Daphne Wesdorp from Bakkeveen is a war reporter in Ukraine. She writes about her experiences in the war zone every Friday and Monday.
“You are from the Netherlands?” Dimitri, a lanky Ukrainian army soldier, no older than 20, looks at my passport in disbelief. ,,Do you also know the Bulldog, in Amsterdam?” Whether you are in Iraq, Palestine or Ukraine: with a Dutch passport there is always something to talk about.
War is mainly a lot of waiting here
Together with his comrade Vladimir, Dimitri mans a small checkpoint on the banks of the river, next to the only intact bridge in the wide region. The front line is miles away and the days are long: war here is mostly about waiting. Sitting among the pine trees, the young soldiers pass their days smoking apple-flavored cigarettes and checking luggage and passports for the few who want to cross the bridge.
Dimitri, happy with some company, gestures for us to smoke a cigarette. We park the car next to the concrete blocks covered with camouflage netting on the side of the sandy path. Dimitri points to the green tree-line on the other side of the reed-filled field. “All my cannabis plants are there. I water them every other day. It is Dutch seed”, says Dimitri proudly. After three cigarettes and a cup of coffee we say goodbye to the two soldiers and continue south.
Three huge buds of weed appear in his hands
On the way back to Kharkiv we take the same way back. Even before we are over the water, Dimitri appears from behind the checkpoint. He quickly runs after our car. “Stop, stop!” he yells. With his Kalashnikov dangling on his back, he overtakes our car and grabs on to the handle of the door, which swings open with a bang. The car comes to a stop and Dimitri continues to pant. “Here, I told you so,” Dimitri shouts proudly as he unfolds a crumpled piece of paper. At least three huge buds of weed appear in his hands. ,,This is from last year, because it is still too early to harvest now. But I’m telling you: in Ukraine we can also do something about it.”