In Ukraine’s second city, where the barrage of Russian shelling has been among the most relentless endured, hundreds of people stand in line at a post office, waiting to be given chicken and potatoes. As elsewhere in the country, the mundane institutions of civil society in Kharkiv have had to be hastily repurposed for the goal of keeping its population alive, and about 30 such locations across the city have been turned into food aid distribution points.
Workers at this branch of postal company Nova Poshta, who are being paid by their employer to hand out food instead of post, say that an average of 3,000 people come to their repurposed branch every day, seven days a week. They manage the queues using the post office’s ticket system.
“There’s no work. The No 1 thing at the moment is humanitarian aid,” says Ihor Shapovalov, a construction worker who lost his job on 24 February and has just received a quarter of a chicken. “We just want to thank the guys for everything they’re doing.”
Kharkiv has been one of the worst-hit cities still under Ukrainian control. Since the war began two months ago, civilians have died and been injured almost every day as a result of Russian shelling. On Saturday, one person died and five were injured as a result of mortar fire, according to the regional governor.
The city is starting to show signs of life, but its economy is in tatters. Most shops and businesses remain closed.
Another man waiting in the queue at the repurposed post office is 30-year-old Zhenia Myrhorod. He says he has tried to get work unloading humanitarian aid at a warehouse, but there is not enough work to go around.
“I even collected metal from the missiles but couldn’t find anyone to buy it,” says Myrhorod. “I’m 30 years old. I’ve got legs and arms, but nobody wants them.”
The postal workers are helped by local volunteers, who were once queueing themselves and then offered to pitch in. They now have a rota. The volunteers say they are also out of work but, by doing this, they feel they at least get some exercise.
A large chunk of Ukraine’s workforce is unofficially employed, as many employers want to avoid tax and pension contributions. As such, they were not eligible for the $250 (£200) compensation that the Ukrainian government distributed in March.
Yuriy Ponomarenko, a 61-year-old volunteer who unloads the trucks and breaks the frozen chickens up, was a weightlifting trainer before the war. Most of his trainees have left or are fighting. “This is what I was built for,” he says.
As the Guardian interviews people in the queue, several say they are nervous about talking to the media in case it attracts an attack. Local police ask us not to identify the number of the postal branch. In late March, six people died and 15 were injured when a rocket hit a queue at another Nova Poshta.
Meanwhile, about 1,000 young people in Kharkiv are distributing food door-to-door to those who are unable to leave their houses, says Oleksandr Getmantsev, who has been volunteering since the first weeks of the war. Alex and his group collect donations, mostly from Kharkivans who have fled and want to help those still in the city.
Getmanstev and his friend Zoya Zakharova visit around five addresses a day of people who get in contact with them through word of mouth. Many of those they visit are pensioners who have money in their accounts but cannot walk to the few functioning post offices to retrieve it.
Others, like his mother, live in northern Kharkiv, which is under constant bombardment. People in the worst affected areas on the edges of the city have nowhere to buy food and often no means to cook it because gas and electricity have been cut off. Many of them are living in basements and only come out to cook on makeshift barbecues outside.
“My mother doesn’t want to leave her home. I’m not sure what it would take for her to leave – they are bombed constantly,” says Getmanstev with a laugh, adding that he visits her about once a week on his rounds. “I guess she’s got used to it.”
At least two international organisations have recently started work in the city, but Getmanstev says it is difficult to evaluate the impact they are having on the ground as they have not been visible.
The last time the Guardian visited Kharkiv in late March, the city’s governor said that international organisations were sending large quantities of aid but were not on the ground.
One woman, Viktoria Anatolivna, is 32 weeks pregnant with twins and alone with her six-year-old son, Danylo. She says they have only been outside four times since the war started because of the shelling. She wraps Danylo in duvets in the bathtub with the cat when the shelling starts, and takes the floor in their corridor for herself.
“I’ve run out of money and all my relatives have left,” she says. She relies on the volunteers, and some soldiers who also bring them food.
Anatolivna gave birth to Danylo at the maternity hospital near their house but will have her twins in a hospital in the city centre. The maternity clinic nearest her is overseeing births in the basement because of the shelling, and it would be an extra risk with a twin birth.
The last stop on the food donations route is Nadia Chaikovska, a 70-year-old woman who now takes care of more than 20 cats who were abandoned by fleeing neighbours. Alex and Zoya bring her sacks of cat food.
“I’ve already buried five that I’ve found lying around,” says Chaikovska. “I just love animals. These cats are sterilised; some of them are pedigrees. They can’t survive on their own.”
