A light in the window
Reflections on Belarusian identity, culture, and history, and a translation and recording of a Belarusian poem.
For the entire week, I was thinking about Belarus and going through my memories – starting from childhood and up until the day I said goodbye to my family at the Minsk airport. For most of my life, I was separated from my heritage and sense of self and viewed the world through the narrow lenses created by the oppressors. Only after I left Belarus I saw the value of my culture and discovered the truth that was hidden from me growing up in the dictatorship.
History is written by the victors, and if you are born in an already conquered country, you are taught what your oppressors want you to know in order for you to stay subjugated and easily controlled. Despite numerous attempts and sacrifices throughout history, Belarus hasn’t been able to break free from Russian influence and domination. The recent presidential elections (or lack thereof) only solidified ties to Russia and erasure of everything Belarusian.
Since childhood, I was taught the twisted version of events and consumed the works of people who glorified Russia. It formed wrong ideas and perceptions of my native country, culture, and region. I thought that Belarus had never had talented and brave people and that Belarusians were weak in character. I believed that Russian culture was superior. I was ashamed of speaking Belarusian. I had no interest in learning about the neighboring countries, which historically and culturally were closer to Belarus than Russia had ever been.
Only in my 30s I discovered the stories of incredible courage, resistance, and talent of Belarusians and people from other Eastern European countries that I’d never heard before. Their ideas and work were considered dangerous to Russia because they gave people an example of bravery, freedom, and national identity. Their books were burned or buried deep in the secret archives. Their lives were either cut short or spent in banishment and under severe surveillance. Yet, decades and even centuries later, their work continues to inspire and resonate. The more I learn, the more I am shocked at how much knowledge was hidden from me. The system where I grew up was created to discourage and prevent people from ever seeking and finding out about their uniqueness and power. Right now, learning the true history of my native region and reconnecting with my culture feels like an act of resistance against the never-ending Russian oppression and aggression.
Last year, I discovered the work of Larysa Hienijuš (1910-1983), a Belarusian poet and activist who dedicated her life to the Belarusian fight for freedom and independence. Her life story and poetry deeply inspired and touched me. If I were given an opportunity to speak to one writer or poet who lived before me, I would undoubtedly choose her. I imagine if everyone could pick a writer, there would be huge lines to speak with over-idealized Russian writers who, in reality, would be rigid, entitled men, most probably drunk as well. At the same time, I would be sitting in a small countryside house surrounded by forests and fields and having the conversation of a lifetime with one of the most remarkable and talented Belarusian writers. Often, when I feel sad about Belarus and powerless to bring change, I open Hienijuš’s poems. Reading them feels like talking to someone wise and understanding, as if I indeed sit in her house with a cup of tea, and her voice reassures me and brings hope and energy to keep fighting.
I wrote an essay about Larysa Hienijuš, if you missed it, you can read it here:
Below is my translation and recording of the poem “Miracle” by Larysa Hienijuš. In Belarusian, a miracle is “цуд,” pronounced as [tsood]. The poem is part of the handwritten poetry collection from 1945-1947, made and illustrated by Larysa Hienijuš. The notebook with poems was found in London, most likely brought there by the Belarusian immigrants in order to save it, who fled Russian occupation and repressions. The poetry of Larysa Hienijuš was severely censored and forbidden in Belarus, and no one saw these poems until they were published in England in 1992.