The shallows One year after the Kakhovka dam disaster, a Ukrainian photographer captures the exposed riverbed and ruined villages left behind
The destruction of the dam at Ukraine’s Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant on the morning of June 6, 2023, caused the flooding of about 80 towns and villages in the country’s Kherson and Mykolaiv regions. Kyiv and Moscow blamed each other for the collapse and the resulting humanitarian and environmental disaster (though the dam has been controlled by Russian forces since the start of the full-scale invasion). In addition to inundating communities downstream from the facility, the dam’s breach caused catastrophic shallowing further upstream, devastating communities in the Zaporizhzhia region that used to rely on fishing and river transport for their livelihoods. For Meduza, Ukrainian photographer Pavel Korchagin traveled to the region to capture the way its landscape has changed in the year since the dam burst.
The Russian army’s strikes against Ukraine’s energy infrastructure wreaked havoc not just on the country’s energy sector, but also on its environment and natural resources.
I’ve seen time and time again that nature always has its way in the end — and while it might take a long time, it eventually restores the balance. People, too, adapt to the new reality fairly quickly. At the same time, one can see that life here has been broken. Not only by the Kakhovka dam’s explosion but by the war in general. There’s no more ship traffic. The river is dead. It’s now impossible to make full use of it.
When I saw this man, it felt as if nobody else was left — as if he were the last person on earth.
The areas exposed by the receding water reminded me of the area where they filmed the [1979 Soviet science fiction movie] Stalker. It constantly had the feeling that I was in some kind of post-disaster area. And basically, I was.
At the Zaporizhzhia River Port, there are still posters advertising tour boat excursions.
The grooves left by the receding water reminded me of tiny dried-up riverbeds.
I was struck by the barges and cranes still sitting in the shallows. They seem like beached whales that have been left to die.
In the village of Rozumivka, what used to be a dock on the Dnipro River is now a dock in the middle of a field. I couldn’t figure out why there was a chair sitting at the end of it. I imagined it was a catapult meant to launch you away from this place.
This was the place that left the strongest impression on me. Initially, I found myself not wanting to believe that this sea of green was where the water used to be. Willows have started growing there; they’re already nearly two meters high. There used to be a large fishery in Malokaterynivka; the whole village lived off of the river and the fish. The residents joke that soon there will be boars running around in the areas where fish used to swim.
The idyllic landscape here is deceptive. This place is dangerous, and living here is scary. Locals say that missiles, planes, and drones fly over them constantly. It used to be a lively place: trains passed through the village, it was easy to get to Zaporizhzhia, and there was a road to Crimea. But now no transport comes here, and it’s very difficult to get anywhere.
You can see from the patterns on the shore how much the water level has dropped. Fishermen say there are a lot fewer fish in the Dnipro now; they disappeared along with the water.
When the water receded, it revealed another world: an underground world of algae, roots growing at the bottom of the Kakhovka Reservoir, tree stumps. Not for the first time, I felt regret that I hadn’t had the chance to visit these places before the disaster. I felt the urge to take a boat tour on the Dnipro. Or go sailing. Instead, I have to try to imagine how it used to be.
Pavel Korchagin, Zaporizhzhia region, Ukraine
Photoediting by Katya Balaban. Translation by Sam Breazeale