In January 2015, a modular settlement for displaced persons from Eastern Ukraine and Crimea was built on the outskirts of Kharkiv, near the airport. It was planned that the small residential containers would serve as a temporary shelter for internally displaced families. However, very soon, the fenced-off settlement turned into a ghetto and became a problem for the municipal authorities. The lifespan of the structures expired in 2017, and only then did they stop housing new residents. The "long-term" inhabitants of the modular settlements refused to leave their homes.
Ukrainian documentary photographer Danilo Pavlov captured the lives of the residents of the container settlements in 2016, listening to their memories of the past and dreams for a future without war.
In 2016, over 1.7 million internally displaced persons were registered in Ukraine—those from Donetsk and Luhansk regions and Crimea. People moved from territories occupied by Russia to escape the war. The issue of housing for internally displaced families was also addressed with the help of foreign investments. For example, with funding from the German Society for International Cooperation, seven modular settlements were built in Kharkiv, Zaporizhzhia, and Dnipropetrovsk regions. Over time, these temporary housing containers became permanent homes for displaced persons from the East and Crimea, turning into isolated territories cut off from the outside world.
One of these settlements is located on the outskirts of Kharkiv. On a small patch of land, which the local authorities fenced off with a mesh fence and guards, three common blocks for 150–180 people were erected, along with 10 four-apartment (provisional name) modules, as well as separate refrigerators, a laundry room, showers, and toilets. Among the obvious advantages were free internet and playgrounds. They planned to collect a symbolic $5 per month for living in the settlement. However, forecasts for the future are uncertain.
"The settlements, which were planned in the early years of Russian aggression as temporary, became permanent. Most of the modular houses turned into a real home for internally displaced people. The settlement in Kharkiv was one of the most problematic," says Danilo Pavlov. "The authorities hoped that the modules would help people resolve their housing issues for a few weeks while they found work and could rent their own place; that the containers would provide shelter for families from occupied territories, allowing them to escape the war without worrying about where to stay."
The modular settlements were primarily built for vulnerable groups: large families, single mothers, and people with disabilities. However, over time, the container houses transformed into a ghetto, and the settlement of people there became a form of segregation. The police frequently visited the settlement, and its residents often argued among themselves, and somewhat less frequently—with the locals.
"Sometimes I felt a sense of Spanish shame for the residents of this settlement. However, such people who struggle in life are not only from Donbas. I've seen complex stories from people all over Ukraine; it doesn't necessarily depend on where they live," Danilo shares. "When people are united by a single problem, a shared grief, issues like alcoholism and other related problems can arise. That’s what happened in this settlement."
The photographer adds that for many families, the container settlement helped them adapt to their new environment. "People looked for work, began earning money, and left the settlement. Meanwhile, others had no plans to do anything and said no one would drive them out. Of course, there were also difficult situations—people with disabilities or single mothers who had no one to leave their children with found it hard to secure good jobs," says Danilo Pavlov.
Over several days, Danilo visited and photographed the residents of the modular settlements. People reacted very differently to the camera; some threatened to break the equipment, others openly posed, but most seemed indifferent. The resident who left the strongest impression on Danilo was known to everyone as "Uncle Yura." He was a football fan and a die-hard supporter of "Shakhtar," as well as a husband and father. He had to confront several ultras from the local team "Metalist" on the streets of Kharkiv. The consequences were evident in Uncle Yura's swollen left ear.
"He had a rather unique appearance: his whole body was covered in tattoos, and he was missing a front tooth. I have a shot where a Shakhtar match is being broadcast on TV, Uncle Yura is drinking beer, and behind him sits his terrified son. The child's face seemed to express disbelief: is Dad drinking again...?" Danilo recounts.
Probably the only ones who felt comfortable in the modular settlement all the time were the children. They were constantly outside, enjoying the warm spring weather, playing with each other, and riding on swings and merry-go-rounds. The playgrounds in the settlement were designed with an understanding of the situation. Parents didn't have to worry about their children's outdoor activities.
The most "flowers of life" were found in Dmytro—six children (the youngest was three years old, and the oldest was sixteen). He was dressed in black sweatpants and a T-shirt with "AC/DC" printed on it, wearing bracelets and missing several front teeth. "This man reminded me of the iconic leader of 'Sektor Ha'za' Yura Khin from the outside. Ultimately, he was a leader, but not of a band, rather of the modular settlement—Dmytro took on the role of commander. He had to negotiate with volunteers who provided food and clothing for the residents and organized recreational camps for the children," Danilo Pavlov recalls.
After the onset of the full-scale Russian invasion, Danilo Pavlov photographed the modular settlements built in Kyiv region—specifically in Borodianka and Irpin. He believes that it's not advisable to house one category of people in a separate building, as it leads to isolation in one way or another.
"I can’t even imagine how to solve housing problems for internally displaced persons. However, 'packing' them into modular settlements is not the best solution either. They always turn into separate communities, isolated from the rest and often unwelcome by local residents," explains Danilo Pavlov. "People living in containers are constantly in a state of uncertainty."
The material was worked on by:
Researcher on the topic, author of the text: Katya Moskalyuk
Photo editor: Vyacheslav Ratynskyi
Literary editor: Yulia Futei
Website manager: Vladislav Kukhar
In January 2015, a modular settlement for displaced persons from Eastern Ukraine and Crimea was built on the outskirts of Kharkiv, near the airport. It was planned that the small residential containers would serve as a temporary shelter for internally displaced families. However, very soon, the fenced-off settlement turned into a ghetto and became a problem for the municipal authorities. The lifespan of the structures expired in 2017, and only then did they stop housing new residents. The "long-term" inhabitants of the modular settlements refused to leave their homes.
Ukrainian documentary photographer Danilo Pavlov captured the lives of the residents of the container settlements in 2016, listening to their memories of the past and dreams for a future without war.
In 2016, over 1.7 million internally displaced persons were registered in Ukraine—those from Donetsk and Luhansk regions and Crimea. People moved from territories occupied by Russia to escape the war. The issue of housing for internally displaced families was also addressed with the help of foreign investments. For example, with funding from the German Society for International Cooperation, seven modular settlements were built in Kharkiv, Zaporizhzhia, and Dnipropetrovsk regions. Over time, these temporary housing containers became permanent homes for displaced persons from the East and Crimea, turning into isolated territories cut off from the outside world.
One of these settlements is located on the outskirts of Kharkiv. On a small patch of land, which the local authorities fenced off with a mesh fence and guards, three common blocks for 150–180 people were erected, along with 10 four-apartment (provisional name) modules, as well as separate refrigerators, a laundry room, showers, and toilets. Among the obvious advantages were free internet and playgrounds. They planned to collect a symbolic $5 per month for living in the settlement. However, forecasts for the future are uncertain.
"The settlements, which were planned in the early years of Russian aggression as temporary, became permanent. Most of the modular houses turned into a real home for internally displaced people. The settlement in Kharkiv was one of the most problematic," says Danilo Pavlov. "The authorities hoped that the modules would help people resolve their housing issues for a few weeks while they found work and could rent their own place; that the containers would provide shelter for families from occupied territories, allowing them to escape the war without worrying about where to stay."
The modular settlements were primarily built for vulnerable groups: large families, single mothers, and people with disabilities. However, over time, the container houses transformed into a ghetto, and the settlement of people there became a form of segregation. The police frequently visited the settlement, and its residents often argued among themselves, and somewhat less frequently—with the locals.
"Sometimes I felt a sense of Spanish shame for the residents of this settlement. However, such people who struggle in life are not only from Donbas. I've seen complex stories from people all over Ukraine; it doesn't necessarily depend on where they live," Danilo shares. "When people are united by a single problem, a shared grief, issues like alcoholism and other related problems can arise. That’s what happened in this settlement."
The photographer adds that for many families, the container settlement helped them adapt to their new environment. "People looked for work, began earning money, and left the settlement. Meanwhile, others had no plans to do anything and said no one would drive them out. Of course, there were also difficult situations—people with disabilities or single mothers who had no one to leave their children with found it hard to secure good jobs," says Danilo Pavlov.
Over several days, Danilo visited and photographed the residents of the modular settlements. People reacted very differently to the camera; some threatened to break the equipment, others openly posed, but most seemed indifferent. The resident who left the strongest impression on Danilo was known to everyone as "Uncle Yura." He was a football fan and a die-hard supporter of "Shakhtar," as well as a husband and father. He had to confront several ultras from the local team "Metalist" on the streets of Kharkiv. The consequences were evident in Uncle Yura's swollen left ear.
"He had a rather unique appearance: his whole body was covered in tattoos, and he was missing a front tooth. I have a shot where a Shakhtar match is being broadcast on TV, Uncle Yura is drinking beer, and behind him sits his terrified son. The child's face seemed to express disbelief: is Dad drinking again...?" Danilo recounts.
Probably the only ones who felt comfortable in the modular settlement all the time were the children. They were constantly outside, enjoying the warm spring weather, playing with each other, and riding on swings and merry-go-rounds. The playgrounds in the settlement were designed with an understanding of the situation. Parents didn't have to worry about their children's outdoor activities.
The most "flowers of life" were found in Dmytro—six children (the youngest was three years old, and the oldest was sixteen). He was dressed in black sweatpants and a T-shirt with "AC/DC" printed on it, wearing bracelets and missing several front teeth. "This man reminded me of the iconic leader of 'Sektor Ha'za' Yura Khin from the outside. Ultimately, he was a leader, but not of a band, rather of the modular settlement—Dmytro took on the role of commander. He had to negotiate with volunteers who provided food and clothing for the residents and organized recreational camps for the children," Danilo Pavlov recalls.
After the onset of the full-scale Russian invasion, Danilo Pavlov photographed the modular settlements built in Kyiv region—specifically in Borodianka and Irpin. He believes that it's not advisable to house one category of people in a separate building, as it leads to isolation in one way or another.
"I can’t even imagine how to solve housing problems for internally displaced persons. However, 'packing' them into modular settlements is not the best solution either. They always turn into separate communities, isolated from the rest and often unwelcome by local residents," explains Danilo Pavlov. "People living in containers are constantly in a state of uncertainty."
The material was worked on by:
Researcher on the topic, author of the text: Katya Moskalyuk
Photo editor: Vyacheslav Ratynskyi
Literary editor: Yulia Futei
Website manager: Vladislav Kukhar
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