The symbol — used by Russian troops in Ukraine to identify themselves — is scrawled in black, below a hand-written notice to ward off intruders. But Olha isn’t Russian. The Ukrainian woman lives in an apartment in the pulverized village of Borodyanka, about 60 kilometres northwest of Kyiv. Behind this door, Olha says she spent four weeks living under the protection of Russian troops — the only Ukrainian left in a 60-room apartment block. But unlike others in the devastated village, Olha speaks of her ordeal with a curious lack of resentment. In fact, she considers herself “lucky.” Olha, a villager in Borodyanka, says Russian soldiers allowed her to cook for them and in exchange, she was left alone throughout the occupation of the town. Ashleigh Stewart “I do not know if you will translate this or not,” she says in Ukrainian, squaring her shoulders and shaking her tousled, blonde hair out of her eyes. An older woman of medium height and build, she wears a worn, green fleece jacket and resembles a kindly neighbour. “But they did not do anything bad to us. They gave us food.” Her benign memory of the occupation stands in stark contrast to the nearby ravages brought on by Russians. In early March, a series of missiles and powerful FAB-250 bombs all but obliterated Borodyanka. FAB-250s were designed to destroy large military targets — none of which exist here. High-rise buildings were cleaved in two by the force of the detonations. 1:35Scenes of destruction in Borodyanka, Ukraine in the wake of the Russian retreat Scenes of destruction in Borodyanka, Ukraine in the wake of the Russian retreat – Jun 3, 2022 The sleepy commuter village posed no military threat to Russian forces. It was simply on the main axis of their advance on the Ukrainian capital. Almost 200 buildings were completely or partially destroyed. Ukraine’s Prosecutor General Iryna Venediktova deemed the situation in Borodyanka the worst in the Kyiv Oblast in terms of civilian casualties — a death toll that stands at more than 120 people, with dozens still missing. Read more: In ruined Ukrainian village, stranded elderly residents are all who remain It is a village rife with stories of senseless murder, widespread looting and violence. And one single narrative that flew in the face of all evidence otherwise. Olha, a former veterinarian, refuses to condemn the soldiers who occupied her town, killed its occupants and bombed it beyond recognition. “If you were good to them, they would be good to you,” she says, matter-of-factly. The remains of Building 371 on Tsentralna Street, Borodyanka. Ashleigh Stewart Olha’s story casts the complicated relationship between occupied and occupier in Ukraine in a new light. In her case, Russian soldiers were exactly the white knights their propaganda campaign has made them out to be. In the fog of war, there are no easy ways to test the veracity of Olha’s claims. And against a backdrop of disproportionate devastation and death, it seems crass to highlight one woman’s survival against all odds, when her “bodyguards” are those responsible for the killing and pillaging. But, perhaps, that’s the point. Building 359 on Tsentralna Street, Borodyanka. Ashleigh Stewart In the weeks since, we’ve analyzed thousands of witness statements and interviewed dozens of authority figures to understand if, and why, some villagers were granted a divine right to survive while others were murdered. What made Olha one of the select few that got the “V” on her door? Was she a conspirator? Should we even believe her? And most importantly, how do you reconcile the dissonance between one woman’s survival and the massacre of others? As much as Olha’s story was a quest for truth, it also became a pursuit for glimpses of humanity, however brief, amid Russia’s barbaric war on Ukraine.
‘I went out on purpose, I just wanted to be shot’
Less than 500 metres from the smouldering remains of two residential high-rises on Tsentralna Street, an apartment block remains standing, relatively untouched. Inside its concrete stairwell, the word “vendetta” is scrawled in Russian in large, black letters with an extra “V” in front of it. It’s unclear if all the “V” symbolism here is interconnected. The word ‘vendetta’ is written on the wall of Olha’s apartment building, where she says Russian soldiers lived. Ashleigh Stewart Apartment doors hang from their hinges, revealing room upon room of overturned furniture, strewn clothes and smashed glass. The stairs are coated in debris. On the wall of the fourth floor, another spray-painted message says “they live,” with an arrow leading up the stairs, pointed towards a grey door, still intact. There is a large black “V” on it, underneath a piece of paper stating in Russian: “People live here. The keys are kept by Olia from Apt. 48.” A ‘V’ sign was painted on the door of the apartment Olha lived in throughout the siege on Borodyanka. Ashleigh Stewart Olha was just one of 1,500 of Borodyanka’s 14,000 residents who remained throughout the occupation, according to village council data. She stayed to look after her 38-year-old son who was battling a severe COVID-19 infection in the nearby village of Nemishajeve, she says. But on March 1, with Russian troops already in the village, Olha says her son died. Intense fighting nearby meant ambulances could not reach him and he “suffocated,” she says. “Four volunteers carried him to bury him. They carried him on a blanket. There was shooting. So they buried him in the backyard,” Olha explains slowly. Midway through her sentence, she breaks down in tears, covering her mouth with her hand. Read more: Exclusive: How a 15-year-old Ukrainian drone pilot helped destroy a Russian army column We have not been able to confirm Olha’s son’s death; Ukraine’s coronavirus website stopped being updated the day war broke out, and authorities in Nemishajeve did not respond to questions. “When I learned that my son passed away, it was 3 a.m. and there were checkpoints around, and the Russians shot at every movement. So I went out on purpose. I just wanted to be shot. I could not bear it. I went out and just stood like this at 3 a.m.,” she says, standing with her chin pointed to the sky and her arms outstretched at her sides, palms facing up. Doors have been ripped from their hinges in Olha’s apartment block, but hers remains intact. Ashleigh Stewart “I kept standing for some time and just when I wanted to move, three (of the Russians) came running.” The soldiers asked what she was doing outside, to which she replied: “I want you to kill me.” She says she was told that they don’t shoot civilians and to go back inside. And that, she says, is where she stayed.
‘The scariest day was March 2’
Borodyanka was infiltrated just days prior. On Feb. 26, two days after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine began, a Telegram user wrote one word in a sporadically used Borodyanka channel: “Russians.” Telegram is one of Ukraine’s most popular social media apps and has become a wartime lifeline. Responses poured in asking about reports of explosions and cruise missiles. On Feb. 28, an urgent message heralded the invasion: “There are columns coming to Borodyanka,” it said. “People living in houses near to the road, leave immediately as they are shooting at them so they are not bombarded with cocktails.” The bombed remains of Building 429, near the entrance into the village of Borodyanka. Ashleigh Stewart “I saw the column of tanks entering town from my apartment,” a resident named Rayisa recalls. “There were helicopters too, flying very low, at the level of my window. It was very scary.” Videos began circulating showing shops blown to bits, buildings on fire and homes destroyed, as the town was indiscriminately shelled. But that was nothing compared to the horrors that would ensue in a deadly 48 hours beginning late on March 1, the day Olha says her son died. That was when bombs began falling from the sky. Eight residential buildings, home to more than 600 families, were hit, according to Amnesty International. 1:13Video shows moments after Russian airstrikes hit Ukrainian village of Borodyanka Video shows moments after Russian airstrikes hit Ukrainian village of Borodyanka – May 6, 2022 “The scariest day was March 2. Everybody was running and hiding. It was chaos,” says Borodyanka resident Valentyna Tsvicynska. Tsvicynska has lived in Borodyanka for 45 years. Like many others, she worked for an excavator factory in Kyiv, which developed the village in the 1970s by building high-rises to house its staff. “That day, the planes were flying so low we could basically see the pilot and they also saw us. But they were bombing anyway,” she says. Valentyna Tsvicynska says civilians were deliberately targeted in Borodyanka. Ashleigh Stewart “It wasn’t at nighttime, it was daytime, and [Russians] definitely saw everything. The plane came and then went away and then came back to bomb again.” Telegram messages grew desperate. People shared pictures of missing relatives and requested help for elderly people left stranded outside in frigid temperatures. A grandfather was trapped under a concrete…
