Beauty Salon Near Ukraine Front Offers Brief Respite from War

Maryna Skromnaya didn't think twice about making the 40-minute to the salon. Genya SAVILOV / AFP
Maryna Skromnaya didn't think twice about making the 40-minute to the salon. Genya SAVILOV / AFP
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Beauty Salon Near Ukraine Front Offers Brief Respite from War

Maryna Skromnaya didn't think twice about making the 40-minute to the salon. Genya SAVILOV / AFP
Maryna Skromnaya didn't think twice about making the 40-minute to the salon. Genya SAVILOV / AFP

Maryna Skromnaya was ready to face shelling and explosions to get her hair done at a salon in Pokrovsk, the eastern Ukrainian city under intense Russian attack.

"I need to stay beautiful rather than run around looking like Baba Yaga!" she said, referring to the mythical forest witch who feasts on children.

Her blue eyes now framed by a fresh bob cut, the frail 57-year-old stood up from the hairdresser's chair and flashed a peace sign in a brightly lit mirror.

The salon's roaring trade exemplifies how thousands of Ukrainians living in partially deserted and shelled-out frontline towns are trying to cling to a sense of how things used to be, AFP reported.

Its pristine white-walled salon is a rare pocket of normal daily life in Pokrovsk, even as Moscow's forces less than 10 kilometers (six miles) away, are closing in.

The mining city was home to 60,000 people before Russia invaded.

Its population has plunged from around 48,000 to 16,000 over the last month, according to the authorities, who are urging all residents to leave.

Skromnaya was preparing to heed that advice, but wanted to savor a few final moments at home.

That included a haircut at her favorite spot, even if it meant a 40-minute walk to get there.

"Public transport? You may as well lie down on the floor waiting for it. It's gone," said Skromnaya.

'Always something exploding'

"You can always start walking, turn your music on, go feel beautiful," she said.

But venturing outside in Pokrovsk these days is perilous.

"There were bangs here, bangs there, there's always something exploding," Skromnaya said, waving her arms left and right.

Inside the salon, the buzz of hair clippers and blow dryers barely covered the thuds from the front line, some seven kilometers away.

Facing increased Russian bombardments, the authorities have ordered residents to stay inside their homes for 20 hours a day.

So would-be customers were constantly rushing in, pleading for a slot in the narrow window between 11:00 am and 3:00 pm -- outside the strict curfew.

"Look at me, I look like a bum!" one man joked, lifting his cap to reveal a slightly uneven cut.

Salon worker Natalya Gaydash shook her head apologetically. He didn't have an appointment.

The team was doing its best to squeeze in as many clients as possible.

"The war is not a reason to just lay down and die with your hair undone, your nails unclipped and dirty," said 32-year-old Gaydash.

The salon will stay open as long as the Russians are far enough away, said owner Ludmila Kovaleva, who opened the place five years ago.

"How can you stop going to work if people are waiting for you?"

'Empty soul'

"People come for a slice of positivity," Gaydash said.

"Some come to share their problems ... others share a bit of joy with us."

Feeling fresh and handsome after his trim, 54-year-old Yury Chaplygin beamed, revealing a few golden teeth.

"There's a good atmosphere, you can drink coffee as you wait for your turn," the locomotive driver said in a deep voice.

The few remaining workers from a nearby market, now mostly closed, hustled round the salon's coffee machine, sharing gossip for a few minutes.

Another beauty salon just round the corner, owned by Kovaleva's sister Iryna Martynova, recently shut its doors.

"Clients used to get served by my sister, then go see me, then go back to my sister just like on a merry-go-round," Martynova said wistfully.

But people stopped trickling in after the evacuations stepped up in August.

Martynova's salon is now empty, save for a few shelves covered in blue plastic wrap.

The door was cracked in a recent shelling attack.

"This is not normal, and with every day that passes it's getting even more abnormal. I've already made up my mind, I'm leaving," Martynova said, tearing up at the thought of having to start all over again.

She was taking some comfort that her former clients, now spread all across Ukraine, have already started calling her to see where she'll go and if they can make a booking.

"This is my life's work, my favorite job. I'm left without it. My favorite clients, I've known them all for years. Now my soul is empty."



Indian Artisans Tackle Waste with Creative Upcycling

In this photograph taken on September 17, 2024, a person with disability, recycles plastic waste as part of the Avacayam employment program by the Society for Child Development, in New Delhi. (Photo by Sajjad HUSSAIN / AFP)
In this photograph taken on September 17, 2024, a person with disability, recycles plastic waste as part of the Avacayam employment program by the Society for Child Development, in New Delhi. (Photo by Sajjad HUSSAIN / AFP)
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Indian Artisans Tackle Waste with Creative Upcycling

In this photograph taken on September 17, 2024, a person with disability, recycles plastic waste as part of the Avacayam employment program by the Society for Child Development, in New Delhi. (Photo by Sajjad HUSSAIN / AFP)
In this photograph taken on September 17, 2024, a person with disability, recycles plastic waste as part of the Avacayam employment program by the Society for Child Development, in New Delhi. (Photo by Sajjad HUSSAIN / AFP)

The world's most populous nation India has a waste problem to match, but one group hopes their efforts can inspire change in one of the top polluters of plastic.

At a bustling workshop north of the capital New Delhi, artisan Ram Babu turns a discarded cigarette packet into a papier mache candle, AFP reported.

Babu, a 28-year-old amputee, is among scores of people with disabilities who have been trained to turn "trash to cash" and do their bit for the environment.

"It feels good to work despite my challenging situation," beamed Babu, as he deftly covered the packet with clay, using sprinkles of water.

Life held little hope for Babu after he lost his right hand and leg in a train accident in 2005.

But he found courage again when he stumbled upon the Avacayam employment program, run by the Society for Child Development, a New Delhi-based charity.

The word "Avacayam" comes from Sanskrit, and roughly translates to "gathering flowers".

Avacayam participants turn orange and yellow flowers that were offered in temples and later gathered up into incense sticks and colored powder used widely in festivals.

They also transform fallen idols of Hindu gods and goddesses -- often left piled under sacred trees -- into sacred powder for temple rituals.

"I have been working for more than 14 years now. My life has found a new direction and purpose," said Babu, who earns 10,000 rupees ($120) a month.

Others like Babu make decorative items, bags and pouches out of recycled waste, which is collected every day at their sprawling center.

Plastic bottles are also reused to make a variety of craft products.

The group's efforts scrape the surface.

In India, municipal governments with limited resources often struggle to manage mountains of waste, with towering piles of foul-smelling rubbish littering the edge of New Delhi.

India generates more than 65 million tons of waste in a year, according to a report by The Energy and Resources Institute, a New Delhi-based research group, but only around a fifth is processed and treated.

A study in Nature published this month named India as the largest plastic pollution emitter, producing nearly one-fifth of global plastic emissions.

Global experts -- including the multi-nation "High Ambition Coalition" -- argue the focus must not only be on waste treatment, but urgently required control measures on plastic production itself.

Charity groups such as Avacayam say they set an example, doing what they can.

"We collect waste and trash from offices, homes and factories," said Madhumita Puri, the founder of the Society for Child Development.

"Then we recycle them to make beautiful things which can be enjoyed again."

Puri said the work also helps people with disabilities live a life of dignity.

Abdul Sheikh, whose legs were stunted by polio, had little means of employment until Puri's charity knocked at his door.

"I learnt that day that we should never lose hope in the face of adversities," said Sheikh, 30, who makes decorative papier mache items.

"Now I don't have to depend on others for anything. I don't have legs but today I am standing on my feet."