Cups of Hope

Her stall is basic – a few pieces of wood covered by an aquamarine cloth with white flowers where an array of sausages, smoked pork, honey, fruit, and cups of warm coffee await customers.

Basic though it is, Nataliya’s small stand is a lifeline for the thousands of people passing through Berezove, a small town in a government-controlled area of Donetsk region close to the contact line. As they wait to cross or having spent many hours crossing, it is local people like Nataliya who provide nourishment and refreshments much needed in an often times gruelling journey.

Her small business – allowing her to provide for her aging parents, three children and two nephews in a hard-hit settlement caught in the crossfire of conflict – is not unique. The 42-year-old is one of many traders in the area, mostly women, who have responded to five years of conflict, in particular the economic havoc it has wrought, identifying a niche and meeting a demand for everything from snacks to even beds for the night. “There has been a lot of support but ultimately people in this community are standing on their own two feet,” she tells an SMM monitoring officer. “Resilience in the face of hardship is nothing new to people here.”

Nataliya outlines some of the hardship facing her and the local community, saying the conflict had resulted in the closure of a local pig farm and the loss of her own job. “There are plans to close the local kindergarten as well as the First Aid facility, and the nearest hospital is 30 kilometres away,” she says in a lull at the stall. “It is hard.”

Outside, demonstrating just how hard it is, more than a dozen busses and mini-vans line up to transport passengers. Thousands more cross on foot, many old, carrying plastic bags and wheeling suitcases past red and white signs warning about the presence of mines and unexploded ordnance. The danger is real for the thousands of people passing every day through the checkpoints along the heavily-mined contact line with two people killed and one injured in February in nearby Olenivka when their vehicle hit what appeared to be an anti-tank mine.

To those who stop by at the stall – 200-300 people a day – Nataliya offers something priceless, more than the wares laid across the makeshift counter in front of her.

Asked by a customer when would the conflict end, she has a ready answer.

“Soon; it must end soon,” she insists.