22 The Times Magazinenion leader Natalya Marynyuk
is responsible for organising
nearly 20,000 steelworkers casting
iron every day at Kryvyi Rih’s
massive blast furnaces. Located
in the Metallurgical District, the
86-year-old Soviet-era facility
lacks many modern mechanical
processes, making the labour
much more intense.
“It is tough work by hard people,” says
Marynyuk, the local head of the Trade Union
of the Metalworkers and Miners of Ukraine.
A short drive from the industrial complex,
now operated by Luxembourg-Indian steel
giant ArcelorMittal, is the nondescript high-
rise housing complex where Ukraine’s president,
Volodymyr Zelensky, was raised by his parents,
Oleksandr and Rymma, from his birth in 1978.
The 44-year-old’s metamorphosis from TV
comic to anti-corruption politician, struggling
president and now Churchillian superhero
is already the stuff of legend: the daily video
briefings in khaki T-shirts; the speeches
rallying both under-fire Ukrainians and
politicians in far-flung capitals; the way he
has inspired the nation not only to resist the
mighty Russian army, but to beat it back.
Zelensky’s blend of old-fashioned,
courageous leadership and 21st-century media
savvy has made him the perfect man for
Ukraine’s moment of peril. But the former
actor is no Ronald Reagan simply playing
a role. “Comedy is a profession. Character
comes from where you grow up,” says city
council worker Sasha Kucher, who joined
Zelensky’s party when he became president.
To inspire his nation to victory, Zelensky
is drawing on the unique history, culture and
character of both the city and family that
made him. “Kryvyi Rih is in his heart; it’s
who he is,” says Kucher.
Schooled in the rough and tumble of blue-
collar unionism, Marynyuk says she knows
the real deal when she sees it. “Zelensky
has a character like a metal rod. He will do
everything necessary for Ukraine to win.” A
lifelong local, Marynyuk was proud to hear her
president recently declare he “owes everything”
to Kryvyi Rih. “We trust him. What he says
comes true. He doesn’t lie,” she says.
Zelensky’s origin in this city is key to
understanding the man. I’ve come to central
Ukraine, travelling with a convoy delivering
supplies to the Territorial Defence Forces
(TDF), to learn more about the man they
simply call “Vova” and the place that made
him. Before Zelensky’s meteoric rise, Kryvyi
Rih, 260 miles southeast of Kyiv, was best
known for its snaking 79-mile sprawl that
follows a rich iron seam, a legendary gang
war in the Nineties, and Jean-Claude Van
Damme, whose long-term partner is Kryvyi
Rih-born model Alena Kaverina.“I love Van Damme’s movies, but Zelensky
is kicking ass for real,” says Ivan, a young man
in a baseball cap I meet in the lobby of the
Aurora hotel. Love for the home-town hero
can be felt throughout the city. But it is a stoic
pride, without posters and statues. Locals swap
stories and show off old selfies taken with
their favourite son.
This is a city built on the values of hard
work and simplicity. “There are no cocktail
bars here. We drink whisky and vodka by
the bottle,” laughs Kucher, as we unload
food and medical equipment alongside
scores of soldiers and volunteers at the
TDF headquarters.
Unlike the stunning Lviv or historic Kyiv,
Kryvyi Rih is a city straight from eastern bloc
central casting. Parts resemble ramshackle
country villages, with basic brick houses and
tired fence lines, while others feel distinctly
Soviet. A rusted tram limps past our car on
bent rails. In an example of Soviet planning,
the tram will go directly into the steelworks
to drop off the next shift.
Kryvyi Rih’s story of decline, despair and
creeping deaths from drug and alcohol abuse
is instantly familiar to anyone who has visited
other manufacturing cities around the world.
But here battle-hardened residents don’t feel
sorry for themselves. The place has a palpable
resilience and no-nonsense character. Even
its seven city districts have utilitarian names
such as Metallurgical and Administrative.
Zelensky’s improvisational comedy group and,
later, his television production company werenamed after the neighbourhood where he
grew up – Kvartal 95 (Quarter 95).
The city is covered in industrial scars. An
old Soviet-era school has been abandoned
and allowed to decay. Even what appear to be
mountain ranges on the edge of the city are
just enormous piles of rock moved to get to
the precious ore underneath. Standing near
an old housing estate in the Metallurgical
District, I watch an eight-year-old girl and
her five-year-old brother play on a rusty swing
and slide set as the cold wind blows and sirens
wail. Kucher tells me there is no time for
“bullshit” such as manicures or designer jeans
among the locals. “This is an industrial town
for hard people,” he says.
Igor Vovkozub, a city official, says
steelmaking gives the city its “iron character”.
“To make steel, you need to be patient and
stubborn. How something is made is just as
important as the final product,” he says. But
for all the steely resolve, as ArcelorMittal
has declined over the past few years, so too
have the city’s fortunes. Official records have
the city population at 750,000, down from a
peak of roughly one million, with young people
increasingly leaving to find a future elsewhere.
Decades of poor safety, chemical exposure and
low environmental standards mean the city
has the highest cancer rates in the country.
Zelensky grew up in a Kryvyi Rih that was
even tougher. In the Nineties the city was
dominated by roughly 40 gangs known as
beguny (b’eh-goo-neh) or “people who run”.
The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991U
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