WE DID NOT VALUE PEACE BEFORE!

In a day and a half, on 24 August 2014, Ukraine’s Independence Day will arrive. I believed that by this holiday all of Donbas, including my hometown, would surely become Ukrainian and free. I believed that the Russian mercenary forces would be finally driven out of our country.

I didn’t get it… Such an Independence Day I’ve never had before! And I hope I never will again! I want to live in Ukraine! I want my ordinary life back! I hate this war! I am tired of living in darkness without electricity or water, without being able to leave the city, living in lawlessness, with no clear future ahead! I don’t want any curfew from 10 PM to 5 AM! I don’t want to walk constantly looking over my shoulder! I don’t want to fall into any random ditch when I hear shells flying, trying to melt into the earth! I don’t want it! I’m tired! Enough! Enough with the deaths, the fear, the sorrow! Enough with the ruined homes and the funerals! Enough with the soldiers on the streets and the artillery shelling of the city! Let it all end soon!
Oh, they’ve turned the electricity back on! And here comes another shelling! And again, it’s the same circle! That’s it, I don’t want to write anymore…

A few days later, grim news arrived from Ilovaisk: the pain of loss, the horror at the casualties suffered by our army, and the despair that followed the failed offensive and the shattered hope of a swift liberation…

The guns have fallen silent, and I will try to do something useful during these few minutes — and, if I’m lucky, perhaps during a few hours of calm. If only this war would end sooner…

Only a very small part of Donbas remains under occupation now. Yet life in the city has not become any easier because of it. Today they tried to restore electricity to our homes, but it was only at half capacity and for a short time.

Getting water is not a problem for me — there is a spring and a pond nearby. But clean drinking water can only be bought in shops, not in all of them, and only early in the morning, as the demand is enormous. The walk to the shops is long as well. And in the nearest grocery shop there is nothing at all — except vinegar and napkins.

The shelling continues, though for the past couple of days, nothing has fallen nearby. But now it’s not as frightening anymore. The initial curiosity has passed: "Wow, what was that shot, and where did it go?!" "Wow, what was that falling?!" "Who shot that, and with what kind of shells?"

It gave way to something else: "Something's flying again! It's falling nearby! Lord, save us!” And then even that was replaced by indifference: “Oh, it's flying... Fly away. And I'll sleep, read, cook.” Of course, the loud sound still makes you flinch — but now only reflexively.

Now everything has somehow changed. The “Grad” is no longer just an atmospheric phenomenon (hail) — it is a multiple rocket launcher that sows death. The “birds” are our Ukrainian fighter jets, giving me both a reason to feel joy at the presence of our Ukrainian soldiers nearby, and concern for their lives.

Tap water is now a great treasure! Electricity in the flat is no longer some unnoticed little thing — it is pure happiness! It’s sheer pleasure to watch films and the news, to keep in touch with family and friends on the phone. A working fridge and washing machine bring real joy. And the Internet… that is pure luxury! Rare now, and therefore even more precious. When it works, it connects us to the whole world. We never truly appreciated it before… Well, from now on, we’ll be wiser.

And what's more, we didn't appreciate PEACE. Before the war, we never thought about it. PEACE? What's that? You can't see it or touch it... But the manifestations of peace were always around us! They were the working factories and shops, hospitals and educational institutions, public transport! The shouts of children playing in the yard and pensioners relaxing on benches! The ability to withdraw money from an ATM! These are our favourite products in shops, freely available and without queues! It is the opportunity to travel to other cities and resorts, visit family and loved ones, and travel as a tourist anywhere in the world! I hope that someday all this will return to our lives, when my city will be Ukrainian again... All this was and will be, but today life is different... A life full of fear and hopelessness.

Sometimes it seems to me that all this is just a prolonged nightmare. But as soon as I wake up, I will hear the noise of the city again, the laughter of children in the courtyard, the barking of dogs and the ringing of the tram outside the window. It will be an ordinary peaceful day. And the flag of Ukraine will fly over my city.

I don’t know when it will happen. But I know this: it will happen. Because peace will return! It always returns! The main thing is to wait for it.

Someday I will reread these notes and perhaps not believe that all this happened to me. But let them remain as a reminder that peace is not a normal state of affairs, but a fragile miracle that must be cherished. Peace is not the silence after the shots. Peace is when no one expects shots to be fired.

From diary entries in 2014

Zoia Zazvonova, aged 70, is a refugee from Ukraine and currently resides in Perth, Australia. She is formally trained as a civil engineer and economist; however, eight years spent under occupation led her to the realm of literary prose. Today, Zoia is working on translating her book into English — a work based on her personal experiences of living under occupation and in a hybrid warfare environment.