Trapped in Russian-occupied Oleshky, residents eat garden weeds as city faces total blockade

At least 29 civilians confirmed killed in Oleshky this year; volunteer estimates suggest approximately 1,200 deaths total. Children suffer malnutrition and lack medical care. Two civilians were killed by drone strike on 20 September while attempting to bring food home.
Some bodies have been on the streets since December
Russian occupation authorities restrict burials of those killed by drones or mines, forcing decomposition in open air.
Mark

So Halia and the others—they're literally starving. One meal a day, and it's bread and tea. How long can people actually survive on that?

Mimi

The UN data suggests at least 29 confirmed deaths this year, but the volunteer count is around 1,200. That's the gap we're looking at. Malnutrition is documented, especially in children. It's not fast starvation—it's slow degradation.

Luke

Right, but we need to be careful here. The 1,200 figure comes from one volunteer's spreadsheet. The BBC says they cannot independently verify it. We know 29 is confirmed by the UN. Everything between those numbers is estimate or local report.

Mark

What about the bodies on the streets? That seems like something that would be easier to count.

Mimi

That's where the occupation authorities have made counting impossible. They won't allow burials unless a Russian doctor certifies the cause of death as natural. No drone kills, no landmine victims. So bodies stay where they are.

Luke

And the BBC has photos of this, but they're too graphic to publish. So we're relying on resident testimony and images we can't see. That's important to name—we know it's happening, but we're not seeing the full evidence.

Mark

The food situation seems almost designed to break people psychologically. Weeds, one meal a day, no shops, no way out.

Mimi

It's described as a blockade, but it's also a siege. The Dnipro River cuts them off on one side, Russian forces on the other. They're trapped. And the restrictions on burial—Vrataryova calls that psychological pressure too. The message is: don't try to resist, or you'll end up like them.

Luke

The Kremlin says it's working to resolve the crisis and blames Ukraine. Ukraine says it's a full blockade by Russia. Both sides are making claims. What we can verify is that food deliveries stopped in May, the city has no utilities since the dam collapse in 2023, and residents are eating weeds. That's solid ground.

Mark

Is there any chance this changes? Any humanitarian corridors being negotiated?

Mimi

The Foreign Minister called for international pressure at the UN. But there's no sign of movement. The blockade is still in place.

Luke

And that's the forward-looking question: will the international community actually pressure Russia, or will Oleshky remain a forgotten pocket?

  • With no food deliveries since May, residents are boiling garden weeds to survive, while children suffer visible malnutrition and the city's single partial hospital performs only emergency amputations.
  • A husband and wife were killed by a Russian drone on September 20th while trying to carry a bag of groceries home from a town 23 kilometers away — the curfew made their return impossible.
  • Volunteer records suggest approximately 1,200 deaths in Oleshky, a figure growing by one or two names every day, while Russian occupation rules forbid burying anyone killed by violence without a post-mortem examination that cannot be performed.
  • Bodies have lain on streets since December; the unpowered hospital morgue holds decomposing remains, a condition one humanitarian worker describes as a deliberate tool of psychological pressure against the surviving population.
  • Ukraine's Foreign Minister addressed the UN General Assembly calling for international pressure on Russia to permit humanitarian access, while Russia claims its military is working on the crisis and blames Kyiv for the blockade.
  • Oleshky remains sealed — its people eating weeds, burying their dead in secret when they can, and waiting for relief that has not arrived.

In the occupied Ukrainian city of Oleshky, roughly 6,000 people — a quarter of the prewar population — endure what humanitarian observers are calling a total blockade: no food deliveries since May, no electricity, no water, and no safe passage out. Two civilians were killed by a drone on September 20th simply for attempting to bring groceries home, a detail that distills into a single moment the vast machinery of deprivation bearing down on an entire community. Across history, sieges have always weaponized hunger and grief; what distinguishes Oleshky is that the dead cannot even be buried — their presence on the streets a deliberate instrument of fear. The world has been asked to look, and the question now is whether looking will become acting.

Halia's phone cuts out mid-sentence. She has just told the BBC that two more civilians died the night before in Oleshky, the Russian-occupied Ukrainian city where she is trapped. When contact is restored three days later, she explains who they were: a couple she knew well, killed by a drone on September 20th after they traveled 23 kilometers to a neighboring town to bring home food and could not return before curfew fell.

Oleshky sits in southern Kherson, separated from Ukrainian-held territory by the Dnipro River and occupied by Russian forces since 2022. Its population has collapsed from 24,000 to roughly 6,000, including 200 children. There is no electricity, no gas, no water. The last food delivery arrived in May. Halia eats once a day — bread, sometimes with a tomato or honey. Around her, neighbors boil garden weeds and share recipes for survival on local Telegram channels alongside desperate offers to trade scraps of food. Children are malnourished. One hospital opens a few days a week for critical amputations. Schools are closed.

Counting the dead is nearly impossible. The UN has confirmed at least 29 civilians killed in Oleshky and a nearby town this year, but volunteer Ksenia Arkhipova maintains a spreadsheet of roughly 1,200 names — people killed by drones, landmines, or violence — growing by one or two entries every day. One resident confirmed that Russian soldiers came to her parents' home wanting to take it, and shot them inside.

Russian occupation rules forbid burying anyone killed by violence without a post-mortem by a Russian doctor — an impossibility in a city with no functioning medical system. Some bodies have lain on streets since December. Others decompose in an unpowered morgue. A humanitarian co-founder describes the policy plainly: a tool of psychological pressure. The BBC obtained photographs of the conditions but found them too graphic to publish.

The Kremlin has acknowledged a "critical situation" in Oleshky while blaming Kyiv for the blockade. Ukraine's Foreign Minister, speaking at the UN General Assembly, called it a full blockade by Russian forces and urged the international community to demand humanitarian access. Ukraine has attempted deliveries but has not succeeded. The people of Oleshky remain cut off, eating what the ground offers, and waiting.

Halia's phone cuts out mid-sentence. She has just told the BBC that two more civilians died the night before in Oleshky, the Russian-occupied Ukrainian city where she is trapped. Three days later, when contact is restored, she explains who they were: a husband and wife she knew well. They had traveled to the neighboring town of Radensk, 23 kilometers away, to bring home a bag of food. But they could not make it back before the Russian-imposed curfew fell. A drone killed them both. Four separate sources have confirmed their deaths on September 20th.

Oleshky sits in southern Kherson, pinned between the Dnipro River—which separates it from Ukrainian-held territory—and Russian forces that have occupied the city since 2022. Before the full-scale invasion, 24,000 people lived here. The Ukrainian government now estimates roughly 6,000 remain, including 200 children. The city has become a front-line pocket of survival, where the basic infrastructure of life has collapsed. There is no electricity, no gas, no water. The last food delivery arrived in May. Shops are shuttered. Residents cannot buy clothes or hygiene products. The blockade is total.

Halia eats once a day—dinner only. Bread, sometimes with a tomato or honey, and tea. That is her meal. Around her, other residents have begun cooking garden weeds, boiling them to make them safe. On local Telegram chats, people discuss which weeds are edible and share recipes for preparing them. The same channels carry desperate exchanges: offers to sell, swap, or share pieces of food. Children in the city are suffering from malnutrition. Medical services have nearly vanished. Only one hospital remains partially operational, opening a few days each week to perform critical amputations. Schools are closed. The Ukrainian government says children in Oleshky are "degrading" without access to education.

Counting the dead in Oleshky is nearly impossible. The UN Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine has recorded at least 29 civilians killed and 54 injured in Oleshky and the nearby town of Hola Prystan this year. But local volunteers believe the true number is far higher. Ksenia Arkhipova, a volunteer who escaped the city in summer 2022 and has since worked on food deliveries and evacuations, maintains a spreadsheet of the dead. She has compiled roughly 1,200 names, with dates of birth. The list grows by one or two people every day—someone killed by a drone, someone else who stepped on a landmine. The BBC cannot independently verify these figures, but residents have provided detailed accounts of their own losses. One woman, identified as Tetiana, confirmed that both her parents were killed in Oleshky this summer. Russian soldiers came to their home wanting to take it, she said. They were shot inside.

Russian occupation authorities have imposed restrictions on burials that make even counting the dead a form of control. Bodies of those killed by drones, landmines, or any means other than natural causes cannot be buried without a post-mortem examination by a Russian doctor—an impossibility in a city with no functioning medical infrastructure. As a result, only those who die of natural causes are permitted burial. Some bodies have been lying on the streets since December. Others are piled in the local hospital morgue, which has had no power since winter. Ester Vrataryova, co-founder of the charity Humanity, describes this as "a tool of psychological pressure." "If you try to bury a dead body, you'll become the next one," she says. The BBC has obtained numerous photographs from residents showing the decomposition of bodies on streets and the presence of stray dogs feeding on remains. The images are too graphic to publish.

In early September, the Kremlin acknowledged that Oleshky faced "a critical situation" with "problems with supplies of food and medicine," but claimed that Russia's military was working to resolve the crisis and blamed Kyiv for the blockade. Ukraine's Foreign Minister Andriy Sybiha rejected this framing. Speaking at the UN General Assembly in New York, he described Oleshky as living under a "full blockade" by Russian forces and called on the international community to pressure Russia into allowing humanitarian aid into the city. Ukraine has attempted to deliver supplies in recent months but has not succeeded. The people of Oleshky remain cut off, eating weeds, burying their dead in secret, and waiting for a relief that has not come.

I eat once a day, a dinner only. I make some plain bread, sometimes I can have it with a tomato, or with some honey, and a tea. That's it.
— Halia, resident of Oleshky
This is a tool of psychological pressure. If you try to bury a dead body, you'll become the next one.
— Ester Vrataryova, co-founder of charity Humanity
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