Translated material
Instead of goodbye
I don't like saying goodbye. It seems to me that good moments are recorded in eternity. But I don’t remember the bad things.
***
Masha Eismont came into the editorial office. Waving her arms, she told how she called the police because in the passage she saw a gypsy woman with a child, too big to be wrapped up in a sleeping baby, too calm to be sober. The police didn't come. Masha was waiting. After 40 minutes, the gypsy became suspicious and tried to escape. Masha follows her. A gypsy woman with a child is run over by cars across Sadovoye. And so Eismont stood in the editorial office and seethed with indignation.
Masha cannot pass by if she sees injustice in something. And it seems to me that she is not afraid of anything. I wish I could be brave like her.
***
It seems to me that Zakir Magomedov does not know how to get angry. He has a big smile and green eyes. He freed slaves and also helped girls escape from a brothel in Dagestan. He once jokingly said that while he was working, he “became a feminist.”
Anya Ayvazyan inspired me when I no longer had the strength to do anything and didn’t want anything more. She inspired me by personal example - few people know how to work like that, and even have their eyes sparkle.
***
I don't remember what that girl's name was. I remember her young, beautiful and dark face. She was probably about 20 years old. We stood and talked in the cold. Near the sixth Kopeisk colony. At first she didn’t want to speak, but then she thawed out and found her voice. She talked a lot : about extortions, about torture, about fear for her husband - a prisoner in a colony, about riot police who beat relatives, and then about herself - about how she, along with other girls, was dressed in turns in a juvenile colony in Belgorod into a rubber suit and doused with water from a fire hose - everything was fought off, but without bruises, marks - and therefore without evidence. Then human rights activists came out and showed a video of her husband. And she cried with happiness. And I cried with her. And then she hugged her. So we stood in this biting frost, cried and rejoiced.
***
I can go on for a long time. Sorry, reader, this is too personal. I love my colleagues, my heroes. I was lucky to be in the thick of things. See the life of the country and write for you.