Q.—What new illnesses have appeared?
The head teacher.—Diseases of the thyroid, the eyes, the heart. They often have headaches. Back pain. Their attention span and memory are not what they should be in children. It’s definitely to do with the radiation.
Q.—Since Chernobyl, are you more lenient towards them, or do you carry on as normal?
The head teacher.—No I am no more lenient.
Q.—But, if it is difficult for them to learn...?
The head teacher.—In what way, difficult?
Q.—Well, their memory…
The head teacher.—First of all, we’ve had no directive from the minister. If they haven’t achieved the required level, they have to do it again. They need to follow the curriculum… set out by the government.
Q.—So the children are under pressure from both sides. First, their health and then their schoolwork?
The head teacher.—Yes, there’s pressure from both sides. The school text books are so theoretical, so far from their lived experience.
Q.—If you were free to choose, what would you teach them?
The head teacher.—I would concentrate on what will be useful to them in life. The most useful subject for them is agriculture. If the school is in a rural area, these subjects need to be taught. The child needs to know more about problems in agriculture, in animal rearing. Even more so now that we are changing over to a market economy. In time there may also be agrarian reform. The children need to be taught how to run a private agricultural enterprise. Basically, be educated for the workplace. It’s even more important, given that we live in an area where the children are not allowed to go into the fields, not allowed to work there at all.
Q.—Because of Chernobyl?
The head teacher.—Yes, it’s not allowed. Before, for example, we had a field where we did experiments growing different crops. Now, we’re not allowed to do that.
Nesterenko.—Really? There is no clean land around the village for the children?
The head teacher.—It’s not allowed.
Nesterenko.—I don’t agree with this sort of blanket prohibition. If the land is not contaminated and the children won’t be exposed to radiation there, why should you not work there?
The head teacher.—Only if I get permission… Yes, I can take them to work in this particular field, but I have to get permission from the health service. Then they have to come here, assess the situation, take measurements. Only then would I be able to take them to work there.
2. THE ILL-INFORMED COW HERDER
On the road, we stop to talk to a former teacher. She is now retired and is looking after two cows. We take measurements in the field with a Geiger counter.
Q.—The grass should be fine here. There is no radioactivity.
The cow herder.—So it isn’t dangerous. Because we’ve got no idea, do you see? The authorities don’t tell us anything. This field was allocated to us. Of course, our grass isn’t that good. Last year, we were allowed on to the next field, but this year—I don’t know why—we’re not allowed. Yesterday, we put our cows on it and we were chased off. They are treading on the same ground. It’s a big field but even so. Can you see what the grass is like?
—And in winter? What do you do for hay?
—We make provisions. The kolkhose (collective farm) helps us too; they give us their plot. They cut it for us, we rake it up and store it for the winter. Last year, we had good weather and we gathered enough hay for our three animals: a horse and two cows. I don’t know what it will be like this year… At the beginning, there was a lot of panic. Children were evacuated but it was never ours that were taken.
—Were they measured?
—No, no-one measured them. The children are weak, you know, very sickly. There is a lot of illness. The medical examinations are very superficial, they’re not very thorough.
—Many of the food products contain radionuclides. It’s the same all over Belarus.
—Of course, but how can you find out? We’ve been going to the woods all of our lives. I used to love going there, for example, but now I no longer have any desire to go. We want to, and we go, but then we don’t know what we’ve collected… Basically, we’re afraid. If someone could just come and measure it with a dosimeter from time to time. There are services for that, after all.
—They don’t do it?
—No, they don’t. We don’t know anything. We go and collect berries, we look at them… I look at maps of the area showing the contaminated areas. We check. It’s mainly for the mushrooms. My children pick them, and I throw them out secretly. It’s a shame, because nature is wonderful. But it’s all been destroyed. Who is to blame?
Chapter IV
OLMANY
3 mSv/y, 5–15 Ci/km²; 210 km from Chernobyl
2000
Nesterenko.—Polessie is famous because it is one of the most beautiful areas in the country. The river Pripyat is not far from here, it crosses the country from West to East, parallel to the frontier with Ukraine, which is very close to where we are in the village of Olmany. The river flows into the Kiev basin near Chernobyl. The town of Pripyat, which was built 1.5 km from the nuclear power station, took its name from the river. Pripyat was abandoned permanently thirty-six hours after the disaster. After that it is the Dnieper River that drains the water and all the radioactive contamination in a southerly direction, as far as the Black Sea, along the series of dams that Ukraine has built. Near here, in Ukraine—we are about 3 km from the border—is the beautiful village of Perebrody, described by Alexander Kuprin in his novel Olessia. The book was made into a very good French film, with Marina Vlady.
Olmany is 200 km from Chernobyl. It’s very far away. You see, in your countries, in Switzerland, Germany and especially in France, they say that beyond 30 km there is no danger. Here we are 200 km away and look… The government has invested a lot of money here, to improve the fields. The president visited this village and this building was constructed with a clinic. Why? Because there has been an enormous increase in illness in children. There have been some improvements in agriculture; the milk is a little less contaminated. When we started work here in 1990, the milk contained 5000 becquerels of caesium-137 per litre. Today, it contains 800. There has been some progress but 800 is too much. It’s unacceptable. Children should not drink it when it contains more than 37 Bq/l.
The radioactivity was carried over these villages. The wind blew the clouds here, full of water. All that rain fell, and contaminated the soil. Significant amounts of radioactive iodine, caesium and strontium were deposited on the soil. I think that the harvests will be contaminated here for decades. That’s why the children need to take an adsorbent food additive at least three times a year—four would be better—to eliminate more rapidly the radionuclides that they have absorbed.
—Are new born babies protected by their mother’s milk?
—Quite the opposite. We know that when the mother consumes contaminated products, the radionuclides are eliminated from her body and are concentrated in her milk so that the child receives a contaminated food source. At 8–10 months, young babies can have already accumulated levels of 200–300 becquerels per kilo body weight. They are very badly contaminated by their mother’s milk. She decontaminates her body through the child. The medical principle that mother’s milk is best does not hold if the milk is “dirty”; it’s better to give the baby artificial milk. The child will be healthier. Of course, the cow’s milk needs to be clean. That’s why we have an LRMC from our institute at this medical centre. The school nurse, Pasha, works here as a dosimetrist. Everyone who lives here can bring their milk and have it tested for free. But if it is contaminated, it needs to be purified with a cream separator. Unfortunately it all costs money and they haven’t got any.
—There is no cream separator.
—No, and it would be necessary?
�
�How much does it cost?
—About 60 dollars.
—What happens. How does it work?
—You take 3 litres of milk. You fill the cream separator and after ten minutes, the radionuclides are concentrated in the skimmed milk, which you discard. The cream is clean. You dilute the cream with boiled water. For example, if the milk contains 200 Bq/l, there will only be 30. Then the milk can be given to children.
—And they don’t have this machine here?
—We would need 500–600 of them to give to the most contaminated villages, but unfortunately we haven’t got any.
This precarious financial position lasts for years. The salaries that Nesterenko can pay his staff are very low and some of his qualified colleagues, with families to support, have had to leave, even though they have been convinced and committed since the start of this venture, to working alongside him. Like the Siberian peasants, who cross flowing rivers during the thaw by jumping from one piece of ice to the next, Nesterenko has ensured the survival of his institute, at the cost of chronic high blood pressure, by borrowing, asking for help and relying on the patience of his colleagues. Every month he has to come up with something to keep the institute going. He has a heart condition since flying over the reactor just after the accident, and because of the persecution he has endured, but his optimism is astonishing. He stands aside from the absurdity of it all, in order to save the children which is his sole preoccupation.
Nesterenko.—There are 1,100 villages in Belarus, like this one, where the milk is contaminated at dangerous levels. For children 37 Bq/l is the maximum admissible. But in 350 villages, the milk contains more than 100 Bq/l. Obviously the children should not be drinking this milk. Today, we found milk that contained 400 Bq. And unfortunately they are drinking it. Of course, to do it properly, each family needs to have a cream separator to decontaminate the milk. It would be better still if the cattle fodder was treated with adsorbents, and then the milk would be cleaner. But since 1997, the government no longer does this.
1. LIONIA OF KOSHARA
This boy of 14 does not have any “health problems”, as he describes it, but he cannot speak normally; he has difficulty pronouncing certain letters and syllables, he stammers and he finds it hard to know how many brothers and sisters he has in his family. The dosimetrist Pasha has just measured him. About fifteen girls, a little older than him, are waiting their turn.
Nesterenko.—536! Why is he so contaminated? This is the highest dose I’ve recorded today 536 Bq/kg! Can you bring us some milk? Half a litre. It will be tested, the milk will be kept and you can take it back home again, no problem. Can you do that? Maybe after school?
Lionia.—I live at Koshara.
Nesterenko.—Ah, Koshara, that’s quite far! Tomorrow we’ll be working here. Bring it to us straight away tomorrow morning.
Q.—How far is it to Koshara?
Lionia.—Five kilometres.
Q.—Five! We can just go there in the car.
Nesterenko.—But you have classes until 1 o’clock.
Lionia.—Till midday.
Nesterenko.—Alright, maybe just after. Have you got some milk in the house?
Lionia.—Yes.
Q.—Where do your cows graze?
Lionia.—On the marsh. (This makes the girls laugh)
Nesterenko.—That means that they take the hay from the marsh, so the hay is contaminated. (In a low voice). The girls are laughing now, but we will be measuring them too… Then we’ll do the calculations.
Q.—Will you bring some milk?
Lionia.—Yes.
At 12.20 we arrive with half a litre of milk and we give it to Pasha.
Nesterenko.—You have the highest levels of contamination of anyone I have measured today. No-one has a higher level. Have the doctors given you an examination? How did that go?
Lionia.—I’m OK.
Nesterenko.—No problems?
Lionia.—No.
Nesterenko.—Well done!
Pasha.—Here we are; the radiometer has beeped. Look at the result: 1042 Bq/l! (The norm is 100. In Russia, it’s 50…).
Nesterenko.—We need to test the hay. Where is it from?
Pasha.—You get it near to the Vis, don’t you? Is that it?
Lionia.—No.
Pasha.—Where do you get it?
Lionia.—Near to the house.
Pasha.—Where the marsh is? Near Morlitzy?
Lionia.—Yes.
Nesterenko.—Have you got any brothers and sisters?
Lionia.—Yes.
Nesterenko.—How many?
Lionia.—…
Q.—How many have you got?
Lionia.—My little sister, she’s not walking…
Nesterenko.—That’s one.
Lionia.—My brother…
Nesterenko.—That’s two.
Lionia.—One brother who has done his military service.
Q.—Three. You’re the fourth…
Nesterenko.—Where does your father work?
Lionia.—At the moment he…In winter, he worked as a driver.
Nesterenko.—And in summer?
Lionia.—In summer, before, he worked as a fireman… he doesn’t do it anymore.
2. THE DOSIMETRIST AT OLMANY IS A LIVING LABORATORY
Pasha.—We write the date on the form. Here we write the measurement. Here the result: 207 Bq. And here is the norm. It doesn’t appear on the print-out; we write it in ourselves. The norm for milk is 100 Bq/l. And we sign it. They keep it and when they come again they can measure and compare. Because they can’t remember it. They look at the form again and read it: this month it was so much. They can find different hay, feed it to the cow for two weeks and do another measurement. So they can judge for themselves the quality of the hay from certain marshes and how much radioactivity there is in the milk. That’s why I give them the forms.
Q.—In general, are they disciplined? Do they monitor it the way you would like them to?
—Well, not all of them. There are some families who take care of themselves, who bring the hay on their own initiative, who monitor it. There are some who can’t be bothered. “I don’t want to know about the radioactivity, I want to live in peace”. And there are people who know and are prepared to do something about it but who are simply in a difficult financial situation. They can’t buy clean hay, they can’t buy food from the shop and they just have to eat what they can grow. The majority are like that. That is the largest category. Because they are poor, they cannot afford clean food and they just have to eat what’s there. Salaries are so low, and they are never paid on time. You know what a disastrous situation we face here in our Republic. Everyone is poor, and miserable, about our shame and misfortune, I don’t know what to say. We have to live, to survive. It’s more about surviving. I’m concerned about these things because I live here and it really matters to me what I eat. I came to work here voluntarily, I asked to do it.
—Ten years ago, then.
—Yes, it was in 1991.
—What conclusions did you come to?
—I would say this. When I first started to work here, I was monitoring everything myself. I went on walks; I asked a lot of questions. I was curious to know how much radioactivity there was in this or that place. Blueberries for example, I would measure them in one place and then in another, and I asked people to bring me them. I would measure them and I always marked down which woods they came from. The name. I would go there myself, and in this one there was more, and in another there was less and in another, it was perfectly normal. So I would know that if I wanted to gather blueberries myself, I would go to this wood. And I explained all this to people. I could already draw my own conclusions, choose the least bad.. Even if nowhere was absolutely clean, at least I knew which was the least contaminated.
—What is the general
state of health in people in the village? Have you noticed any changes over these last ten years?
—All the doctors say that it’s getting worse. All I can do is repeat what they say...And the inhabitants…I sense that I am less well myself. I have insomnia. I don’t sleep any more. I feel apathetic, in a torpor. I think I want to sleep, I lie down but I can’t sleep. I can see in my own case that it is getting worse. I don’t know what has caused it. I’m getting old, of course, but I’m not that old yet, I’ve a long way to go before I’m eighty. For myself, I think it’s the radioactivity. Everything hurts. Sometimes, it’s my heart, but I have a congenital malformation, so it could be explained by that but also by the other, but it’s getting worse, I’m certain of that… I don’t really want to talk about it. There’s rarely anything good to say, and I don’t want to remember the bad stuff. It’s depressing. If I forget about it, everything seems OK but when I want to go down to the river, in summer, or into the woods, I remember that I’m not supposed to. Even if I go into the woods, I don’t enjoy it the way I used to, there is no longer the same atmosphere… Nature is beautiful, but when you know that you aren’t allowed there… it’s unbearable. You can’t experience the same unadulterated joy. You can’t see anything, everything appears normal, but you are always aware…
After the disaster, as my son was six, I wanted to have another child. I tried twice and it didn’t work either time. I had miscarriages. I don’t know what they were due to, but I think it was the radioactivity. When I had my first miscarriage, there were many pregnant women who had abortions and miscarriages. I thought it was probably because of the radiation. Then I tried once more, and the same thing happened, I couldn’t get pregnant. I didn’t really want to try again. My health has been badly affected. I’m 40. I would like to be a mother again but I’m frightened now. I don’t feel very well, and then I lose heart. I am on edge all the time, I try to control it but it isn’t always possible. The insomnia is a torment. Many of the villagers complain of the same fatigue, apathy and irritability. In general, health is deteriorating. People complain, of course, but they all have the same symptoms, they are all very similar. When I hear other people talking, they could be talking about me.
The Crime of Chernobyl- The Nuclear Gulag Page 45
