In the centre of St Sophia Square in Kyiv is a solitary Christmas tree with a Ukrainian trident symbol at its tip. It is wreathed in fog, its blue and yellow lights powered by a diesel generator nearby and decorated with white doves symbolising the Ukrainian hope for peace.
The buildings around all stand in darkness, just a few solitary lights coming from individual windows as the country suffers the latest in a stream of regular electricity blackouts due to relentless Russian missile and drone attacks on power stations throughout the country.
Photos from years gone by, currently going viral on Ukrainian social media, show historic areas of Kyiv packed with crowds enjoying the Christmas markets and shopping for last-minute gifts. It would be light and loud, with decorations strung across nearby buildings and amusement fairs and arcade games dotted throughout the streets. This year, there are just a few solitary passers-by — until air raid sirens sound and send them scurrying for the safety of underground Metro stations, basements and bomb shelters.
Christmas has great significance in Ukraine in its post-Soviet era, a symbol of the country’s independence. "My grandmother told me that when she was a little girl, her family celebrated Christmas in secret," Roksolona Oliyarchyk, 31, a Ukrainian working for a cultural diplomacy institute from the western city of Ternopil tells me. "The Soviet authorities forbade celebrating Christmas and observing any Ukrainian traditions. Under threat of arrest, people gathered at the festive table behind tightly curtained windows and by candlelight. They were brave enough to follow their traditions, preserve them and carry them through the generations, and thanks to this, I know what Christmas is."
One of the world’s most well-known Christmas songs, Carol of the Bells, was originally composed by Ukrainian Mykola Leontovych in 1916, who was murdered five years later by an agent of the Soviet Cheka — a forerunner of the KGB — who he had allowed to stay at his house. At this time of year, Ukrainians see him as a symbol of their cultural heritage that was suppressed by Russia for many years and has only recently been able to flourish. Now, once again, their culture is in danger of being snuffed out by their neighbour.
Ukrainian Christmas celebrations traditionally include a twelve dish Christmas Eve supper with dishes including borsht, Ukraine’s famed soup made usually of beetroot, beef and sour cream, as well as varenikiy, half-moon shaped dumplings with potato and meat fillings. Singing Christmas songs, known as kolyadky, is another tradition, and St Nicholas — the equivalent of Santa Claus — gives gifts to children who’ve been good, and twigs to those who have misbehaved.
The rituals themselves have remained largely unchanged over the years, though more of the songs are sung in Ukrainian than Russian, but this year many Ukrainians have brought their Christmas forward. Most people in the country traditionally celebrate Christmas on January 7, in line with the old Julian calendar which is used for holiday celebrations in Russia. Because Ukraine was occupied by Russia for centuries — first as part of the Russian Empire and then under the Soviet Union — most of the country continued to celebrate this date, even after independence.
Oliyarchyk and her family are one of many who have chosen to move their celebrations forward because of Russia’s aggression against Ukraine. "When Ukrainians are more united than ever, the tendency to celebrate on December 25 is spreading throughout Ukraine. We want to celebrate together with Europe and the entire Western world," she tells me. "Christmas is a very joyful and bright holiday, because it symbolizes the birth of God, and is associated with Christmas miracles; it is a time when families gather together, have delicious dinners and good time."
But celebrating won’t be easy while the threat of war is still on everyone’s minds. "This year’s holidays will be sad for Ukrainians,” says Oliyarchuk. “But not due to a lack of electricity and water. We are sad because our soldiers, who are fighting against the Russians to protect us will not be able to celebrate in their homes with their families. We will not be able to rejoice knowing that our soldiers are now in the cold trenches and that some of them will never return home." Just last week, her close friend’s husband was wounded fighting in the east of the country and is now recuperating in hospital.
We’ll celebrate on December 25 this year because want to celebrate with Europe and the entire Western world
Even far the frontlines, in safer parts of the country, Russian attacks are relentless. Nearly half of Ukrainian power stations have been destroyed, leaving up to six million Ukrainians without power in a bitterly cold winter that regularly reaches minus 10 degrees. The frontline city of Kherson, which was recently liberated to great fanfare, has evacuated many of its civilians as Russia continues to bombard the city from artillery positions from across the Dnipro River. The Kremlin has rubbished any notion of a Christmas ceasefire, with Putin’s spokesperson telling reporters: "this topic is not on the agenda." The Russian president’s recent visit to Belarus to meet with its dictatorial leader Alexander Lukashenko has raised fears that the Belarusian Army, as part of Russian strike forces, could invade western Ukraine to cut supply lines from NATO countries to Ukraine, or could even mount another assault on Kyiv.
On the frontlines of Ukraine’s grinding war of attrition, meanwhile, Christmas is far from people’s minds. "We don’t have time for cards and such things, we just keep fighting," says Oksana Krasnova, 26, a soldier currently stationed on the frontlines with her husband Stanislav. They are both lucky to still be alive. Stanislav has been injured twice in this year’s combat, only to return to action as soon as he was well enough to do so.
Krasnova and her husband have been fighting since the war began, first in Kyiv and now in the eastern Donbas regions, where the fiercest combat is taking place. The key city being fought over is Bakhmut in Donetsk oblast, a key logistics and railway junction that controls access to the last major areas in the region still in Ukrainian hands. When I visited the region several weeks ago, it was a picture of misery and ruin. Almost every building had been damaged by shelling. Incoming and outgoing heavy artillery fire could be heard every minute, and exhausted Ukrainian troops took shelter in the wreckage of nearby buildings hoping to avoid being targeted.
Thousands of civilians remain behind, many of who are elderly and unwilling or unable to leave their homes. Several told me they were perfectly prepared to die in their houses, many of which they had lived in their entire lives. Others retained sympathies for the Russian invaders and looked forward to the Kremlin’s promise of “liberation”, which has more often looked like widespread destruction.
Ukrainian soldiers say they still want presents — but not the ones we are used to. Instead, they are asking for warm winter clothing like jackets, gloves and thick socks to protect them from the harsh elements. A military truck with Christmas decorations has been driving around the frontlines in the east, handing out gifts, hot drinks and sweets to battle weary soldiers. But most importantly, soldiers say they want more lethal weaponry to be sent from the west, to hasten Ukraine’s victory in the war.
One unit isn’t just hoping to receive, but give: its troops are currently organising a series of small gifts like teddy bears to be sent to the children whose parents had been killed in action during the year.
One Ukrainian army unit is organising for teddy bears to be sent to the children whose parents have been killed in action
The Ukrainian economy has, naturally, taken an enormous blow, with the country’s central bank estimating that GDP has dropped by 32 per cent this year because of the war. It predicts that poverty, previously kept to a minimum despite Ukraine’s low GDP, could increase as much as 10 times. But Ukrainians remain defiant and determined to live their lives as close to normal as possible in difficult circumstances.
