海角大神

The Ukrainian teacher appears haggard, exhausted, and overwhelmed by the trauma of witnessing Russia鈥檚 deadly military advance on his hometown of Bucha, the suburb northwest of Kyiv whose name has become synonymous with Russian cruelties in Ukraine.

As the Russian troops arrived, Oleh Azarov recalls, he helped wounded and retreating Ukrainian soldiers, even as he feared local infiltrators. Going outside was terrifying, he says, because 鈥測ou never know how this will finish; people were being killed in the streets.鈥�

鈥淭hey were very intense days and nights. ... I stayed to see it with my own eyes,鈥� Mr. Azarov says of the occupation of聽Bucha. Later, the gruesome scenes of bodies left in the open by withdrawing Russian forces 鈥撀爋ften with hands tied behind their backs and shot execution-style 鈥撀爎everberated around the world.

But Mr. Azarov was not alone in witnessing the atrocities as they occurred: A handful of his students also stayed in Bucha.聽Now, the teacher is planning how to harness those shared experiences in his classroom.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 know what I will be able to tell them, what I will be allowed to tell them, and what they can hear,鈥� says Mr. Azarov. 鈥淚 feel like some of my pupils saw even more than I saw.鈥�

By chance, while speaking to this reporter in front of Bucha鈥檚 General Education School No. 1, Mr. Azarov sees one 10th grader for the first time since the war began.

They hug each other warmly, and Mr. Azarov wipes away tears, because Maryna Basyuk has survived.

鈥淭he first days we cry; then we tell our stories. ... Everyone is telling stories now,鈥� says Mr. Azarov.

A physical education instructor, he also teaches a civil defense course once known by its Soviet-era title, Defending the Motherland. A year ago, its title became Defending Ukraine 鈥� and Mr. Azarov anticipates new interest in concepts like national pride and dignity.

鈥淭his situation,鈥� he says, 鈥渋s forging a nation together.鈥�

Visceral shared experience

Indeed, the combined power of those individual stories is creating a new national narrative in Ukraine, of citizens discovering the will to resist against an overwhelming Russian military force, in a nation that gained independence in 1991 amid the breakup of the Soviet Union.

Russian President Vladimir Putin claims Ukraine 鈥渄oes not exist鈥� on its own. Instead, he says, it鈥檚 part of a neo-imperial collection of Russian-speaking peoples called Russkiy Mir, or 鈥淩ussian World,鈥� that in Ukraine鈥檚 case must be 鈥渓iberated鈥� from Western enemies.

But Russia鈥檚 war is instead reframing and reinvigorating Ukraine鈥檚 own national identity, forged with the value of a visceral shared experience 鈥� traumatic though it has already been.

For Ukrainian educators, the challenge is how to teach that story in the future, how to integrate it into Ukraine鈥檚 national history as a watershed event that catalyzed a unity of purpose and strength of resolve.

Martin-Oleksandr Kisly, a historian at Kyiv Mohyla Academic University, says the magnitude of Russia鈥檚 invasion is prompting 鈥渁 new grand historical narrative for Ukraine, because we still lack it.鈥�

鈥淭hrough all the period of independence we lacked that grand historical narrative, and now there is a possibility of securing it,鈥� says Mr. Kisly, who is from Crimea and is considering an oral history project of the current war. 鈥淗ow we teach it in five years will be different from how we teach it in 10 years 鈥撀爄t depends on how this war is finished.鈥�

And, he says, who writes the history.

Varied experiences

Even establishing the record of events will be a challenge. Mr. Kisly is concerned about 鈥渞e-traumatization鈥� as Ukrainians recount their personal stories, which could affect his own oral history plans.

Every Ukrainian who stayed in Bucha 鈥� as well as citizens along front lines across the country 鈥� has stories of survival, bravery, fear, and resolve that now echo across the nation.

Ukrainians say the new national narrative, to be credible and relevant, will need to incorporate their varied experiences.

Those voices are evident along the Bucha roads where the Russian armored column was destroyed, where the charred hulks of Russian vehicles 鈥� and the bodies on sidewalks and street corners 鈥� have now been cleared away.

鈥淚 think we should listen to every witness, and collect all the information,鈥� says Olena Viktorivna, a courier driver in her late 50s, who is walking where the ruins of Russian armor once lay.

She describes 鈥渂odies piling up鈥� during the Russian occupation, and volunteers refusing to collect them because it was 鈥渢oo dangerous.鈥� Neighbors 鈥� her house is around the corner 鈥� made holes in backyard fences to move around without stepping onto the street.

But Russia was not the only one responsible for destruction, she says. The Russian column was destroyed, Ms. Viktorivna notes, but it was Ukrainian airstrikes that destroyed it, wrecking civilian houses in the process.

The Ukrainian voices include those of the Goncharenko family, which finally could bury its patriarch, Mykola, last week. He was killed March 4 when Russian troops shot up and burned his car, says Ludmila, his wife, who survived the incident. The family could only identify the remains, weeks later, because a volunteer had written the license plate number on a tag.

Saying its final goodbye, this distraught family cries and carries red carnations, in a scene now all too common in Ukraine.

Those voices are evident, also, at the Bucha morgue, which continues to grapple daily with an overflow of bodies collected from across the region. Officials now say that toll tops 1,000 dead civilians.

鈥淲e are working day and night, 24/7,鈥� says an overworked volunteer. He asks a visitor if they will suit up in protective gear to help.

His name? In a rush, he says, 鈥淚t does not matter.鈥�

鈥淥nly real facts will be taught鈥�

In Borodianka, some 15 miles northwest of Bucha, Ukrainian Lt. Gen. Oleksandr Pavlyuk, commander of the Kyiv military region, describes the damage in the district to the Monitor.

鈥淓verything is destroyed,鈥� he says. 鈥淣ow you can see Russkiy Mir.鈥�

In this town, the front of the building seized by Russians as their military command center is painted with skulls and the letter V. The front yard is carved with sandbagged trenches.

Despite rain, residents inundate a nearby Orthodox church for clothing donations. A few doors down, at a school-turned-volunteer center, the prices of municipal coffins are taped to the door, along with the location of the prosecutor鈥檚 office inside: Room 46.

鈥淭his situation has united our country, our people, our nation,鈥� says Lieutenant General Pavlyuk. 鈥淚n 1991 we got our independence in a peaceful way, and now we are paying with our blood.鈥�

In the future, he says, 鈥淥nly real facts will be taught, and everybody sees a real situation, a real picture. We shouldn鈥檛 tell any fairy tales.鈥�

In Bucha, Maryna, Mr. Azarov鈥檚 student, recounts how she spent most of the monthlong Russian occupation in a basement with three families. They cooked for each other with a wood stove, and hid a generator from the Russians that they used to draw water from a secret well.

Her older brother, Oleksandr, was a target of potshots when Russian troops first arrived. A neighbor鈥檚 apartment was wrecked.

And a Russian sniper was placed on the ninth floor of a nearby building, its lower floors lined with mines. Russian soldiers smashed the residents鈥� mobile phones,聽Maryna recounts, and warned people they would be killed if the sniper鈥檚 position was revealed.

鈥淚 had never been feeling myself a big patriot, but now I feel hatred for the Russians because no one did what the Russians did, and everyone should know about it,鈥� says Maryna. After taking little notice which language she chose to speak, the lifelong Russian speaker now prefers Ukrainian.

鈥淚 am much more aware that I am Ukrainian,鈥� says Maryna. 鈥淚 feel like I grew up a lot in this time.鈥�

Changed syllabus

Such sentiment means Mr. Azarov expects a 鈥渄ramatic increase of interest鈥� among students in his civil defense course. Defending Ukraine still uses Soviet-era books, and emphasizes how to pack an emergency bag and first-aid techniques as well as coping with chemical warfare and handling assault rifles.

But there is also an ideological component 鈥� which in the past made students鈥� eyes roll 鈥� that is likely to elicit renewed interest in national pride.

鈥淎 main goal is to understand why we learn this, and why you would need to love and defend your country,鈥� says Mr. Azarov. 鈥淚 am sure it will change a lot.鈥�

Maryna聽is already converted.

Bolted near the school鈥檚 front door are three basalt plaques, etched with the images and names of three former students who joined the Ukrainian military and died fighting Russian-backed separatists in the Donbas 鈥� the same eastern region where war began in 2014, and where Russia today is launching a new offensive.

Maryna, subjected to war herself at the hands of Russia, says she now has a greater appreciation for the price those Ukrainians paid.

鈥淚 want to thank them,鈥� she says, noting that the middle plaque belongs to the father of a classmate.

鈥淭hey were defending us. They died for us, for what we have now.鈥�

Reporting for this story was supported by Oleksandr Naselenko.