Introduction:
In
1993, we spent three weeks in Belarus making a documentary about the
disaster at the nuclear power plant at Chernobyl. For the entire
duration of our stay, our main interpreter was a local journalism
student, Irina Kouropatkina. And over those three weeks, she became
our friend, our minder and our mother. I asked Irina for her memories
of that time, and she wrote this beautiful piece… enjoy.
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| Irina (R) interpreting with Ali Hewson |
Black
Wind, White Land
When
I was asked to help a film crew from Ireland during production of the
documentary about Chernobyl, I agreed immediately. I did not care
that I would miss three weeks of classes right before my final exams.
First of all, the request came from a man called Marat Egorov whom I
respected greatly. At the time I had volunteered for an organisation
led by him called The Peace Fund. By 1993 it shed its old Soviet
ideological skin (at least in Belarus) and focused a lot more on the
issues which were more relevant to Belarusian people. One of the
issues that the organisation was focusing on at the time was
providing support to families and especially children affected by the
Chernobyl disaster. I was a 3rd
year student of broadcast journalism at the Belarus State University,
so an opportunity to work with a real film crew, and to observe and
learn sounded like 90% of my dreams coming true. I had no idea who
Ali Hewson was. I knew Adi Roche whom I met before through the Peace
Fund. The Chernobyl Children Project in collaboration with the Peace
Fund of Belarus was carrying out a Rest and Recuperation Program for
the kids from the Chernobyl-affected areas of Belarus. Through the
program, I travelled to Ireland as a chaperone with a group of small
children. I was really supportive of the program because I have
personally witnessed the positive impact it had on the kids whose
health and lives were forever affected by the Chernobyl disaster.
My
responsibilities at the very beginning of the production were
tentatively described as an organiser and an interpreter. I was asked
to help with various arrangements like scheduling interviews,
obtaining permits and providing interpretation during interviews. In
Minsk we had 2 additional interpreters, but on the road, I was the
only one. So, my interpretation services covered many other
interactions including exchanges with our wonderful driver Leonid on
whom I came to rely many times during the trip. When a girl like me
in torn jeans did not have the clout to persuade butchers at the
Hoiniki farmers market to let us film them, it would be Leonid
talking to them during a smoke break and explaining in his own words
what these inostrantzy
(foreigners)
were trying to do. A supply of vodka which we had in the van was a
helpful source of encouragement in many of such negotiations.
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| Selling personal possessions on the street for cash |
At
the time three types of currency were accepted in Belarus: a
Belarusian ruble, a Russian ruble and a US dollar, but one needed to
know when and where to use those different types of currencies as
they weren’t created equal. One could pay for almost everything in
Belarusian rubles, Russian rubles were accepted for goods but not for
food or produce, US dollars were only accepted at special stores in
Minsk and large cities but otherwise needed to be exchanged into
rubles at official locations. Vodka, on the other hand, was a
universal type of currency! One could imagine that our fearless
producer Liam Cabot needed some help figuring things out. So, in
addition to interpreting I was now being trusted with handling small
amounts of cash…
As
the time went on and we listened to the countless stories of pain,
suffering, and also heroism from the everyday people in Belarus, we
truly bonded. We did not talk about it, but it was clear to me that
everyone in the crew felt like we needed to tell the best story we
could possibly tell: we were obligated now to do right by everyone
who trusted us with their emotions, their pain and their truth. Gerry
Hoban, the film director, and Isobel Stephenson, the editor, noticed
that everyday people responded to me and opened up to me through
informal conversations in Russian or Belarusian as the crew was
setting up for each interview. The subjects would naturally stiffen
up as the camera started rolling for the formal sit-down interviews.
So I was encouraged to interview them, or just to talk with them. I
will forever be grateful to Gerry, Isobel, and most importantly Ali
for trusting me to interview many people featured in the film by
talking to them informally, encouraging them to tell their stories.
It
was clear to me from the start that ordinary people would be at the
centre of the documentary. It seemed like cameraman Donal and
soundman Dan were ready to roll on a spur of a moment… the scenes
at the cemetery during Radunica,
the Day of the Departed, is when emotions were pouring out of people,
a flow of sadness and pain mixed with joy. It was the only day when
the villagers evacuated after the disaster who were resettled and
dispersed across the country were allowed to return to visit the
cemetery, to remember those who came before them and reconnect with
each other. We asked one of the old ladies to take us to her house
which she had been forced to abandon with everything in it a few
years earlier… The villagers were not allowed to visit their old
houses – the radiation in the dust was concentrated and dangerous.
Local police escorted them to the cemetery and back. The exception
was made for us and capturing it on film was one of many important
highlights of the project for me. As she was walking us through her
yard, crumbling and overrun with weeds, leading us to her house which
was ransacked by looters, my heart was breaking for her… and every
emotion and every tear in the deep wrinkles of her face were captured
by our brilliant cameraman Donal as she was peering through the
broken windows.
On the road, I felt
like it was my responsibility to take care of the crew as well as I
could! After all, they were visitors in my country. Luckily, many of
the essentials were provided by Dunne’s Stores supermarket, so I
did not have to look for basics which in many cases weren’t
available in stores at the time even in Minsk, let alone Hoiniki. But
some tasks were a bit more difficult than others – for example,
placing phone calls to Ireland.
At the time, placing an international phone call was not a simple
task and it took time. Firstly, one had to make a reservation for a
call (they did not happen immediately) for a specific time, then one
needed to be there by the phone at the time of the call, receive it,
talk to the operator and then, once the call was, hopefully, answered
on the other side, acknowledge it and pass on the receiver to the
original requester. If the call remained unanswered I would ask to
wait until the voicemail machine picked up, but it did not always
work. So, I would negotiate with an operator to reschedule the call
in half hour.
One
of the calls was on Bono’s birthday. Ali really wanted to call and
wish him a happy birthday. It was a rare moment when he was at home
during a tour. Later, we learned that someone was listening on the
call as the news of Ali’s call to Bono made the pages of tabloids.
That was as close I ever came to fame and being in a tabloid paper!
Also, I got a chance to say hello to Bono, but at that time, I was
just helping our presenter Ali to wish a happy birthday to her
husband.
Keeping
the crew healthy was an entirely different matter. While no major
ailments fell upon us, bouts of overindulgence resulted in some
interesting moments. One such moment followed an invitation to a
wedding celebration in a village. There is a beautiful scene in the
film featuring a bride and groom walking down a paved road towards
the camera as a symbol of the future and hope for Belarus. After the
shoot, Leonid the driver and I left for a very short time to unload
the equipment at the hotel, but by the time we came back (which was
not a long time), the effects of what turned out to be homemade
moonshine were in full swing… collecting and shepherding the crew
into the van was like herding cats… some who should remain nameless
were already resting on a nearby bench…others were chasing geese
and chickens, attempting to drive a buggy, or explaining in detail to
men who did not speak a word of English how Ireland and Belarus are
essentially the same… but I had a very strong sense of
responsibility. I needed the crew at least to be vertical the next
day to continue working.
Many
memories. Too many to count. Many laughs. Many tears. Many
discoveries. Sitting
in our blue van with Freedom by George Michael blaring as we drove
through the exclusion zone: it became our mobile living room. Stories
and jokes were told, cigarette smoke filled the cabin, limbs went
numb from uncomfortable but much needed naps. Donal explained to me
song by song in a lot of detail the genius of “Achtung, Baby!”
which to this day remains my favourite U2 album.
After the last night in a military hotel (calling it a hotel is huge stretch), which was the only lodging available for us that night, I needed to make sure that I collected all the keys and returned them to the reception. Of course, and for obvious reasons, several keys made it all the way to Ireland.
At the airport, lovely Donal (who throughout the trip helped dramatically enrich my English vocabulary) filled out his customs forms; in the space reserved for listing valuable possessions that need to be declared, he wrote Our lovely Irina.
I miss Donal and his passing resonated with all of us. I feel how important it is to stay in touch with people who made a difference in your life and touched you emotionally, before it is too late.
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| Our Thank You card for Irina |
My
Belarus. My people. I got a chance to discover them up close and
personal. Their stories have stayed with me for over 25 years. An old
lady who lived on the land all her life, worked with her hands and
knew every blade of grass near her house was now locked into a tiny
apartment on the top floor of a twelve-story apartment building…so
far from her land, from her life, from everything she knew and loved.
She told me that to her there was nothing worth living for anymore.
It was sad and incredibly touching, and to me it was the soul of the
film.
The
film was about the land and the people, contaminated land and
shattered lives, abandoned villages and their forgotten former
inhabitants with stories that weren’t listened to. The science of
the Chernobyl disaster has been researched extensively, and a new
high-tech sarcophagus now covers the doomed 4th
reactor - the station itself is closed. Yet, it is the human tragedy
which will never end, because much of the land is still contaminated
and will remain contaminated for decades. One human tragedy is a
universe in itself, and there were hundreds of thousands of human
tragedies which followed that fateful explosion…telling a few of
them with care and honesty, making them known for generations to
come, to me, that’s what this film was about…When I saw the
first cut of the documentary, I cried, but also felt incredibly proud
to have been part of this project.
Those
three weeks (which felt like months) were an experience which is and
will forever be with me. My friends got tired of my stories very
quickly, so now I mostly keep them to myself and reminisce
occasionally after a glass of wine. But mostly, I appreciate how much
good came out of this film. The Chernobyl Children Project became a
leading international charity organisation which has helped and
continues to help hundreds of thousands of people in Belarus and
Ukraine. Ali serves as one of the CCI patrons and board members.
April 26 is known as the day of the worst nuclear disaster in human
history. It is not forgotten.
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