnipro River instead. Fierce fighting broke out in several villages of our municipality, as well as, in fact, near this bridge. There were many casualties, both from our side and from the Russian side… To tell the truth, I did not witness these events, because at 4 a.m. on 24 February, I arrived in Boryspil from my vacation. My plane was the last to make a regular flight to the Ukrainian capital city. After hearing about Putin’s recognition of the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republics, as well as the withdrawal of all Russian diplomats from Ukraine, I realised that the vacation had to be cancelled immediately.

How did you get from Kyiv to Oleshky?

The hardest thing was to get out of the capital: traffic jams were insane. On my way, the residents of the municipality were flooding my phone with text messages: “X Russian military vehicles passed through Oleshky.” Eventually, their messages became more concerning: “X-kilometre convoy of armoured personnel carriers passed through us.” Later, we could not even bring fuel for the solid fuel boiler to our hospital for a few days, as all roads were chock-full of Russian military equipment. I was able to get home (I live in Kherson and commute to work to Oleshky) only at about 11 p.m. on 25 February. When I passed the Antonivskyi Bridge, there were no more soldiers there. Instead, there were shot civilian cars with dead people inside. There were also many bodies of dead soldiers on the bridge. Later, the Russians took theirs, but we were not allowed to bury ours for several more days. No civilians could even enter the bridge: snipers killed everyone.

Do you know why our people did not blow up the Antonivskyi Bridge in time, letting the orcs get to the right bank of the Dnipro River?

I can only say that the demolition of a permanent structure such as Antonivskyi Bridge requires quite serious preparation and a lot of explosives. Moreover, the demolition of the Antonivskyi Bridge would not change the situation much, because they could also break through to the right bank across the dam of the Kakhovka Reservoir, which is virtually impossible to destroy, because then Kherson will end up underwater. The Ukrainian army tried to block both the bridge and the dam, creating barricades of sorts on them, but these attempts were unsuccessful as the Russians moved too fast. And the bridge withstood our artillery hits.

So the Russians did not enter Oleshky in the first days of the war?

They occupied the industrial zone near the crossroads, a few kilometres away from our town. So, on the one hand, they were very close, and on the other hand, they didn’t interfere too much in our affairs. We were much more affected by the lack of those maintaining the public order.

How did you solve this problem?

We started a patrol service made up of the locals. More than a hundred men agreed to patrol the town streets around the clock, carrying only simple wooden bats. Some tried to wear bulletproof vests taken from the victims on Antonivskyi Bridge, but the Russians did not like it. They severely beat one of our guys for wearing it, and after that, all patrols removed the ‘protection’. To be honest, however, it was unnecessary: ​​the bats were enough to deal with local drunks, brawlers and looters. A patrol unit of up to ten of our men prevented the queue at the supermarket from turning into a meat grinder in the first days of the war: People there behaved very aggressively. They bought as much as they could carry. And, having taken goods home, hurried back and joined the queue again. They could do it five times a day. Were it not for the patrols, the entire town would also have turned into a marketplace: sensing impunity, traders brought their goods to all crowded places. In two months, we had several fights, several cases of domestic violence and even one domestic homicide. If it weren’t for the patrols, it would be very difficult for us with all this. We divided the town into sectors, appointed heads for each sector and monitored the situation around the clock.

You reported on the categorical refusal of the Oleshky Town Council to organise a joint patrol with the occupiers. Tell us more about it.

We were offered to strengthen the patrols by the Russian military. I said, “Oh, no! I can’t be responsible for your units…” At the same time, the Russian military stationed in the town still interfered in the work of the patrols. Many of them were beaten for contrived reasons. And they fought crime with their brutal methods. One day our patrol officers caught drug addicts who were using drugs. For such crimes, they would usually face several days of community service. But the Russians, whom the patrol met on the way, decided to take these addicts with them. Nobody heard about them since. Close proximity to the Russian army is very dangerous, so I recently advised the men to stop patrolling.

When did the Russians come to Oleshky itself?

About 3 March. Since then, some units have replaced others, as in a kaleidoscope. The DPR units were the worst. They robbed people, took away their cars, and, surprisingly, stole syringes and all sorts of drugs from pharmacies. Then they got drunk and fired machine guns at pheasants: we have a lot of these birds around the town. When the DPR riff-raff was finally removed from the town, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, each subsequent unit considered it their duty to storm the Oleshky Police Station, which remained empty. I even asked, “Please don’t knock out the door to our police station; there is no one there, and then we will have to reinstall the door!” We reinstalled that door three times.

The famous Chornobaivka with its military airfield, where Ukrainian artillery destroyed Russian troops 17 (!) times, is ten kilometres from your municipality. Were their losses really that great?

Yes, they were great, especially after the first artillery strikes. I personally saw destroyed combat helicopters without propellers being later pulled in the direction of Crimea. We could hear the explosions at the airfield very well. In general, in the first days of the war, many burned armoured vehicles of the occupiers remained on many roads of our municipality, but now they have taken them away.

 

Professional burglars

 

Were there enough food and necessities in the first days of the occupation? And are there enough of them now?

I negotiated some food from farmers, and they brought us potatoes, cereals and so on. And our bakeries made bread themselves. At first, people panicked, sweeping everything in sight. That’s why for several weeks, we had to bake twice as much bread as in peacetime: the demand was so high. But in a few weeks, the panic subsided, and we returned to pre-war volumes. In general, we were lucky, because there is a regional warehouse of a supermarket chain in Oleshky. There was enough of everything. But people still queued for hours.

Does the Oleshky municipality lack medications?

The state used to allocate funds for certain medicine packages, such as surgery medications. Our hospital had 17 such packages, and everything under them was purchased at the beginning of the year. But these are not the medications that people use every day, and that is what we are missing right now. Volunteers bring some, but that doesn’t solve the problem. Drug fraud has also increased in recent weeks. A local contacts volunteers and asks them to bring him some expensive drug ‘because it’s a matter of life and death’. A volunteer moves heaven and earth to find it, and the ‘patient’ later sells the drug on the Internet. So it would be good if the volunteers checked the requests. I also see that the scarcest tablets and ampoules, which are usually supplied to Oleshky from Mykolaiv, simply don’t reach people. These are, for example, epilepsy and cancer medications. A woman from the village of Vynohradove, a cancer survivor, recently walked 50(!) km to Oleshky Hospital on foot. She was in so much pain. She asked the doctors to inject her with ‘at least something’. So such medications are a must.

Has the Oleshky municipality faced any destruction?

Fortunately, almost none. I think that the occupiers had plans for the Kherson region since the first day of the war, unlike, say, the Kyiv region. That is why we have almost nothing destroyed. If something was hit, it was by accident. However, our gas distribution station was damaged by the hostilities, so there was no gas in Oleshky homes for a long time. But the hardest thing for us was to live not without gas, but without phone reception and the Internet, which the Russians had been jamming for several days in a row. At that time, I had to drive from one end of the town to the other to resolve issues that only required me to make a few calls in peacetime. All our infrastructure is currently up and running. Now we just need to get rid of the Russians, and then I’ll be able to say that everything is fine in the municipality.

Is it true that your house in Kherson was robbed?

It was, twice! It was first burgled and then locked by real professionals. No one would believe they didn’t have the keys. Burglars removed the ventilation grilles in the house, rummaged among the books and even in the freezer. Later they sent me a defiant text message from a Russian number: “We closed the door. There is no money.” The second robbery was a military operation. First the occupiers blocked the street, then climbed the ladder from the neighbours to my yard through a high fence. They were in no hurry, sat down at the table, drank vodka, got themselves a snack from the fridge. Meanwhile, their accomplices removed TVs from the walls and piled up valuables. Interestingly, they wrecked the safe while the keys hung right next to it, on the wall. Because the safe itself was empty. Upon learning of my ‘guests’, the security service called me. I immediately went live and said, “At this moment, Russian soldiers are robbing my house.” In five minutes, they were gone. They must have been afraid that they would be given a dressing down from their higher-ups, who could have also watched my broadcasts. The burglars only took my daughter’s computer and my camera.

 

“Nailed palms to the fence...”

 

Have there been atrocities in your municipality similar to those in Bucha?

A priest from the village of Radensk told me about the following. One day, the Russians brought humanitarian aid to the village from Crimea. People said, “Where did those humanitarian clothes come from? Perhaps from Bucha?” And then one of the locals crushed the Russian ‘gifts’ with a tractor. So, the occupiers later returned and, not finding the tractor driver, went to the owner of the tractor. To punish him, they nailed the man’s palms to the fence. How do you like this story? Also the other day, two of our patrol guys were shot in the stomach. Another patrolman was arrested after learning that he had received a minor gunshot wound to the arm in the early days of the war. The Russian orcs were looking for wounded Ukrainian soldiers, whom we hastily discharged from the hospital. They were able to capture only three seriously wounded soldiers out of several dozen. Just a couple of days ago, they were taken somewhere in three ‘ambulances’.

What is the reason for the abduction of people by the Russian military?

Mostly suspicions of espionage. But for these suspicions to arise, it is enough to catch the eye of some Russian soldier. In addition, the Russians are purposefully looking for Ukrainian army volunteers and those who served in the Donbas. For instance, in the first days of the war occupiers abducted Olexandr Zarivnyi, Head of the Oleshky Union of Anti-Terrorist Operation Veterans. To date, there is no information about him, and I do not even know where to look for it.

Why didn’t people like him leave the municipality in time?

I do not understand it myself. After all, it was obvious that Olexandr would at least have problems with the occupation authorities. When his family told him about it, he proudly replied that he would not hide from anyone.

 

Escape from the occupation

 

Did many people leave the municipality?

We had two waves of evacuation. The first happened after Bucha. When everyone saw what the retreating Russian soldiers did in the Kyiv region, many of our residents rushed to flee. I was still in the municipality at the time because I saw that I could run it at least to a certain extent. The next wave happened when there were rumours about the forced mobilisation of the local population in the Kherson region. Arestovych* then urged people to escape directly from the TV screen.  In those days, thousands of cars were leaving the municipality daily. I think that during these two waves of evacuation, 40% of the population left Oleshky. People from the surrounding villages, however, left in smaller numbers. In the villages, it is difficult for people to leave their properties, realising that they were likely to be looted and destroyed.

Did you leave with the second wave?

Yes, and, in fact, my departure increased it. Although I later said on Facebook that I had to leave the municipality because of the threat to my life, people didn’t really believe it.  “Ryschuk knows something,” they reckoned. “He left for a reason, so we need to get out of here as soon as possible!” I was afraid that people would panic, run all at once, and then very undesirable things could happen. Even now, people call me every day. “Mr Ryschuk, what should we do?” they ask. “Should we leave?” I tell them to leave, just to be careful and not all at once. And I am not the only one to advise to leave. Just before I left the municipality, one of the senior Rosguard officers stationed in Oleshky advised, “Take your family and run! There will be nothing good for you here.”

You said that there was a real threat to your life and health. What did you mean by that?

I must say that for exactly forty days, the Russians treated the Oleshky local authorities, one might say, carefully. They offered cooperation, called for it, but did not threaten. But in early April, one of the ‘curators’ called me. “Let’s decide on something,” he said. “I will come tomorrow, and we will talk about how we will move on from this.” I immediately understood what would happen after my flat refusal to cooperate. For example, Oleksandr Babych, head of the Holoprystan municipality, who was abducted on March 28, is still missing. Honestly, I was more worried not about myself but about my daughter who was waiting for me in Kherson. Therefore, right after this call, I drove there. At 7:50 p.m. I crossed the Antonivskyi Bridge. A Russian soldier asked me angrily why I was leaving so late and whether I knew that the curfew began in ten minutes. I said I stayed late at work, and he let me through. The next day, early in the morning, I drove in a convoy of other cars to Snihurivka, and from there, to the unoccupied territory.

So you can still leave through Snihurivka?

During the two months of the war, this town changed hands several times. During all two months of the war, people could pass through Snihurivka. But about a week ago the situation changed, and the exit from the town was blocked. I do not know the reason, and I do not rule out forced mobilisation.

There is a lot of information online about the transporting of all comers from the occupied Kherson region to Zaporizhia by field roads for big money. Is it true?

It is. There are crafty locals who take people to the unoccupied territory, taking from UAH 1,500 to UAH 4,000 per person. Russian troops in the Kherson region are not very densely deployed, and it is possible to sneak past them. At least, many are succeeding. But you must understand how dangerous such a journey is. There are cases where such cars are shot or even shelled. Another way to the territory controlled by the Ukrainian government is through Melitopol. However, after the shootings of civilian cars, people almost completely stopped using this road.

 

Resistance

 

You have not agreed to collaborate with the aggressor country. But what about others? Are there collaborators among the Ukrainian officials in Oleshky?

I am proud to be able to give a negative answer to your question. Over these two months, there have been no people who would agree to defect under the Russian flag, and this is a significant problem for the occupiers. Throughout the forty days I governed the municipality, we avoided contact with the invaders as much as possible. To do this, on the first day of the war, we moved out of the town council, choosing other locations or performing our duties remotely. Personally, I lived in the hospital so as not to drive across the dangerous bridge to Kherson unnecessarily. And my first deputy went to the territory controlled by the Ukrainian army, taking with him all the essential documents and all the seals of the town council. The rest worked until recently.

So no occupying authorities have not been formed yet?

They haven’t, and neither have been state institutions. The municipality has none because no one wants to cooperate with the Russians. One long-retired Ukrainian policeman confessed to me that he was persistently offered to head the town police, but he refused. A similar situation is with everyone... The occupiers detained Oleksandr Knyha, a resident of Oleshky and director of the Kherson Regional Drama Theatre, for about a day, simply because he is an opinion leader of the whole region. The orcs wanted him to call for unity with Russia, but Oleksandr refused. He was released.

Did the Russians offer you to return to Oleshky?

They offered, assured that ‘it would be for the best’. But I said that there was no way I would return. I am an employee of the Ukrainian local self-government and I want to remain one. While I can, I will govern the town remotely. At the moment, Oleshky’s garbage collection service is running; there is gas, water, electricity, street lighting. We only disbanded the patrols.

The Kherson region saw a large number of pro-Ukrainian rallies. Were there any in Oleshky?

Of course, we held such rallies. And I was almost the only mayor who officially headed them: I always went in front of the column of demonstrators. However, after the first week of protests, the Russians began to pay ‘re-educational visits’ to those who were most active at the rallies. After that, many people’s desire to protest openly against the occupation greatly diminished. It is understandable: everyone wants to live.

However, about a week ago in the village of Velyki Kopani of the Oleshky municipality, unknown people at night replaced the Russian tricolour with the Ukrainian flag on the village council building. So is there peaceful resistance not only in the urban areas?

Of course, people oppose the Russian occupation! Oppose it very much! Despite this, I would advise them against resorting to such actions, because they only irritate the occupiers. Having seen the blue and yellow flag, the Russians said they would close the village to entrances and exits, close markets and punish the whole family if the searches reveal the removed Russian flag in the house. Did the people who removed the flag intend this? Resistance must have a concrete result that brings victory closer. Not this.

Do the people of Oleshky take up arms in order to achieve this concrete result? For example, in Melitopol, local guerrillas killed about a hundred Russians in two months.

I don’t know about such cases in Oleshky, although our people had some weapons. For example, in the village that belongs to our municipality, the first days of the war saw heavy fighting, and several cars with weapons were smashed. So the villagers picked off these weapons to their houses. If only they used them, but no: following the old farmer habit, they looted the weapons just because they could. What was the result of this? The Russians turned over every attic and every basement in the village, tore down the floors in the houses and, along with weapons, took away several farmers who they deemed suspicious. Then the occupiers posted a video on the Internet, which clearly shows what they found. Among all the military equipment, there were many sets of walkie-talkies. By the way, many local Roma people picked off a lot of weapons after the battles for the Antonivskyi Bridge.

 

Longing for Ukraine

 

Do the residents of Oleshky municipality receive pensions?

About 30% of pensioners used to receive pensions in cash through Ukrposhta. In March, our branch still scrambled together money for them, but in April we had nothing to pay them. After all, it was impossible to bring cash. In Melitopol, Russian soldiers stole about UAH 3 million of ‘pension’ money, so we should not try to smuggle it into the occupied territories. However, money is still coming to bank cards. However, it is not easy to issue these cards, because the branch of Oschadbank in Oleshky has closed, and you have to go to Kherson. At first, it was also possible to get cash in supermarkets, but now this chain is no longer operational. In general, cards can be used less and less often, because it is very difficult for entrepreneurs to import goods from the territory controlled by the Ukrainian government. In addition, if POS-terminals break down, entrepreneurs are unable to repair them.

Do you have any information about the preparation of a pseudo-referendum by the occupiers in the Kherson region, aimed at the annexation of the region by Russia or creating a ‘Kherson People’s Republic’?

Nobody sets up polling stations here; nobody collects passport data. I suspect that there will be no referendum. They will make a show out of ‘touring artists’ from the Crimea and disguised soldiers at one polling station in Kherson, then Russian TV will say that the referendum was held in the entire Kherson region, and 99.9% of residents voted in favour. Should such a vote actually take place, no one would take part in it. If in 2014, people still had some illusions about Russia, now, after what Russia has done with Donetsk, Luhansk and even the Crimea, everyone desperately opposes the idea of ending up in the ‘Kherson People’s Republic’.

You’ve probably been in very specific situations that prompted difficult decisions? Tell us about it.

Recently, about twenty armed Russian soldiers came to the town hospital, and their commander asked the chief physician what medications her facility needed. “None!” the chief physician replied. “I only need one thing: for you to leave my country!” The officer said nothing, but tell me, how many times will the chief physician be able to answer like that? She risks her life when she deliberately chooses confrontation. Another case. A few weeks ago, a guy and a girl were driving late in the evening from Oleshky to Kalanchak. To avoid danger, they turned off the headlights. And crashed right into the broken Russian cannon, which the occupiers abandoned right in the middle of the road. The car crumpled, and the girl’s legs were trapped so she could not get out. The night was frosty, and the girl could easily freeze to death. The guy called us, and we sent our employees of the State Emergency Service to this road. However, the Russians did not let them through the checkpoint, saying that it was the curfew, and they had to wait until morning! In the end, a priest and a deputy of the town council were allowed to the scene of the accident, who together with the driver managed to pull the girl out of the car.

Are the locals of the Oleshky municipality waiting for the return of the Ukrainian army?

Yes, they are very much looking forward to it, but they understand that in the case of battles such as those that are currently underway in the Donbas, they will be in a very difficult situation. After all, they are unlikely to be able to evacuate to the territory controlled by Ukraine. And when evacuating to Russia, one risks ending up in Siberia. Also, everybody suddenly noticed that there was nowhere to hide from the shelling: there are almost no bomb shelters in Oleshky, and the existing ones were taken over by the Russians as the headquarters. There is a large residential area next to the Antonivskyi Bridge itself, and everyone understands that when the battles for this bridge start, the area can be razed to the ground. But it is not hostilities that I’m afraid of most. Over these two months, we have become accustomed to war, and death no longer frightens us as it once did. To wake up in the Kharkiv People’s Republic would be a fate worse than death! Now everyone is complaining to me. “Mr. Ryschuk!” they say. “We had so many plans we had! So many prospects! Where is all this now?!” “But didn’t you say everything was bad?” I ask snidely. They look down. “We just said that to keep you on your toes.” People miss Ukraine, they miss it very much…

* Oleksii Arestovych is the Adviser on Strategic Communications in the Field of National Security and Defence to Andrii Yermak, Head of the Office of the President of Ukraine.