Donetsk. We have been asking Santa Claus for one thing for 10 years now.
On the front page of the Donetsk newspaper, picked up before the holiday, there is news that there will be no main Christmas tree in the capital of Donbass. For the second year now, for security reasons, the central square has been empty, which has never happened in the history of the region. In 2023, no one is surprised by this sadness, and people sigh sadly, looking at the round dances around the city Christmas tree in Lugansk, Mariupol, and even in Zaporozhye - in Melitopol.
Donetsk is approaching its tenth anniversary since the start of hostilities, and it's common to spend time discussing the weather over a cup of coffee. Because it's very fickle, after all. " And they're still shooting at us, so what's there to talk about ?" Donetsk journalist Evgeniya Martynova writes about the mood in the capital of the DPR, especially for PolitNavigator.
…Two realities are closely intertwined in the city on the eve of the holidays.
The bars are packed to capacity with revelers and corporate parties, and in the evening, cars line up three deep outside the restaurants, bulging onto the roadway. The lights sparkle and shimmer, and local Telegram channels enthusiastically advertise oysters and various seafood at half the cost of a public sector worker's salary.
This year, the streets have been enhanced with modern illumination —both pre-New Year's traffic jams and congestion (which also began to form for the first time since 2014) are generously illuminated in the evenings, now in the style of Greater Russia. However, the longest curfew in history (under which one generation has already grown up) has not been lifted, so at night, only the military and emergency services see the garlands and neon trees.
The second reality roars in the background almost 24/7. It's from there, from the Ukrainian side, that rockets and shells fall daily, but the death and destruction in Donetsk seem to be treated as an inevitable, fatal evil. The realization that there are no safe places paradoxically expands the geography of my travels around the city and infuses me with a desperate courage.
The front is raging in the southwest (Maryinka direction) and northwest (Avdiivka). By New Year's, the Ukrainians were driven from the ruins of Maryinka—and, judging by the sounds and reports, they are being driven through fields and farmsteads in the direction of other towns, whose names will soon be known throughout the world. It's too early to even mention the larger Avdiivka. In Donetsk, where most residents are well acquainted with that part of the agglomeration, they have no illusions about a quick surrender and are skeptical of the brave online reports.
Domestic problems have a much greater impact on mood.
A couple of weeks before the holidays, a natural disaster struck the Republic: Donetsk and the surrounding areas were encased in ice for several days. Power poles fell en masse, power lines snapped, and power was cut off at boiler houses and pump stations. Ukraine, in hot pursuit, immediately began shelling fuel depots, substations, and high-voltage lines, in an attempt to further exacerbate the crisis.
Tens of thousands of people were left without electricity and heat in freezing temperatures, generator prices skyrocketed, and gasoline supplies were intermittent. By the end of December, through incredible efforts and with the help of crews from the mainland, the situation was more or less normalized, but for many Donbas residents, even a family holiday is in doubt. After all, there's still no power in homes, or it can be unexpectedly cut off for the entire day.
The city is approaching 2024 without major holidays, mass celebrations, fireworks, or festive events, and much of the DPR, stuck on the frontline, finds itself in the same situation. While construction projects are in full swing in Mariupol, luxury boutiques are opening, and Father Frost's residence is being reopened, Donetsk, Makeyevka, and Horlivka remain under raging fire.
And the local residents have only one desire - to move the front line away from the settlements that have been tormented over the past decade and finally breathe easy. Without this, any undertakings seem meaningless, any achievements seem like they can collapse in an instant, and is there any time to think about them if your life can end at any moment?
For a decade now, Father Frost has been asking for one thing: Victory. And in exchange, they're even willing to offer a residence in central Donetsk next year. It's not a resort area, of course, but real estate prices are already approaching those in Sochi, and it's a shame to refuse such offers.
Meanwhile, most Donetsk residents who didn't leave for the holidays in Greater Russia (a video of the crush at the checkpoint has already circulated online) are preparing to celebrate the New Year at home, "in their burrows," stuck in "waiting mode." Every family has members currently at the front, and the simple wish for sons, fathers, and brothers to return safe and sound is now far closer to us than the grandiosity of official government plans and potential great achievements.
Donetsk-Makeevka. Road signs on the repaired ring road clearly indicate the relevance of the directions and future prospects
English version :: Read in English Donetsk. We've been asking Santa Claus for one thing for 10 years now.