You're reading: Winter of discontent leaves Kharkiv in the cold

KHARKIV – Ludmila Ivanovna thinks the government is trying to kill her.

This is the first in a four-part series on Ukraine's troubled energy sector.

She points out her kitchen window to the 16-floor apartment building next door. It's in darkness. The elevator doesn't work. Electric stoves and heaters don't work. There is no hot water.

Still, there are signs of life, as people move about with candles and flashlights.

'The government doesn't care about ordinary people,' she says. 'It would be better for them if we were all dead.'

Her bitterness is prompted by the widespread power outages, lack of hot water and other utility problems that have walloped a large section of the country. On the heels of a winter filled with the worst power outages and most severe utility shortages in Ukraine's post-independence history, Ivanovna expresses frustration that is being echoed across the nation by city dwellers and villagers alike.

In Kharkiv, Ukraine's second largest city, 40 kilometers from the Russian border, electricity is cut off for up to eight hours a day in some regions, especially at peak periods in the morning and evening, regardless of whether residents have paid their electrical bills. Hot water, which is usually supplied centrally, is cut completely in the suburbs, and some buildings have even had cold water shut off during all but a few hours a day.

Even traffic lights often do not work, and in a country where the only affordable form of entertainment is television, power outages do little for the public morale.

'I think it's irresponsible of our government to do this,' says Alla Tabak, an optical shop owner. 'I have two daughters who have to do their homework by candlelight or stay up late to get it done, and they now fall asleep in class because they don't have enough free time with power.'

Tabak complains that besides her daughters' education, her business is suffering. 'We have no electricity in our shop from 8 a.m. to 10 a.m. from noon to 2 p.m. and from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. We can't work at those times. My doctor can't use her medical instruments, and my optician can't make glasses. Everybody I know is angry.'

'Only here,' was the sole comment of a taxi driver, waiting his turn to pass through an intersection made chaotic by the lack of traffic signals.

But no one seems to agree on why the outages are occurring. Some blame the Russians, saying that Ukraine is being punished for the debt they are unable to pay; others say it is because electric companies are run by gangs of criminals, who are taking advantage of ordinary people. Still others say that the electrical generators are old, and that the main culprits are the few functioning industries that have not paid their bills. Some say that Kyiv is simply saving money by cutting electricity in Ukraine's smaller cities.

Sam Smith, a Briton teaching English in Kharkiv, has a more elaborate theory. He sees the situation as a wave spreading across the country, and compares the escalating discomfort in Kharkiv to the worsening conditions in Crimea.

'Last year it was okay here,' he said. This year it's not too bad, but if it gets as bad as Crimea where they have up to 10 hours without electricity, only two hours of water daily, and no heating or hot water at all, it's going to be terrible.'

But if the cuts are supposed to economize, how can this be rationalized with money lost during the working day? In some cases whole factories are without electricity. While the machinery isn't functioning, employees simply wait, sitting idly. Without fax machines and computers, commercial organizations are paralyzed.

Water is reportedly cut because the spring-run off waters take too much energy and chemicals to purify.

Here in Kharkiv it rankles that Kyiv residents apparently are not experiencing the same conditions. 'Kyiv is like a different country,' says one man. 'Soon we'll need a visa to go there.' Ivanovna points to the countries of the former Yugoslavia.

'There was a war there, but they still have power and water,' she says. 'We have no war, but they don't let us live like normal people.'

There have been a few protests on the city's central squares, but they are generally carried out by elderly men nostalgic for the glory days of the nations Soviet past. Young people deny that protests are an effective way to change their lives, and even pensioners such as Ivanovna are convinced that the government is not listening.

Currently most buildings in the center of the city are not affected, although during the pre-Christmas cuts, they were. Most people who live downtown claim their fortune is due to an organized crime boss living in the neighborhood, a tax inspection office around the corner, proximity to the tram lines, or a neighborhood hospital or sauna, which are usually not cut.

But even these fortunate few are worried. 'I'm afraid all the time that it's going to happen to us tomorrow,' commented one woman.

People begin to take their discomfort as a personal affront.

Another English teacher, Toni Sloan, described how after heating a pot of water on the stove for several hours, she was washing her hair over the bathtub when the electricity suddenly went out. She thought to herself, 'Leave me alone.' She's planning to leave Ukraine in May.

One of her students, who is now applying for emigration with his family, made the final decision when his wife woke up one morning to find they had no electricity and no water, and said, 'Get me out of here.' They're hoping this was their last winter in Ukraine.