The surreality of Kyiv Oblast

A photo essay.

Journalism is too opaque and misunderstood. Chills gives a behind-the-scenes look at how dangerous investigative journalism gets made. 

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KYIV — Today I listened to the story of the saddest woman I have ever met.

Her red-rimmed eyes told the depth of her pain before we even spoke. I’d come to hear how her children, two boys, ages 3 and 15, were shot to death in their car as the family tried to flee from columns of invading Russians, about a half an hour north of Kyiv. Her husband was also shot — in the back of the head — but has somehow recovered. Physically, that is. Emotionally, the two are shadow people, broken.

In Kyiv Oblast, there are multiple air raid sirens going off each day. The blare of these sirens and a woman’s voice on your phone tell you urgently to take cover. But the alarms sound pretty much across the whole of Ukraine each time they go off. It seems that the early warning systems here aren’t sensitive enough to figure out which way Russian missiles are headed. I won’t say people are complacent, but they’re certainly not running for cover every time.

It’s bone-tiring to be put on high alert over and over and over again.

There is a bizarre disconnect here.