STORY 15 - Melnychenko Olesya

Love behind bars

"Azovstal was a unique place - people who used to be strangers became a real family there. That was the only place where I saw, experienced the biblical meaning of sacrifice (...) It is not hard to die. It's hard to live an empty life."

I knew I was about to meet the one who had escaped from hell. The woman who had fought for 86 days in the siege of the Azovstal factory and then survived over 200 days as a prisoner of the Russians. I was nervous, and I didn't want her to feel that. Olesia is petite, friendly, and has a childlike air about her. "I decided to participate in this program because I want to close the circle, to understand, to heal..." she opened our conversation.

Olesia carries heavy burdens in her heart, feelings of guilt, and lingering pains. Many of her comrades, colleagues, brothers, and sisters—those she fought alongside—are still prisoners. I don't want to, nor can I afford to ask her questions that could cause pain, so I invite her to take control of the conversation. "Olesia, what is the most important thing you would like to talk about?" She pauses for a few seconds, then sighs and laughs softly, as if wanting to protect her emotions.

"The hardest part for me was when I was defending Mariupol. The fight itself wasn't tough; it was the thought that if I died there, my child, who was 3 years old at the time, wouldn't have any memories with me." Now it's my turn to sigh and feel the weight of every word deep in my soul.

"Azovstal was a unique place—people who were strangers before became a true family there. It was the only place where I saw and lived the biblical meaning of sacrifice. We were united, fighting together. I knew that by resisting as much as possible, we would succeed in holding back the Russian military forces concentrated on us, preventing them from acting in other areas of Ukraine during that time. That was the experience where I lived every moment to the fullest because I knew each moment could be the last. I was surrounded by people ready to sacrifice, without a trace of fear or regret. They said about us (those who fought to defend) that we were people of steel. And indeed, our commander, our leaders, were made of steel."

86 days. 2,064 hours. 123,840 minutes. 7,430,400 heartbeats. And each of them could have been the last. Surrounded by death, by the hatred of those outside. Protected by the love and sacrifice of those around them. That's what Azovstal meant to Olesia.

"86 days surrounded from all directions by enemies. And if we hadn't received orders from the Ukrainian army leadership to surrender, we would have fought there until the last bullet, until the last person." I try to hold back my tears, and with great effort, I succeed.

"It's not hard to die. It's hard to live an empty life." Silence. Olesia doesn't say anything more, and I can't break the silence either. Then she starts talking again. "That's why I'm scared and worried, knowing that some of these steel people are still prisoners. Now, as we speak, around 700 fighters are in captivity on Russian-occupied territory. They are still subjected to torture." We fall silent again, all three of us. Olesia, Inna, the translator, and me. Then I timidly try to steer the conversation towards the time spent in Azovstal, a time she spoke about with depth and almost sanctity.

From Azovstal, about 2,500 fighters came out after being ordered to surrender, and probably the same number lost their lives during the type of battles that spanned the 86 days. "Olesia, what did Azovstal mean to you? Heaven or hell?" "It was somewhere in between. A kind of purgatory. The hardest part was to eat something with someone, and an hour later that person wouldn't be alive anymore." Olesia's voice hesitates, wanting the words to both reach us and stay somewhere inside. Safe.

"Did anyone particularly impress you during that period?"

"Everyone around me had something heroic in them. Because everyone did something, small or big, to help others. But I want to tell you about my commander, who was killed during a rocket attack in Olenivka, where we were prisoners. 52 prisoners were killed instantly, and around 150 were injured. My commander, my friend, Serhii Pavlicenko, was killed then. Why is it important for me to keep his memory alive? Because if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be standing here today, next to you. That's what a true leader looks like. He protected us, his team, like a parent. When we were ordered to surrender, I, who knew what to expect from Russian prisons, wanted to stay in Azovstal. In a few hours, Serhii helped me change my mind, gave me enough reasons to make the right decision, which meant I'm alive today. At that time, Serhii was 33 years old."

Olesia felt true freedom on December 31, 2022, when she was released from Russian captivity in a hostage exchange. "As a prisoner, it was harder for me than in Azovstal, where I knew I could be killed every second or the next day. In prison, I didn't know what they would do to us, what would happen to us later. Every day we faced physical abuse and pain. Sometimes, I envied those who had been killed because they didn't have to go through what I was going through now, through these atrocities. We, as women, weren't beaten as violently as men, but yes, we were beaten."

"Tell me about the episode of your release when you got home."

"I don't have the right words to describe those moments. It was my New Year's gift because I was released on December 31, 2022. I caught the New Year on the way to Kyiv, and the most beautiful gift I received in my whole life was that."

Later, Olesia retired from the army and now works in a subdivision advocating for the support of women who are former or current prisoners. When, after lengthy negotiations, women are released, Olesia tells me with a smile that she feels it's partly her merit. She advocates for all prisoners, not just women. She volunteers and would love to travel more, see, discover new ideas to bring to her beloved country. To build a special country where her child can grow up.

"Here, in Cluj-Napoca, within the Faces of Courage Project, it was the first time in my life when I took care of myself, of my emotional health. It was like a gift from God."

"My goal is to tell the whole world about my brothers and sisters who are still prisoners. I want the world to know their stories, to realize how amazing they are. It's our duty, those of us who are free, to be voices for those who still suffer."

I hug her tightly and for a long time. I wish I could take at least a small part of her burden upon myself. "Olesia, you're not guilty for being alive, you're not guilty for being free!"

"No, it doesn't matter how I feel. It's about them, those imprisoned there. When the last prisoner is released, then I will be truly free!"

Every gesture of kindness, altruism, every outstretched hand, every changed thought, pulls the balance towards a more humane world. We can't help everyone, but how about helping those who have influence, those who can in turn multiply the good?

Helping women is crucial because they represent a vital source of stability and resilience, responsible for taking care of their families, maintaining social cohesion, being able to save tens or even hundreds of other lives, bringing hope for the future even in war conditions.
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