kyiv (Ukraine) (AFP) – A little lady, her round face hidden by a cascade of straight hair and large dark glasses, came among many others to cry out her pain for the Ukrainian soldiers detained in Russia. Suddenly, a young woman breaks through the crowd to jump into his arms: “Mama Tania!”

Published on: 09/11/2026 - 14:36

The world of “Mama Tania” turns upside down for the first time in 2022, when her son Artem is captured during the fighting for the Azovstal factory, an episode that has become emblematic of the Russian siege of Mariupol.

Like him, some 2,500 Ukrainian soldiers were taken prisoner after weeks of resistance in this port city in southeastern Ukraine.

In shock, she barely ate for a month. Then it rebuilds itself. And enter into struggle.

She joined the Association of Families of Defenders of Azovstal and demonstrated every Sunday with other families in kyiv to make the voices of those absent heard and push for their release.

Tetiana Vychniak, a shy 47-year-old mother, despite herself becomes “Mama Tania”, the voice of the families of Ukrainian prisoners of war.

Denial

From then on, she made public speaking engagements, trips abroad and meetings with government officials.

The fierce struggle of the soldiers of the Azov unit entrenched in the immense Azovstal steelworks made its defenders heroes to many Ukrainians, fueling the national narrative of resistance to the Russian invasion.

Originally formed as a paramilitary group to fight pro-Russian separatists in 2014, Azov has long been criticized, particularly in the West, for its ultranationalist and far-right roots.

Despite its subsequent integration into the regular Ukrainian army and several reforms initiated by kyiv, Moscow continues to exploit this sulphurous past in its propaganda.

For AFP, Tetiana remembers the capture of her son and the last message received shortly after: "I love you, I am proud of my parents. We will not be in contact for a long time, but everything is fine, don't worry", she reads on her phone.

Then comes, for his mother, the denial of his capture. "I didn't believe it until the end. I just couldn't accept it."

But four years and nearly 400 protests later, that same phone rings. On the line, the Ukrainian security services: “Congratulations.” His world turns upside down again. His son is free.

“Not a life”

“I remained frozen, in shock,” says Tetiana. “I couldn't fully rejoice just because my son was home.”

Because she must show restraint. Around her, the wives, mothers, daughters and sisters of detainees are “still waiting”.

While nearly 10,000 Ukrainian prisoners have been released in exchanges with Russia since the start of the invasion, few of them are Azov fighters. kyiv has little say over who Moscow chooses to release.

After their release, many Ukrainian soldiers described having suffered torture in Russian prisons: beatings, humiliation, rape and deprivation.

So “Mama Tania” continues to take on her role and carry the voice of the approximately 500 defenders of Azovstal still in captivity.

Every day, with military discipline, she runs to demonstrate in front of the government office responsible for prisoners of war and continues interviews. His phone never stops ringing.

"I don't call it a life. Just a 24/7 battle," she says.

However, in front of the camera, the gaze remains shifty, the hands trembling. The time she can devote to Artem is becoming scarce.

He tries to make up for lost years, see his friends again, travel.

But like many Azov veterans, he is already talking about a return to the front.

With moist eyes, Tetiana assures that she will not stop him: “I can support him and be there for him, or say no, but he will still leave.” She pauses. “It’s his destiny. It’s up to him to build it.”

So she waits. Ready, if necessary, to fight for him again. “It’s my duty to fight for my child,” says “Mama Tania.” “Because my child is my life.”

© 2026 AFP

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