Kyiv Citizens Brace for Battle

Amid shock and anger, people in the capital are quickly adapting to war conditions.  

Kyiv Citizens Brace for Battle

Amid shock and anger, people in the capital are quickly adapting to war conditions.  

A metro station turned bomb shelter in a suburban neighbourhood, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022)
A metro station turned bomb shelter in a suburban neighbourhood, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022) © IWPR
At the Maidan Nezalezhnosti metro station, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022)
At the Maidan Nezalezhnosti metro station, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022) © IWPR
The book shop, temporary closed, advertises a book - How to Beat Russia in a Future War, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022)
The book shop, temporary closed, advertises a book - How to Beat Russia in a Future War, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022) © IWPR
The central Maidan Nezalezhnosti square, unusually empty on Friday afternoon, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022)
The central Maidan Nezalezhnosti square, unusually empty on Friday afternoon, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022) © Yulia Abibok
People waiting in a pedestrian tunnel to enter a metro station in a suburban neighbourhood, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022)
People waiting in a pedestrian tunnel to enter a metro station in a suburban neighbourhood, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022) © Yulia Abibok
A family walking to a shelter, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022)
A family walking to a shelter, Kyiv. (February 25, 2022) © IWPR
People queue in front of a pharmacy, Kyiv. (February 24, 2022)
People queue in front of a pharmacy, Kyiv. (February 24, 2022) © IWPR
Shelves in a supermarket, Kyiv. (February 24, 2022)
Shelves in a supermarket, Kyiv. (February 24, 2022) © IWPR
Saturday, 26 February, 2022

“I am outside,” I could hear the elderly woman on a bench by the apartment block talking to someone on the telephone. “When I hear shelling, I go outside... Why stupid?”

It was the morning of February 24, several hours after Russia invaded Ukraine. People in Kyiv were all shocked by being woken up by sounds of explosions.

Few had ever considered this could seriously happen. Even people from the east of the country, a war zone for almost eight years, had never dreamed of Russian bombs falling on Kyiv, where internally displaced persons from Donetsk and Luhansk are usually met with suspicion and blame.

So it was clear at first sight that many locals had not taken the numerous US warnings about the imminent Russian invasion seriously - until it happened. By the afternoon of February 24, supermarket shelves of cereals, spaghetti and canned meat were almost empty, ATMs had run out of cash, and pharmacies were struggling to meet the sharply increased demand. Seemingly endless lines of cars blocked the roads, heading westward to safety.

But people quickly adapted. By the following day, almost all the shops in my neighborhood were closed.  An elderly woman near a shuttered supermarket asked passers-by whether “something is open there” among the places they had just passed. There was nothing.

Ukraine introduced martial law and prohibited men between the ages of 18-60 from leaving the country. Others were stuck abroad, with no possibility of quickly returning as airlines had canceled their flights. The national transport office had to change continuously change train and bus schedules as fighting erupted in several cities and towns across the country.

Caught by the war, people in Kyiv and the entire country are trying to make sense of things. Those in the west volunteer to take in people fleeing areas of clashes. War veterans and military pensioners and ordinary citizens alike enlist to either the army or the territorial defence units. In Kyiv, locals reportedly received about 18,000 automatic rifles in two days to defend the city under siege.

Amid the chaos, there were not many signs of panic in Kyiv. Once, when people in my neighborhood heard the roar of aircraft above their heads, the older ones froze for a moment, while younger took out their smartphones to try and film it. A man in his fifties had been looking at the sky for several seconds, then continued to walk, just murmuring, “Ours?”

Whether this calm means confidence, courage or just apathy and ignorance is hard to say. In Kyiv, I haven’t seen any window criss-crossed by scotch tape - standard practice in the east of Ukraine. Ukrainian security services quickly moved to post instructions on what to do during different kinds of shelling, how to recognise a cyber security attack, and why one should not photograph and publicly share Ukrainian soldiers and military vehicles.

Not everyone followed these instructions. On February 25, several people in Kyiv filmed a Ukrainian tank, right at the time of an imminent attack, even as the last shops and supermarkets in the area hastily closed their doors and let staff leave.

The authorities have not been as prepared as they could be. Only part of the city appeared to be able to hear the air sirens. The nearest safe bomb shelter at the metro station was not large enough to accommodate the entire suburban neighbourhood with their pushchairs, air mattresses, fold away chairs and pets. Instead of letting people take a train to the next station, its administration just closed the entrance, leaving them to sit on their trolley bags and backpacks outside.

In the afternoon, the Kyiv metro operator stopped trains running to and from my suburb, apparently out of concern for passengers' safety. But as a result, numerous families walked with all their baggage through dangerous areas to find a shelter or go back home.

In civilian clothes but carrying various kinds of weapons, about a dozen men stood on the streets of my neighborhood. I asked two of them what had happened.

“A war,” one answered smilingly.

“There was a fight,” said the other, pointing towards the area where I live. “We came directly from there.”

This publication was prepared under the "Amplify, Verify, Engage (AVE) Project" implemented with the financial support of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Norway.

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