Hello darkness

Even after the longest night, it will be morning again in Ukraine

Sumy, eastern Ukraine, December 2025

What does war sound like? The wail of the air alarm of course, the dull thud of artillery, the nasty whining buzz of drones, the silence as a funeral procession passes by and the ticking metronome over the public address system every morning at nine, to remember those who have died.

But it is also the deafening roar of generators ranged along the street, and the distinctive clicking sound which means the power is coming back on after hours of blackouts. These are also the sounds of war.

Imagine yourself in a busy cafe, people drinking coffee, ordering a cake, scrolling on their phones. Suddenly the lights go out all at once, the coffee machine stops, and the whole place goes momentarily quiet. It takes a minute or so for the barista to fiddle with some wiring and wheel the generator outside and then the roar starts up and the lights come on again. The barista returns to making coffee, the hum of conversation begins again. You can continue to drink your Ethiopian single origin filter and recharge your phone.

Generator, but make it Xmas

In Odesa the Russians have been attacking the city for over a week, striking its energy infrastructure and the only bridge linking Odesa region to Moldova and the EU. It has been a non stop horror show of cluster munitions, ballistic missiles and hundreds of drones. For days there was no light or water at all, in this city of a million people. But no one looted shops, no one fought with neighbours - instead people charged their devices in supermarkets and invincibility points - while electricity workers managed somehow to restore power bit by bit. Slowly, gradually some vital services were switched back on, for a few hours each day at least. Although the relentless attacks have continued.

Back in Kyiv, a young chef friend pulls up the next day’s blackout schedule on his phone ‘the top trending post nowadays!’ he jokes. Depending on when the lights are on he might have to start work at 5.30 in the morning - rushing to the restaurant as soon as the curfew lifts at 5. He might end up finishing at 11.30pm, if the main oven only works late at night.”we have to prep whenever we can!” He does military service 5 days a week - something to do with ammunition, and continues his kitchen job on the other two days.

A baker friend tells me how he cycles through dark streets to start up his bread oven, in the race to get everything baked before the power goes down. They have a generator but it isn’t powerful enough to reach the fierce heat he needs to bake sourdough bread. It still costs a fortune in fuel to run and maintain, but businesses have no other option if they want to stay open.

Blackout streets

At night Ukraine’s cities are shrouded in a strange blackness, lit by traffic lights and Christmas decorations which remain stubbornly on. We see menorahs too in the centre of Sumy and Kharkiv in the east, and on the main shopping street in Kyiv. No one is vandalising Jewish symbols here.

My friends have managed to rig up an Ecoflow charging station to the lights in their flat. The building managers have invested in a generator to power the lift, which goes all the way to the 26th floor. There is talk of giving a lift pass to residents who’ve paid into the fund for the generator - the rest would have to walk. When I first stayed with the friends in 2022, the best they had during blackouts was a bottle with battery operated fairy lights wrapped around it and a torch. It’s a learning curve.

It’s an unsettling feeling, walking though dark streets with a phone torch while GPS is scrambled to confuse Russian drones. You tread more carefully, so as not to slip on unseen ice or veer down an unknown path.

But last night, we went to a Ukrainian Christmas music concert in a huge warehouse which normally hosts raves. Whole families were there, dressed in embroidered vyshyvanka shirts and shaggy sheepskin coats. The acapella music was incredible, powerful, beautiful, uplifting. The whole event was extraordinary. And the loudest applause was for the soliders “who make it possible for us to be here together on this night. And we continue to live”.

Christmas music in Kyiv

War sounds like exhaustion and terror and pain, but it also sounds like this - a nation which lives, and sings, and fights, and reaches for the light.

And even after the longest night, it will be morning again.