HS in Ukraine The line of contact between Ukraine and the rebel provinces has broken up families, and there is no celebration in life: “Russia is being thrown like a dog”

Stanitsa Luhanska / Bahmutka

War has created a situation in eastern Ukraine where citizens are treated as unwanted strangers in their own country.

Stanitsa Luhanska is the keeper of more than ten thousand inhabitants in the Luhansk region, which has been declared the “People’s Republic” of Luhansk.

The lively center of the sleepy keeper and the hub of traffic is the checkpoint of Stanitsa Luhansk, which was established in 2015 on the contact line between the parties to the war in Eastern Ukraine.

The checkpoint is the only one through which civilians in the Luhansk region can travel from the “People’s Republic” controlled by Russian-backed separatists to the Ukrainian-controlled territory and vice versa.

People queuing in the frost with their current on both sides of the checkpoint. The contact line may only be crossed on foot, so once the inspection has been passed, the journey must be continued in a different vehicle.

The rebel occupation forces are carrying out their own, similar inspections of the contact line crossers, but they are not known to have X-ray equipment.

Yevgeny Vyskubin came a week ago on Monday from the separatist side to the territory of the Ukrainian government to apply for a pension.

Citizens are allowed to cross the hotline once a month, but the Vyskubin tries to cover the arduous and time-consuming journey as infrequently as possible. It’s been half a year since the last time.

Vyskubin has heart problems and cannot afford to pay for a coronavirus test costing more than 1,400 hryvnia for his small pension. Recently, it fortunately became free.

“When I come in this direction, I often have to spend the night because I don’t have time to return home. And even if I return to Luhansk, nothing will go to our villages from there at that time. Then you have to sit in a station that is cold. I have had to experience it. ”

Exceeding the checkpoint can also be dangerous. Spokesman for the Ukrainian Border Guard Tatjana Letoškon according to the occupying forces last opened fire in the area of ​​the Stanitsa Luhansk checkpoint in early December.

“The ammunition was flying overhead. People crossed the line of contact with young children. ”

Contact line the overwhelming citizen must place his or her strainer on the X-ray machine. After that, border guards and drug dogs may still examine the bags. And you can’t get through the checkpoint without the proper paperwork, i.e. passport and registration in the Luhansk region.

The war has riveted the Donbass region to a near-non-existent industrial production. The factories have been destroyed in the war or closed down. The crisis has given rise to a new, smaller-scale business.

In front of the checkpoint, a number of route taxi drivers are on duty waiting for customers from the rebel province. Someone has come up with the idea of ​​starting to rent wheelchairs for the needy or sick. There are side-by-side kiosks in the area selling hot drinks, refreshments and a variety of pies.

Honey or dried mushrooms can be bought from market traders, but they must not be transported through the checkpoint. The People’s Republic of Luhansk banned the import of Ukrainian food half a year ago.

Nearly The 500-kilometer contact line separates the “People’s Republics” of Luhansk and Donetsk from the rest of Ukraine and is also the front line of the war of position.

Civilians can cross it at this point only in two places: residents of the Luhansk region Stanitsa from Luhansk and residents of the Donetsk region from the Novotroitsky checkpoint. There were more checkpoints before the corona pandemic, but the restrictions it has brought have closed some of the checkpoints and further restricted movement.

Stanitsa Luhanska is open every day, Novotroitske only twice a week. In Novotroitske, transit must be authorized in advance, and any reason such as a relative visit may not even be valid.

Today, only about two thousand people now pass through the Stanitsa Luhansk checkpoint, says a spokesman for the Ukrainian Border Guard. Tatjana Letoško. Before the pandemic, there were more than 10,000 exceedances per day, in 2015 as many as 15,000–17,000.

The most common reasons are visits to relatives, applying for cash, pension or other social benefits, obtaining documents and health care.

Young people and working-age people have largely left the war-torn area, but retirees have remained. Nadezhda Morozovalla there is an apartment in the city of Luhansk and a summer cottage on the Ukrainian side, between which he shuttles. The daughters have moved to Poland.

Morozova passed through a checkpoint into the separatist area to maintain her apartment.

“It’s like being in a swamp. It’s so heavy. It is a pity for the young people left there. Seniors walk with sticks. Nothing can be complained about, no one helps anywhere. Something is thrown at Russia like dogs – that’s all. ”

Donetsk the movement of the inhabitants of the area in their homeland is even more difficult than that of the people of Luhansk.

A pensioner and volunteer living in the village of Bahmutka Valentina Hodareva has to travel through Russia if he wants to meet his son and grandchildren living in the town of Horlivka in the separatist region.

Bahmutka is only a few hundred meters from the border of the town of Horlivka. The orbit through Russia is 1,500 kilometers long.

Before, the trip folded through a nearby Majorske checkpoint at best in half an hour, but was closed the second year.

“Traveling through the checkpoint was also unbearable because the queues were shocking,” Hodareva says.

Bahmutka is one of the many villages along the contact line. Before the war there were a thousand inhabitants. There are less than a fifth of them left. Some have died in the war, some in coronavirus. Many have left.

Not everyone is paralyzed, although life in a war-torn village seems pretty invisible. The nearby forest has been mined, the roads are almost unusable, there are no jobs. On the village track are walking two men whose faces are badly swollen from alcohol abuse.

Hodareva is part of a team of four active retired ladies who are responsible for distributing humanitarian aid from various organizations to the villagers and helping the elderly with their daily chores.

Hodareva, Valentina Boudnik-Koneva, Nina Ryabuha and Marina Sorokina run from the “humanitarian aid headquarters” they set up, one of the village houses, the heating and maintenance costs of which they pay from their own pensions.

Humanitarian aid has been steadily declining for more than seven years. A consignment of several tons of clothes has just arrived in the village from the city of Kharkov. Boudnik-Koneva presents used high-heeled boots and thinks about what use the elderly in the village might have. He is outraged.

“Hardly any store has sent this kind of rubbish. I’m speechless.”

The women say the state is not helping in any way. To repair the bumpy village road, they collected money from the residents and repaired it themselves. An MP from the region has been elected to the Ukrainian parliament, but he has been disappointed.

“The only thing he’s helped us with after numerous petitions is installing windows and replacing the roof of this house.”