"It's already a part of me," American journalist Zarina Zabriskie on living and working in Ukraine

We are sitting over coffee in one of the Kherson cafes where silence is a relative term. Zarina Zabriskie, an American journalist, writer, and filmmaker, came here on foot. She says she is used to moving around in this way - it makes it easier to feel the atmosphere of the city. In the more than two years she has lived in Kherson, she has gained a good understanding of the area, made many acquaintances, and learned to distinguish the sounds of war and, if necessary, to hide in time. "Departure", "arrival","drone buzz" are terms that have become part of everyday life here. After all, the front line is very close, a few kilometers away, starting in the middle of the Dnipro. Zarina wears a ring with yellow and blue stones on her finger, a trident pendant and a pendant with the inscription "Kherson is Ukraine" around her neck. These symbols are not just jewelry, but part of her identity. And after the interview, she will fulfill her long-held intention to get a tattoo with the phrase she saw on the wall of the city center: "For I am my will." When asked: "Why Kherson?", Zarina answers without hesitation: "It's already a part of me."

Zarina, tell us about yourself. As far as I know, you are of Ukrainian descent?

Yes, that's right. Like every person, I have my own complicated story. My family ended up in the United States as immigrants, but its roots are connected to Ukraine. On my grandfather's side, we are from Odesa and Uman. It was a Jewish family that became victims of the Holocaust during World War II. Some of the relatives died. My grandfather survived and later moved to Leningrad (now St. Petersburg - ed.). And my great-grandmother's line came from Pryluky in the Chernihiv region.

Unfortunately, my parents and most of my relatives passed away early. So I had no one to ask about our family history. But I remember well how I used to go to Odesa every year as a child. It was my love - the sea, Privoz, cherries. And this city was full of light and warmth, unlike Leningrad, where it was dark and cold in winter. In addition, I was a sickly child, so I was often in hospitals.

Zarina at work. The city of Kherson. PHOTO: Oleksandr Korniakov

My grandfather was always proud to be from Odesa. I guess it was in my blood. So when I was an adult, I started looking for traces of my roots on my own. I managed to find the house where my relatives lived in Odesa and the buildings where they did business in Uman. I also found my great-grandfather's letters in Ukrainian, which were used to keep the family in touch with each other. There are poems written by him. One of the lines will become the title of my future book. For now, that's all I can tell you. The full-scale war suspended my research in this area, but after the Victory I will definitely return to it.

So you came to Ukraine before the full-scale invasion and not for work?

Partly yes, because Ukraine is not just my ancestral homeland. It's something deeper, more profound, personal. In 2021, I came to Odesa as a writer to finish my novel. In general, I am the author of five books, and my first novel was partially written here about Odesa. While I was in the city, I caught myself thinking: I want to move here because this is my place.

And then a full-scale war broke out. At that time, I was at home in San Francisco. My presence in Ukraine took on a different meaning. I wanted to return as a journalist. To do this, I needed to get accreditation, and I got it through the English publication Byline Times, with which I had long collaborated. In April 2022, I finally arrived.

The city of Kherson. PHOTO: Press officer of the 35th Brigade Serhiy Brigade

First, to Odesa, because it was my base, my home. I already had a lot of friends and acquaintances here. Then it was time to travel to other regions: Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Chernihiv regions. These were frontline territories: from regional centers to small villages on the borders. I brought back text reports from there. But at some point I realized that I was often the only journalist in these places. So I decided not only to write, but also to shoot. This gave me the opportunity to document the story more. I did it on my simple, old phone. I edited it in basic programs. And I posted the videos on social media as an addition to my articles. And it turned out that it was very close to novel writing. I create films just like I write novels. I am now a film maker and director. This direction has become not just a certain activity for me, but my unique voice.

I can't help but ask how you mastered the Ukrainian language.

I am still learning the Ukrainian language. I know that I don't speak it very well. I have mistakes in pronunciation and translation, I can hear them, I won't hide them, I'm ashamed of them. But I don't want to speak Russian. And in English, the majority of people here simply won't understand me.

Zarina at work, Kramatorsk. Photo courtesy of the interviewee

As for the basics, I am a linguist and literary critic by training. I studied Old Slavonic, so this process is a little easier for me than for others. And I actually really like it. That's why I watch movies and listen to the news in Ukrainian, I constantly communicate with people, and I am very grateful to everyone who corrects me. Because if you don't correct me, I will continue to speak with mistakes. And I want to speak better.

When did you fall in love with Kherson and decide to stay here?

I came to Kherson after the de-occupation, on November 14, 2022, as part of a press tour for journalists. It was something incredible. I don't like to repeat myself, but I can't describe my state in any other way in all my interviews. It was not the weather or the architecture that captivated me, but the atmosphere of this city. Joy, grief, excitement, pain, hope - all of these were in the air at the same time. It was like an overwhelming wave. And it hit me and carried me away. After that, I couldn't do anything else. Moreover, I know many foreign journalists who have also experienced this. They are drawn to return to Kherson again and again.

So in December 2022, I returned. I made reports from the torture chambers, the aftermath of shelling and fires, from the coastal areas, when it was still possible to get to the Dnipro. In the river port, we came under artillery fire - it was my first shelling in Kherson. I filmed everything I saw.

Kherson after another shelling. PHOTO: Zarina Zabriskie

Later, my colleagues at Byline Times and I created our first documentary. It was directed by a British journalist Kaylin Robinson. It was a film about war crimes and propaganda of the Russian Federation. To do this, we traveled to Donetsk, Dnipro, and Kherson regions. It was a difficult but important experience. And I knew that this was not the end, but the beginning of a story that still needed to be told.

That's how I came up with the idea of making my own film about Kherson. A colleague of mine from San Francisco, who is also a writer, helped me to finance its production. She had a special reason. Her aunt was born in Kherson before the 1917 Revolution. And so she wanted to do something for this city. In September 2023, I arrived and started filming.

How did you integrate in Kherson?

In fact, everything happened very naturally. What I always like about Kherson is that there is no excessive officialdom and pretentiousness here. I come here, introduce myself, explain what I want to do, and get effective cooperation. Let me give you an example of my first trip to Kherson. Back then, on November 14, 2022, I simply walked into one of the coffee shops, and after talking to the employees, I learned how they had been partisans and baked bread in this place during the occupation. Then they introduced me to other partisans. So communication is the best key to integration.

Step by step, I found more and more different characters for my materials. Now some of them are my friends. I should also note that every Kherson resident has his or her own painful story. I always write with respect for what is told, safely, without revealing what I am asked not to publish. People see this, so they trust me and open up to me.

Zarina at work. PHOTO: Ivan Antypenko

I should also add that integration takes place not only in the workplace, but also in everyday life. In Kherson, I go to yoga, a dance studio, and sometimes a sauna. This is an integral part of my life here, thanks to which I also found my friendly community.

The filming of the movie lasted for several months. Tell us about the creative process and the concept of the documentary Kherson: People Safari".

The concept was clear from the very beginning. I wanted to create the film as if I were writing a book, because I am a writer. So the structure of the film is like the chapters of a book, which reflect the key stages of Kherson during the full-scale war. Namely, the invasion, protests, occupation, liberation, shelling, flooding, and, finally, the"human safari." Actually, I was planning to write a book based on this principle, and it will be published. But now it is important to create something that can be shown immediately. This is the demand of society. So the book will have to wait.

It was equally important to create a film about Kherson residents, without foreign journalists and experts. I wanted local people to tell their stories. Kherson had to be shown from the inside. This is my idea, my view, my responsibility. And this is where my vision differed with my colleagues. We did not agree, and I was forced to change the team.

Artem Tsynskyi. Photo courtesy of the interviewee

I am currently working with a talented team. Ukrainian photographer from Kherson Oleksandr Andriushchenko was responsible for the shooting, Ukrainian director from Odesa Artem Tsynskyi was responsible for editing, British journalist Jason N. Parkinson was responsible for color correction and upscaling, and Ukrainian sound engineer and re-recording mixer Yegor Irodov was responsible for the sound. We also had a composer from Kherson, Borys Hoyda, and a choreographer and dancer from Kherson, Aliona Emelianova.

By the way, the name "Kherson: People Safari" appeared only at the end of the work. I wanted to call the movieKherson. However, Artem (Tsynskyi - ed.) convinced me that no one knows where Kherson is, and with this accent, everyone will know about the city because it is catchy. He was right - that's exactly what happened.

We are still working on it. So we can expect a sequel to the film?

By the time this interview comes out, I will probably have already officially announced it. We are planning a trilogy, and we are currently working on the second film. It will have a completely different concept, a different title, and a different perspective on Kherson.

Kherson. PHOTO: Zarina Zabriskie

The only thing I can say now is that this film will explore the depth of Ukrainian identity. It will be a kind of explanation of why Kherson residents appear in the first part as heroes of our time. At least, I hope so.

Recently, the film has been available for free viewing on many sources. Why did you and your team decide to do this?

Indeed, the world has already seen the work. Together with Artem Tsynskyi, whom I consider a co-author of the film, we decided not to wait for festival selections and not to lose a year waiting for screenings. After all, in Kherson, every day counts.

Zarina with a colleague. PHOTO: Oleksandr Korniakov

Since June 25, 2022, the film has been available for viewing online at https://khersonhumansafari.com/. Since then, screenings have begun in different countries: Dallas (USA), Riga (Latvia), Bonn (Germany), Paris and other cities in France, as well as in various cities in Estonia and Australia. Subtitles are currently being prepared for screenings in Spain, Finland, and the Netherlands. And requests continue to come from various organizations and communities.

I am incredibly grateful for the way the film is being received. Because this film is our weapon. It is our way of explaining what is happening in Kherson. And it is our answer to those who still do not believe that the"human safari" is not a metaphor but a reality.

Did you and your team expect such a reaction to the film?

We didn't expect it at all. You know, this is one of the principles of life in Kherson nowadays: you don't wait and plan, you act. So we just did it because we knew it was necessary.

I think this film works because we managed to show the reality: without any embellishments and unnecessary burden. Real Kherson, real people, real stories. I followed my friends around with my phone, who didn't chase me away, but rather said: "Shoot. Let the world see." And so I did. For example, my friend Olha found out at night that a shell had hit her shop. And in the morning, despite the shock and snow on the road, she goes there, knocks down the door, which was jammed by the blast wave, and starts cleaning up the aftermath of the shelling. Another friend, Svitlana, loses her husband, and I film the burial site, which is being flown over by drones. Her mother was killed in the shelling, her father is overwhelmed with grief, and her house is burning down. However, at the end of the story, Svitlana is cooking borsch and preparing for training because she has joined the Armed Forces.

This is not staged or dramatized. This is life as it is. And it cannot be faked. If I were writing a novel, I wouldn't be able to invent this. That is why the movie touches the hearts of people around the world.

The village of Chornobaivka, Kherson region. PHOTO: Zarina Zabriskie

Do I understand correctly that you helped the UN with your work in Kherson?

Recently, the third UN report was released, which documented the facts of deportation of Ukrainians from the territories occupied by Russia and the targeted hunting of civilians by the Russian military using FPV drones. These are war crimes that should be investigated by the International Criminal Court.

Borodyanka village, Kyiv region. PHOTO: Zarina Zabriskie

I am not a representative of the UN, but my journalistic and research activities help to highlight and draw attention to such crimes against humanity. Therefore, when representatives of the organization approached me, given all my publications on this topic, I provided them with all my contacts. Then they worked independently.

What gives you the strength to move on and aren't you tired?

Of course, I am tired. I'm a human being, and I haven't been on vacation for a long time. All my trips outside of Kherson were business trips, and there was no rest. So yes, I want to take a break. But now is not the time.

I'm being kept going by my internal Molotov cocktail. Its ingredients are hatred for those who commit these crimes and a relentless desire to change the situation, to stop it. I believe in collective and individual responsibility, and in the power of one person. I realize that I am being carried by a certain wave. But it is analyzed and controlled. On Svobody Square in Kherson, there is a graffiti that says "Because I am my will" - I want to get a tattoo like that (at the time of the interview, Zarina had fulfilled her intention - ed.) Because it's about me. We decide what we want to do. And that's what drives me forward.

Zarina getting a tattoo. PHOTO: Oleksandr Korniakov

I can't stop or turn back anymore. Because I have already made a real difference. People in Kherson knew aboutthe "human safari," but not in Ukraine, and even less so in the world. I knocked and knocked and got through. Not because I was stubborn or impudent. But because it was necessary. And today, when the world reacts, I know that it was right and important.

So your place is now in Kherson, and all your future creative plans are connected with this city?

I didn't make this choice - the choice made me. Since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I simply could not be anywhere else. While I was waiting for accreditation, I was physically ill: panic attacks and the inability to breathe, eat, drink. And now I drink coffee in Kherson and feel comfortable. This speaks of a psychological presence. This is where I belong. At this moment, for sure.

And it's not about heroism or pathos, but primarily about benefit. When something happens, people write to me: "Zarina, go there, there's a shelling, there are dead." I go and make reports that provoke a reaction and give feedback.

The city of Siversk, Donetsk region. PHOTO: Zarina Zabriskie

There are great journalists in Kherson, but there are almost no journalists who create content for an English-speaking audience. I was offered a job in Kyiv as a foreign correspondent, but I refused. Because everyone is already there. And in Kherson, it is unprofitable to keep such a specialist on a permanent basis. That's why I work here in the format of short-term business trips.

If ten foreign journalists come to Kherson tomorrow and start working here permanently, I will move on. For example, to Sumy region or somewhere else where my presence is needed. Because for me, the main thing is action, content, and meaning.

Володимир Шкаєв, Яніна Надточа