The blackouts in Kyiv creep up on you. There is no Hollywood moment when the whole city goes dark or when the twinkling lights of a block of flats go out in unison.
Instead, these cuts happen sporadically, with a sense of tiring unpredictability. The electricity will be cut from half a building, but not the other. They will come back on, then go off once more.
One side of the road will be lit up; the other will be dark.
The people of this country, and of this city, are well accustomed to dislocation and nervousness. From the very earliest days of this conflict, it’s been obvious that resilience runs like a seam through the Ukrainian national character.
But this is different. There is no adrenaline rush in coming home to find that your heating doesn’t work and you can’t cook food.
And so we visit Pozniaki, a Kyiv suburb to see how life continues as night falls and the electricity fails.
Nina ushers us into her apartment, using the torch on her mobile phone. She is 66 years old, blessed with a sense of energy and purpose.
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Her apartment was damaged by shrapnel at the start of the war but she shrugs at the memory, as if it is a scar to be worth with pride. “I am not afraid of anything. I am at home – why should I be afraid of them? Let them fear us!”
But blackouts are different.
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She says the apartment would be almost impossible to inhabit in winter if there were no electricity to power the heating system. “But let’s live and see how it will be.”
Beside her, a candle slowly burns down.
Life does go on. Pet cats and dogs come to see us. Children play in a playground, their parents standing nearby for the moment when the lights go out. And you also realise, once more, how mobile phones have changed our lives – almost everyone now has a torch in their pocket.
At the top of the block is Viktoria, who teaches English and is preparing to conduct lessons by candlelight. She is determined to persevere, despite the travails of life in this city “because I fight for the rights of my people, of my country. I am a patriot. I love my country. I am Kyivite and I am a Ukrainian”.
‘We are tenacious, we will survive’
Serhii guides us into the basement of the building. There is a new generator, bought with money clubbed together by the residents. They’ve also invested in some wood-burning stoves.
“I think you can still live here,” he tells me. “It is possible to survive somehow. We are tenacious people. We will survive.”
Tenacious, but also frazzled and fraught. Like the Blitz, when the myth of cheerful stoicism overtook the reality of fear and dread, Kyiv is a blend of emotions. You can, after all, accept that it is your national duty to accept blackouts but also be angry that you are in this situation in the first place.
We meet Ksenia as she is crossing the road with her husband and two children. She is an English teacher living in an apartment near the busy road. When she starts talking the words come rolling out, laced with tiredness and emotion.
“We haven’t got electricity. We haven’t got gas in our half of the building. I’ve got a little child and I can’t cook. I can’t feed him. It’s very bad.
“I can’t work because my work is online. I need electricity, but I haven’t got it. So at the end of this month, I hope I can earn money to buy food for my family.”
“It isn’t difficult, it’s impossible. I think it’s impossible to live in such situation, in such a difficult, strange situation, because it’s Kyiv. It’s the capital of Ukraine.
“Can you imagine how people live, for example, in the village or in another small town? It’s very difficult, but it’s better. They can make fire and cook there. We can’t even do this.”
It is all too easy to generalise about Ukrainians as a nation where every pain is accepted, and every hardship is a step towards victory.
But the reality is that life is hard for just about everyone here – emotionally, financially and physically. Across Ukraine, people do dream of victory, but what they also pine for is the simple pleasure of mundane normality.
A body has been recovered from a South African mine after police cut off basic supplies in an effort to force around 4,000 illegal miners to resurface.
The body has emerged from the closed gold mine in the northwest town of Stilfontein a day after South Africa’s government said it would not help the illegal miners.
Around 20 people have surfaced from the mineshaft this week as police wait nearby to arrest all those appearing from underground.
It comes a day after a cabinet minister said the government was trying to “smoke them [the miners] out”.
The move is part of the police’s “Close the Hole” operation, whereby officers cut off supplies of food, water and other basic necessities to get those who have entered illegally to come out.
Local reports suggest the supply routes were cut off at the mine around two months ago, with relatives of the miners seen in the area as the stand-off continues.
A decomposed body was brought up on Thursday, with pathologists on the scene, police spokesperson Athlenda Mathe said.
It comes after South African cabinet minister Khumbudzo Ntshavheni told reporters on Wednesday that the government would not send any help to the illegal miners, known in the country as zama zamas, because they are involved in a criminal act.
“We are not sending help to criminals. We are going to smoke them out. They will come out. Criminals are not to be helped; criminals are to be prosecuted. We didn’t send them there,” Ms Ntshavheni said.
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Senior police and defence officials are expected to visit the area on Friday to “reinforce the government’s commitment to bringing this operation to a safe and lawful conclusion”, according to a media advisory from the police.
In the last few weeks, over 1,000 miners have surfaced at various mines in South Africa’s North West province, where police have cut off supplies.
Many of the miners were reported to be weak, hungry and sickly after going for weeks without basic supplies.
Illegal mining remains common in South Africa’s old gold-mining areas, with miners going into closed shafts to dig for any possible remaining deposits.
The illegal miners are often from neighbouring countries, and police say the illegal operations involve larger syndicates that employ the miners.
Their presence in closed mines has also created problems with nearby communities, which complain that the illegal miners commit crimes ranging from robberies to rape.
Illegal mining groups are known to be heavily armed and disputes between rival groups sometimes result in fatal confrontations.
In the courtyard of a farmhouse now home to soldiers of the Ukrainian army’s 47th mechanised brigade, I’m introduced to a weary-looking unit by their commander Captain Oleksandr “Sasha” Shyrshyn.
We are about 10km from the border with Russia, and beyond it lies the Kursk region Ukraine invaded in the summer – and where this battalion is now fighting.
The 47th is a crack fighting assault unit.
They’ve been brought to this area from the fierce battles in the country’s eastern Donbas region to bolster Ukrainian forces already here.
Captain Shyrshyn explains that among the many shortages the military has to deal with, the lack of infantry is becoming a critical problem.
Sasha is just 30 years old, but he is worldly-wise. He used to run an organisation helping children in the country’s east before donning his uniform and going to war.
He is famous in Ukraine and is regarded as one of the country’s top field commanders, who isn’t afraid to express his views on the war and how it’s being waged.
His nom de guerre is ‘Genius’, a nickname given to him by his men.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not a minefield’
Sasha invited me to see one of the American Bradley fighting vehicles his unit uses.
We walk down a muddy lane before he says it’s best to go cross-country.
“We can go that way, don’t worry it’s not a minefield,” he jokes.
He leads us across a muddy field and into a forest where the vehicle is hidden from Russian surveillance drones that try to hunt both American vehicles and commanders.
Sasha shows me a picture of the house they had been staying in only days before – it was now completely destroyed after a missile strike.
Fortunately, neither he, nor any of his men, were there at the time.
“They target commanders,” he says with a smirk.
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It takes me a moment or two to realise we are only a few steps away from the Bradley, dug in and well hidden beneath the trees.
Sasha tells me the Bradley is the finest vehicle he has ever used.
A vehicle so good, he says, it’s keeping the Ukrainian army going in the face of Russia’s overwhelming numbers of soldiers.
He explains: “Almost all our work on the battlefield is cooperation infantry with the Bradley. So we use it for evacuations, for moving people from one place to another, as well as for fire-covering.
“This vehicle is very safe and has very good characteristics.”
Billions of dollars in military aid has been given to Ukraine by the United States, and this vehicle is one of the most valuable assets the US has provided.
Ukraine is running low on men to fight, and the weaponry it has is not enough, especially if it can’t fire long-range missiles into Russia itself – which it is currently not allowed to do.
Sasha says: “We have a lack of weapons, we have a lack of artillery, we have a lack of infantry, and as the world doesn’t care about justice, and they don’t want to finish the war by our win, they are afraid of Russia.
“I’m sorry but they’re scared, they’re scared, and it’s not the right way.”
Like pretty much everyone in Ukraine, Sasha is waiting to see what the US election result will mean for his country.
He is sceptical about a deal with Russia.
“Our enemy only understands the language of power. And you cannot finish the war in 24 hours, or during the year without hard decisions, without a fight, so it’s impossible. It’s just talking without results,” he tells me.
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These men expect the fierce battles inside Kursk to intensify in the coming days.
Indeed, alongside the main supply route into Kursk, workers are already building new defensive positions – unfurling miles of razor wire and digging bunkers for the Ukrainian army if it finds itself in retreat.
Sasha and his men are realistic about support fatigue from the outside world but will keep fighting to the last if they have to.
“I understand this is only our problem, it’s only our issue, and we have to fight this battle, like we have to defend ourselves, it’s our responsibility,” Sasha said.
But he points out everyone should realise just how critical this moment in time is.
“If we look at it widely, we have to understand that us losing will be not only our problem, but it will be for all the world.”
Stuart Ramsay reports from northeastern Ukraine with camera operator Toby Nash, and producers Dominique Van Heerden, Azad Safarov, and Nick Davenport.
The adverse weather could lead to total insured losses of more than €4bn (£3.33bn), according to credit rating agency Morningstar DBRS.
Much of the claims are expected to be covered by the Spanish government’s insurance pool, the agency said, but insurance premiums are likely to increase.