Passing on data about russian vehicles from occupied villages.

When the camera went silent, people remained. About ten of our staff lived in villages around the Zone. Before the invasion they hosted guests and helped with tour logistics. Now, together with relatives and neighbors, they passed on which vehicles were moving where.

When invaders come in, they cut off communications and news: people must come to feel that nothing exists in the world except russia. So our friends memorized where the enemy stood, walked to the one single spot where a Ukrainian mobile signal barely reached and quickly passed on the coordinates. They could have been shot on the spot for it. The enemy often stood right next to their houses, and we asked them: once you have sent it, move away so you are not hurt by our own artillery. Everything they sent, we forwarded to the Security Service of Ukraine and the General Staff.

In return, people got the truth. The invaders told them Kyiv had already fallen. One of the first questions in one of those conversations was: "Is it true the president has left and everyone is preparing to surrender?" They had been convinced that no one would come for them. Hearing that everyone was in place, that they were remembered and that help was fighting its way to them was an enormous relief. They understood they had to hold on until they were liberated.

Throughout the occupation we pushed for a humanitarian corridor for the Ivankiv district. We spent two hours explaining it to David Gorman of the Centre for Humanitarian Dialogue. An official corridor was never opened. But we did get a few families with children out - along paths and across fields.

We agreed to talk about all this only when all those people were safe.