The Last Cockroach Race

Our life is ahead of us, while Lukashenka has a jar at the Texas Zoo.

We are six months old. That's how parents talk about their babies: "we took a walk," "we're teething," "we're six months old". It sounds clumsy and ridiculous. But everyone knows what parents mean. So, we're six months old.

Half a year is nothing in the background of human life. But compared to a faltering dictatorship, which cannot turn to dust and ashes, six months seems like infinity. I understand all those who have been seized by fatigue or even despair. After all, we did everything in August to ensure the collapse of the dictatorship. However, it wanders around the city like an insomniac bear, attacks passers-by and does not care who is in front of it - a pregnant woman, a child, an old man, a disabled person. On September 1, we were all getting ready to take our children to school with no retouched moustached portraits and political information. Our mind was choosing the best square for a big national holiday. It should have lasted till dawn, including a concert, dances, and folk songs. We wouldn't freeze because the nights are warm in August. We thought that we would be able to go on vacation in the fall. The dictatorship would fall. And we would be back just in time to collect signatures for the new elections. And we would even have time to sign up for initiative groups. However, the winter is coming to an end. Instead of elections, we observe Stolypin wagons heading to penal facilities with new political prisoners. Instead of festivities, there are riot policemen who raid neighbourhood tea-parties. Instead of joyful anticipation of tomorrow, we are filled with the desire to hide under a blanket and stay there forever.

This is how many people feel today. And this is normal. Fatigue could not help but appear. The entire country had forgotten about rest and proper sleep for six months. On weekends there were marches. In the evenings, people hold courtyard and neighbourhood meetings. In between: sewing a flag and hanging a flag, collecting a parcel for a detainee in the pretrial detention centre, standing in line, then a long line at the post office to send the parcel, and writing a dozen letters to political prisoners. And, of course, to publish a spirit-lifting post on the social network in white-red-white colours, because the main thing is not to give up. How can one feel high all the time in such a frantic pace? Even a cyborg cannot stand it. To say nothing of a human being. Everything is fine. Everything is natural. We're still healthy and right.

We're just six months old. That's the age when babies learn to sit up. That's us, isn't it? The collective baby born on August 9 is learning to sit up. Some people know how to sit up because they have had enough practice in previous reincarnations; some are in the process of learning; some have taken a snap course and can already teach. It's a difficult period, that's for sure. But remember what happens next. After learning to sit up, no baby decides to stay under the blanket. No, it's quite the opposite. For a while, of course, the baby sits up. Then he takes the first step. Followed by a second. And finally walks tall and subdues this beautiful world. He is a winner.

You know, I've learned that we are the best cure for fatigue and depression. We inspire each other so much that one can only envy us. If you feel blue, remember how Katya and Dasha from Belsat raise their hands in a triumphant gesture. Remember how the owner of a trendy bar in the capital, having learned that Dmitry Gopt, a young man with mental disabilities, was sentenced to two years in prison under a political article in the Homel region, left everything and rushed to Zhlobin to his mother to help. Remember how the whole world turned white-red-white last Sunday to support us. These are the events of just the last few days. It works, doesn't it? Now, remember that the Texas Zoo will be feeding the animals with cockroaches named after Lukashenka next Sunday. In my opinion, one can't imagine a better end of the week.

We are six months old. Our whole life is ahead of us. All he's got is a jar at the Texas Zoo.

Iryna Khalip, especially for Charter97.org

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