Since taking over Mariupol, in May 2022, Russian authorities have used the city and its residents in propaganda efforts. Pro-Kremlin media consistently report on ongoing reconstruction, improved living conditions and even visits from foreign bloggers. This creates an illusion of significant positive changes in this city of 450,000 on the Sea of Azov.
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As the Russian occupation drags into its second winter, Russian independent news site Vazhnye istorii interviews two Mariupol residents about their living conditions and the challenges they face — despite what Russian propaganda may say.
Promises of rebuilding
Andrei Zonder lives in an apartment block at No. 66 Morskoy (Komsomolsky) Blvd., which was heavily damaged by shelling.
We waited 483 days for repairs on our house. We were promised rapid renovation and reconstruction, but in fact, there was constant shuffling around of contractors and no tangible progress.
Getting through this period was a challenge. Last winter saw the heating was partially restoration to our homes, but almost the entire block was without windows and it was hard to stay warm. We improvised with film in place of the glass and covering the window frames with bags.
The upper floors were particularly damaged and were nearly uninhabitable. The radiators were not drained, which caused them to burst and flood the apartments below. In those harsh winter conditions, the entire community had to come together to remove the water.
A second winter under occupation
This winter is equally challenging in Mariupol, with severe cold and snow. Restoration efforts are ongoing. Our 12-floor apartment block is divided into left and right wings, and the right wing was chosen for restoration. The left wing, from the 9th to the 12th floor, was dismantled, leaving upper-floor apartments seemingly suspended in midair.
Residents unaffected by the dismantling live under the same conditions since the war began. We exercise caution, following safety protocols and receiving notifications about safe and unsafe entrances and exits. Those whose apartments are under renovation have found temporary free housing arrangements with their neighbors.
Pervasive apathy has set in. We merely exist.
We still have little to no hot water. Each morning, only cold water comes out of the tap. It’s frustrating — even depressing. No one seems to take responsibility for this issue. We were told that the company that owns the apartment block is not going to help restore it, and the contractors claim it’s not their responsibility to fix the water unless residents pay a large sum of money for it.
On January 9, a power outage hit our building and two neighboring ones. This plunged us into darkness and silence, and for the first 24 hours, even cold water was unavailable. With no gas supply, we ate cold meals and had no hot tea. Fortunately, heating remained relatively stable. Emergency services only arrived on the third day, leaving us without electricity for 52 hours.
A robotic existence
There are no elevators, of course, and no plans to restore them. This poses major challenges for elderly residents. We all pitch in to carry their groceries.
Pensioners, who rely solely on their pensions to live, face real hardship. My elderly neighbors say the pensions they receive depends on the type of passport they hold. For a Ukrainian passport, the pension ranges from 10,000 to 30,000 rubles (0-0 per month), while a Russian one receives up to 60,000 rubles (0). Living on this little is challenging, with prices soaring to three times their pre-war levels.
Whether you stay or leave Mariupol, you will be judged by someone.
With no financial means to rent a home, no extra residence and no family to turn to, we find ourselves with limited choices: we have to live in this apartment block.
A year ago, there was a lingering optimism, we anticipated change over time. But that hope has faded away. Pervasive apathy has set in. We merely exist. We’re preoccupied with our daily struggles, and the question of whether we live well or poorly seldom crosses our minds. Personally, my focus is on community service. It’s a robotic existence that leaves me little time for contemplation. Yet it brings me a sense of purpose; I feel my neighbors need me.
Whether you stay or leave Mariupol, you will be judged by someone. You can expect prejudice everywhere, but at least here, we have our own home.
A deep love for our city
Nikolay (name changed) is a student from Mariupol. He lives with his parents in a multi-story building, which was lightly damaged by shelling.
I’ve spent my entire life in Mariupol, and despite the challenges, my parents and I chose not to leave. The prospect of the unknown, coupled with the lack of relatives elsewhere, financial uncertainties, and a deep love for our city, all kept us from leaving, especially during these trying times.
Luckily, our house, situated away from the city center, is relatively intact. Although we had many broken windows, diligent workers from the “authorities” swiftly replaced the frames and glass. We have stable access to light and electricity. Last winter we had to buy a heater because the radiators did not function. The current heating system operates on schedule, albeit with somewhat limited warmth.
Infrastructure repairs, such as patched roads and restored traffic lights, are noticeable in our area. But, in general, city development appears sluggish. Some new residential areas have emerged, but their quality is questionable. Reconstruction of damaged houses is progressing slowly; a neighboring house is undergoing renovation.
If you walk through the city center, you’ll see many ruins with no apparent restoration going on. While some construction and renovations are ongoing, they are not immediately visible. The city center seems less populated compared to residential areas.
Scarce employment and high inflation
In Mariupol, we’re facing soaring prices and employment challenges. Our city depends on steel, and the mills, once a source of employment, now stand idle with only promises of revival. Many, including my parents who also worked in the steel industry, are clearing rubble around the city. They’re officially employed at their factories, but the work has shifted. At least there’s some compensation for their efforts. In the past, people could afford a TV with their salary, but now it takes months of saving. Fortunately, my family, with two working members, is managing to navigate this situation with relative ease. I take on part-time jobs when needed. But for many, life is significantly more challenging, and their source of their income remains a unclear.
The main work in the city is now on construction sites. Visitors from Russia receive higher salaries than locals, and Mariupol residents often face exploitation at these construction sites due to the high demand for work. Unscrupulous employers exploit the situation, offering unofficial work under the pretext of pending contracts. With official employment scarce, people reluctantly agree to terms, such as a two-month commitment, only to find the company disappearing afterward.
There’s a widespread misconception that there’s nothing left here.
I personally experienced this when I worked at a construction site for a month and a half. The company abruptly closed all assigned projects and vanished without a trace. Unfortunately, there’s no means of proving anything since there were no official documents to prove our employment.
The stores maintain their usual product range, but steep prices mean a significant portion of income goes toward groceries. Initially, the food quality wasn’t up to par, but we’ve likely grown accustomed to it over time.
While there are various cafes in the city, their prices are exorbitant. I often enter cafes to warm up and consume as much tea and chocolate as possible. I’ve observed that many others do the same; few order full meals. Cafes in the city center are often practically empty, while those in residential areas may have queues for tea.
Propaganda and politics
I’m currently studying, a relatively rare occurrence given the circumstances. Propaganda occasionally seeps into the curriculum. Surprisingly, it’s not part of the official program but is initiated by certain teachers who have been with us since before the full-scale war. Such narratives were absent back then. For instance, instead of sticking to the lesson topic, a teacher went on a tirade about how the West helped Nazi Germany conquer the world, crediting the Soviet Union with salvation. Another teacher spun a story about America being the sole user of nuclear weapons, claiming Ukraine created a dirty bomb. My classmates and I listen with straight faces, and later joked among ourselves.
In my immediate circle, everyone takes a pro-Ukrainian stance. While I can’t speak for everyone, I don’t know anyone my age ardently supporting Russia. Our collective perspective on the situation is that while Ukraine wasn’t a paradise, it was much better than what we currently have. These discussions remain within our group; we don’t make them publicly.
Just because I stayed in Mariupol, people assume I support Russia.
In my family, my mom holds a pro-Russian position, while my dad remains indifferent to politics. Because of this, we avoid discussing politics at home, and I keep my thoughts to myself. It’s challenging when your loved ones don’t share your perspective, but they are still my parents. Thankfully, my friends provide significant support, and I don’t know how I would cope without them.
Misconceptions among Ukrainians
I’ve noticed that news about Mariupol on Ukrainian public pages tends to be exaggerated. While they tell the truth, the portrayal is often overly dramatic. Recently, when I told someone from Ukrainian-controlled territory that I’m currently in Mariupol, he didn’t believe me because I have Internet access and my house survived. There’s a widespread misconception that there’s nothing left here. I fail to understand the need to exaggerate when the reality is already quite bleak.
I feel deeply hurt by the way other Ukrainians treat us. In various online discussions, I see generalizations about all of us, with claims that we’re all happy about the Russian occupation. I wonder why, just because I stayed in Mariupol, people assume I support Russia. This is my home, and I have no intention of surrendering it to anyone. Ukrainians fought long and hard for independence and the unity of our country. It’s disheartening to feel like strangers now and be perceived as wrong by the rest of Ukraine.
My fervent wish is to be part of Ukraine again while remaining a Mariupol resident. I hope for the reunification of our entire country, both territorially and in terms of national unity.
