‘On the verge of a nervous breakdown’ Residents of a Russian border city react to recent missile strikes and evacuations
Since late December 2023, the Russian border city of Belgorod has undergone regular shelling from Ukrainian forces in response to Russian attacks on Ukrainian cities. In one such strike carried out by Ukraine on December 30, twenty-five people were killed, and hundreds were injured, prompting the region’s governor, Vyacheslav Gladkov, to announce that they would start evacuating residents. The independent journalists’ cooperative Bereg compiled reactions from Belgorod residents about the attacks and how they decided to evacuate. With Bereg’s permission, Meduza is publishing an abridged translation.
Polina
43 years old
I can’t say that the decision to leave Belgorod was difficult — you think about your children first and foremost, right? My husband stayed while we [the children and I] packed our things and went to a village, where we have a small house. We were thinking about moving there but the house is very cold […]. We spent two days there before my youngest got sick and we had to go back to our place in Belgorod. Everything was quiet in the city while we were gone, no crazy shelling. But just as we returned — that’s when everything started all over again.
We can’t go to our relatives, no one’s calling us. We’re actually from Kazakhstan — we moved here two years ago, in November 2021. And then in February, the SVO started. We weren’t scared back then — nothing was blowing up nearby. At first, we lived in a village outside the city. Here [in Belgorod] there was a loud noise, but over there we could only hear the air defenses going off. In October, we moved to the city, everything was normal. But since December 29, it’s been horrible! My husband went out onto the balcony — and there were flashes right above us in the sky.
I look at parent groups chats — many left [along with their children]. No one from our group is going to kindergarten: everyone’s afraid. I’m also scared to take my kid there — what if [while we’re driving] there’s an attack? There’s nowhere to hide.
All this time, children aren’t going outside: it’s quite frightening. Shelling could start at any moment, and they just wouldn’t have enough time to run home. [My] kids are very scared, any rustle makes them run into the bathroom, shaking. My youngest is six years old, he still doesn’t understand [what’s going on], but my oldest is 13, she talks with her friends. On [December] 30th, she saw the shelling with her own eyes, and she told me about the corpses, and I could see that she was traumatized. Children should get a childhood, not all this.
On his social media, Governor [Vyacheslav Gladkov wrote] that those who need help will be evacuated from Belgorod, while children [will be sent] to a camp. I signed my kid up for camp, though now there’s information that the first children have already gone. But no one told us. I contacted the city’s administration so that we’d be evacuated [to a temporary accommodation center], — but so far nothing. We have our bags packed and ready to go, we’re waiting — the governor did say he’d help. I also saw [that the journalist Ksenia] Sobchak is evacuating people, but I haven’t messaged her yet. I’ll wait a couple more days, and then what’s next — I don’t know.
It’s dangerous to stay here, you’re even scared drive your car — you’re always thinking that something is going to crash into you, explode. All the windows in our house are closed, we don’t let our kids sit near them — in case there’s a direct strike. The neighbors taped them up, but I don’t really believe [that it’ll help with the debris].
There was an attack not far from us, around a two-minute drive — a direct strike that injured two men, wrecked 30 or 40 cars, and blew out windows. Our armed forces, as I understand it, are at work, but I’m not sure why this happens. They protect us, but somehow not with all their strength.
Dmitry
36 years old
It’s the third time we’ve left: the last two times, we came back. After the 30th [of December], we left again, but we’re not sure yet when we’ll go back.
Now, we’re in the Voronezh region. It’s not the safest area, but it’s the closest to Belgorod. When [the war started], we knew that the Belgorod region would be subjected to shelling, so we bought an apartment in Voronezh just in case. If anything happened, we could leave but still stay close [to home].
I didn’t want to leave, but my wife insisted because of the kids, though they didn’t want to leave either.
By my estimates, more people left this time [than after previous attacks]. I see my friends and acquaintances — they went to their parents’ villages. They’re staying in the region, but further away from the border.
During strikes, I tell myself that it’s fate. But my wife is terrified. When the kids hear booms, they always run to the hallway and sit there. They say “Boom! Everyone go to the hallway!” They’re taught how to act: if you hear a boom, then you need to leave any room with windows and go to the hallway, or the bathroom. If a strike happens while they’re at school, they have their own methods there.
By now, the nerves [from the shelling] have passed, especially since it’s not the first time — soon it’ll be two years. After February 24, 2022, my sister left [Belgorod] and moved abroad, and hasn’t returned since. We were one family, but since that moment we’ve been split apart. We lived together — now we only speak on Skype. We have a lot of relatives on opposite sides of the barricades, all with different views, but we all still talk.
I have questions for the country’s leadership — I had them [when the war started], and I still have them. I hope that this year it’ll all end — well, the “operation.” I don’t really care which way it goes. As long as it’s all over and done with.
Marina
35 years old
I was born in Belgorod and have lived here for most of my life. [A few months after the start of the full-scale invasion], my husband and I moved abroad. A year later, my mother died. My grandmother and grandfather were left all alone in Belgorod. That’s why we came back in July 2023. I wanted to spend time with them, somehow protect [them], support [them], brighten the last years of their lives. And that makes it even harder that now I have to leave again.
We managed to get used to the shelling — there would be loud noises somewhere in the distance. Everything was more or less normal. But what happened on New Year’s — that was too far. There were occasional attacks in the past: a boom somewhere, people would be startled, [wait] for a few seconds, and then go about their day — that was how everyone operated. But this time (starting on December 29, 2023), these kinds of noises became very frequent. And the sounds are absolutely unbearable. Noise and vibrations — on the floor, on the windows.
I remember the moment when the explosions started, a lot of missiles were shot down, and I was lying at home, shaking. I knew that if the windows broke, I’d get a lot of cuts, I could lose my legs. But I lay there and didn’t move — just a numb stillness.
The sirens have started blaring six times a day. When I would go to bed, I’d realize I might not wake up, that I might die — but why? For what?
There was a dumb, very naive hope, that a miracle would happen, that everything would subside and we could go on living — yes, with tragedy in our hearts, but living. But no, then explosions would start up again, you’d run back to the bathroom, freeze up again, and think once more: “Why am I even staying here at all?” When these situations happen frequently, [mentally, you] can’t bear them anymore. And I’m a psychologist, I have to help people. To do that, you have to keep your own mental health intact.
We ended up taking a bus to Rossosh [a town in the Voronezh region]. From there we took a train to Sochi. For a week, two, three — I don’t know, I don’t have a return ticket yet.
There’s uncertainty in general about everything. Honestly, we want to go back. My husband also wants to go back, he’s fine with anything, except the damn shelling. If everything calms down there, we’ll definitely go back to be with the people close to us. And if not, I don’t have an answer about what we’ll do yet.
We rented an apartment in Sochi. Thanks to my job, I can work remotely. Out of the people I know, not many have left [Belgorod], around 20 percent. Everyone else stayed: some on the verge of a nervous breakdown, some in denial.
In general, I don’t concern myself with politics. That’s why [the start of the war with Ukraine] came as a shock to me. Many people around me said it was predictable but I was left wondering — why? I soon realized it wasn’t going to end well. The shelling of Belgorod, Shebekino wasn’t a surprise to me.
Since the very beginning [of the war], I’ve felt a lot of grief about everything that’s happening. No matter which side is the one being shelled.
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Story by Bereg. Abridged translation by Sasha Slobodov.