By the next day, some residents began feeling ill, with nausea, headaches, dizziness, vomiting, and high blood pressure. Radiation had been spewing into the atmosphere for thirty-six hours. At last, the Soviet government ordered the city’s evacuation.
Within hours, Pripyat became a ghost town. Residents’ pets roamed the streets, searching for their owners. Firefighters remained behind to fight the blaze in the core of reactor number four.
Over the following days, the evacuation was broadened to include more than one hundred thousand people. Eventually, three hundred thousand were displaced.
Soon thousands of workers, mostly soldiers, were brought in to clean up the contaminated areas. They were known as liquidators, and they spent months razing villages to the ground and covering them with fresh earth, washing off roads, and chopping down and burying entire forests. The woods that Valentina and Oksana drive through on their way out of Pripyat is known today as the Red Forest. The trees were cut down and buried, and eventually the area was replanted with a grove of pine trees, which are extremely small due to radiation.
Before the accident, Ukraine provided much of the food and grain supply for the Soviet Union. The reactor explosion, however, destroyed crops and farmland for at least one hundred miles.
Because millions of people in the Soviet Union depended upon the Chernobyl power plant for heat and electricity, the damaged plant continued to be operated. It was not until 2000 that the last reactor was shut down.
In the weeks and months after the disaster, workers hurriedly built a coffin-like structure over the ruined reactor. It took 206 days to complete the concrete-and-steel shell. Because the radiation risks were so great, builders could only work on it in five- to seven-minute shifts. It soon became clear that the clumsily constructed coffin could not last.
In 2017, after more than two decades in the making, a new structure was placed over the coffin. Known as the “sarcophagus,” it is taller than the Statue of Liberty and is meant to safely contain the reactor for the next century. Hundreds of people from all over the world worked on designing, building, and transporting the thirty-five-thousand-ton structure.
Pripyat has never been resettled. Today it is a tourist attraction. Visitors can don protective gear and accompany a guide through the ruined city. Everything was left as it was in 1986, so Communist banners and flags still adorn buildings, although they are now in tatters. Windows are broken and gape like empty eyes; trees and vegetation have been allowed to run wild, so vines have overtaken many buildings. The amusement park that Oksana thinks of going to with her friends still stands, although its metal rides are rusted. The animals that its owners were forced to leave behind have died, but many of their descendants have gone feral and today run in the streets of Pripyat.
* * *
- - -
Immediately after the accident, wind carried radioactive dust across Ukraine, over the Baltic states, and into Scandinavia. Sweden began to suspect that there had been a nuclear disaster in Ukraine. Initially, the Soviets denied it. As more and more countries began accusing them of covering up an accident, Soviet officials realized they had to come clean. At nine p.m. on April 28, more than two full days after the explosion, the government finally announced the disaster on national television.
Parents were frantic to send their children out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, however, there were no evacuation plans. In fact, there was a suspicious shortage of airplane, bus, and train tickets. The prevailing opinion was that the government deliberately withheld tickets in order to prevent a mass exodus from affected areas.
Many children, however, managed to get to safer places. One of them was my dear friend Victoria Belfer. Much of The Blackbird Girls was inspired by her family’s experiences during World War II and the Chernobyl disaster.
After the nuclear accident, Victoria’s parents managed to get one airplane ticket. They sent Victoria to live with distant relatives in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. By the autumn of 1986, however, the relatives could no longer care for Victoria, and she was moved again, this time to Kremenchug, Ukraine. Finally, after living away from her parents for a year, she returned home.
When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, Victoria’s parents and grandparents filed to leave the country on humanitarian grounds. As Jews, they had suffered religious persecution for generations. Although they were permitted to leave Ukraine, initially no country would accept them, and they became stateless citizens. They lived in Italy for a year before the American government approved their paperwork. They moved to my hometown, Niskayuna, New York, and I met the girl who would become my lifelong friend.
I also met the rest of her family. Her grandparents Valentina and Yefim Khirge inspired the character Babulya and are two of the most resilient and courageous people I have ever known. Her mother, a talented music teacher, was also kind and brave. Sadly, she later died of leukemia, a common affliction for those who have experienced radiation poisoning.
I am grateful and fortunate that Victoria and her grandparents shared their memories with me. Despite the Nazis, bullies, and cowards they faced, they also met people who helped them. It is my hope that Valentina and Oksana’s story reminds us there are many good-hearted people in the world—and even when we have to look hard for them, they are always there.
Resources
IF YOU ARE experiencing emotional or physical abuse at the hands of an adult or another young person, please know it is not your fault. You did nothing wrong; you are not bad. You deserve to be treated with love.
One of the most important things you can do is TELL AN ADULT YOU TRUST. This grown-up might be a relative, a neighbor, a teacher, or a guidance counselor. Many teachers and school psychologists have gone through training to help children who are experiencing abuse. Remember, you are not alone; there are many people who care about you and who can help you.
Many organizations are devoted to stopping child abuse. For more information, please visit the websites listed below:
CHILDHELP. This nonprofit aids victims of abuse: childhelp.org.
THE AMERICAN PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION. This organization provides helpful resources about abuse, including education and prevention: apa.org/pi/families/resources/understanding-child-abuse.
CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION. This agency seeks to educate the public about abuse and violence: cdc.gov/violenceprevention/childabuseandneglect/index.html.
If you need help, you can also call the NATIONAL CHILD ABUSE HOTLINE at 1-800-4-A-Child (1-800-422-4453).
Further Reading
IF YOU’D LIKE to learn more about Chernobyl or life in the former Soviet Union in the 1940s and 1980s, I recommend the following books:
NONFICTION:
Alexievich, Svetlana. Voices from Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster. Translated by Keith Gessen. Normal, Ill.: Dalkey Archive Press, 2005.
Bellamy, Chris. Absolute War: Soviet Russia in the Second World War. New York: Knopf, 2007.
Hautzig, Esther. The Endless Steppe: Growing Up in Siberia. New York: Crowell, 1968; HarperCollins, 1987.
Ingram, W. Scott. The Chernobyl Nuclear Disaster. New York: Facts on File, Inc., 2005.
Kort, Michael G. The Handbook of the Former Soviet Union. Brookfield, Conn.: The Millbrook Press, 1997.
Manley, Rebecca. To the Tashkent Station: Evacuation and Survival in the Soviet Union at War. Ithaca: Cornell University Press: 2009.
Plokhy, Serhii. Chernobyl: The History of a Nuclear Catastrophe. New York: Basic Books, 2018.
FICTION:
Hesse, Karen. Letters from Rifka. New York: Puffin Books, 1992.
Lasky, Kathryn. The Night Journey. New York: Puffin Books, 2005.
Whelan, Gloria. Angel on the Square. New York: HarperCollins, 2003.
Yelchin, Eugene. Breaking Stalin’s Nose. New York: Henry Holt and Co., 2011.
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sp; Acknowledgments
I HAVE WANTED to write this story for more than twenty years. At a sleepover in ninth grade, a new friend told me she had survived Chernobyl when she was a little girl in Ukraine. That friend’s name is Victoria Belfer Zabarko, and we are still friends today. No words can do justice to the love and respect I have for her. I’m grateful to Victoria and her grandparents, Valentina and Yefim Khirge, for sharing their experiences with me.
From my first phone call with Kendra Levin, I knew I wanted to work with her. Frankly, I knew I desperately wanted to work with her. I’m thankful to Kendra for her guidance and insightfulness, and her ability to ask the right questions. Because of her, The Blackbird Girls became the story I had hoped it could be. I’m so fortunate Kendra is my editor.
Gianna Lakenauth is as clever as she is kind. Her comments always helped me see this story from a different angle. I’m grateful to everyone else at Penguin, especially Ken Wright, Nancy Brennan, Aneeka Kalia, Janet Pascal and the rest of the copyediting team, and the marketing team at Penguin Young Readers, particularly Venessa Carson, for their genuine enthusiasm for this book. Many thanks to Shreya Gupta for a breathtaking cover. I’m especially grateful to Maggie Rosenthal. Working with her has been a delight.
Every day I’m thankful Tracey Adams is my agent. Volunteering to unpack boxes at an SCBWI conference for the opportunity to meet her is one of the best decisions I ever made. Tracey believed in me—and this story—when I was at the lowest point of my life, and I’ll never forget it.
While I was drafting The Blackbird Girls, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. One Sunday morning, Mike felt strange; five days later, doctors discovered he had a ten-centimeter-sized malignant tumor. For the following year, Mike underwent grueling treatments: chemotherapy, daily radiation, major surgery, more chemotherapy, another surgery. Even when Mike was at his sickest, he enjoyed hearing about this story, and I could not have written it without surviving the highs and lows of cancer. I will always be thankful Mike is my love, partner, and best friend.
Our daughter, Kirsten, had just turned nine when we received her dad’s diagnosis. As we struggled to get through the next year, Kirsten became incredibly strong and resilient. She inspired many parts of this story. I’m so proud to be her mom.
My parents, Lynn and Peter, are both wonderful and tough. Without them, I couldn’t have managed my family’s journey with cancer, let alone finished writing this book. My mom has read each of my manuscripts before anyone else, and her comments are invaluable. After Mike was diagnosed, a week didn’t pass without her bringing over a pot of home-cooked soup, which was often the only food he could stomach. Every Monday night, she cooked a delicious dinner for us. My dad ripped out the bushes in our front yard that we didn’t like and planted new ones; he stained the back deck; and he showed me how to handle the household repair work that had once fallen to my husband. Most importantly, he and my mom cared for Kirsten when Mike and I could not, and they made her feel safe and loved.
My brother, Paul, was a constant source of support. He checked on me all the time, sent us care packages, and drew pictures of Kirsten as Wonder Woman and Mike as Superman. I’m glad I’m his sister.
Many thanks to my dear friend Chin-Lin Ching, MD, for her expert advice on cigarette burns.
I’m thankful for my family and friends, especially Deb, Janie, Richard, Julie, Matt, Mark, Bekah, Lucy, Amy, Alissa, Kate, Kim, Dan, Lili, Mike, Nicole, Stephanie, Randi, Melissa G., Michelle, Allison, Mary, Elizabeth, Cathy, Serena, Toni, Carl, Pam, Jim, Leslie, Chris, Adam, Sharon, Anne W., John, and Astrid. My friend and fellow writer Sara Raasch sent us gifts, frequently checked on us, and planned a writing retreat that I desperately needed. My daughter’s fourth grade teacher, Marion Kramer, cared not only about Kirsten’s education but also her emotional well-being, and helped her navigate the scary, confusing world of being a child with a critically ill parent. My rabbi, Scott Nagel, counseled and prayed with us, and every time I entered Congregation Beth Ahabah, I remembered that my home isn’t only where I live with my husband and daughter.
To all the readers, writers, teachers, librarians, educators, and bloggers: thank you.
Most of all, I’m grateful to writing itself, which gave me light during a dark time.
My cup runneth over.
About the Author
Anne Blankman has loved to write stories for as long as she can remember. She grew up in Niskayuna, New York, where she met a classmate who had survived Chernobyl and who eventually inspired Anne to write The Blackbird Girls. They are still friends to this day. Currently, Anne lives in Richmond, Virginia with her husband, Mike, her daughter, Kirsten, and two rescue cats. For several years, she worked as a children's librarian but now she writes full-time. When she isn't writing, Anne likes to spend time with her family, read, travel, knit, and go for long runs. She loves hearing from readers, and you can visit her at anneblankman.com or @AnneBlankman.
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