"Most sit honestly, but quietly." Pavel Vinahradau on political prisoners whose names are unknown
Ex-political prisoner tells Belsat about the no-names among political prisoners: "And they sit in isolation cells no less than other Dziadkous, Sieviaryntses, and Vinahradau. They also have no calls, no meetings, no parcels, and no letters. They are also cold. They are also hungry. They are also scared."
Photo: Intex-press
"Here, media political celebrities come out, tell what they went through and what happened to them. They receive sympathy, respect, applause. They are invited everywhere, people shake their hands and fill their cups with the magical ambrosia of admiration.
I also barely touched upon this, and I knew it would be so.
It's understandable: if you're imprisoned as a media representative, they'll write about you anyway, even if all that happens to you is 'lost 10 kg'.
Partially, the understanding that thousands of eyes would be fixed on you after prison motivated me to maintain my dignity as much as possible. Because I knew they would ask: "Pavlik, how did it go?" And it's much more pleasant to roar something like: "I roasted them all on a spit!" in response to that question, than to mumble about admitting guilt, pardon, cooperation with the administration, and "we survived as best we could."
Therefore, I hear that the necessity to say something coherent after release strongly motivates not only me but also most of those whose names appear in the news to keep their buttocks tightly clenched.
But what if you have no media presence? What if only your relatives know about your existence? How are you doing there, brother (sister)?
Of course, they are the majority. Mostly good guys. About each of them, one could write a story with a poignant title like "How So-and-So Fell into the Gears of a Bloody Dictatorship and Managed to Preserve Himself" or something similar.
Most of them sit honestly, but quietly. Because everyone knows: attract attention – prepare for the isolation cell (at least). But among them are guys whom you look at and wonder: "Where do you get the strength for all this?"
Because no one will unload truckloads of likes under your internet posts. Because you are objectively not very interesting to the media. Because neither the Pope nor the President of Poland will meet with you.
Of course, they won't abandon you and will help you literally with everything after your release, but you don't know that!
And they sit in isolation cells no less than other Dziadkous, Sieviaryntses, and Vinahradau. They also have no calls, no meetings, no parcels, and no letters. They are also cold. They are also hungry. They are also scared.
Most of them had only heard about politics with a tiny corner of their left ear before 2020. They don't need grants, pretentious receptions at embassies, media airtime, and everything that can tickle the ego of such a haughty creature as myself, for example. For them, a sense of self-worth and principles are already sufficient motivators. And I want to believe that they are for me too.
But when I am overcome by various thoughts and surrender to synthesis and analysis, I ask myself: "Pasha, what if you didn't know that countless people were following your fate, would you behave the same way?" I hope so, gentlemen. I hope so. I'll be back," wrote Pavel Vinahradau.