While everyone else was traveling from the border towns to the center of Ukraine, Kristina But returned home to Melitopol on the first day after encountering the full-scale invasion in Zaporizhzhia. There, she found her purpose in resisting the occupation and participating in pro-Ukrainian protests.
Could you please state your full name, age, occupation and place of birth?
My name is Kristina But. I’m from Melitopol [shows T-shirt, laughs], so there’s no doubt. Now I live in the Kyiv region. I am the head of the NGO ‘Бути’ [‘be’ in Ukrainian]. In fact, I am engaged in many activities, so to speak. I am a journalist and also a graduate student of the Zaporizhzhia National University, but my main activity now is the «Бути» platform.
Where exactly did you meet a full-scale invasion?
I met a full-scale invasion in Melitopol. In fact, the story of how it happened is both tragic and comical. I went to Zaporizhzhia [from Melitopol] on February 23 [the full-scale invasion started on 24th of February], because I studied there. I remember distinctively that it was very difficult to get from Melitopol to Zaporizhzhia on that day. All buses were overcrowded because people were leaving en masse. I didn’t understand what was happening and I still went to Zaporizhzhia.
And in the morning, my mother [she lives in Melitopol] calls me around seven in the morning saying: «Come home, we are being bombed, the war has started». At this moment, I still do not understand what is happening and what «the war has started» means. My brain immediately paints a picture that if we are being bombed, it means that tanks are standing right on our street and pointing their turrets at our house.
Mom told me to pack my things and come home. I quickly packed my clothes and first aid kit, and then I waited for a very long time to get on the bus. When we sat down, there were almost no seats, and we sat on the same seat with my flatmate.
I listen to what people say. In my head, it [Zaporizhzhia] was a little russified and I was worried that everyone would welcome Russia. But I listened to people and realized that no one is happy – everyone is worried about each other, calling their families. And I still remember how we were driving and we saw all the cars going to Zaporizhzhia and we were the only bus that is going to Melitopol [Melitopol is closer to the annexed Crimea where Russia based their troops to attack Ukraine, therefore everyone was going closer to central Ukraine].
And in fact, I was very lucky to get on that bus, because it was the last one that entered Melitopol. After that, the city was closed for entry and exit. I still remember that I walked home on foot because there were no marshrutkas anymore. The police had already covered the ground so I couldn’t even buy any bread. And when I got home, my mother had the radio playing all the time. So, technically, I met a full-scale in Zaporizhzhia, and then I moved to Melitopol.
How did you leave Melitopol?
Well, it is important to mention that I did not leave the town right away. I spent 72 days in the occupied Melitopol. I asked my mom to leave before the full-scale invasion started, when everyone was just starting to talk about it happening. And my mother said that she had her job and animals here and refused to leave. When the full-scale invasion began and the Russians came to Melitopol, I tried to convince her to leave again but it was very difficult. And besides, we found our purpose in oppressing the aggressor by going to demonstrations against the occupation.
On the last day of February, there was an interfaith prayer which we attended. Melitopol is an intercultural city, that’s why we have many representatives of different religions there. I’m not a very religious person at all, I’m agnostic, but it was important for me to go there and just show that I don’t support it [the occupation]. I went there to show my stance. And also, somewhat unexpectedly, we decided that we should go out on the streets not just for a prayer, but for a demonstration. We felt that we needed to show our position and not the position of just religious people who are against war but for peace, we wanted to show that we are Ukrainians, in the first place.
Already on the first of March, we went to a demonstartion against the occupation. We agreed that we would do it every day on Victory Square until, in fact, the victory…
My speedometer indicated that we had been walking for 30 thousand steps, and my mother’s shoes were worn to the point of holes. We went to different districts of Melitopol, because the communication was falling, or rather the occupiers were muting it, and we wanted all people to know what was happening in Melitopol. We shouted «Melitopol, stand up!», «We are the power here!». I remember that the occupiers [russians] started feeling very tense during this time.
We shouted in both Ukrainian and Russian. Different numbers of people came on different days, the largest number was probably on Crepe week – several thousand came. There was a performance where we burned an effigy of putin and everyone really, really liked it.
But it did not last long, because at some point the occupiers realised that it could not go on like this. And when the security forces entered the city, strong repressions began. First, they surrounded the entire square where we gathered for demonstrations and did not let people in. On one of the days, it was like this – we stood, 10 women in front of 90 armed russians. And we tried to explain to them that we do not need their liberation. One very sociable occupier started to tell us that he received a personalised «thank you letter» from a child from Melitopol and that he could show it. I told him to show me, but he never did. And then he started to shout that Melitopol is «an ass city», and I tell him «Well, why are you here then? No one wanted you here». It wasn’t a protest anymore really. We were so tired and irritated by everything that was happening that we just started to talk to them.
The next day, we decided to meet in another place, near the entrance to the park, but when we got there, there were already a lot of Russian soldiers fully armed. There was already an ‘Avtozak’ car and several people were being packed.
There was a lady with us, she was carrying a bag in the colours of the Ukrainian flag. She started shouting at russians that no one wanted them here, that they are Nazis. One of them was trying to prove her wrong. She said to him «Listen to me. You came to my land, you occupied it, and now you are trying to tell me that I am a Nazi». We asked not to touch her and even started walking away, holding the lady in a lock. But she went on to shout with them, and they still snatched her from our hands and dragged her into that car. Then we found out that they dumped her somewhere 30 kilometres from Melitopol, and she was getting home on foot. But she thanked us that we fought for her a little. And then they started repressing us from going to rallies. For some time, until April, we went to interfaith prayers and sang songs there.
Later, when even interfaith prayers became dangerous, my mother and I started distributing patriotic flyers. Also, I read on the Internet that the yellow ribbon is a symbol of resistance to the occupation, and we started hanging yellow ribbons.
And was there no fear of being caught? You should have realised what the consequences would be once you are caught.
There was fear, but not when we all gathered together. Then, there was a feeling that we were doing something very big together. There was such pride that we were doing it, especially when we went out on protests. However, Russians started to repaint everything in their colours, and you hung up a flyer with something Ukrainian it gave you pride and warmth. Of course, it was scary, but we did it very carefully, we tried not to expose ourselves to danger.
My fear grew stronger when we were already coming home from the protests. I was constantly imagining the worst scenarios – Russians are rushing to get us, drag us into the basement… It was really scary when they started kidnapping people. They kidnapped a person who lived on our street. After that, I was scared to fall asleep and was afraid of every movement in the house. They called us on the phone several times at night just to keep silent, another we heard a burst of laughter on the other side.
How have you decided to leave?
Let’s go back to what I said earlier, I was constantly pressuring my mother. I constantly told her to leave and even blackmailed her. However, the critical point was when the Russians hung the flag of the Soviet Union instead of our Ukrainian flag on Victory Square. I said to my mother: «Do you really want to live under the flag of the Soviet Union?». Mom immediately said: «Let’s leave».
We wanted to leave through the green corridor, but we had a lot of animals – two chinchillas, a cat and a dog. Evacuations were constantly cancelled. I imagined us walking with all our bag packs, with a cat in our hands, a dog on a leash, and a cage with chinchillas and we were walking to the bus only to find that it had been cancelled. As a responsible mother of my animals, I could not allow them to go through this stress every time. And that’s why I realised that we need to find in a more reliable way to leave, which wouldn’t be constantly cancelled.
Have you thought about private carriers?
We were looking for transportation like buses and marshrutkas. We were told that it would cost us 500$ per person to leave the town and it didn’t include the animals. Also, they had a requirement that it was in cash and in U.S. currency. At that time, it was not even possible to withdraw cash in hryvnas [Ukrainian currency].
At that time, I worked in the human rights organisation Fight For Right. And they found volunteers who got us out. They came to our house and took us and all the animals. There was another girl who was travelling with us in the vehicle. There was supposed to be another lady with us, but the driver forgot all about her. This was how the driver himself explained it, that he was supposed to pick her up from the village, but he forgot. We spent the night on the road. It was a little scary because there was fighting nearby and we heard all the sounds like explosions and others. When we heard anything, we leaned down but the dog raised its head and wanted to see what was happening there. Then when we fell asleep around three in the morning the chinchillas started screaming and waking everyone up. It was such a chaotic trip and took 26 hours. For your understanding, you can get from Melitopol to Zaporizhzhia in two hours and we drove for more than a day. But, fortunately, we left Melitopol.
Translator: Anna Konovalenko
