"I didn't expect this from Pavel." How the presentation of Severinets' most personal book went in Vilnius
Everyone spoke about Belarus. But the main theme of the evening was love.
Pavel, Volha, and Frantsishak Seviarynets. Photos here and further: "Nasha Niva"
In the large bright hall of the Seimas of Lithuania's visitor center, several dozens of people gathered on the evening of June 23. Before the start, people leafed through freshly published copies of Pavel Seviarynets' book "Belarus is Sacred," examining watercolor images of Belarusian holy sites.
On the walls - large photographs of Lithuania. Outside the windows - sunny summer Vilnius, slowly descending into a warm evening. The rustle of pages, hushed conversations, and laughter of people who hadn't seen each other for a long time could be heard in the hall.
Among those present were former political prisoners, activists, and long-time associates of Pavel Seviarynets. Among them was Zmitser Dashkevich, who came with his wife Nasta and children.
Pavel's son, Frantsishak, in a white shirt and bowtie, with a businesslike expression, adjusted stacks of books on the table. Next to him, his mother Volha smiled.
While the guests were still gathering, Pavel Seviarynets was already signing the first copies. Someone asked how many books he had written.
— Fourteen, — he replied without a hint of boast.
This book differs from all previous ones. It is not political essays or a novel; there are no grand political concepts or programmatic articles here. Here are drawings of Belarusian holy sites and poems born behind bars, all that Pavel tried to preserve when almost everything else was taken from him.
The meeting began with speeches by Lithuanian politicians. Ruslanas Baranauskas, chairman of the parliamentary friendship group with democratic forces of Belarus, called Pavel Seviarynets "a true politician" and a man of convictions, while Žygimantas Pavilionis said that Belarusians still have to fight for their future and that Europe must support this difficult path.
— The best way to do this is to develop an already existing political party — Christian Democracy. We will do everything possible to support the victory of the BCD in the first free elections in Belarus and go to Europe together. I am confident that Belarus will be a member of the European Union and NATO, — said Pavilionis.
Father Heorhi Roy called Seviarynets' new book "the Belarusian Psalter."
— This is the Belarusian continuation of the biblical Psalter. For the Psalter is a book in which all human feelings are expressed before God: both joyful and bright, and difficult — the whole palette of human feelings, — says the priest. — Here is preserved not only what Pavel and all those who went through the trials of prison experienced. Here is preserved what we all experience — joy, pain, hope, fear, love. We have something to say after all we have been through. And it is very good that this book was published now, while these feelings are still alive and have not turned into edited memories.
Listening to him, many in the hall nodded their heads.
And then Zmitser Dashkevich took the microphone. He has known Seviarynets almost all his adult life. He recalled that he met him about 25 years ago and that their friendship went through marches, political campaigns, and prison cells. Dashkevich joked a lot.
— We are already used to Pavel writing novels. But poems, drawings... I didn't expect this from Pavel, I was just shocked, — he spread his hands and added: — It's hard to meet a person of such talent — both in Belarus and in Lithuania.
And then he unexpectedly suggested sending Seviarynets to "Eurovision."
— The one thing Pavel hasn't done yet is sing. I think we should suggest to the Lithuanians that Pavel go to "Eurovision" from Lithuania. They'll immediately be in the top three! — Dashkevich joked to the laughter of the hall.
But his warmest words were addressed not to the author.
— Today, we must first thank Volha and Frantsishak, who went through this journey with Pavel, — he said. — It was hard for us in prison. But behind every political prisoner, there are always people who serve this term with him. Wives who bring parcels and wait for news for hours. Children who grow up without parents. Families upon whose shoulders the entire life rests.
By the way, Zmitser himself also plans to publish his own book of memoirs soon. It also stemmed from his prison experience and is largely based on correspondence with his wife Nasta.
Pavel Seviarynets came to the microphone to applause. He began to speak about Belarusians all over the world, about how God did not scatter them across different countries for nothing.
— Life in emigration should not be a time of waiting. Belarusians, like bees, in various countries of the free world can learn the best and bring this experience home with victory. In America, Belarusians learn optimism. In Poland — how to overcome the consequences of the Soviet legacy. In Germany — how to build infrastructure and industry. In France — beauty. In Ukraine — to fight for freedom. And in Lithuania, Belarusians must learn to respect their language and their history, just as Lithuanians do.
Seviarynets pondered for a long time about the historical moment the country is currently experiencing, about possible trials, about the diaspora's responsibility. He cited examples from the history of the BNR, recalling the Lutskievich brothers, Vaclau Lastouski, who more than a hundred years ago helped lead Belarus to the declaration of independence. For Pavel, this history is not about the past, but about today.
— It would seem, summer, time for vacations, dachas, and travels. But precisely now, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy is articulating an ultimatum to Lukashenka, and the news increasingly forces one to think not about vacation, but about the country's future. We read that Lukashenka is going on a distant foreign trip and assures that there is nothing to worry about. But I see a person who, facing possible danger, seems to be already preparing for some other scenario.
And it is very possible that in just a few days we will find ourselves in a situation that we recently considered highly unlikely. It could be war. It could be a collapse of the regime. It could be an attempt at even deeper absorption of Belarus by Russia. Today, none of these scenarios seems impossible anymore. In the best case, we will have to prepare to build a truly independent Belarus. In the worst case, Belarusians inside the country may have to face what Ukrainians have already experienced: war, resistance, and fighting for their land.
But regardless of which scenario awaits us — best, worst, or some intermediate one — today Belarusians need two things. Firstly, prayer and inner steadfastness. Secondly, readiness for great trials and great responsibility. Because history can knock on our doors much sooner than we expect.
And if war awaits us, and if freedom suddenly comes — and history knows many examples when seemingly unshakable regimes like Putin's or Lukashenka's collapsed literally in a matter of hours — we will still have to take on a great responsibility. Moreover, we, Belarusians abroad, can do much more today than we often imagine. Here, in Lithuania and in other countries, we have more opportunities for organization, for supporting each other, for working towards the future of Belarus. And therefore, a special responsibility rests on us. So, dear friends, we now need more cohesion and more unity, — says Pavel.
And then he tells the story of the book itself.
In prison, he regularly wrote letters to his wife. But one day, little Frantsishak saw another envelope and cried.
— "Mom has a letter, but I don't," — Seviarynets recalls his son's words.
It was after these tears that the father decided to send him a separate letter every week. But it's hard for a three-year-old child to read long texts, so he started drawing. That's how the story of the future book began. First there were letters for his son, then — dozens of drawings of Belarusian holy sites, and later poems.
After some time, problems arose with the prison administration. The authorities noticed that the drawings began appearing at exhibitions abroad.
— "Severinets, we looked on the internet. Some unknown people are holding your exhibitions. So your letters will no longer go anywhere," — he recounts his conversation with prison staff.
It was even more difficult with poems — they were simply forbidden to send. Then Pavel began to memorize what he had written.
— Every Tuesday, I repeated 22 poems from memory. I knew: if I forgot even one line, the poem would remain in prison, — he says.
After his release, he immediately wrote everything down from memory on paper.
— And only then did I feel relieved — that's it, no more need to repeat 22 poems, — Pavel laughs.
Someone from the audience asked how he managed to create such detailed drawings behind bars at all.
Seviarynets smiles and tells an almost anecdotal story.
During one inspection, the deputy head of the prison looked at his works and declared: "Severinets, it's a good thing we imprisoned you. Look, you even learned to draw in prison."
— But I was taught to draw back in art school in Vitebsk, — he replied.
He drew most of the churches from postcards sent by people. From several different images, he composed his own single composition, choosing the most successful angle and lighting.
And then the most touching part of the evening began.
Pavel read his poems. Then his family joined him: Frantsishak read a poem, followed by Volha.
She clearly and expressively read a romantic poem written by her husband for her. The hall became especially quiet. All this time, Frantsishak clung to his mother, hugging her waist.
Pavel did not take his eyes off them. In that gaze was much warmth, tenderness, and gratitude from a man who knows too well the cost of simply standing beside them.
When the poem ended, Pavel approached and kissed his wife. A second later, Frantsishak did the same.
The hall smiled and applauded. Not as loudly as at political rallies, but with a homely warmth, as if those present had witnessed something very personal.
After the meeting concluded, a queue formed for autographs.
Pavel Seviarynets paid attention to everyone: asking questions, clarifying whether to sign the book personally for the individual or for the whole family. And then he carefully penned a few lines of wishes and added a reference to a chapter and verse from the Gospel — to read at home.
While the adults discussed politics, the future of Belarus, and the latest news, Frantsishak helped his mother with the books. From time to time, he explained something to customers, took money, handed over books, and looked as if he had been doing this all his life.
At the end, people lingered for a long time. They took photos, talked, and hugged.
And the book, which began with the tears of a three-year-old boy and a few prison drawings, continues its life in freedom. Just like its author.
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