Ukrainian village tries to build a future near war front lines

From the new school building in Staryi Saltiv, smoke from distant towns can be seen across the river valley, a contrast that illustrates the hope and fear that permeates dozens of villages on the front lines of the Ukrainian war.

The school in Stajsaltyiv was built to replace one destroyed by Russia in 2022, when Ukraine recaptured the lakeside resort in a counteroffensive that fall.

“If there are no schools, no hospitals, no state services, people won’t stay here and won’t consider coming back,” said Anton Palyey, the military-appointed administrator of Staryi Saltiv.

“It is our job as a government to show local people that these villages have not been abandoned and that they can have confidence in the future of this place.”

This determination to keep Ukraine’s traumatized villages alive can be seen everywhere in Staryi Saltiv, from the numerous construction projects to the vegetable gardens behind many of the houses.

“I decided not to be afraid anymore,” said Lidiia Chatchenko, the unofficial mayor of a small village outside Stajsaltiev, careful not to sound too naively optimistic. “I just want to do what I can to help those in the village who just want to stay home.”

Anton Palyey stood proudly in front of the newly constructed three-storey school building, painted in cheerful bright colours to welcome back pupils.

The school was built to replace one destroyed by Russian shelling in 2022 when enemy forces overran the lakeside resort just 12 miles from the Russian border. Staryi Saltiv was recaptured in a counteroffensive in the fall of 2022.

“If there are no schools, no hospitals, no state services, people won’t stay here and won’t consider coming back,” said Mr. Palier, who has served as Staryi Saltiv’s military-appointed administrator since Ukrainian troops recaptured the village.

Pointing toward the northern horizon, where a plume of black smoke rises above the town of Vovchansk — devastated by a surprise Russian cross-border offensive in May — the village chief describes his job as both service provider and chief comforter and morale booster.

“So-called neighbors like us could do something like that at any time,” he said, nodding toward the smoke. “It’s understandable that people are so scared about living here.”

He added: “It is our job as a government to show local people that these villages have not been abandoned and that they can have confidence in the future of this place.”

Hope and fear

The brand new school building stands in stark contrast to the smoke-filled town 30 miles down the river valley, reflecting the hopes and fears of dozens of villages on the front lines of the Ukrainian war.

Many villages, like Stajsartiv, were occupied by Russian troops and are now struggling to rebuild and recover — despite the ever-present fear that war could engulf them again.

On the one hand, many of Stajsartiv’s residential streets are indeed quiet and deserted, and its summer population no longer exceeds 20,000, while residents of pre-war Kharkiv—Ukraine’s second-largest city—vacation on vacation on the soothing banks of the Seversky Donets River reservoir.

But there is also a deep sense of hope for the future. This hope is reflected not only in the new school, but also in the ongoing renovation of war-damaged apartment buildings and the repeated repairs of a makeshift floating bridge, which is a lifeline for families on the other side of the river. Welcoming committees also offer hope to evacuees from nearby besieged towns such as Vovchansk, where fierce fighting continued on June 17.

“I decided not to be afraid anymore. I just want to do what I can to help the people in the village who just want to stay in their homes,” said Lidiia Chatchenko, the unofficial mayor of the small town of Rubizhne outside Staryi Saltiv (a big word, she said, for the meagre aid she offers).

Ms. Chachenko moved to Stajsaltyv after she lost her house in Rubizhny when Russian troops occupied the area in 2022. Now, she loads her old station wagon with World Food Programme supplies almost every day to the mostly remaining elderly people in the village.

Do your best

Like others, Ms. Chachenko is careful not to be naively optimistic about the future. She said Russia has used bigger bombs and more lethal tactics in recent attacks, so she is preparing for what might happen if enemy forces enter the area again.

But in the meantime, she said she must do what she can to ease people’s anxieties and keep them in her village for as long as possible.

“Before the war, our little village was very beautiful. People were proud to preserve this beautiful land and show it to the world,” she said. “I really hope that what I do can help people keep their homes so that we can one day become that beautiful place again.”

This determination to keep Ukraine’s traumatized villages alive is evident everywhere in Stajsaltyiv — from the numerous construction projects to the neat vegetable gardens behind many of the houses, promising the promise of future harvests.

At a construction site, Vadim Morozov talked about restoring Staryi Saltiv to its former glory as a summer family resort as he installed new insulation and basalt siding on an apartment building that took a direct hit in the Russian attack.

“Before the war, I would sometimes bring my family to the resorts here, but most of the time there were so many people that there was no room on the beach,” said a construction foreman from the neighboring region of Sumy. “People here want to live like this again in the future,” he added, “and I feel like we are doing our part to make that happen.”

Mr Morozov is careful to temper his big dreams with some realism, though. He points out, for example, that upgrading basements into sturdy shelters has been a priority in all the repairs of multi-storey residential buildings in Staryi Saltiv.

“Given the situation we’re in and the uncertain future,” he said, “building shelters is a very important part of what we do now.”

Hope for a good tomato harvest

Across the road, in a neighborhood of traditional one-story houses with neat gardens, Alla Nahorna displays the same optimism and caution honed during more than two years of grueling close-quarters warfare.

“We love living here; it’s such an idyllic place,” she said, offering bowls of freshly picked strawberries to passersby. “But the truth is, we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

In the shade of a neighbor’s tree, the husband, Anatoly, recounted how he and Ms. Nahorna grew up in this house, how he fished in the reservoir as a child in a quiet village and made the wooden cross that still hangs around his neck.

But he paced the quiet street outside their home and sighed. “Only four families live here now,” he said. “Everyone else is gone.” The couple’s son, daughter and grandchildren now live in Kharkiv, 28 miles away.

Ms. Nahona said she could not blame people for leaving. “When the bombs fell, you felt the walls shaking; you didn’t know when or where they would fall.” Indeed, on June 12, a bomb struck Staryi Saltiv, destroying a house and injuring three residents.

But then she paused, as if reconsidering the dark path her words had taken, and looked toward her garden.

“I really think our biggest problem is the lack of rain,” she said, surveying the rows of tomato plants. “As soon as it rains, I’ll start canning tomatoes again like I always do.”

She also added — seemingly not as an afterthought but in faith: “We will fight, we will win this war — and this will become a very good place to live again.”

Oleksandr Naselenko helped report this story.