Ludmyla Anatoliivna Osadcha

“…I was told that I was not listed as alive, that I was considered dead and even a stone was put on my grave. I had to claim in court that I was alive…”

“My name is Ludmyla Anatoliivna Osadcha (maiden name Skvyrska), I was born on January 8, 1968 in Luhansk region, Krasny Luch district, settlement Kryshtalevyi.

In 1975, with my parents and brother, I moved to my grandmother’s in Cherkasy region, Zvenihorod district, Kozatske village. There I went to school and then finished it.

In 1985, my mother died. My father and grandmother died in a year.

In 1994, I went to Moscow for a work. I did not return to the village where I lived. I went to the city of Vatutine, Cherkasy region. I trained to be a hairdresser and worked there for some time. Then I trained to be a seller and worked in a shop named “Alina”.

In 2000, I met my future husband and together we went to Kyiv where we lived at his place. In 2002, our eldest son Mykhailo was born, the second son Anton was born in 2003.

I worked in a shop, then I hand-knitted, cut people’s hair, worked as a nanny. My husband did not like to work. He often fought, tried to kick me out of the house, and eventually kicked me out completely.

It turned out that he didn’t need me, but the money he wanted to get for the children.

So I found myself in the street without money and housing. The children stayed with him – I could not take them to the street with me.

Then I started to drink, tried to get a job somewhere, went to work in a greenhouse at a flower factory in the village of Dymer.

The husband did not let me see the children, slandered me in front of everyone that I was a bad mother.

In 2006, I had a stroke and one person nursed me back to health. Since then, one of my hands does not work.

He took me to his place, and we had lived in a companionate marriage at Olzhich street for 13 years.

On November 18, 2018, he died and I was kicked out by his sister. I lived on the street again until I turned to the police for helping me with the documents (My passport was stolen a few years ago).

I was told that I was not listed as alive, that I was considered dead and even a stone was put on my grave on a cemetery somewhere. I learnt that a woman with my passport died in the accident and was identified as myself.

Now my brother wants to take me to his place in Luhansk, but I have no passport and have to claim in court that I am alive.

Now I am in the House of Mercy shelter, where I got from the hospital at Frunze, 103.”

thank’s photographer Александр Чекменев (Alexander Chekmenev)