Irina grips a bag filled to bursting with fruit in each hand and begins the arduous trek across the shell-splattered no man's land splitting pro-Russian militias from Ukrainian troops.
"It is not an easy walk," the 21-year-old admits as she looks down unplowed fields over which rocket-propelled grenades seem to whistle daily in a 15-month war that has claimed 6,500 lives.
"The sun is hot. And I have a lot of stuff," she admits after completing her increasingly rare journey to the better-stocked markets and shops of government-run towns.
The 10-kilometre-wide (six-mile-wide) corridor that twists between this stretch of southeastern Ukrainian coal mines and steel mills serves as the informal outer limit to where the powers of Kiev's Western-backed leadership end.
The Ukrainians have set up their two crossings this far apart as an added buffer against tank-equipped rebel units with howitzer guns. The remaining lands to the east are operated by insurgency leaders who stage periodic attempts to expand their two self-declared states.
Kiev has responded by plugging up the number of demarcation line crossings and securing those it suspects of being used to smuggle arms into peaceful regions where militias hope to foment discontent.
A complicated system of passes sparked outrage in Russia -- which has insistently denied charges of choreographing the war or supplying the separatists with weapons and funds -- when introduced at the turn of the year.
Then the buses stopped running last week.
Moscow denounced the interruption as another step in an economic blockade designed to punish civilians for expressing their desire to preserve ties with Russia and keep Western values at bay.
Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko countered Tuesday that he "will not let (rebel) weapons enter our peaceful cities."
But Lyubov Kirillovna -- a pensioner who had hoped to hop a bus from rebel-run Donetsk to visit family in Kiev-backed Volnovakha -- blamed what she called a stalemate in which mutual hatred has won out.
- 'They don't want us' -
"They have simply stopped thinking about what they are doing," she said with a shake of her head. "Both sides are to blame. They refuse to make concessions and detest each other."
The queues to pass in and out of the war zone began forming when Ukrainian servicemen introduced rigorous document checks with the onset of yet another upsurge in violence in January.
When the bus service was halted on June 18 many people voiced outright desperation.
Ukraine guards now only wave through a select number of passenger cars, leaving others with no choice but to walk. And while taxi cabs are doing a thriving business -- it's an option many cannot afford.
"I cannot walk that far so at one point I hailed down a cab. But the journey is now much longer and more expensive," said a stay-at-home mom named Anya.
Almost everyone interviewed by AFP preferred to keep their last name private for security concerns. An ugly propaganda battle raging alongside the fighting has seen both Moscow and Kiev security agencies -- as well as the rebels themselves -- keep close tabs on those who dare air their grievances to reporters.
But many still complained about having to get up at dawn to join an irate throng of people who wait hours before learning whether they have the right stack of papers required to pass through the zone.
"My wife was not allowed in and now we have to turn back," said one father while cradling a baby in his arms.
- Jail for repeat offenders -
His young family woke up at 5:00 am in Donetsk to take an early bus that could bring them near the first Ukrainian checkpoint.
The militias let regular traffic through fairly freely. But the Ukrainians have developed a reputation for turning away people at random -- a seemingly arbitrary policy in which local commanders make up their own rules.
"It really gives you the impression that they do not want us," Yury joked.
The war makes it all but impossible to determine how many people slip across the 500-kilometre demarcation line daily.
But Ukrainian Prime Minister Arseniy Yatsenyuk -- seen by Moscow as the head of Kiev's "war camp" -- appears intent on bringing whatever traffic remains to a halt.
A new law being drafted would effectively limit entry into the war zone to humanitarian convoys operated by established global relief agencies.
Trucks would be barred from crossing in and out of militia-run regions -- home to 3.5 million people and about the size of Wales.
"This will help us keep out the contraband," an economic ministry official told the RBK-Ukraine news site.
The same source added that repeat offenders of the planned border controls could be jailed for up to five years.
Irina grips a bag filled to bursting with fruit in each hand and begins the arduous trek across the shell-splattered no man’s land splitting pro-Russian militias from Ukrainian troops.
“It is not an easy walk,” the 21-year-old admits as she looks down unplowed fields over which rocket-propelled grenades seem to whistle daily in a 15-month war that has claimed 6,500 lives.
“The sun is hot. And I have a lot of stuff,” she admits after completing her increasingly rare journey to the better-stocked markets and shops of government-run towns.
The 10-kilometre-wide (six-mile-wide) corridor that twists between this stretch of southeastern Ukrainian coal mines and steel mills serves as the informal outer limit to where the powers of Kiev’s Western-backed leadership end.
The Ukrainians have set up their two crossings this far apart as an added buffer against tank-equipped rebel units with howitzer guns. The remaining lands to the east are operated by insurgency leaders who stage periodic attempts to expand their two self-declared states.
Kiev has responded by plugging up the number of demarcation line crossings and securing those it suspects of being used to smuggle arms into peaceful regions where militias hope to foment discontent.
A complicated system of passes sparked outrage in Russia — which has insistently denied charges of choreographing the war or supplying the separatists with weapons and funds — when introduced at the turn of the year.
Then the buses stopped running last week.
Moscow denounced the interruption as another step in an economic blockade designed to punish civilians for expressing their desire to preserve ties with Russia and keep Western values at bay.
Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko countered Tuesday that he “will not let (rebel) weapons enter our peaceful cities.”
But Lyubov Kirillovna — a pensioner who had hoped to hop a bus from rebel-run Donetsk to visit family in Kiev-backed Volnovakha — blamed what she called a stalemate in which mutual hatred has won out.
– ‘They don’t want us’ –
“They have simply stopped thinking about what they are doing,” she said with a shake of her head. “Both sides are to blame. They refuse to make concessions and detest each other.”
The queues to pass in and out of the war zone began forming when Ukrainian servicemen introduced rigorous document checks with the onset of yet another upsurge in violence in January.
When the bus service was halted on June 18 many people voiced outright desperation.
Ukraine guards now only wave through a select number of passenger cars, leaving others with no choice but to walk. And while taxi cabs are doing a thriving business — it’s an option many cannot afford.
“I cannot walk that far so at one point I hailed down a cab. But the journey is now much longer and more expensive,” said a stay-at-home mom named Anya.
Almost everyone interviewed by AFP preferred to keep their last name private for security concerns. An ugly propaganda battle raging alongside the fighting has seen both Moscow and Kiev security agencies — as well as the rebels themselves — keep close tabs on those who dare air their grievances to reporters.
But many still complained about having to get up at dawn to join an irate throng of people who wait hours before learning whether they have the right stack of papers required to pass through the zone.
“My wife was not allowed in and now we have to turn back,” said one father while cradling a baby in his arms.
– Jail for repeat offenders –
His young family woke up at 5:00 am in Donetsk to take an early bus that could bring them near the first Ukrainian checkpoint.
The militias let regular traffic through fairly freely. But the Ukrainians have developed a reputation for turning away people at random — a seemingly arbitrary policy in which local commanders make up their own rules.
“It really gives you the impression that they do not want us,” Yury joked.
The war makes it all but impossible to determine how many people slip across the 500-kilometre demarcation line daily.
But Ukrainian Prime Minister Arseniy Yatsenyuk — seen by Moscow as the head of Kiev’s “war camp” — appears intent on bringing whatever traffic remains to a halt.
A new law being drafted would effectively limit entry into the war zone to humanitarian convoys operated by established global relief agencies.
Trucks would be barred from crossing in and out of militia-run regions — home to 3.5 million people and about the size of Wales.
“This will help us keep out the contraband,” an economic ministry official told the RBK-Ukraine news site.
The same source added that repeat offenders of the planned border controls could be jailed for up to five years.
