The Story of Resilience and Unity Among the Residents of Pryputni Village

A typical rural street. Here stands a house, enveloped by trees and viburnum.

Let’s step inside. The courtyard charms the eye with red asters, delicate roses, and dahlias. There is mint, marigolds, and hypericum. Even periwinkle greens up the flower bed. Such a garden could only be maintained by a true hostess. Ludmyla Bunkova, who witnessed the occupation of Pryputni village in Chernihiv region, comes out to greet us.

The morning of February 25, 2022, is forever etched in Ludmyla Ilarionivna’s memory. Since that day, the life of the Bunkov family took a different turn.

“The scariest part was the night when shelling began. You lie down, and shells start flying over the house. They fly so low and loud that you think they will tear the roof off,” recalls Mrs. Ludmyla.

Holding our breath, we listened with interest to this kind woman, who, despite the circumstances, documented events in the occupied village through photos and videos.

“I would hide behind the barn or stand behind the corner of the house, set up the camera, and start filming… My husband argued because he was worried that they might notice,” Ludmyla winks enthusiastically.

A gray cat, regardless of us, carefully climbed onto the bench, then onto the backpack, settled comfortably, and began to doze. The owner smiled, looking at the cat, and continued to tell us how they moved to the cellar during shelling, slept in their clothes, how neighbors began to unite and help each other by sharing grains and bread, and how a neighbor Ivan charged everyone’s gadgets from his generator.

“I will remember this path through the village all my life”

As there was a concentration of Russian equipment in the forest near Ludmyla’s house, the Bunkov family moved to another empty house located in a safer area on the farm.

Ludmyla looked at her house, which she bought shortly before the war. The sun flooded the yard, and the walls of the house suddenly turned bright green in the sunlight. It was here, in this house, that she first met the Russians when she ran home.

“I hastily took things for my grandchildren, because when they were packing, they couldn’t take everything. I’ve heard the door creaked and  then there were cautious steps… I hid. I sat on a stool, and my whole life flashed before my eyes… I sat and thought, ‘Forgive me, God, I am a sinner. I regret not seeing my grandchildren.’ At that time, the sounds of gunfire outside were loud. Someone came into the corridor and asked, ‘Is anyone home?’ I remain silent. And then it dawned on me that I needed to respond. My son is a military man; he warned me that I need to answer. So I shouted, ‘Yes! Yes! Don’t shoot!’ A soldier entered the room and asked, ‘Are you alone?’ I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t squeeze anything out. And he went again: ‘Есть кто дома? А где ваша сємья? А пустиє дома здесь єсть?’ [Is anyone here? Where is your family? Are there any vacant houses here?]”

Mrs. Ludmyla fell silent. It felt like it was hard for her to talk, but she doesn’t show her emotions; she keeps everything to herself. She recalls how, after recovering, she first cried, and when she calmed down, she saw that there were four occupiers: not tall but sturdy, resembling Buryats.

“I answered something to them, but in my head, it was swarming: ‘I need to go… I need to go… My grandchildren are waiting for me in another part of the village…'” I confidently and resolutely went out of the house, explaining on the way to the Russian military that I have no time, that I need to go, that my grandchildren are waiting for me in another part of the village… The occupiers heard me. The machine gunner ordered me to take a piece of white fabric in my hands and not to run but walk slowly along the street. I found a bedsheet, hid two phones under my hands so that the Russians wouldn’t see them (I knew: if they find gadgets, they will take them; if they see photos, then that’s the end for me!), and I went… I walked and told myself, ‘Just don’t run, just don’t run…’ So I walked from one end to the other… Over time, details are forgotten, but I will remember this path through the village all my life,” Ludmyla confesses.

Nowadays, Ludmyla Ilarionivna is striving to regain a sense of normalcy. She speaks with warmth in her voice and a smile about her grandchildren, respectfully recalls her husband who recently passed away. Her grandson Maxim came out of the house, smiled warmly.

It’s time for us to leave… Yet, bidding farewell to this incredible woman, full of strength, endurance, and love, is something we’re reluctant to do…

We’re leaving, accompanied by the slightly bitter-sweet smell of marigolds.

The material was prepared by Iryna Reshetniak and Ihor Protsyk as part of the educational course “Truth Through Stories.”

The project is implemented by the Educational House of Human Rights in Chernihiv with the support of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Czech Republic as part of the local transformation project “Ukraine and Ukrainians: Modern Chronicles of Struggle for Freedom and Democracy.”