While I continued researching the nuclear industry in Russia, I was horrified to learn of several disasters that are little known to the West, some of which resulted in contamination and nuclear fallout similar in scale to that of the Chernobyl disaster. The Mayak nuclear complex located near the city of Chelyabinsk has been described as ‘the most polluted place on Earth’. Besides many accounts of ‘death and disease’ and the evacuation of nearly twenty villages as a result of nuclear waste being dumped into the Techa River nearby, a hushed up explosion of a nuclear waste storage tank in 1957 released radiation equal to ‘more than half the amount of radioactive waste released by the accident in Chernobyl’. Similar reports of pollution can also be read about other nuclear facilities such as Tomsk-7. With scant information being released from what the Soviets called ‘closed reports’ and the results of the most detailed investigations deemed ‘classified’, I could see why some media outlets were often confused about which city was which. Over a period of weeks I managed to piece together likely facts after cross-referencing many reports found because of lengthy online searches. These documents included reports on nuclear and environmental disasters not only in Russia but elsewhere in the world, including the UK and the now famous Fukushima. What became apparent was the culture of secrecy and cover-ups wasn’t unique to Russian or Soviet culture, but was and is widespread throughout the rest of the world; I concluded my investigation with the knowledge that every country has its dirty secrets that none of us will ever fully realise and that I would be better off not trawling the internet when I should be sleeping.
vii. Dachnik
When I lived in Pentyrch back in 2003, I did all of my drinking in the Lewis Arms at the top of the hill. I preferred it to the Kings Arms at the bottom, because I didn’t like walking back up to the top of the village after a skinful, and the Lewis Arms had a round pool table that was shit to play on but tons of fun when pissed. One evening, about 10.30 p.m., two blokes walked in with uncommon accents. They were from North Wales. They sat on the stools closest to the bar on the front side of the building and ordered two pints. Jeff, being your normal curious landlord asked them where they were from and what their business was in Pentyrch. I don’t remember where they said they came from, what mattered is that after only one pint they went on to call us English. This is due to the irrational view shared by only a handful of Welsh people that those from the north are somehow Welshier than folk from the south. After that the conversation became quite heated and the two travellers departed without finishing their drinks. This kind of banter also exists in Russia, except it’s more of an east/west thing. Russians in the west of the Urals are seen as Euro-Russians while those in the east are seen simply as Russian or Siberian-Russian. Siberians, unlike their Western cousins, tend to hold themselves in higher regard because they live through more extreme weather conditions and a far harsher economic climate; and most of the bears and other man-eating beasts are in Siberia. It’s less developed than the west, particularly Moscow, so it’s seen as Old Russia, the original land with the original people. Siberians are also credited with winning the Battle of Stalingrad, which of course is the battle that turned the tide of World War II. When choosing men to go and fight on the front line it is claimed the Soviet Marshal Chuikov said to the new soldiers: ‘Step forward if you are from Siberia. To defend Stalingrad I need men who know how to put all they can into a fight; others get back to positions behind Volga.’ Chuikov later went on to say ‘Siberians were the soul of the Stalingrad battle.’ Siberians are famously strong, and they understand that Moscow is nothing without them; they live in the main body of Russia, and consequently they sit on top of Russia’s vast mineral reserves. They are a stoic people, with all the strength and cunning of the bears they live alongside. Before I came to Russia, I could only have spoken to you of Moscow, because that’s the only city I’d heard much about; my knowledge of the land beyond the Urals was shameful. What I know now is that Siberia is also Russia and Moscow; Putin and the Kremlin are powerless without its support.
What I love most about living in Siberia is that we are reminded that we are not in charge; nature is the ruling power. There are a host of bears, wild dogs and cats that are large, ferocious and love to eat meat and yet Siberians live alongside these creatures. Humans are not the dominant force, like everything else we are part of the food chain; lower your guard for long enough in Siberia and something will come along with its big teeth and paws and remind you of this fact. As a result there exists a greater respect for other creatures; humans live in the towns and cities, but the taiga is shared with all manner of birds and beasts. They have their playground and we have ours. In my view this co-existence with man-eating beasts gives Siberians a greater sense of humility. When I was a boy, growing up in the West, I was taught that man is the greatest, most evolved species on Earth; that all other beasts big or small are subservient to his power. Now I know otherwise.
During each of my previous visits to Russia, Boris had asked me if I would like to accompany him to his hut in the mountains to learn how to hunt. I declined every time because I’m not brave enough. This was fine with Boris and Nataliya Petrovna, but they insisted that I still had to learn at least some of their ways over the summer. I was, after all, a new addition to the family, another mouth to feed, and so needed to contribute something. Marina and Boris took it upon themselves to teach me how to grow vegetables; firstly by showing me how to plough the land and remove any weeds; and secondly how to plant each vegetable and water each one differently. In reality Boris and Marina did most of the work throughout the summer, with only occasional help from me, because Nastya and I only visited the dacha for short periods in between Nastya’s work shifts; however all the squash were entirely my effort. By the end of July we had quite a large crop of nearly everything required to take the family right through to winter. When we were at our apartment Boris often drove over with bags of vegetables to save us from having to lug them home on the bus, and he usually included a few extras, like milk or bread, just to keep us going. The fridge in our apartment was stuffed with various homegrown goods, while various other root vegetables were placed in our family’s underground storage box to keep them cool and safe. Many Siberians have one of these storage boxes. They can be seen all over the city. What look like little wooden platforms with padlocks on just a few inches from the ground in between apartment blocks are in fact people’s vegetable stores. They are actually steel boxes that go several feet underground and are the perfect way to keep vegetables because they keep vegetables cool and fresh all year.