Hello, my name is Iryna Dovhan. I live in a small town close to Donetsk. Prior to those events in my region, I owned a private beauty parlour where I worked as a beautician.
In the summer and spring of 2014, a leftist propaganda campaign was launched in my town. I was proactive and I talked to people around me. I wanted our country to stay united, and I spoke about the possible risks if a neighbouring state interfered.
However, the situation rapidly deteriorated. It was very fast, and it became more and more dangerous to express an opinion. In my own town, I could see people wearing combat fatigues. They were armed and they spoke with a distinct Russian accent. Donetsk was full of armed people. Artillery positions were set up. There were more and more arms.
I drove to the unoccupied areas, and when I saw the first checkpoint of the Ukrainian army, I met the Ukrainian military and I talked to them. Their clothes were worn out and torn. They were underfed. They had no personal care items. It was a horrible situation, and this was my army, the army of my country, Ukraine.
On my return home, I spared no effort in collecting items needed by the Ukrainian army. Soon other women I knew joined my effort. I led them through my work. We started collecting blankets, bedsheets, and T-shirts. We cooked soup and made pancakes, and almost every day we took risks to take them to the Ukrainian army.
Every day it was becoming more and more difficult. During my last trip, we managed to receive some combat fatigues from some volunteers in Kiev. We took them to the new position of the Ukrainian army. There was a brigade there. On my return from the trip, I was caught in the crossfire, and my house was shelled. It was damaged. For several days I was hiding in the cellar of my house. My neighbours joined me there as well.
To avoid those risks, I decided to send to the free areas all the notes I had taken when people gave me monetary donations to assist the Ukrainian army, and the person who was supposed to take those notes was stopped by the terrorists. He was beaten badly, and to save his own life, he said that he had items given to him by a Ukrainian patriot. He gave my address and said that I had always actively promoted Ukraine and that I was carrying a Ukrainian flag in my car.
Then armed men in two trucks came to my place to arrest me. They were local people and military people, I think, who spoke with a Russian accent. They broke into my house and beat me up. I told them right away the pin number of my safety deposit box. They searched the entire house. They collected and seized all valuables, computers, and TVs. They found two pairs of binoculars that belonged to my husband, and that was the basis of why they said I was an artillery spotter guiding artillery strikes. They handcuffed me. I was blindfolded, and they took me to Donetsk to the Vostok battalion.
I was subjected to cruel interrogations. They wanted me to give them the addresses and names of those people who helped me in assisting the Ukrainian armed forces. I resisted. I understood what I meant to those people. That is why they sent me for another interrogation. It was the Ossetians, who were part of this Vostok battalion. These were very cruel people. They're implacable. They beat me and they stripped me. They would fire guns and shoot close to my ear. They threatened me with rape. I said many things that I didn't want to say. I gave the last names of people, but I knew that those people had already left town.
After that—after I told them everything—they took me and they placed me in the central square of Donetsk, put me next to a post, and put a sign around my neck saying, “Accomplice of punitive forces. Assassin of children.” I was beaten by people who were passing by. There were people who passed who had Russian accents. They drove by in jeeps, with the words “Allahu Akbar”. They beat me. They tried to shoot my kneecap. It lasted for about five hours.
In between, I could see that someone took a photo of me. It was a man wearing a white shirt. It was a foreign journalist. That photo, which was used by The New York Times, saved my life.
There, in the central square, I stood next to the post for about five hours. Then another armed forces group tried to seize me, but those who brought me there fought them off and got me back to the Vostok battalion. Again I was subjected to cruel torture. They hit me in the chest. They sprayed me with pepper spray in the face. I was in a very narrow cell, and the cell was inside the room. There were about 10 military people in that room. I saw other detainees who were brought to that room and saw how they were beaten, and then they were placed in other cells for further interrogation.
I cannot tell everything about this horror that I went through during those five days. I had no food. I barely had any water, almost nothing. Even now, I just don't have enough strength to tell some of the details of what happened to me there.
Thank you.