Lacking staff, Ukraine’s rural communities are missing out on crucial reconstruction funding. In the early days of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Russian armored columns advanced east along the Zhytomyr highway toward Kyiv. Makariv, a small town of about 10,000 people located 36 miles west of Kyiv, was on their path. The town was severely damaged during the month of fighting that followed. Roughly 40% of its infrastructure was destroyed, and by April 2022, the bodies of 132 executed civilians had been recovered. A 2026 account estimates the death toll as high as 238. However, Makariv was never fully taken. Russian forces only controlled about 10% of the town, and Kyiv remained secure behind it. “For some reason, Makariv was bypassed in the press,” said local museum curator Vitaly Gedz in a 2026 interview. “They wrote about Makariv twice, ‘it was occupied and then liberated’ … It was only 10% occupied, but it was very badly destroyed.” During a visit to Makariv the previous year, we visited Gedz’s museum, where among the displayed items were military maps recovered after Russian forces withdrew. Russian units were found to be using Soviet-era maps, some dating back to 1969, with the modern border between Russia and Ukraine often added in pen. In the early days of the invasion, Ukraine’s national road agency also asked communities to remove road signs to disorient Russian forces. For a short time in 2022, this helped protect Makariv. That is no longer the case. Ukraine’s recovery needs now stand at nearly $588 billion—almost three times its GDP for 2025. This figure is still rising, with damaged energy assets alone increasing by about 21% between February 2025 and February 2026. According to a recent BBC analysis, Kyiv is also now experiencing more daily air raid alerts than at any time during the war. This increased bombardment follows comments from Pyotr Tolstoy, a deputy speaker of the Russian parliament, who urged strikes on Ukrainian cities “to demoralize the public.” As a result, funds for reconstruction across Ukraine must be carefully rationed, and this rationing depends on specific records. Ukraine’s national recovery and reconstruction efforts are managed through two main online databases. The first, the Register of Damaged and Destroyed Property, records which buildings have been harmed, who owns them, and their value. An entry in this register allows households and businesses to claim compensation and forms the basis for any future reparation claims against Russia. Getting a building onto this list is the responsibility of each local council. The fourth assessment of Ukraine’s reconstruction needs found that, in December 2024, the register held information about “90+ percent” of damaged apartment blocks in Ukraine but only “nearly 60 percent” of damaged single-family homes. One survey of a block can register hundreds of dwellings, while a street of houses must be walked gate by gate by staff, a task small councils generally do not have. Like many other small settlements across Ukraine, Makariv is built mainly of houses, the category the register is worst at recording. The second database is the Digital Reconstruction Ecosystem for Accountable Management, more commonly known as Dream. This is the official platform for the Ukrainian government’s public investment plan. Councils enter their own projects, and funders choose from what is available. The project data local authorities need to provide include descriptions, building designs, budget breakdowns, contracting and payment records, and even photos, all of which take time and require money to record. This matters in towns and villages where public servants may not have the resources or experience. We looked up what Makariv has put into Dream. Its council has registered 70 projects on the portal. Nearly 50% carry no costed amount at all, compared with 24% nationally. An uncosted project cannot be funded, bundled, or compared. This absence has consequences. In July 2025, we held a workshop in Makariv with around 30 residents, including teachers, clerical staff, museum workers, and veterans. Interrupted by air alerts, they marked a plan of the settlement spread across two tables. One woman traced her journey to work, which has grown from 5 miles to 20 miles since the overpass where the Makariv road crosses the Zhytomyr highway was wrecked in 2022. Others pointed out that when a fire breaks out in Makariv or the surrounding villages, the fire engine now comes from Byshiv, nearly 14 miles away, as Makariv’s own station has been destroyed. None of this argues against digital reconstruction. Ukraine’s systems are among the most transparent anywhere. It is an argument about who does the work of being counted, because a system that asks local authorities to enter themselves will always favor those with staff to spare.