It is a weekday afternoon in Cherkasy, a city in central Ukraine on the bank of the Dnieper River, about 200 km south of Kyiv. A babusya (Ukrainian for grandma), printed headscarf tied under her chin, leans against a cold concrete wall with one hand and carefully lowers herself into the basement beneath a Soviet-era brezhnevka apartment block. Behind the heavy metal door, the stairwell smells of damp. And cold frankincense. You might think she is going into her cellar for potatoes, but you would be wrong: she is entering her parish church.
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