Odessa, a refuge from Russian attacks for 120,000 displaced Ukrainians without homes
Despite recent missile attacks, the port city of Odessa continues to provide temporary shelter for more than 120,000 Ukrainians displaced by the war, who report the loss of their homes and possessions in Russian-occupied territories.
Every day, long queues of people form outside the Lyceum № 27 building in the city centre. Above its entrance hangs a large sign assuring them that they are welcomed as 'guests of Odessa', not as 'refugees'.
"People come here from all over. From Donetsk, from Kharkov, from Mykolaiv and Kherson. All fleeing the war", Anastasia, a volunteer at the humanitarian aid centre "Hospital House", told EFE.
Every internally displaced person can receive an aid package here every two weeks. Around 700 people come to the centre every day.
"The contents of the package cannot be known in advance because we distribute what we receive," explains a note at the entrance.
Having lost everything, these people, who receive a monthly allowance of just 2,000 hryvnias (50 euros, 55 dollars), can use anything.
"With nothing"
Protected from the sun under the tents, they wait patiently for the personal hygiene products, clothes or food they can get here today. The appearance of calm quickly crumbles as soon as they are asked to tell their stories.
"I don't understand what Russia wanted to rescue us from," says Anastasia, a displaced person from Bajmut, with tears in her eyes. "We travelled, we earned money, we bought a flat. We had dreams. Now we have nothing".
Anastasia's family of six had spent their entire lives in Bajmut. They had three flats there. Now they are all destroyed.
Her father and grandmother are bedridden, while her daughter suffers intestinal pains from the stress of the shelling.
They are four generations living together in a one-bedroom flat in Odessa on the Black Sea.
This is a common situation for most Ukrainian IDPs, who simply cannot afford to rent anything better.
Hardly any work
Several job offers are posted on the notice board, but the number of vacancies is much smaller than the number of unemployed. Finding a well-paid job is difficult even for the local population, says Anastasia.
She used to be a highly qualified chief accountant. Now she resorts to short-term jobs or sub-jobs she finds on the internet. She spends the rest of her time volunteering to help others in her situation.
Larisa, a woman in her fifties, fled her hometown of Nova Kakhovka in the Kherson region. Occupied since the first day of the invasion, it has gradually become "a ghost town" where very few inhabitants remain.
"The Russians simply placed their artillery between the houses and fired from there. The walls were shaking," she recalls.
Then the Russians broke into the abandoned houses and took them over. "My sister's house is now a mess, with soldiers living there, stealing everything. It's terrible," the woman laments.
There is no one to turn to for help. "The collaborationists are in power," Larisa explains. Her son-in-law is fighting near Bajmut, while she finds relief by volunteering and weaving camouflage nets for the soldiers.
"If it wasn't for the support of other volunteers, I would have jumped off the ninth floor long ago," she says.
Her grandson is another source of support. With his father in the army, the boy sometimes picks up a toy rifle and sings the Ukrainian national anthem. "It wasn't like that before the invasion. Now that we are under attack, we feel even more strongly that we are Ukrainians," she explains.
For people like Larisa and Anastasia, the idea of some media personalities organising another referendum to determine the fate of the occupied territories is infuriating.
"Has Russia ever done anything good for me? No. On the contrary, it took away everything I had," Anastasia stresses.
Her family knows that Bajmut is "scorched earth". But she still hopes to return there one day. "No matter what happens, it is still our home".