Ukraine or Death: A Tribute to Roma “Sova” Tarasiuk. Sergeant, Son, and Kayfarik

Most of the words you hear in your life, you forget. They mean nothing. Not to you, not to the people who said them. But some you will remember forever. “This is Ukraine. You drink beer, and your friends die.”

Gaba laughs. It is the typical bittersweet sentiment that fills the air on this sunny evening in April. We’re sitting in a park in central Kyiv, two Ukrainian soldiers—Gaba, Sova—and two journalists—Cocobongo (Conall Kearney) and I. One year ago, we were also together, but not in the park. Trapped in a basement, the Russians had overrun and surrounded us.

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War in Ukraine

The Story of the Kayfariki, Or How We Were Trapped for 14 Hours Under Russian Assault and Actually Made It Out Alive

May 05, 2024 08:30

Sova and Gaba, both of them sergeants, led the 14-hour battle for the position, for our lives, and theirs. Roma and three others were wounded, but we made it out alive. It became the best-performing report ever published on UNITED24 Media. More importantly, it became a memory that forged an intimate friendship between us.But sooner or later, there is no escaping death. Not in life, and especially not here. “This is Ukraine. You drink beer, and your friends die.” They might die in their sleep, killed by a Russian drone falling on their head. Or they fall in battle. 

This April, after a couple of beers in the sunset, we go home. Soon after, Gaba and Sova head out to the frontline. Only one of them will return. On May 26, 2025, Roma Tarasiuk, callsign “Sova” (Owl), is killed. He dies like a warrior: In a close-proximity firefight with an enemy group.Last week, he was laid to rest in Kyiv. His funeral is attended by hundreds. Among them were his mother, sister, and many of his friends and comrades who have accompanied him since he was a skinny little kid. Born and raised in Krivyy Rih, a rough, uninspiring industrial city in central Ukraine, Sova was always on the lookout for the unusual. With too many tattoos at a much too young age, he loved skating, punk rock, and, for a while, being an emo. With hair dyed in bright colors, large parts of Ukrainian society in the early 2000s perceived Sova as a provocation. “Every day—fighting,” he told us about this time, “it was, tipa, a really shitty experience.”

But that’s who he was. He skated, he dyed his hair, he made tattoos, he played loud music, and, if necessary, he would fight for the freedom to do so. 

Well aware that if Ukraine were to be conquered by Russia, this freedom would not exist, he joined the army in early 2022. Together with friends, they created a unit that became known as the “Kayfariki”, which loosely translates to “those who enjoy life”. The Kayfariki are, in large parts, like Roma, a bunch of oddballs and misfits. Skaters, hooligans, punks, and other weirdos. During the war, Sova started his own clothing brand. “Ukraine or Death”. A simple slogan and an interdependent analogy. One, sadly, cannot exist without the other. Sova’s death, like so many others, is the price for a free Ukraine. 

As his coffin was laid to rest, his comrades shared last words: Stories of a man who fought and bled for his country. For his friends. A man who probably, deep down, very well knew that this day might come. A man who went to fight anyway. That is also how we would like to end this article, with another example of words, which, together with the memory of a man without whom we would not be alive today, will last forever. Because truth be told, that’s what he did: he saved our lives. There is no other way to put it, and we owe him everything. Us two journalists, standing with our cameras, being incredibly outnumbered and filming Russia’s full-on frontal assault, we shouldn’t have survived. But we did. Thanks to Roma “Sova” Tarasiuk, born 1994 in Krivvy Rih. 

Now, just over a year later, he is gone. As American writer Kurt Vonnegut once accurately described the unbelievable but unavoidable violent reality of war: “So it goes.” 

Diary Entry. Cocobongo. Donbas, April 2024.

Darkness started to creep in, but so did the Russians. After 14 hours of battle, ammunition started to run low, and with every member of the squad injured, staying another night in the basement would almost certainly mean death. 

After asking what the plan was, Roma, the commander, answered that dying today was not part of the plan but admitted that our breakout would have a very low chance of success. 

Under the cover of darkness and Ukrainian artillery, we successfully managed to reach a shallow, empty trench behind our position before all hell broke loose. 

Seemingly every Russian left alive on this side of the town started to fire in our direction as we ran along the trench. This was quickly followed by the squeals of incoming artillery and mortars, their impacts briefly lighting up the dark sky and mixing with the Russian tracer rounds, making for a macabre light show. You could clearly see that our old position was now completely in flames. A Russian drone followed our every movement. It’s buzzing, managing to overpower the sound of gunfire at times. Thankfully, we moved fast enough that the artillery fire could never catch up with the drone operator’s coordinates.

The sight of a Russian BTR panicked us, but before it had a chance to be a threat, two reinforcements that managed to reach us had eliminated the crew inside. 

Diving from trench to trench, hiding in cellars, and running for our lives. We finally reached “safety” after what felt like an eternity, and a Ukrainian APC was able to pick us up and evacuate us. The first photo was taken while we waited on the APC. 

Shocked and happy that we somehow managed to escape hell with miraculously nobody being killed.

If you want to donate to Roma “Sova” Tarasiuk’s family, you can do it here: Paypal: ttemryava@gmail.com

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