Iuliia Mendel is a journalist, the author of “The Fight of Our Lives” and a former press secretary for Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky.
Ukrainian flags are flying in Kherson.
Dozens of villages near the major regional city were liberated last week, and Ukrainians who remained under Russian occupation for months have since been gathering to sing the national anthem and other patriotic songs they didn’t dare to when the occupiers were around. Among them is my 67-year-old aunt, Antonina, and her 84-year-old husband, Roman.
I spoke with my aunt shortly after her village was liberated. She and her husband hadn’t managed to flee their village of Stanislav, 38 kilometers from Kherson city, due to ill-health. But now, after all this time, here she was on the phone, laughing and crying at the same time — tears of both joy and sadness.
“There isn’t any light, gas or water here, but people are still bringing pies to the Ukrainian soldiers,” she said. And judging by how fast the Ukrainian cell phone network has been reconnected, soon the energy and water will be flowing again too, hopefully before the winter months really kick in.
Only a week ago, I was dreaming about visiting my aunt in her village — I didn’t ever imagine it would happen so fast. Neither did she. “Those who stayed here have been waiting for this as the goal of our lives! It’s a celebration here,” she told me in our joyous phone conversation.
“We are happy to have no electricity and no water, if that’s the price of being without the Russians. Can you imagine, there are no more Russians with white armbands on my street!” But her tears also flowed for what occurred in her village under the Russian occupation — some residents were beaten, some have disappeared.
Kherson is my home. And in recent weeks I’ve been traveling around, trying to reconnect and to understand what’s been happening here on the ground since I was working in Kyiv as press secretary for President Volodymyr Zelenskyy.
One of the first places I asked about upon my arrival was Oleksandrivka, a village where my grandparents lived, and where I spent much of my childhood. I was told by members of a Ukrainian special forces unit I hooked up with that it had been destroyed and was in ruins. For many months, it was in no-man’s-land — sitting between the Ukrainian and Russian armies.
Since Russia’s withdrawal, those who used to live in Oleksandrivka have gathered in special online chats and have been sending videos. And from those shared videos, the village does, indeed, appear to have been destroyed — there almost isn’t a single house standing, and the village school has been razed. It’s also been heavily mined.
The unit I was with was in a different village, near Kherson city. There, I sat in a ramshackle village hut — it had a warped wooden door, the very old floor needed fixing long ago, and the windows were fragile and shook from nearby explosions. Near us were small, improvised warehouses, all covered with autumn leaves and stocked with military equipment, including homemade explosives made by Ukrainian soldiers themselves. There were also Western-supplied grenades.
One of the unit’s commanders, nicknamed “Elephant” and a farmer by trade, was sitting outside, enjoying the sun on one of the last warm autumnal days. He was occupied, drawing up lists of what his men needed for winter, including warm uniforms, power banks, portable charging stations, Starlink kits to connect to Elon Musk’s satellite internet, and reconnaissance drones.
But in the background, there were nonstop blasts — the impact was sometimes close but, fortunately, sometimes it was farther away. Only a stray dog reacted, flinching and barking when incoming rounds were particularly nearby and loud.
The Ukrainian military was restrained with its answering artillery. “We are often reproached for going too slowly,” a soldier who did not want to reveal his name told me. “But we check the real-time information many times from different sources. We don’t want to hit civilians. That’s why we are moving slowly,” he said.
One soldier named Vadym told me that in the spring, there was a herd of abandoned cows in no-man’s land. “They were constantly migrating, either grazing on our side, or nearer the Russians. That’s how we knew that the territory wasn’t mined,” he said. He chuckled and added: “We even thought, maybe, to dress up as cows to attack the Russians. Trojan cows. But then the Russians shot the herd.”
The Ukrainian military is now busy trying to clear the mines from the newly liberated villages, which are thankfully back in our hands, where they belong. And as they keep demining the territories, on the outskirts of Kherson city, people are busy ripping down Russian banners, signs and flags.
As I write this, there’s still no phone or internet connection in Kherson city — there’s no light,water or heating yet either. Meanwhile, we’re all wondering what Russia is going to do next, and whether it will decide to shell the city from the Dnipro River’s left bank, where their forces are now digging in and establishing a defensive line.
However, I’ve now been able to have a short chat with my mom thanks to those visiting her. She told me she was joining others with flags downtown to celebrate the city’s liberation.
I am impatient to see and hug them. But for now, entry to and exit from the city, as well as the region, remains under the army’s tight control, as they clear the territory of mines and search for the remaining Russian soldiers.
As my mom had told me before saying goodbye, however, “Once Ukraine’s here, we know there will be life here.”