We Ukrainians Are Fighting to Be Free - Guest essay NYT
It usually happens in the middle of the night or at dawn. Russians seem to like to kill the defenseless and helpless. They cant do it at the front there they have been repelled so in the middle of the night, they launch missiles at maternity hospitals, high-rise buildings, train stations, metro stations, schools, libraries.
The worst thing during the attacks is the endless messages we send one another. The stupidest of the stupid is the question How are you? That question flies above Kyiv, Odesa, Kherson, Dnipro, gathering replies. It fell close. I see a fire. We are fine but it is burning somewhere here. The house across from us is no more. The smell of death, my Anya said it smells like death. Yet there is no alternative. It is a question that, for all its ridiculousness, cannot be left unanswered. Silence means misfortune and death.
We, the people of a decade of war, are used to those. The world is talking of a second anniversary. Wrong: The war has not been two years but 10, from when Russian forces annexed Crimea and invaded the Donbas. Calling it an anniversary isnt quite right, either. In Ukrainian, the period of time equivalent to a year is defined by two words: richnytsia (anniversary) and rokovyny (commemoration). Rokovyny often refers to memorial services, while richnytsia pertains more to celebrating life. So much sorrow has settled in our memory and calendars that everything is a memorial now.
Yet despite all the rokovyny in Ukraine across the centuries the Baturyn massacre in the 18th century and the Valuev and Ems decrees in the 19th century, the executions in Bykivnia and Sandarmokh and the Holodomor under Soviet rule, the murder of the Heavenly Hundred in 2014 and the recent devastation of Bucha, Bakhmut and the Kakhovka dam were still here. We are still fighting for richnytsias, for anniversaries and jubilees of our victory.
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