Reconstruction in Ukraine | When graphic designers learn to build walls

Hundreds of thousands of Ukrainians are dead or wounded. About a million people are serving in the army. A large number are trying to evade military service. Only a few men between the ages of 25 and 60 are seen on the streets in civilian clothes. Those who don't want to join the army leave their homes only in exceptional circumstances.

The military authorities' inspections are becoming increasingly regular and tight. They want to recruit men for the front lines. Ukraine constantly needs new soldiers. At the same time, many have left the country, mostly heading west. "Five million Ukrainians have gone abroad," Ukrainian Economy Minister Yulia Svyrydenko told the AP news agency in April.

This number is enormous considering that there are only nine million workers left in the country – before the Russian invasion, there were around 19 million. The result is an acute shortage of skilled workers in key industries. This shortage is particularly noticeable in traditionally male-dominated sectors such as mining and construction.

This necessity has given rise to creative solutions. For almost three years, the construction union Profbud has been offering training courses where non-specialists learn how to build walls, plaster walls, or lay tiles. What this means in practice becomes clear on a rainy spring morning in Kyiv.

The workshop is located on the ground floor of an inconspicuous prefab building in a residential area of ​​Kyiv. The entrance is easy to miss; a small sign announces the course offerings. A dozen people gather in the cramped classroom: ten women, two men—an unusual mix for a craft course.

The instructor

They stand in a semicircle around a large bucket in which the instructor, Walentyna, is stirring a viscous gray mass with a man-sized stirring rod. The 38-year-old is wearing a red sweater, gray overalls, and sneakers. Her long eyelashes and carefully applied eyeshadow contrast with her manual task.

After Walentyna explains the mixing ratio of water to cement, everyone gets to try it out. Many have never held a trowel before. Some immediately venture forward, others observe from a distance.

The course participants transport the fresh concrete in buckets next door. They've already set up a laser device there to level the floor. Walentyna instructs her students: Place spacers, empty the bucket, and that's it. While a participant is already mixing concrete independently in the next room, the foundation for the tiled floor is being built.

"Within ten days, people who have never done anything in construction before learn the basics," says the course instructor. The woman with the strong back, long eyelashes, and carefully applied eyeshadow underscores the goal of the course. It's meant to be self-help. "Afterward, you can already do smaller jobs yourself," Walentyna continues. "If you want, you can of course take further courses."

The war damage in Ukraine is devastating. According to the statistics portal Statista, the damage to residential buildings since the beginning of the Russian attack amounts to over 50 billion euros. While numerous destroyed buildings are located in occupied territories, even if these were to fall permanently to Russia, a construction and repair boom would be expected in the rest of the country. Despite the war, Ukraine's gross domestic product rose from 142 to 160 billion euros in 2022. Should there be lasting peace, this increase of 12 percent could continue even further.

These are good prospects for the skilled trades. Due to the labor shortage, construction workers are in a good negotiating position, explains Vasyl Andreyev, chairman of the 57,000-member trade union Profbud. The comparatively good pay is hoped to attract women to the industry. According to the job placement website "work.ua," a bricklayer earns around €740 a month, over €200 more than the average. Since the outbreak of the war, earnings have increased by 17 percent.

Halyna Bondarchuk is the chairwoman of the construction workers' union in Kyiv. She somewhat tempers the high expectations of her industry. The training courses haven't yet attracted many workers. So far, only a small percentage of participants have actually entered the construction industry. Profbud now offers such craft courses in several regions of Ukraine.

In some places, experiments are also being conducted with alternative building materials. "These walls are made of a mixture of straw, hemp, and clay," says Halyna Bondarchuk proudly, pointing to a small wall segment. "In three to four days, a piece like this will be dry and ready for use." This natural construction method is intended to be used primarily in areas like Chernihiv, Sumy, and Mykolaiv, where the damage is extensive.

Courses in woodworking, electrical engineering, and welding are also offered. Each course lasts ten days, and participation is free for both members and non-members of the union. Some attend regularly. Just like in courses at a German adult education center, contacts are made and friendships are formed.

But even in this relaxed atmosphere, the war is omnipresent. And not just because the course wouldn't exist without it. "My husband was on the front lines for three years," says 42-year-old Wya, who is attending the training course for the first time. He is currently in rehabilitation after an injury. He will likely return to the army afterward, says the mother of three.

The graphic designer wants to learn through the course "how I can help my mother with repairs; my father has already passed away." Has anything changed for Wya in recent years? "Not really," she says, her voice a little shaky. For her and her family, the war began in 2014. Her husband volunteered at the time. This makes it "easier for her to cope with the situation" today.

Course instructor Valentyna's husband also joined the military after Russia's annexation of Crimea and the occupation of Donbas. He volunteered for front-line duty as a reservist after the 2022 invasion. However, due to multiple injuries, he has since been released from service.

Wya "can't understand" how many of her fellow countrymen were able to suppress the war until the major Russian attack in 2022. Her slightly graying hair is shaved at the sides. In Western Europe, people like her are expected in women's centers and alternative communities. But the question of whether she's happy to be mostly among women in the class seems to irritate Wya. "Men have a different approach, but I think it's good that the group is mixed."

Role models are breaking down

The course instructor agrees. "It makes no difference to me whether my students are men or women," says Walentyna. "Those who come here are motivated and want to work – gender doesn't matter." Women are "a bit more versatile," but the most important thing is "to assign everyone the right task," then things usually run smoothly.

However, there are still gender stereotypes. This becomes apparent in the course when one of the two male participants, without much expertise, takes it upon himself to mix concrete and explain to the assembled group how it's done.

The fact that emancipatory feminism is not yet widespread in a tentatively opening Ukraine is also evident in the situation when the photographer asks the group for a tampon. It is handed over almost mysteriously, as if it were something taboo, if not forbidden. Before doing so, however, the whispering women forcefully expel the man who had just been stirring the concrete from their circle.

As in other Eastern European countries, traditional values ​​shape social life in Ukraine. While "people are fighting for equal rights," says Walentyna, the question of whether she considers herself a feminist also somewhat puzzles the woman in overalls. At Profbud, the focus seems to be more on practical work than on theoretical debates.

After an hour, the first participants fetch instant coffee and cookies. Meanwhile, the sun has come out and warms the terrace in front of the shop, framed by chestnut trees. Some people are smoking thin filter cigarettes. There's laughter and gossip. Halyna Bondarchuk sits at a small camping table, enjoying the fresh air. She squints in the sun and looks contentedly at her apprentices. That's what happens in war, too. A completely normal workday and a little bit of confidence.