"It Seemed That the Lungs Were Bursting; I Couldn't See With My Right Eye"

This is the story of a pensioner who was sprayed in the face by an AMAP officer on the March of Pride.

61-year-old Nina Pryvalava came to the March of Pride on October 11 to present her book to activist Nina Bahinskaja. When an AMAP officer attacked the demonstrators, she and other women tried to protect them from beatings - one of the security officers sprayed her face with pepper spray. The pensioner was detained. Pryvalava told Mediazona how AMAP officers beat women in the paddy wagon, how the police humiliated them in the police department, and how she spent a week in the hospital with chemical burns to her eyes and respiratory tract.

Last year my small book, "In spite of the Dreams of Fate," was published. This is a book with stories of ordinary people, I really like to write such stories, once I wrote about orphans, whom I brought up with mine own. And on October 11, I took this book with me and went to Stele, wanted to present it to Nina Bahinskaja. I love this woman very much; I bow before her courage, boldness, and decisiveness; I respect her for this fight for Belarusians' freedom.

I took the book; I had no flag; there was nothing. I met several of my female acquaintances, and here we were standing and talking on a hillock opposite the Stele, not far from the hotel ["Planet"]. Somewhere in the third hour, people began to gather in small groups.

I stand with this book of mine, looking for Bahinskaja. Everyone just stood there peacefully, talked, greeted each other with the sign of "victory," and [shouted] "Long live Belarus." Suddenly, paddy wagons and busses came from all sides, [AMAP officers] jumped out, there were a lot of them. I saw this on August 11 in Hrushauka.

They began to run with clubs, beat, grab young people, men, women. You understand you need to be completely insensitive, forgive me, like a log, so that at this moment, even if I did not come to the rally, not to react in any way, to run away, for example. I am actually the daughter of Belarusian partisans; my parents survived the war. So how could I get scared and just run away?

"I hung my backpack covered in blood on an acacia bush"

On one side, one woman ran up, on the other side three ran up, on the third four ran up. And in the coupling, we went to these AMAP officers. They were killing a guy on Peramozhtsau Avenue; he was lying on the asphalt, covered in blood, he did not move. The flag was bloody; the backpack was bloody; they continued to beat him. One AMAP officer [shouted]: "They are throwing stones at us." And when we ran up, there were apples and pears on the asphalt, not stones at all.

I hung this backpack in blood on an acacia bush. The girl stood, pressed this flag to her, crying. Some woman offered to give her a bag because blood was dripping on her from the flag, but she refused. It started raining, washing away all that blood on the asphalt. That guy was thrown into a bus and taken away; we could not help him with anything. Then I cried for a long time; I thought, Lord, this is someone's son, will his mother wait at home?

Then another bus drove up. We headed there in the coupling so that they would not go where the youth still remained. [The AMAP officer] suddenly pulled out a can, and I [at that moment] shouted: "What are you doing? Don't touch our children!" - and he sprinkled it all into my eyes, into my mouth, into my nose, when I was inhaling. I have a corneal burn, a chemical burn of the respiratory tract.

They dispersed all the people who were on the hill. I joined some women and walked home. On the way, we saw the same thing. There was no one on the bridge near Kalvaryjskaja Street, and one guy was walking under it. And he had no flag, nothing at all, he just walked. A bus stops next to him, ten of them jump out and begin to beat him brutally, beat him like that. We ran there again. "What are you doing? Stop!" - we shouted. No, we didn't help; we couldn't do anything.

I have always said that there are no hopeless situations in life. Here they are - there are times when you cannot do anything out of despair at all. They kill in front of your eyes, and you cannot do anything.

"Their darkness, of these "men in black," these spiders, and they rush at people"

We went towards the Kalvaryjskaje cemetery. Again these busses, paddy wagons from around the corners. And again there is darkness, of these "men in black," these spiders, these worms, and they rush at people. And I stood on the sidewalk; I didn't run anywhere, I raised my eyes to the sky, I said: "Lord, well you don't see, they are being killed, our people, you help me." She shouted: "Let all the murderers, sadists, scum, rapists, let everyone die." And at that moment, I was grabbed by my jacket and dragged into a bus.

There were already two detained men and five AMAP officers. Literally, five minutes later, Lena was dragged into the bus. Later I found out that she is Lena, that she is from Mahilieu, but lives in Minsk, that she is an artist. She is 37 years old, although she looks 25, such a beautiful girl. She was all disheveled, with a backpack full of paints. And they threw her next to me.

The most terrible thing happened on this bus; I will never forget it. Lena did not sit; she could not sit. She was in a reclining state next to me. And on the other side was a huge guy in this balaclava, black overalls. And since her legs were lying on the aisle... Either she touched him a little, or what... I don't know. She did not touch him. The detained men were generally silent, just silent. And she... She didn't swear, didn't do anything like that, but she touched him with her foot.

And so, imagine, such an animal ... They already have evil eyes, but here ... And he jumps up, rushes at this Lena, with his huge knee pressing on her chest, grabs her throat with his left hand, and hits her on the head with his right hand, across the face. I grabbed him and said, "What are you doing?"

"Right now, bitch, and you'll get it," he replied.

The AMAP officers were having fun. When Lena started to wheeze, one security officer shouted: "Roma! Roma! Enough! "And the second guy tugged at his hood. And he sat down so tired and breathed so hard. Lena was already lying, she was just lying, all red, breathing so hard. And I was so scared that it would happen again. And I started talking, just so that there was some kind of dialogue because it was impossible to be silent. And then I said: "Young people, and if the government changes, then what will you do?" And one says: "But the government will not change." I said, "What will you do if it changes?" They all laughed together: "As we have worked, we will continue to work."

Then I turned to this freak and asked: "So your name is Roma, right? Do you realize that you have a sexually dissatisfied pattern of behavior? Only sexual maniacs can scoff like this." He said that he had regular sex. "I'll never believe it in my life, you're a sex maniac," she said. He called me a bitch and told me to shut my mouth.

Then Lena turned on and said to me: "Why are you talking to them, they are stupid, they do not understand." To which one said that they all have higher education. Then I said: "Young people, if you all have higher education, then you could not help but read Omar Khayyam. You know evil returns. Why don't you think that the evil that you do will return to you? "

"It will not return," - he said.

Then Lena asked for water. One AMAP officer took out a bottle of 200 grams from his backpack. There was perhaps a gulp of water. Of course, it was very humiliating to take this water, but I took it because I thought, well, maybe it would be easier for her, at least from these three sips. She drank.

Then the bus stopped, the door opened abruptly and, probably, their boss approached. And he demanded a report. "One here talked about philosophy, and the other…" - and I did not hear what the AMAP officer said. And the first then said: "********** [beat] this bitch - he pointed at Lena - harshly."

We were transferred to a paddy wagon. We drove for a long time; we thought it was to Zhodzina. Lena said that she did not feel pain, that she did not feel anything. I felt bad too. There was not enough air; we were suffocating. Lena hit the door with her hand and shouted weakly: "Air." The air has gone.

We met in the paddy wagon. She took my hand, said: "Let's hold hands; it will just be easier for us."

"So what, bitch, what did you see?"

They brought me to the Zavadski District Department of Internal Affairs. They put everyone from the paddy wagon against the wall, told to empty their pockets - what was in the pockets was thrown into the bags. And then they took us, probably, to the interrogation rooms. There were 20-30 of us. Lena and I were the only women. Everything hurt her; she sat for a while, then put the backpack under her head and just lay there. She had a fresh scar from an eye, a large temple, and her face burned like a tomato. I asked if she felt the scar, she said that she did not feel anything, that she was very bad. I offered to ask to call an ambulance, she did not allow.

At some point, Lena said that everyone [the detainees, unlike the security forces] were without masks and "why are you hiding your faces? Take off your mask." And the one who was sitting at the table led, he takes off the mask and says: "So what, bitch, do you see now? I'm a district militia here. And I'm the power here. And you won't do anything to me, bitch." I told Lena to shut up, not to say that no one would help us. She fell silent then.

We really wanted to use the toilet. There were two ladies, I went up to one, I said: "Girl, dear, I really want to go to the toilet. Can you somehow help me so that Lena and I go to the toilet?" "You'll don't need it," she replied. I sat down. After some time, I go up to another and ask her to take us to the toilet: "You know what it means if you want to use the toilet?!". "Wait, I said," she replied.

One man had diarrhea there; he also asked to use the toilet. Time passes; I just could not. Then I got up, shouted to the whole inquiry point that if they didn't take me to the toilet, I would sit on the floor and do whatever I needed. And I will not care what you do to me later. These ladies didn't even move. As a result, the policeman took three men and me to the toilet, but they did not take Lena.

The men were interrogated first, us last. My eyes were burned; it was very difficult to read what was there [in the document]. I was not warned that this was a protocol. A lady was standing nearby, repeating several times: read and sign. But I couldn't read it; I didn't see with my right eye at all. I put my signature at the top of the sheet. The woman said there was another signature at the bottom.

I say: "Stop, what did I sign?" And here, I read with my left eye that this was the protocol for participation in the rally. And I grabbed a pen to cross out my signature at the top. She snatched the pen from me. I refused to put my signature at the bottom since I had not participated in any rally.

Lena was interrogated after me. I only later learned that Lena received 15 days in Akrestsina Street. They took my fingerprints and photographed me like a criminal. A young guy, about 25 years old, who did it, addressed us formally, "You." He asked me why I was straining my hands, he would take prints anyway. And I didn't resist; I was just stressed. he was the only one like that, the rest were awfully rude.

An ambulance was called for three men. Two ambulances were standing in the assembly hall examining. I myself saw a man beaten badly.

"It seemed that the lungs were bursting; I did not see with my right eye"

Before we were released, we were all gathered in the assembly hall; a big screen was turned on, which showed how good Lukashenka is and how the police protect the people. And I saw myself in my pink jacket, in this coupling with women, only from the side. Someone took pictures, maybe BT. In short, while sitting in this room, I saw myself on the screen.

We were released around 10 pm.

The children met me, took me home; I felt very bad. I washed my entire face for a long time. In the morning, I felt really bad. As the doctor later said, this is our Belarusian - here, everything will pass by itself. I was suffocating; it seemed that my lungs were torn to pieces, I did not see with my right eye.

We called an ambulance, and first, they took me to hospital number 4, gave first aid, poured something down my throat; it helped, but not for long. And then they brought me to the emergency hospital. And the doctor who received me said that he could not let go, seeing my condition, and left me for a day. I visited the ophthalmologist, the ENT. And they said they would not let me go until the condition improved. It improved, [but the doctors didn't want to let go yet, so] I wrote an application myself and was discharged on October 19, after spending a week in the hospital.

It's hard to be without loved ones, like some kind of disaster. This was the toxicology department. I was the only one with such a diagnosis. The rest are suicidals, drunkards, all "yabatska" supporters, forgive me for this word. It's impossible.

When I was in the hospital, they called from the migration service and said that I should come to them. They said that I have Russian citizenship, they asked what I was doing at the rally on the 11th. I am Belarusian; this is my native land! I was born in the village of Khadarouka, Mahilieu region, finished school there; unfortunately, all my parents died and were buried, like grandfathers, grandmothers, all relatives, all in Belarus.

In the Soviet Union, my husband, daughter, and I went to Tyumen [region], we wanted to earn extra money. But this was the Soviet Union. Nobody asked us then if we wanted to separate; it was the nineties. We were faced with the fact of whether we want to stay here. And I had a job, my husband had a job, my daughter wen to a school. And we stayed. But then we were told that we should take Russian citizenship or leave to Belarus and then apply for Belarusian citizenship. We didn't leave. And then a son was born, my husband and I parted, he stayed there. And in 1998, we returned to our homeland. And since then, we have been living here.

The book is with me now; it returned home. Will I still try to give it? Sure.