Lyudmila Fedchenko

Lyudmila Fedchenko has always known how to keep secrets. She is 75 years old, and throughout her life, she has heard countless stories. People trusted her with their most private matters because they knew she would never share them with anyone.

She was born in the village of Antonivka in the Kherson region. Her childhood was not easy—her father left the family when she was only two months old. She never saw him. Her mother tore up all the photos, leaving no trace of what he looked like. However, ten years ago, Lyudmila finally saw her father—on the screen of the regional television channel “Skifiya.” Every evening, greetings for birthday celebrants were announced on the show “People of Our Region.” One evening, the announcer read a greeting for her father. His name was Yakiv Hryhorovych Fokin.

“I saw a handsome man,” says Lyudmila. “They say he played the accordion well.”

Lyudmila was raised by her grandmother. Her mother worked in a grocery store and was always at work. Little Lyuda was the “home” granddaughter, always by her grandmother’s side, helping her—milking cows, feeding the chickens. She loved reading historical books and would go to the library. She recalls that the television appeared in their house when she was 15.

By profession, she is a cook and spent 38 years dedicated to her beloved craft. Later, she worked at the Kherson cotton mill. Even after retiring, she still took on side jobs—cleaning, as long as her health allowed.

When the war reached her hometown, Lyudmila stayed until the very end, hoping that the invaders could be pushed out of Kherson. But things only got worse.

“It was a terrifying sight: houses were burning, craters from shells were everywhere. Fear completely engulfed the city,” says the woman. “I didn’t want to die.”

In the Shelter, Lyudmila feels safe. She is grateful that fate brought her here.

“The time spent here has given me the strength to go on living. I’ve gotten rid of the fear for my life, when you don’t know when or where the next rocket will strike. I’m grateful for the roof over my head,” says the woman.