Getting a hair cut...and drone attacks

 A couple of weeks ago when I went to get my hair cut, Irina, the hairdresser, informed me that I'm losing too much hair. I joked that I have a lot of hair and told her that I'm taking vitamins, but she said that these would not really help because the hair loss is a result of stress. She said that this is a problem for a lot of Ukrainian women and that, more disturbingly, she has seen children whose hair is turning grey. Irina, herself, acknowledges that she is very stressed and that she, like others, is taking sleep medication. When the bombing begins at night, she, her daughter and the dog usually hide in the bathroom. Sometimes they make a bed in the hallway, which is away from windows and more protected.

I was not aware of being stressed but, thinking about it, my body is very often in 'flight' mode, particularly at night when most of the attacks take place. I'm on alert, ready to run, and when I hear drones overhead and bombs falling I have a sick feeling in my stomach. All this must put a strain on the body.

Kharkiv experienced its most powerful drone attack, so far, in the early hours of Wednesday 15 July, a night when Russian drones and missiles attacked widely separate areas of Ukraine. The attack lasted only about 20 minutes, but in this time there were at least 17 explosions in the city centre. Miraculously, only three people were injured. This was an interchange in our Hell's Kitchen current volunteers chat group, where we check on, and reassure, one another.

Newly arrived volunteer:

"About twenty mins of drones here on Sumska [Street]. Now quiet. I’m sheltered."

Franklin, Volunteer coordinator:

"Try to get some rest afterwards."

New volunteer:

"When will afterwards be exactly?"

Franklin:

"The $1 million dollar question."

Alumni (returning) volunteer:

"This will be a common thing, you kinda have to learn to sleep when you can and when it wakes you and gets bad you move to "shelter". It's a hard one to explain."

Thinking about the effects of drone attacks, including stress, I contacted a few people - Ukrainian and foreign volunteers, and those who live and work/study here - and asked about their feelings when they hear drones and explosions.

1) Irina, hairdresser

"When the Shahed [drone] attack starts at night, I hear the siren, I read the telegram channels. I listen. If there is a danger to the city, dogs that live in the private sector start barking. My dog knows about the danger in advance. She calls me and my daughter to the bathroom. I know by the sound when a Shahed flies by, I know how the air defense works. The scariest sound is when a Shahed goes down. Most often we hide in the bathroom. My daughter covers her ears with her hands so as not to hear the sounds of explosions, the dog has a panic attack. And I read prayers and do not understand whether we will stay alive or not. Most of all, I am afraid for my daughter, she is an adult, but I am afraid for her. After the explosions, I read where they were. I need to write to my friends and find out if they are alive or not. I do not sleep, I can sleep when it is very late, when there is no danger. In the morning I am glad that we are alive. I know that I have one more day."

2) Jos, volunteer from the Netherlands, third time in Kharkiv. I shared an apartment with him that has a fully-furnished basement - an ideal bomb shelter:

"A week after leaving Ukraine I still have some mild late effects of Shahed  attacks. The sound of something flying in the sky puts me on alert, ever so slightly but unmistakably. 

Shaheds are awful, contrary to missiles or flying bombs you hear them approaching, or worse, circling. They sound like a far away old-fashioned motorcycle, a lawnmower perhaps. 

One morning I am alone in the house, thick walls and a basement should make me feel safe...

The sirens wail, I check the Signal and Telegram apps instead of running for the basement and I find myself pinned in the hallway, I already hear the Shahed combustion engine pitch rising and I know it will be a close one. And it was. 

One second of pause, I run for the basement and on the stairs down a second and third fly by and explode. 

Then another sound, high pitched, very short, followed by a low thud, plates rattling in the cupboard. That one I could feel. That sounded like a flying bomb. CAB.

It is much better not being alone, these few minutes rattled my nerves. I really had the shakes for a second.

Fiona and I pulled each other out of our beds several times. Yelling 'basement, NOW!!!' to each other, sleepily stumbling down the stairs while Shaheds were already exploding. Still, being together was a great comfort."

This is the basement shelter referred to. I have remained in this apartment, which I shared with Jos during his stay. It's unnecessarily large, with 2 bedrooms, but it feels much more secure. I'm reliably informed that a ground floor apartment, surrounded by higher buildings, is a low risk for getting hit, but when the explosions are close it's maybe the perception of safety that's as important as anything. 

Two Ukrainian female volunteers in their 40s, approx.

3) "Strange question. Of course I don't like it. The scariest sound is the sound of a diving drone. I'm a little happy when the explosion is far from me. But still, this drone hit someone. And that means I'm happy about that. We've become so callous. When I think about it, I get no less scared."

4) "one distinct thing that I have been feeling since 24th of February 2022 during attacks is some unpleasant weakness running down the entire length of my arms, especially when those attacks wake me up"

16-year-old and 14-year-old girls from Kharkiv (their mothers volunteer in Hell's Kitchen):

5) "Oh, honestly, it's hard to explain. Sometimes it feels like my casual life and I'm already used to it. Sometimes it can be overwhelming and I'm all panicking. My panic makes my muscles tense super hard, almost painful, and also rapid breathing with shaking."

6) "Oh, this is quite an interesting topic. When I hear drones or missiles, I feel a bit panicked, as I have gotten used to these sounds. But the scariest thing is the anticipation of where it will land, not the landing itself. 

7) Young male volunteer from Finland, first time in Kharkiv, left a few days ago:

"One of the challenges was to understand how to deal with the looming threat of a drone strike, especially when going to bed since feeling unsafe makes it almost impossible to fall asleep. On one hand you know that it's "one strike and you're out" and you won't be able to learn from your mistakes if you get punished for being too incautious. But then you think to yourself, the morning after a night hiding in the bathroom, that the sleeplessness is starting to take its toll, and since your apartment is unscathed you could just have slept through it and no harm would have come to you. The worst part about terrorism is the terror it instills. Maybe the problem is psychological and you need to be more resilient...You keep that mindset going into the next night but when you hear the first explosion all those thoughts are replaced by imagery of the next one striking down right here."

8) Mark is a 60-ish American volunteer who has been in Kharkiv since the early days of the full invasion. His windows were blown in as a result of a drone explosion a few months ago, which affected him badly. He decided to sleep on the floor in the corner of the room, as his bed is next to the balcony window. He says after a drone attack, "It's like I played basketball 🏀 for 1 hour...Exhausting."

Mark calls this: "New modification - SMP-SM 1A - Sleep Modification Protective : Shahed , Missile - variant 1" !

9) The last word goes to Vera, a Ukrainian volunteer in her 70s, who lives near me in the central district:

"When I hear drones and explosions, I don't understand how a person can do this. I'm scared...it's scary to lie in the dark and not know what will happen to you, what the UNIVERSE has prepared for you."

Donations

Thank you, as always, for your donations. Yegor, one of the founders of Hell's Kitchen, confirmed that, however small, they really make a difference. For example, one of the foreign volunteers bought much-needed aprons...

...as well as a food trolley to try to prevent kitchen volunteers from carrying ridiculously heavy cauldrons of soup or trays of food. It took a day or two for it to be used but then one of the head chefs tried it and loved it, and no longer needs to shout "HELP," very loudly, for one of the foreign volunteers to carry something for her. 

Donations will buy splints for wounded soldiers and material for camouflage netting. They help buy medicine and/or other necessities for sick and/or disabled children, who have been evacuated from villages near the frontline. 

Drone attacks on Kharkiv continue to be pretty regular, especially at night, including about 1 a.m. yesterday. 14 out of 26 drones were shot down; the others caused fires and damage to apartment buildings (50 windows), road, tram tracks and power lines, all in the central Kyivski district. So, somehow, we have to continue to manage the stress of these attacks, however they're felt or manifested, and to live as fulfilled and normal a life as possible for the rest of the time...These are two of Franklin's cats, the morning of one of the heavy drone attacks, with his caption:

"The morning after. And the sun rises again."

And today I saw this poster...

"Kharkiv lives and works!" 

And it does!

To make a donation to the regular causes I support, please open PayPal and, when asked for email, enter sunflower_house@hotmail.co.uk

You can specify where you would like your money to go, otherwise I will send it where I think the need is greatest:

Adults For Children supports families displaced by the war.

Hell's Kitchen cooks daily, nutritious meals and bakes bread, for hospitals and other people in need.

Franklin, Hell's Kitchen foreign volunteer coordinator, supports local soldiers and medics.

Fabric for camouflage netting, ghillies and stretchers/seamstress costs.

If you would like to donate to a charity that support animals - Animal Rescue Kharkiv.