地下室の夫婦たち　ウクライナ侵攻で深まる絆、時にあつれきも

【シベルスク（ウクライナ）ＡＦＰ＝時事】ウクライナ東部ドンバス地方では、戦闘と厳しい寒さから、多くの夫婦たちは長い時間を狭い地下室の中で共に過ごさざるを得ない状況に置かれている。これにより絆が深まる人もいれば、関係がぎくしゃくする人もいる。（写真はムレネツさん夫婦）
　オレクサンドル・ムレネツさん（６８）と妻リュドミラさん（６６）は侵攻以降、１日に２人で過ごす時間が、４０年の結婚生活の中で最も長くなっており、あつれきが生じ始めている。
　ある朝、リュドミラさんが自家製ウォッカを作る際に必要な水の量を説明していると、ムレネツさんが「お前はしゃべり過ぎだ」とちゃちゃを入れた。
　こうしたいさかいは、採鉱の町シベルスクのアパートの狭い地下室に１０か月も閉じこもるうちに日課になってしまった。かつて前線だったシベルスクは、激しい砲撃で町の面影がほぼ消え失せ、現在でも昼夜を問わず砲撃の衝撃音で窓が鳴る。
　侵攻以前は鉄道車両の修理工として働いていたムレネツさんは「以前は２人とも出勤して、顔を合わせるのは夜だけだった。今では口げんかが増えた」と話した。「ときどき『黙れ』と言うが、黙らないんだ」とうんざりした様子。
　複数回にわたりシベルスク制圧を試み、失敗したロシア軍は昨年夏、町にミサイル、ロケット攻撃を浴びせ続けた。
　ウクライナ軍はロシア軍を押し返す事に成功したが、町の民家や学校、工場は廃虚と化し、侵攻前に１万２０００人いた住民もほとんどが去った。
　２人はいつミサイルが飛んでくるか分からない恐怖におびえながら、電話もなく、飲料水もほとんどない暮らしに耐えなければならない。熱源といえばまきを使うストーブだけだ。
　冬の寒さが厳しくなると、リュドミラさんはＳＦ小説に心の平穏を求めた。本を読んでいる間は夫と口論しなくて済むからだ。
　リュドミラさんは天井を指しながら「私たちの部屋が近くて助かる」「簡単に他の本を取りに行ける」と話した。
　■「自分一人だったら耐えられなかった」
　オレクサンドル・シレンコさんとタマラさん夫婦は、まきを割り、それを積み上げることをストレス解消法としている。まきはいくらでも必要だ。
　それでも８か月も２人で地下室にこもっていれば影響はある。
　シレンコさんは「最初はもちろん、ひたすら一緒にいることが苦痛だった。『毎日かゆを食べれば、数日後にはスープが欲しくなる』という格言があるように」と語った。
　だが真剣な声で、タマラさんがいなければもっと悲惨な生活になっていただろうと言う。
　「たとえ妻がずっと不平不満を漏らしているだけでも、少なくとも地下室に誰かがいる。そうでなければ、何も聞こえず、しゃべらず、じっとしているだけになる」
　シレンコさんは毎日、糖尿病を患っているタマラさんのむくんだ足に包帯を巻く。シレンコさんは妻を介助できるのを誇りに思っているようだった。
　「彼女は、自分が冗談ばかり言うやつだって知っている。戦争中でもそうでなくても、誰にでも冗談を言う。（妻を）落ち込ませたりはしない」
　タマラさんも「自分一人だったら耐えられなかった」と同意した。
　口論になる時はあるものの、夫婦のどちらかを亡くした人たちよりも自分たちははるかに幸運だと２人はうなずき合った。【翻訳編集ＡＦＰＢＢＮｅｗｓ】
〔ＡＦＰ＝時事〕（2023/01/23-17:36）

Huddled in an underground shelter in war-battered east Ukraine, Oleksander and Lyudmila Murenets spend more time together these days than at any other point in their four decades of marriage.
The tension is starting to show.
You talk a lot, Oleksander, 68, sneered at Lyudmila, 66, on a recent morning as she tried to explain how much water is required to make homemade vodka.
Later, when Lyudmila corrected his attempt to say thank you to a foreign visitor, Oleksander cut her off completely. Who is the boss of this house? he said.
These flare-ups have become routine after 10 months in the cramped basement of their apartment block in Siversk, a former front-line town that was shelled almost beyond recognition and where windows still rattle day and night from artillery booms.
We used to spend time at work and we would meet each other only in the evening. Now we bicker more, said Oleksander, who repaired railway vehicles before the war.
Sometimes I say, 'Shut up, woman,' but she doesn't.
Theirs is far from the only marriage in eastern Ukraine buckling under the stresses of wartime.
Throughout the eastern Donbas region, the combination of fighting and freezing winter temperatures is forcing couples to spend long periods in close quarters, straining some relationships and strengthening others.
- Winter woes -
A mining town set amid rolling fields, Siversk came under sustained missile and rocket attacks last summer by Russian forces, who made several unsuccessful attempts to capture it.
The Ukrainians managed to push them out but homes, schools and factories today lie in ruins and most of the town's pre-war population of 12,000 have fled.
In basement shelters like the one occupied by Oleksander and Lyudmila, the constant sound of shelling from the front line, currently around 10 kilometres (6 miles) to the east, is a reminder that Siversk still falls within artillery range.
On top of that, the couple must grapple with a lack of phone service, limited access to drinking water and the fact that their only heat source is a woodstove.
In the summer we were cooking in the street. It was scary always but at least we could go outside, Lyudmila said.
With winter conditions worsening, she has turned to science fiction novels for a mental escape, not to mention a break from arguments with her husband.
It's good that our apartment is nearby, she said, gesturing upstairs. I can easily go and take another book.
- 'I protect her' -
Another couple, Oleksander and Tamara Sirenko, have a different method of stress-relief: chopping and stacking firewood, of which they need plenty.
Nevertheless, the eight months they have spent together in a basement shelter have taken their toll.
In the beginning, yes, it was difficult to be constantly together and together and together again. As we say, 'If every day you have porridge, then in a few days you want soup,' Oleksander said.
The time in the basement did not bring us closer, he added, laughing and pointing at their separate twin beds.
Our beds stand as they stood before.
Adopting a more serious tone, he noted that life would be far grimmer without Tamara's company.
At least there is somebody else here in the basement, even if she is just grumbling, he said.
Otherwise, you sit here like a deaf-mute.
He takes evident pride in the care he provides for his wife, a diabetic with a swollen leg that needs bandaging every day.
I don't give my wife the opportunity to droop. I protect her, so that she feels the war less, and the anxiety, he said.
She knows that I'm a joker. I joke with everyone, regardless of whether there is a war or not. I don't let her get in a bad mood.
Tamara nodded, saying: I couldn't cope with it on my own.
They both readily acknowledge that, arguments aside, they are far luckier than those whose spouses have died in the war.
Across town, Iryna Pavlova, 56, spent the weekend trying to obtain a death certificate for her husband, Viktor.
He was killed in a cluster bomb attack on Siversk back in July, after she had fled to safety in western Ukraine, where she is still based.
It's so hard for me, she told AFP, crying while describing her first visit home since his death.
He knows that I am here, she added.
I want to stay near him.