As if by some unusual magic trick, an ocean of fresh water in Zaporizhia has turned into a forest. Since the 1950s, the Kakhovka reservoir, one of the largest on the Dnieper River, with a capacity of 18 cubic kilometres of water, has been visible from almost any point in this city in southern Ukraine and its surroundings. But on 6 June 2023, Russia blew up the huge Nova Kakhovka dam that held back that mass of water, in yet another violent action in the large-scale invasion that began in February 2022, although Moscow accused Kiev of being responsible. A year later, the consequences of this attack still affect the population, the economy and the environment. For many, it has meant ruin; but others see an unexpected gift of nature emerging that must be preserved, despite everything.
On the day of the attack, two huge explosions ruptured the dam, the road that ran over it and the plant’s engine room, sending millions of litres of water downstream in just four days. Olekseii Angurets, an ecologist and expert in sustainable development, recalls the first fears: “The flooding of the villages closest to the banks in the Kherson area, the destruction of areas with protected ecosystems and the death of many animals due to the massive contamination of the water with oils and other chemical components from the plant that flowed down the Dnieper,” he lists. “We have no idea of the consequences on the other bank, in the area occupied” by the Russians. That first impact affected 80 neighbourhoods and 100,000 inhabitants in the provinces of Kherson, Mykolaiv, Dnipropetrovsk and Zaporizhia. Some 3,000 people lost their homes, a million were left without drinking water and 140,000 without electricity, according to the latest impact report prepared by the United Nations and the Ukrainian government, which estimates total losses at around 13 billion euros and more than 5 billion for recovery and reconstruction.
Today, the road above the dam has been repaired, but the dam has not, and it does not hold back water in the reservoir, so a shortage of supply is a daily reality. “The dam was an artificial construction; when it is destroyed, the area becomes empty. First, like a desert. Then vegetation grew,” Angurets describes. Oleksii Billeris, a 68-year-old farmer, used to spend time with his family in a house in Malokaterinivka, a village on the banks of the reservoir. Like his neighbours, he had built a pier and a landing stage where everyone fished and bathed in the summer. Now, to get there, you have to go through a veritable jungle of thin but very tall trees, some of which are more than two metres high. The foliage is so dense that it is almost impossible to break through. Where there used to be a sea of fresh water, there is now an equally endless green mass of willows and poplars that have grown spontaneously and wildly in just one year.
“This village, like others, was supplied by pipelines connected to a pumping station that was connected to the Kakhovka hydroelectric power station, but they are dry,” he explains. In the municipality of Kushuhum, to which Malokaterinivka belongs, it is impossible to restore the supply in the near future, said the mayor, Volodymyr Sosunovskii, a month ago in an interview on state television. Suspilne.
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A few hundred metres from his farmhouse, the farmer points out the only source of drinking water: a pipe that emerges from the ground in a cool, shady area. “The tragedy of this place is that before the war there was life; grandparents brought their grandchildren here, especially in the summers, when they were very lively,” laments Billeris. “Now, what do you hear? Silence. There is no one left,” he says, sadly.
In the village of Bilenke, the inhabitants were never connected to running water; they relied on wells that dried up when the water table dropped. They are all country houses surrounded by small vegetable gardens and fruit trees sheltered behind rusty barred fences with a certain baroque and decadent air. Everyone has chickens, pigs or some other small farm animal. While collecting plums that have just fallen from the ground at the door of his house, Pasha, who does not want to give his surname or have his picture taken – he is wearing work clothes – sighs at the fortune that the work to dig a well 25 metres deeper has cost his small economy. “My husband and I are pensioners, we earn 3,000 hryvnias (about 67 euros) a month. The work on the well cost us 20,000 hryvnias (450 euros); we had to use our savings.” It was the work or nothing. Now he shows with satisfaction the high-pressure jet that comes out of a pipe installed in his yard.
Others cannot afford the expense. This is the case of Arcadi Moskalenko, a 62-year-old retired soldier. His house, which is more than 100 years old, was built by his great-grandfather. The pensioner stores canisters and basins of yellowish “technical” (non-drinkable) water that he collects from what remains of the river, about 100 metres from his house. He has to buy the water that is safe to drink from the nearest shop, a kilometre away. “My well is 15 metres deep; if I wanted water I would have to dig about 10 more; only the richest can afford it,” he stresses.
The region’s economy has also been hit hard. “Before the war, farmers in southern Ukraine grew tomatoes and cucumbers, eggplants and watermelons and exported them to European countries. Because they are dependent on irrigation, they can no longer grow crops,” Billeris explains. 94% of irrigation systems in Kherson province, 74% in Zaporizhia and 30% in Dnipropetrovsk province are out of use, according to data from the UN and the Ukrainian government.
The Nova Kakhovka disaster has been labelled an ecocide for various reasons. The emptying of the reservoir caused the death of 11,000 tonnes of fish, with economic losses estimated at at least five million euros, according to a study by the Kherson University of Agriculture and Economics.
In the flooded areas, one of the worst consequences has been pollution. Zaporizhia is a highly industrialised city and the air there has never been pure, nor the water immaculate, due to the waste and smoke emitted by the factories. Even before the explosion, swimming was prohibited on the so-called Zaporizhia beach in the city centre. When the water level dropped, the reservoir’s secrets were revealed. One of them was giant pipes connected to the factories that expelled water mixed with chemicals. Right there, the stench is unbearable, a mix of oil and rot. Over the past year, Angurets and the NGO he works for, Clean Air, have carried out sediment studies in various areas of the reservoir, including Malokaterinivka and Zaporizhia beach. This is where they found the most worrying results. “There are high levels of chromium, arsenic and, most worryingly, DDT, an insecticide that was banned years ago because it is very harmful to human health,” the expert explains. This is the main conclusion of his research. “But we have only collected a few samples; more studies are needed,” he insists.
About 100 metres from these pipes, police officers are stopping citizens strolling along the beach. They are looking for witnesses to record a discovery they have just made: a World War II mine half-buried just half a metre from the shore. Another consequence of the dam explosion is that dozens of these devices have been uncovered. “Although a year has passed, we continue to find two or three a week, with the consequent risk to citizens,” reports one of the officers. A few minutes later, half a dozen bomb disposal experts arrive by boat at the site of the discovery to take charge of the explosive.
An unexpected effect
However, it is not all bad news. Mikhail Mulenko, head of the nature protection department of the Khortitsia National Reserve, a river island located in the city of Zaporizhia, explains that an “ecosystem unique in Europe” has been created.
Over the past year, Mulenko has witnessed an unexpected metamorphosis: the growth of a green sea of poplars and willows where the water has receded. The dam broke in June, when these trees shed their seeds; the wind scattered them across the land, and nature did the rest. The forest plays an invaluable role in cleaning Zaporizhia’s polluted air, he stresses, as its hundreds of thousands of trees absorb more CO₂ from factories. “This ecosystem provides 80 times more environmental service than when the dam was there,” Mulenko says.
The government has said from the start that it will return the dam to its original state when the war is over. But both Angurets and Mulenko are in favour of a solution that would satisfy everyone. “A reservoir at different heights would allow water to be available where it was needed and at the same time preserve this ecosystem,” suggests the latter.
“We need to talk with the government, but also with international partners because building the new dam is very expensive and we will probably need their help. Whoever pays, decides, so we will have to be able to explain this situation well so that they establish the conditions wisely,” concludes Angurets.
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