As the escalator descends to a metro station deep within Kiev’s normally squeaky-clean transport system, a sea of foam mats, suitcases and plastic food bags looms ahead. A startling silence reigns in the space, despite the approximately 200 people camped there to escape shelling and artillery fire in the streets above.
Three or four people sleep on each mattress. Children push toy cars across the station’s gray granite floor, seeing their mothers constantly busy with their cell phones, looking for news of the war. Small feet and hands appear outside the blankets, but it is distinctly less cold in the season than on the streets. Volunteers come and go, bringing food and other basic necessities of life. A mother has set up a tent to have a minimum of privacy.
“It’s not very comfortable,” said Ulyana, 9, who has been living for six days at the Dorohozhychi station with her mother and their cat. “But that’s the situation. It’s better to be here than to face a situation outside.”
Kiev’s mayor said on Wednesday that up to 15,000 people, mostly women and children, were sheltering in the metro network to escape the ghastly conditions created by advancing Russian forces.
And the subway isn’t the only underground haven. Doctors from the No. 5 Maternity Hospital in Kiev set up delivery rooms in the basement of the hospital to provide a safe place for women to give birth. Five babies have been born there in recent days, said maternity director Dmytro Govseyev.
Seven days into the conflict, the Kremlin’s war plans are still unclear. The movement of tanks, artillery cannons, armored personnel carriers and other heavy weapons towards Kiev, a city of about 2.8 million people before the exodus of people seeking refuge, creates grave fears about the potential start of bloody clashes.
But it is possible that Russia will instead opt for a suffocating siege punctuated by mortar fire, cutting off the city’s access to food, water and ammunition, in the hope of breaking through the city’s resistance without the destruction and death that would follow from a frontal attack.
Be that as it may, it is likely that underground life in Kiev, which is already difficult, will become even more painful.
In the streets, Ukrainian soldiers and volunteers who received rifles a few days ago were busy preparing for the arrival of the Russians. Preparations were evident on almost every street: concrete barriers obstructed streets, tires were piled up everywhere to be set on fire to form smokescreens, and, in a novelty that appeared on Wednesday, signs warning of the presence of anti-tank mines. spread over streets hastily closed to civilian traffic.
A bullet-riddled car was abandoned near a checkpoint operated by civilian volunteers, apparently after it had raised suspicions that its occupants were saboteurs.
Cold, wet snow was falling, and explosions could be heard on the outskirts of the city. Most Kiev residents remain in their apartments, but thousands of people have chosen to hide from danger on the streets, taking shelter in the subway. They are living in overcrowded conditions. They are women and children of all ages, as well as men too old to fight in the streets.
Veterinary doctor Olha Kovalchuk, 45, and her daughter Oksana, 18, a university ecology student, have been taking turns sleeping on a coveted wooden bench at Dorohozhychi station. “This is our space,” Kovalchuk said. Nearby, several people were crowding around an improvised cell-phone charging station. Luckily the metro has well-equipped public restrooms.
The station is part of the metro’s green line and is at great depth – it takes a minute on the escalator to get down to it. The names of the stations ahead sound promising: Palácio dos Esportes, Portal de Ouro, As Cavernas, Amizade entre os Povos. But while there are still trains passing sporadically, no one here was going anywhere.
“It’s bad for children,” Kovalchuk said, looking at the scene. “I’m just a veterinarian, not a doctor, but I can understand how harmful this is for them. Children are stressed. They cry at night.”
She herself is living under such stress that she can barely sleep. And she is filled with hatred for the man who started the war, Russian President Vladimir Putin. “I don’t want to swear,” she said. “But I hate that man from the bottom of my soul. See how much suffering he put on us.”
In recent days, Ukrainian officials have been pleading with the West to intervene, shutting down Ukraine’s airspace. The request had to be rejected because it would risk triggering a conflict between NATO forces and Russia. But Kovalchuk liked the idea. “Please close our airspace.”
She said the signs pointing to Russia’s intentions had been clear for years, not just since the military escalation began. “I don’t understand why the world didn’t listen to Ukraine sooner.”
