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As the morning sun rises over Odesa, if you weren't aware of the Russian invasion of the country, you might not think the nation is at war at all.
Sunday, 3 March 2024, had been declared a day of mourning following a drone attack in a residential area where twelve people, including two babies and three children younger than ten, were killed.
It marked the worst civilian death toll in the city since the conflict entered its third year. Many are still missing, and rescue crews are working tirelessly to recover bodies and find survivors.
WATCH | A Shahed drone of #Russian origin, supplied by Iran, collided with a residential building in Odesa, #Ukraine. @gabriel_seeber is on the ground in #Ukraine and has all the details and footage. #CityPress pic.twitter.com/wJDXxHJ7hN
— City Press (@City_Press) March 2, 2024
For Ukrainians, the war has been ongoing since 2014, when Russia annexed Crimea. In the old city, people go about their business—children ride scooters, walkers stroll with their dogs, markets open and restaurants ply their trade.
READ: Letters from Ukraine: Mothers and kids in Kyiv wait out the attack on the capital of Ukraine
The chatter of a seemingly normal life masks a dark reality. The country has witnessed an exodus of almost half its population, with an estimated 23 million people displaced by the war.
Many have fled to neighbouring countries, seeking shelter and safety from the Russian invasion. Their lives are anything but normal.
They are housed in shelters and supported in part by NGOs that provide financial assistance and food aid. US Aid stickers are plainly visible, indicating some of the support sources.
However, it is not enough—nowhere near sufficient.
READ: Mondli Makhanya | Have a merry Christmas, but spare a thought for Jesus under the rubble
Refugees, desperate to find a roof over their heads, look for work in larger cities. If they're lucky, they secure a job, earn an income and can move on from the shelters to rent apartments and accommodations of their own.
Tetiana Buduliova, from Toretsk in the Bakhmut district, serves as the "commandant" of one shelter in Odesa.
A nondescript door opens to stairs leading down to an underground shelter housing 18 people—12 men and six women. The air is thick, stifled coughing fills the room.
Personal possessions dot shelves—the bare minimum of a life before. The refugees don't talk, the sense of a lost life draped over them like a funeral scarf. For them, life will never be the same.
READ: Cameron Dugmore | Exposing DA’s double standards and shameful silence on the ongoing Gaza genocide
Children's drawings hang on the wall; their colourful innocence does little to alleviate the oppressive feeling of living in cramped conditions.
Despite how far Odesa is from the frontline, it is a country at war, and the world must not forget.
The trip to Ukraine was made possible by the Zinc Network.
