“When you hear some strikes, it’s normal — it means the guys haven’t forgotten about us.” The family of 18-year-old Slava lived under occupation for three years. How Russia changed their hometown and people

2022

15-year-old Slava met the Great War at home. He was finishing ninth grade and preparing to enter college, where he was to study to be a mechanic. His mother Iryna worked as an economist in a private company, and his father Ihor was a driver at a food enterprise. Russian troops entered the city where they grew up in the first days of March. Fighting with the Territorial Defence Forces brigade lasted for several days. The last battle was in a cemetery in the city center. The bodies of the men, who defended themselves almost without weapons, were never found by the locals. The Russians mined the cemetery, and the dead townspeople had to be buried in the yards near the houses.

Life under the new government for Slava began with an explosion — all the windows in the apartment were blown out. Heating, electricity and water disappeared. The boyʼs family and their neighbours in the apartment building moved to the basement. The spring was cold, people tried to warm themselves with candles. Food was cooked in a cauldron — they stewed everything that was left in the refrigerators. The stores ran out of food almost immediately.

Slavaʼs parents decided to stay in the city, they believed that the war would end quickly. They went up from the basement to the apartment for the first time only at the end of May. They cleaned, boarded up the windows with plywood and cooked food, went down to the basement again in the evening and spent the night there for the whole year. It was dangerous to stay at home — next to the house was a hospital where were wounded soldiers. The area around was mined, snipers patrolled the roof. In order not to catch a bullet, the locals left the house only with white ribbons.

In empty apartments, the Russians broke down doors, took away everything of value, even childrenʼs toys, and moved in without permission. The occupiers nicknamed the Slava high-rise building Nazi and came to search its residents every day — looking for partisans, weapons, Ukrainian symbols, and any excuse to take people for interrogation.

During the searches, Iryna and Ihor were always asked why they hadnʼt yet made Russian documents. The couple promised to fix it and came up with new excuses: shelling prevented them, their car broke down, there was no electricity at the nearest passport office. Due to rotation, different people conducted the searches each time, so this scheme worked.

Others were less fortunate. The military tore up Ukrainian passports and issued temporary certificates. People they considered suspicious were photographed and taken to the base. Irynaʼs father ended up there because he had a residence permit in another city. The Russians feared that the sick elderly man would turn out to be a member of a sabotage and reconnaissance group (SRG).

Despite the searches, Slava continued to prepare for his college entrance exams and passed them remotely in June. When Ukrainian communication finally disappeared, the family purchased SIM cards from a Russian provider. In the first months of the invasion, they were sold to everyone, then — only to people with Russian passports.

In September, Russia held a referendum in two stages: in the first, local authorities were elected, in the second — the Zaporizhzhia region was annexed to Russia. The election commission came to all those who did not show up at the polling stations, along with armed soldiers. Slavaʼs family was lucky again. For the first time, volunteers with forms came without the soldiers, who were waiting near the house. Iryna convinced them that she could not vote because she did not know any of the candidates. The second time, the commission did not get into the house, because none of the neighbours opened the door to the entrance.

Iryna and Slava call this year the most difficult. Many people died from shelling and torture during interrogations. In the surrounding villages, people ate compound feed because the Russians took away food and did not allow them to leave for the city. Slavaʼs family survived because Irynaʼs parents made Russian passports and received food from the occupiers. They did not support the Russian government.

2023

After the referendum, Ukrainian volunteers were banned from bringing humanitarian aid to the city. Since January, the ruble has become the sole currency. The shelling destroyed all the factories that kept the city alive. People sold vegetables and livestock at the market. Those who had a Russian passport could work for the occupation government, for example, teach at a school under a new curriculum. The Russians used threats to force parents to send their children to study. To avoid this, Slava lied to everyone that he was studying to be a mechanic in Melitopol.

A childrenʼs center in the frontline village of Mykhailivka, opened by the Russian Ministry of Culture. "The youngest citizens of Russia will be able to learn more about our multifaceted culture and get acquainted with the rich history of our homeland," writes Russian politician Anton Tytsky, who works in the occupation administration of the Zaporizhzhia region.

Festive event in honor of the anniversary of the referendum. Tytsky writes that "young patriots also met with the heroes of Russia".

Teenagers from the "Young South" movement are collecting humanitarian aid.

“Children are being bullied a lot at school. They are encouraged to move to the depths of Russia, because there they will be made great people with a great future,” Slava recounts the words of his friends.

From the younger grades, children sing the Russian anthem, and in class they answer where they were born. The only correct answer is “in Russia”. In history lessons, senior schoolchildren are taught the “reasons for the SVO”. Boys are registered for military service so that when they come of age, they can be taken to Russia for compulsory service. Adults can sign a contract to fight against Ukraine. Iryna knows that several of them have already been taken prisoner by the Ukrainians.

A militarized youth movement called “Young South” has emerged in the city. Teenagers are taught to shoot, fly drones, and provide first aid. They participate in patriotic events where they meet “heroes of the SVO”. Several of Slava’s acquaintances joined the movement after attending Russian military parties. They were told about high salaries and promising careers. Slava believes that the youth were also influenced by their parents, who worked for the occupation authorities.

Russian military teaches teenagers tactical medicine.

Members of militarized movements show at the festival what they have learned. “Activists are self-realizing, learning, and creating,” Tytsky writes.

Members of the militarized youth movement "Yunarmiya", founded in 2016 by former Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu. "Yunarmiya" branches exist in Russia, Armenia, Tajikistan, and the occupied territories of Ukraine and Georgia.

Slavaʼs city is lucky in that, due to constant shelling, Russian laws are slowly taking root there. Passport office workers who came from Rostov began to visit there less often. Safer cities nearby, on the contrary, were filled with Russians who headed enterprises and various state structures. A registry office appeared, where locals can get married and obtain birth and death certificates, in Berdyansk and Melitopol. Previously, to register a baby, a hospital discharge was sent to Crimea. Russian notaries have started working in Berdyansk — since then, Ukrainian documents issued after 2022 have not been accepted. Despite strict restrictions, many people receive Ukrainian birth certificates for their children through lawyers in the controlled territories.

Unlike Russians, Slava and his parents are used to explosions.

“When you hear some strikes, it’s normal — it means the guys haven’t forgotten about us. Itʼs on the contrary, I was nervous when it was quiet for a long time,” recalls Iryna.

2024

The military controls all life in the city. Partisans who painted patriotic graffiti and hung yellow ribbons are found dead. The Russians check documents on the streets and stop cars at checkpoints. Cafes and shops open in the city center, but Slavaʼs family avoids such places. It becomes difficult to distinguish their own people from the collaborators. They talk about neutral topics and do not talk about the war with everyone except their closest friends.

Partisan posters.

Since the start of the full-scale invasion of the occupied territories, activists of the Yellow Ribbon movement have been hanging patriotic leaflets, Ukrainian flags, and yellow ribbons. They also provide Ukrainians with information about the occupiers.

In the suburbs, people secretly catch Ukrainian calls to talk to their relatives in the unoccupied territories. Such places are rented out by locals. One woman was arrested just during a conversation, and no one knows what happened to her since then. Calls via the Russian Internet are being monitored: an unknown person once called an acquaintance of Iryna and warned her that she was talking too much.

It is almost impossible to live without a Russian passport. Only Russian citizens can go to the hospital, get a job, call the police or an ambulance. Without a passport, it is impossible to sell an apartment or transfer it to a relative. Lawyer Oleksandr Rozum says that this is what worries his clients the most.

To prevent Russia from seizing housing during "nationalization", Ukrainians must come to the occupied territories, get a passport, and go to a Russian notary. It is unknown whether they will be able to leave later. Russia does not recognize any Ukrainian documents.

2025

At the beginning of the year, the city authorities issued an order — everyone must get a Russian passport by April 30 or register as a foreigner at the migration service in Melitopol. The family was most worried about Slava. He was about to turn 18 in April, and along with the passport, he could receive a summons for military service in Russia.

“It was a hopeless situation,” recalls Iryna.

Her sister Maria, who left at the beginning of the invasion, contacted the Ukrainian Network for Childrenʼs Rights, which helps children escape the occupation. The organizationʼs manager prepared a route, found and paid for a transporter for the family. At each checkpoint, Iryna repeated the same fake “story”: she was going to her uncle in Moscow to find a job there. Through her parents, she had indeed arranged to come to a relative she had last seen in the 1990s.

The family arrived at the filtration camp on the Ukrainian-Russian border late at night. The worker wrote down the relativeʼs details, number, and address to verify their story. The interrogation lasted several hours, the main problem being that the family did not have Russian passports. Iryna convinced the border guards that their documents had been lost at the passport office — it was a typical problem for the occupied regions. The Russians did not believe her and threatened to send her to Taganrog for a polygraph test. The family was kept in the camp until almost morning, but was eventually released.

The journey to Ukraine through Russia and Europe took five days. At the Ukrainian border, the family was met by volunteers and taken to temporary housing in Kyiv. The family did not stay there and went to Zaporizhzhia, where Irynaʼs sister lives.

Zaporizhzhia

On March 14, Slava and his parents arrived in the city.

“It’s more homey here. You don’t feel isolated from others,” the boy says. He has friends in Zaporizhzhia, and he often meets “a small diaspora of his own” — people who left his city.

Some of his friends turned away from his family because they lived under occupation for those three years. Iryna says she doesnʼt pay attention to it. She enjoys simple things — walking freely around the city and talking on the phone without the threat of being tapped.

Her parents remained under occupation. Her sick father would not have survived such a long journey. If sheʼs lucky, Iryna talks to them once a week — they almost always have no electricity or communication. The womanʼs biggest fear is that the Russians will come to her parents when they find out that she and her family are already in Ukraine.

In April, the family went to rehabilitation in Truskavets, and a psychologist from the Ukrainian Network for Childrenʼs Rights worked with them there. They are slowly returning to normal life in Zaporizhzhia. Due to the shelling, Slava is studying at college remotely. Iryna and Ihor are looking for work, cause their savings will last them for several months.

"Everything is really fine with us. Weʼll find a job and things will definitely get better. The main thing is that our home is liverated as soon as possible," says Iryna.

So that Slava and his parents can return home, support the Armed Forces of Ukraine