“I have enough grenades for everyone!” A report about collaborators from Kherson Oblast

“Are there any collaborators?” I ask a group of women in the center of Mala Oleksandrivka, Kherson Oblast. The village was liberated after seven months of occupation at the beginning of last October.

"There is plenty of them! They walk around, like nothing happened, and laugh in people's faces.”

The women eagerly told us about these villagers: how they behaved during the occupation and what kind of relationship the locals have with them now.

After the conversation, hromadske journalists went to the addresses of the “collaborators” to hear their versions. We also visited the local police, where we were told that more criminal cases had been opened in 6 months than in the previous 7 years.

Accusation: “She lived with a Russian, he drank with a Russian, he stole with a Russian”

In the village, where 1542 people lived before the Russian invasion, 352 remained under occupation. Those who left and returned found their homes and yards destroyed by explosions. And besides, they were robbed. They immediately thought it was the Russians. But later, the residents of Mala Oleksandrivka began to realize that, in addition to the occupiers, the locals were also breaking into their houses. Someone saw their pot, gas cylinder, or cart. Some witnesses saw who was breaking down a neighbor's door with a crowbar at night, plucking the enemy's ducks, and painting the facade of the house with stolen paint. This is a village, everyone knows everything.

In Mala Oleksandrivka, there is an undeclared war between those who left and those who stayed in the occupation. Some say “How could you?”, others say “You left everything behind, that means, you don't need it”.

The former automatically consider the latter collaborators: “They drank, lived, were friends, helped, stole with Russians”. They say, “They stayed in the occupation, realizing that they had to breathe the same air as the enemies and live by their laws, and therefore it suited them.” The latter envy the former, who received payments as internally displaced persons. They want to be pitied for what they went through because they were starving, hiding in cellars, and constantly afraid. In addition, they have an explanation for not leaving: they were protecting their property, could not leave their feeble relatives, etc.

Let's hear from the first. Women in the center of Mala Oleksandrivka. They are afraid to identify themselves – in case their fellow villagers take revenge. They have received threats.

“None of those who stayed here and have a finger in the pie will confess. They all hold on to each other. But if you stir up this nest, they will start to give each other up with great pleasure,” begins a woman in a white polka-dot sweater on a green background. Her face is exhausted, and her gray hair is spilling out from under her headscarf.

“Svieta Vyshkvarka, or as she called in the village, Tsapelka, lived with a Russian. A neighbor saw him walking around her yard as if he were at home. In his underwear, with a cup of coffee. She had brought home a load of goodies from the houses of local people who had left! And her son was getting inside the houses through the vents. And when our military liberated the village, she set up a fire in her garden and burned everything. She is in the chat room ‘Traitors of Beryslav Raion’,” a woman with large, strained palms gives Tsapelka away with pleasure and anger.

“Some of the locals were friends with the Russians, drinking vodka and stealing together. We knew them as slumdogs who wasted everything they had on alcohol. And during the occupation, they were happy that there was lawlessness, anarchy, and everything was possible. We found carpets, TVs, and phones in their homes that we could not afford. They put on other people's costumes and walk around. And now people recognize their things in them and demand them back. And they say: 'Come to us with the prosecutor's officers',” thethird woman, the youngest one, is angry. She is 40 years old and knows who took her mattress.

“Before the war, Maryna Ferbanych from the neighboring village of Velyka Oleksandrivka said that her father worked in Russia and that everything was good there. What money they make and how much they can earn. When the invaders came, she and her friend agitated everyone for the Russians. And they paid them money. People heard them getting drunk once, walking down the street and shouting: ‘How rich we have become!’ Ferbanychka was friends with Russians and arranged for Crimeans to come and buy our cows for nothing – 3,000 each. People had to give them away because the cattle either got blown up by mines or died of starvation. After the de-occupation, she was the only one who fled abroad,” thefourth of the group waves a bag with the logo of a volunteer organization. Half of her mouth is covered with gold teeth.

The women are excited and interrupt each other.

“There is a video of a Russian TikTok user who was here. He filmed the shell hitting. There you can hear the voice of my classmate Olha Trihub. She says to the enemies: ‘When are you, boys, going to drive them out? (referring to the Armed Forces – ed.) You only keep stroking them.’ All my classmates confirmed that it was her voice.”

“It was her, definitely her,” thevillagers are buzzing.

“There is a lady named Nadka Lynnyk. She's done everything: lips, face, eyelashes. She has the best house on the street and the highest fence. She doesn't let anyone in. She's a queen like no other. She always had rich lovers. And during the occupation, when a shell hit the elevator and it was bombed, people rushed to take grain for themselves. But her Russian boyfriend was already sitting on a chair there: ‘Take one bag for yourself, bring the other to Nadia.’ They also paid 100 hryvnias for each. After the de-occupation, the owner of the grain came to her with the SBU. There was a big fight. And her lover fled across the Dnipro and did not take Nadia with him! We're laughing here: even the rashists realize that a traitor is a traitor everywhere.”

“Two friends quarreled because once one of them left, the other ran to her and took away cereals, and flour, and dug up several jars of oil. She also took the firewood, even though her friend asked her not to touch it: when they came back, there would be nothing to heat with, and she had a young grandson. That fool also stole a gas cylinder and did not erase the owner's inscription on it with chalk. That's how she was identified. The police also looked into it.”

Women are angry with collaborators and looters.

“I try not to greet them and not to look into their eyes,” says the one with the golden teeth.

“I want to spit and grind them. And they walk like peahens. When we receive humanitarian aid, they stand in the front rows. They are so happy, and they are not ashamed at all,” theyoungest one curses with annoyance.

There are also cases when the villagers took revenge on collaborators.

“One was very friendly with Russians. He brought them the loot. After the de-occupation, they doused him with gasoline. 80% of his body burned, and he is still in hospital. One was found hanged. Knowing him, I can assure you that he would not have done it himself.”

“A woman and her son opened a shop where they sold looted goods. He was wearing a Russian uniform. When our people came in, the mother overdosed herself on pills and died. And the son was poisoned by carbon monoxide. Either by himself or with help. In the neighboring villages, houses were burned down, and we are still waiting for the police to sort it out.”

Excuse: “I can swear on everything that is most precious to me, my children and grandchildren, that it is not me.”

Let's listen to people from the second camp. They survived the occupation and are accused of collaborating with the enemy.

We visit a woman whose voice seems to be recorded on a TikTok video. It's a nice house with plastic windows and an insulated veranda. Olha Tryhub, 58, wearing a blue robe with red flowers, is talking from behind the gate. She turns away from the photographer.

“People may say whatever they want. Yes, we did not leave, because we did not want to leave what we had gained. And the Russians occupied empty houses, it was clear that they would move into ours too. And yes, we ate Russian humanitarian aid. Because we survived for seven months and had to communicate with them,” thewoman emphasizes firmly. “And what concerns our friendship... They are kids, you can’t look at them without tears, they were sent from the 'DPR'. At first, we gave them food.”

“You say that as if you feel sorry for them,” I remark.

"Yeah, it's a pity, because the machine gun he pulls is bigger than him.”

“But they came to kill you.”

“Oh, please, I don't want to hear this. They were sent just like they can send my husband to fight tomorrow,” she says,irritated.

What concerns the TikTok video, she says it's not her voice.

“People got confused. They imagined it. Let them clean their ears. And I can swear by everything dear to me, by my children and grandchildren, that it is not me.”

Nadiia Lynnyk, who was “selling grain”, indeed has the best house on the street and the highest fence. The gate is locked, and no one answered the door. The neighbors say she doesn't come out. Law enforcement officers periodically visit her.

Svitlana Vyshkvarka, who is accused of living with a Russian and stealing from her neighbors, comes out to talk to us on a bench near her yard. She is 55 and beautiful. Her blond hair is pulled up with bright hairpins, she has several earrings in her ears, and her rings are tastefully chosen. The woman is well-groomed, with a fresh manicure and makeup. Although she has a farm, she owns cows.

“Did you come from work?” I asked.

“No, I do make up for myself. I've been doing it all my life,” shesmiles with her white teeth.

She says that during the occupation, she sent her teenage daughter to Kyiv as far away from the enemy as possible, and stayed in the village with her son to take care of her mother, who is in her 80s, and her grandfather from Luhansk, whom she sheltered in 2014. She says that the Russians settled only in those houses where the owners had left and that they wrote receipts for that. Her friends, neighbors and even kindergarten teachers asked her to take the valuables to their homes for safekeeping.

“I was so popular that I was labeled a looter. Later they told me stories that I burned the property I looted. They also made up that I lived with a Russian, and he walked around in his underwear. How can you imagine this? I have a son at home, and two old people, how am I going to bring someone? There was one guy who lived in the neighborhood, and he ate with us. He left me a bicycle. Another one rolled his moped into the yard. And if I refused them, they would come with a machine gun. I told one of them that I would hate Russians until the end of my days, and he snapped at me: ‘I'll throw a grenade into the yard and that's it’.”

The woman admits that because of the slander of her fellow villagers, a nurse she knew put her drippers because her heart was attacked. It was unpleasant, to say the least.

“Those who remained under occupation are accused of cooperation. And how do you distinguish between cooperation and survival? Our headwoman did not leave the village, she went to the rashists, asked for rations, and divided them up to a gram among people. She delivered packages and put them under the yards. She said: ‘Take this because we don't know what will happen tomorrow.’ So what is this?”

Throughout the conversation, the woman did not accuse anyone. She invited everyone to visit her house, saying that nothing new had appeared there.

Drama of the century: “What friend? I don't have such a friend! Oh, she's a collaborator herself”

Valentyna Prokopets, 63, is angry with her friend, Halyna Kaharlytska.

Valentyna, dressed in black, with gray hair, holding a headband, begins the story with a dislike for Halyna. But by the end, it turns into a blind rage.

Prokopets wanted to take her family (husband, son, daughter-in-law, granddaughter) out of Mala Oleksandrivka at the beginning of the occupation. But the Russians did not let them through all the checkpoints, and the family was stuck for a week in a neighboring village. Then they returned to their village but found no gas cylinders, pots, flour, or cereals in the house. The woman complained to her friend that she would go to the headwoman.

The next day, she and her family brought back both the gas cylinder and the food that had disappeared from the house earlier. Realizing that Halyna would not be deterred by moral principles the next time, she asked her not to touch the firewood at least. With that, they left the occupation once again, locking the house and hiding what they could. They buried a few three-liter cans of oil, and put paint in the cellar with old boxes and cans. The Russians made them give the keys to their son's house because they insisted and left a receipt.

The Prokopets family returned in October. In Valentyna's house, there is not a single intact window, the door has been chopped down with an ax, and instead of possessions, there are only rags inside. Everything was stolen, from valuable appliances to spoons. The 22 cows and calves that they raised for sale with their son are also gone. Even two sheepdogs were eaten by the Buryats. The only thing left of the large farm was a horse, which was kept by a friend. The buried oil, firewood, and the ill-fated gas cylinder have also disappeared.

Valentyna called the police. At the place of her friend, Halyna, the cylinder, a strange cart, and several bags of seeds, which were recognized by a farmer neighbor, were found.

“I have no relationship with Isabella (Halyna's nickname in the village). Although I baptized her daughter. I understand that Russians stole something, but there are things they don't need: bowls or a washing machine hose. We took some things away with the police and went to her son-in-law to ask him to give them back. And he said: ‘Don’t come back, I have enough grenades for everyone!’ And we are afraid. He'll throw one through the window at night, and that's it!” she swears. In general, a lot of older people used foul language.

Valentyna's husband has been at the front for a year. With his salary, his wife installed windows in the house and bought furniture.

We are heading to Halyna Kaharlytska's house on the next street through the pasture. It's scary to step past the path: the front line passed through the village, and the Russians left mines behind.

Halyna's fenceless mansion: two buildings that are about a hundred years old. They are covered with clay, standing on a hillside. The old laundered bedding is drying in the wind. Behind the house, cans of Polish canned food are piled up in a heap. Everything breathes poverty. Here comes the owner: a thin woman of about 60, with the hair color of rotten cherries, hurries into the yard because she has seen strangers.

“I told the Russians right away: ‘Don't touch me, I'm a witch. Just try to lay a mine, and you will be punished by higher powers.’ And my friend scared them by telling them that I was covered in tattoos and had been imprisoned twice for abusing men,” she laughs. People like her are known to have a sharp tongue.

She defiantly invites me to look around the house and the barn: she has nothing. She shrugged her shoulders: you see, you see. There is no refrigerator, no TV, no washing machine, and only stools and old beds.

“If I were to take something, I would have it. I have nothing extra. And you say I stole grain (we didn't mention grain – ed.) People just don't like me because I can tell everyone what was going on here. I saw everything!”

We ask her about her friend.

“What friend? I don't have such a friend in my village!”

We show the photo on the camera.

“Oh, Valka! She is a collaborator. I don't even call her a friend anymore. Her son was stealing goods from all the villages, and then they settled the rashists in their house against a receipt. And they wanted to turn in my son, who fought in ATO if he hadn't managed to leave. And I will burn anyone for that. I will get them from the other side!” she saysabruptly.

After the conversation, she catches up with us on the trail and shouts at us: “Valka's house is full of loot, check it out!”

We go to Valentyna Prokopets again. When she hears Halyna's accusations, she foams with anger.

“Yes, my house is filled with building materials, but I have receipts for everything. For every window. And she won't have a reason to accuse me of anything. How could I turn in her son? We were leaving in the same car with him! I want to squash her like a mosquito! You know what I'll say: I have and will have, she hasn't and won't. Even though she steals. How I want to make her son-in-law drink the stolen four bottles of oil! And I will do it! If they put me in jail, I will do time, but I will do it!”

Police: we will gradually deal with everyone

According to the law, collaborators are citizens who voluntarily cooperate with the enemy in its interests to the detriment of their state. However, Ukrainian legislation does not clearly define what activities in the temporarily occupied territory can or cannot be considered collaborative. We were told this unofficially at the district police station.

“New articles are constantly being added to the law. If a person called for a referendum on the division of Ukraine or held a leadership position in the occupation authorities, then they are a collaborator. If they received water or humanitarian aid from the occupiers, they are not. But there are dozens of intermediate options between them,” law enforcement officersexplain.

“After the de-occupation, the entire population of Mala Oleksandrivka was filtered. Police and Security Service of Ukraine officers were in every house, talking to everyone. And we know about all the collaborators you mentioned. Maryna Ferbanych fled abroad, and they are looking for her there.

We immediately work on the “top guys” to get them extradited by Interpol. They think we won't get them, and sometimes they call: ‘We will come when the Russians return’. We will gradually deal with everyone.

In the last 6 months, more criminal cases have been opened in the district than in the last seven years. But it is unknown whether all of them will go to trial and under what article. Because ‘living with a Russian’ or ‘drinking with a Russian’ is not considered a crime. The biggest blame lies with the boys from the occupied territories who took up arms against their state.”

According to an unofficial source, police officers expected more cooperation from residents of Mala Oleksandrivka.

“In some villages, people were standing in line: ‘Question me about collaborators’. Here, they keep their mouths shut, which means something is wrong. They hold on to each other. For now. But one day it will all fall apart.

Many of the cases are about looting. A lot of them. Simply put, it's theft. We found two caches with loot and called on all the residents to take what was theirs. And they came and took what they wanted. Not everyone has documents for a washing machine or a photo of it. It took us a long time to wean people off lawlessness and anarchy. They quickly got used to the idea that they could take whatever they wanted and there would be no consequences.”

We are leaving Mala Oleksandrivka. In the middle of the village, humanitarian aid is distributed to the locals from a car. We hear shouts:“Don't give it to collaborators!”