Boys in Zinc

Voices of Utopia #3

by Svetlana Alexievich, Andrew Bromfield (Translator)

The haunting history of the Soviet-Afghan War from the winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature 2015

- A new translation based on the updated text -

From 1979 to 1989 Soviet troops engaged in a devastating war in Afghanistan that claimed thousands of casualties on both sides. While the Soviet Union talked about a 'peace-keeping' mission, the dead were shipped back in sealed zinc coffins. Boys in Zinc presents the honest testimonies of soldiers, doctors and nurses, mothers, wives and siblings who describe the lasting effects of war. Weaving together their stories, Svetlana Alexievich shows us the truth of the Soviet-Afghan conflict: the killing and the beauty of small everyday moments, the shame of returned veterans, the worries of all those left behind. When it was first published in the USSR in 1991, Boys in Zinc sparked huge controversy for its unflinching, harrowing insight into the realities of war.

Genres: Nonfiction, History, Russia, War, Politics, Nobel Prize, Journalism

298 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1989

About the author

Svetlana Alexievich was born in Ivano Frankivsk, Soviet Union. Her father was Belarusian and her mother Ukrainian. Alexievich grew up in Belarus, where both her parents were teachers. She studied to be a journalist at the University of Minsk and worked a teacher, journalist and editor. In Minsk she has worked at the newspaper Sel'skaja Gazeta, Alexievich's criticism of the political regimes in the Soviet Union and thereafter Belarus has periodically forced her to live abroad, for example in Italy, France, Germany and Sweden.

Svetlana Alexievich depicts life during and after the Soviet Union through the experience of individuals. In her books she uses interviews to create a collage of a wide range of voices. With her "documentary novels", Svetlana Alexievich, who is a journalist, moves in the boundary between reporting and fiction. Her major works are her grand cycle Voices of Utopia, which consists of five parts. Svetlana Alexievich's books criticize political regimes in both the Soviet Union and later Belarus.

In 2015 Ms Alexievich was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Reviews

[Pakinam Mahmoud · Rating 4 out of 5]

"دعوني أفتح التابوت ..دعوني أر ولدي ..
تعال إلي،يا ولدي،في الحلم.تعال للقائي.."
عندما تكون أقصي أمنية لأم، إنها بس تشوف إبنها ولو مرة أخيرة في حلم أو حتي جثة هامدة في تابوت..
أي حياة ستعيشها أي أُم وأي وجع حتحس بيه وهي يجب عليها أن تعتاد علي فكرة إنها مش حتاخد إبنها في حضنها مرة تانية..:(

فتيان الزنك ..قراءة مؤلمة أخري لسفيتلانا بعد كتابها آخر الشهود..
من هم فتيان الزنك؟ هم جنود السوفييت الذي تترواح أعمارهم بين ١٨-٢٠ سنة وذهبوا إلي حرب بحجة تقديم المساعدة والدعم للشعب الافغاني ولكنهم في النهاية رجعوا إلي بلدهم في توابيت مصنوعة من الزنك..

شهادات الجنود والمقابلات التي قامت بها سفيتلانا معهم بتوضح إنهم كانوا ضحايا خطأ سياسي وإن هؤلاء الفتيان لقوا حتفهم عبثاً في حرب لم تكن روسيا في حاجة إليها..
"ماذا جلبنا من هناك غير التوابيت التي تضم رفاقنا؟
لا أريد أن أسمع شيئاً عن الخطأ السياسي!لا أريد أن أعرف!إذا كان ذلك خطأ،إذاً أعيدوا إليّ ساقيَّ.."!

تم محاكمة سفيتلانا بسبب الكتاب وإتهامها بإنتقاء أقوال معينة من أقوال المحاربين وأمهات الضحايا وتشويه الحقائق والكتاب حيتكلم عن تفاصيل هذه المحاكمة في أخر ٦٠ صفحة..
أكيد ليست الأمهات من حاكموا سفيتلانا..سفيتلانا بيحاكمها نظام بأكمله..بيحاكمها عشان كشفت عيوبه وأخطائه..بيحاكمها عشان قالت الحقيقة...
"و الحقيقة تكلف صاحبها غالياً دائماً.."

أحسد سفيتلانا علي جرأتها و شجاعتها وعلي إنها دافعت عن قلمها وعن حقها كإنسانة أولاً وككاتبة ثانياً في إنها تعلن رفضها للحرب وكرها لها أياً كانت أسبابها علي الرغم إنها كانت تجد صعوبة في الكتابة عنها..
"أنا لا أريد أن أصمت ولا أستطيع الكتابة عن الحرب أكثر.."

سفيتلانا أليكسيفيتش..في هذا الزمان،أعتقد إننا نحتاج للكثير مثلكِ أيتها المرأة الشجاعة...

[بثينة العيسى · Rating 4 out of 5]

هل كتب أحدٌ عن الحرب بهذا الصدق قط؟

[Orsodimondo · Rating 4 out of 5]

IL VIETNAM SOVIETICO



Ho questa idea: fare un grande e imponente lavoro; dovrebbe essere esattamente come un romanzo, con un'unica differenza: ogni sua parola dovrebbe essere vera.
Parole di Truman capote che progettava il suo “A sangue freddo”.

Un altro romanzo-inchiesta, o romanzo-documentario, di Svetlana Aleksievic: questo è dedicato alla guerra in Afghanistan, all’invasione che l’Unione Sovietica iniziò nel 1979 con la scusa di appoggiare l’esercito regolare di quel paese contro l’attacco di forze giudicate guerrigliere (prima di tutto i cosiddetti mujaheddin), e secondo il governo sovietico finanziate da forze straniere (USA, Cina, Pakistan, Iran, Arabia Saudita, UK).
L’invasione durò dieci anni e fu un bagno di sangue. Un milione di giovani sovietici, uomini e donne, furono impegnati e direttamente coinvolti.
Alla fine i sovietici furono costretti a ritirarsi senza aver ottenuto che un nulla infernale. Un po’ come quello che era successo a gli USA in Vietnam: uno sforzo bellico enorme, perdite ingenti, violenza sfrenata, nessun risultato. Da qui, appunto, la definizione di Vietnam Sovietico.



L’occhio e l’attenzione della Aleksievic, come sempre affamata di realtà, è diretto a chi ha combattuto quella guerra, i soldati dell’Armata Rossa, molti dei quali tornavano a casa dentro una bara di zinco (da cui il titolo del libro). Oltre che ai combattenti sovietici, agli ausiliari, al personale medico, alle donne coinvolte. E poi ai aprenti di vittime e reduci. Un impianto corale dove come suo solito Aleksievic intreccia le testimonianze ai dati storici, statistici, ai fatti di cronaca.

Aleksievic ascolta molte voci di donne, come quella dell’infermiera, che racconta le molestie subite dai compatrioti, i tentativi di violenza dai quali è riuscita a difendersi.
Come la madre che accoglie felice e gioiosa il figlio reduce dal fronte, per poi accorgersi che è sempre più silenzioso, sempre più legato ai suoi commilitoni, sempre più portato alla violenza, come se la guerra non fosse rimasta laggiù, ma lo avesse seguito a casa.
Non sono neanche più riuscito a indossare i miei jeans e le mie camicie di prima della guerra, perché erano ormai gli abiti di un altro, di una persona ormai estranea, anche se mia madre mi assicurava che avevano conservato il mio odore.



Uno degli aspetti che emerge con più vivezza è la relazione tra menzogna e verità, la prima a carico dello stato, del potere, dell’ufficialità, la seconda conosciuta da chi è stato al fronte: quello che era stato spacciato per dovere internazionalista e fratellanza col popolo afghano, “vigilanza contro gli intrighi dell’imperialismo” e “sostegno della giusta lotta dei popoli per la libertà e l’indipendenza”, si mostra inesistente di fronte a una guerra affrontata senza la minima preparazione tecnica e in condizioni atroci. I reduci, partiti pieni di belle illusioni e buoni sentimenti, di un romanticismo ingenuo, si trasformano in marionette di un gioco ben più grande di loro, si scontrano con la realtà di un carnaio indicibile, e la vanità del loro intervento, del loro sforzo. Un prezzo da pagare davvero troppo alto.

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Elio Vittorini scriveva a proposito della guerra che conobbe di persona, la seconda mondiale:
Ma forse non ogni uomo è uomo; e non tutto il genere umano è genere umano. Questo è un dubbio che viene, nella pioggia, quando uno ha le scarpe rotte, acqua nelle scarpe rotte, e non più nessuno in particolare che gli occupi il cuore, non più vita sua particolare, nulla più di fatto e nulla da fare, nulla neanche da temere, nulla più da perdere, e vede, al di là di se stesso, i massacri del mondo.

[Metodi Markov · Rating 5 out of 5]

26.02.2022

Фашистката агресия срещу суверенна Украйна е вече факт, хиляди невинни са убити, още хиляди ще бъдат, градове и села ще бъдат разрушени. Цинковите ковчези обаче няма да потеглят към очакващите ги майки - диктаторът гори труповете на войниците си в подвижни крематориуми, за да не остават следи и доказателства за престъпленията му! Или ги оставят да се валят по бойните полета - така няма защо да изплаща кръвнината, обещана на роднините…

Проклети да са и Путин и върхушката му, както и хомо совиетикус, които го издигнаха и му дадоха възможност да краде, да набере сила и да убива масово хора...

Гнус ме е безпределно!!! :(

"Страхувайте се от първите пориви на душата, те може да са искрени."

"Цинковите момчета" е книга с изповедите на съветски граждани, засегнати лично или косвено от безумната съветска агресия срещу Афганистан, продължила над 10 години - 1979-1989.

Майки, чиито синове са убити там, момчета и мъже воювали и имали късмета да се върнат - здрави поне външно или вече инвалиди, жени - медицински сестри, лекари и служащи. Всички те са увредени завинаги от тази безсмислена и безчовечна война, която се оказва последният пирон в ковчега на загиващия ССССР...

Влача я тази книга от години, нямах сили да я дочета. Всичко случило се тогава се повтаря и днес - Сирия, Украйна, Либия, ЦАР и бог знае още къде. Цинковите ковчези пълни с Груз 200 кацат денонощно из летищата на РФ, момчетата са закопавани тайно, а близките им са заплашвани да мълчат...

Направи ми впечатление, няма изповеди на мъже загубили синовете си в Афганистан. Също така, че и голяма част от изказаното се припокрива, все едно всички са живяли по някакъв ужасяващ калъп - пропаганда, глупост, лъжи, жестокост и алчност.

В последствие, част от интервюираните преследват съдебно авторката с мотива, че е изопачила или представила неверно думите им. Материалите по делата и реакцията на общественици и пресата са включени в края на книгата. Никой и никога няма да съди обаче виновниците за войната и за хилядите унищожени и разпилени съдби, макар имената и длъжностите им да са общоизвестни...

Трябва да се прочете, макар и да е много трудно, защото истината трябва да се знае...

Цитати:

"Всичко е ясно - военен социализъм, военна страна, военно мислене."

"Съветският войник е най-евтиният войник."

"А до неотдавна бяхме велика държава. Може и да не сме били, но сами се считахме за такава. Заради ракетите, танковете, атомните бомби." - това е то трагедията на съветските хора, завещали са я и на идните поколения. А всичко е толкова просто за осмисляне - няма как да те обичат и уважават, ако разчиташ единствено на силата на оръжието си...

P.S. По темата - препоръчвам "Груз 200" на режисьора Балабанов, потресаващ филм е!

Заминаване: пушечното месо отива да изпълнява своя "интернационален" дълг, "да строят пътища, болници и училища"...



Завръщане: официално, над 15 000 младежи се връщат в СССР така, най-често обезобразени и в насипно състояние. Вероятно са убити десетки хиляди повече, диктатурите винаги лъжат и крият дори собствените си жертви, в уж победоносните им войни…

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

I remember back in the '70s having to sit through long presentations regarding the Soviet Union and the military might thereof. These briefings were given by American military personnel and the general theme was that the Soviet Union was an evil empire, armed to the teeth. It seemed that they had endless munitions and hordes of personnel under arms, all of whom wanted our stuff. They had no stuff in the Soviet Union, we were told, and they would be coveting our stuff, which we had in abundance. Some of this propaganda had a grain of truth in it: the Soviets were starved for consumer goods and they did have a lot of men under arms, but the weaponry was outdated and defective and the soldiery reluctant and usually coerced into service. And while there was a shortage of consumer goods, even the most fashion-conscious was unlikely to risk death for a pair of jeans. Somehow the people doing the briefings neglected to mention that part. In short, while the Soviet Union had enough punch to mess the world up considerably, they were extremely unlikely to start anything, military bombast notwithstanding.

After the "invasion" of Afghanistan, I recall even more anti-Soviet propaganda. One US-based military magazine sought donations to purchase ammo for the mujahidin. If I recall correctly, the slogan was "Kill a commie for Mommy" or some such blather. I have often wondered if anyone ever contributed and, if so, whether any of the contribution actually made it to Afghanistan. I guess what I'm getting at with all of this preamble is that we were pretty much brainwashed into an intense dislike of all things Soviet.

This book is the result of many personal interviews the author conducted with returned soldiers and civilians and also with the next of kin of those who were returned in zinc coffins, or zinky boys as they became known. Alexievich has managed to put a human face on the Soviet soldier for me, and I have come to realize that soldiers are soldiers the world over. Our governments start wars, and governments legislate soldiers into action whether the soldier likes it or not.

In the case of the Russians, many of them were told that their intervention in Afghanistan prevented the takeover of the country by the USA, which was on the point of invading. Many soldiers were told they were being airlifted to some other destination, only to find themselves in Afghanistan when the plane touched down. Some volunteered for the job, as the bazaars in Afghanistan had more consumer goods than the Soviet shops. Ponder that for a moment; a backwater like Afghanistan having more produce than your home country!

Life was hard for these soldiers. The Soviet army turned a blind eye to the constant hazing and abuse of recruits. New soldiers were routinely robbed and beaten by the older soldiers or "grandfathers". An excerpt from a soldier's letter home:

"Mum, buy me a puppy and call it Sergeant so I can kill it when I get home." (p.46)

Even the female civilian employees were not free from abuse. They volunteered for service; some for patriotic reasons, some for the extra pay, and yet others for the shopping opportunities. Whatever their motivation, they were universally assumed to have come hunting for men. Sadly, many of them felt a need to take on a man as protection against the predations of others. Better one devil you know than many you don't.

Alexeivich has really been able to express the anguish and heartache of those who came back to a country that was so neglectful that Afghanistan casualties, Zinky Boys, were not allowed to be buried in the same section of a cemetery, like they were a collective dirty secret. I won't even go into the sense of loss and betrayal expressed by grieving mothers who were never given adequate details regarding the death of their respective children. In spite of this, the reaction to the author's work was mixed, and I leave you with this final quote from a call she received:

"Who needs your dreadful truth? I don't want to know it!!! You want to buy your own glory at the expense of our sons' blood. They were heroes, heroes, heroes! They should have beautiful books written about them, and you're turning them into mincemeat" (p.187)

[هَنَـــاءْ · Rating 5 out of 5]

‏‏"ماذا فهمت هناك ؟
إن الخير لن ينتصر أبداً .. والشر لا يتناقص في العالم.
الإنسان كائن فظيع .. والطبيعة جميلة.
الفم مملوء بالرمل دائماً .. ولا تستطيع الكلام."


‏‏"إنه لشيء مخيف أن يرد ذكر الجمال .. الموت والجمال!"‏

‏


‏‏"أنا لست في حاجة إلى المجد. نحن نريد الحياة، فهذه تعادل الأوسمة كلها". "لماذا نقتل؟ ولماذا يقتلوننا؟"



الأفظع من بين كل الشرور، أن تكون أداة للسحق، آلةً في يد الطاغية .. يدمر بك، يشرد، يقتل .. ثم لا تدري بعد ذلك ما كل هذا الدمار الذي
ألحقته بالآخرين، ومتى، وكيف ... ولماذا تم بوحشيةٍ استغلالك .. !


‏‏كل الذين عادوا من الحرب عادوا مختلفين، تتشابه الأسماء ويختلف كل‏ شيء !!


لماذا يرسل الاتحاد خيرة أبنائه ؟!
ويوهمهم بنور المجد وهالات التعظيم .. وهم يعودون كسارى محطمين .. ماتت رغبتهم في الحياة من أول يوم وطأت أقدامهم حمى المعركة وحتى آخر رصاصة بقيت شاهدة على كل الجرائم وعلى الغبار المتطاير خلف نتانة ما تبقى من سواد !

من عاد ممن عاد فهو ليس إلا جثة تتنفس، وفي كل موضع من جسدها غرزة في الروح تئن وتبكي في ظلام العودة على ظلام العذاب ...

لم يصلوا إلى ساحل النضج بعد.. أو مرحلة التفكير في ثمن الخطوة الأولى !

كانوا ضحاياً أكثر فداحة في الاستغلال وأكثر تلوثاً من الداخل عن ضحايا البلد !

دمُى يحركها الحاكم بخيط رفيع .. ويرسلها إلا حيث يريد وبالعمل، وردة
الفعل، والحماقة التي يريدها.


‏‏
"فتيان الزنك"؛ فتيان الموت وسلب الإرادة، رصاصات المدفعية، ورشاش السيد، قذائف موجهة وقنابل موقوته ... فتيان الرصاص والحديد، والتابوت.








رسائل .. من قلب الحدث، آلام حية .. سطرتها يد الصحفية الروسية "سيفيتلانا" وجعلتها تنبض بالخوف، ويعتصرها الوحشة والقلق ورياح الهم الباغية، لنرى النزف بلون الدم الحقيقي لا بلونه الفاتح الفاتر الذي يشبه دماء الممثلين وكذب المسرحيات فوق المسرح.

رواية وثائقية، بل غصة وثائقية وحروف مثقلة بالدم، والزفرات، ودموع
الحرب.


‏‏
هواء الحرب ملوثة، مياهها وطعامها كذلك، وربما أيضاً عقول أصحابها ..
من يدري ؟! ...

[Naeem · Rating 5 out of 5]

I could not and still cannot read this book for more than 10 pages at a time. I put it down, wipe my tears, walk around the house a few times, and get back to it with some wariness. One of my friends/students once said to me, "Never, never teach a class on Afghanistan without this book." Or for that matter on war.

The love of a mother for her son (and sometimes daughter) has never, for me, been so strongly conveyed as in this book. The fear and idealism of the soldier never opened up so carefully, so delicately, so warmly, so precisely. The collective delusions of a society never conveyed so irresistibly as tides, as a gravity that pulls everyone to tragedy, to the inevitable implosion of one's naivete, towards one's desire to be find out that one is indeed a fool, a loving fool, but a fool.

That these are soviet soldiers speaking about their experience in Afghanistan brings home the significance of this book in elliptical ways. The indirectness of the blows Aleksievich delivers compound their deft, deadly, efficiency. Through the particular the universal speaks. And, as it speaks it carries itself to and through another particular. The Soviets and the USAers -- twins.

Read this book and be changed. Read it again and again be changed. Read it a third time and ask yourself if we do not discover our humanity by tragedy alone.

A good film to watch as a companion to this book: The Thin Red Line (1998)

[Pavel Nedelcu · Rating 5 out of 5]

LA TOCCANTE TESTIMONIANZA SULL'AFGHANISTAN

Aleksievic da voce a coloro che non sono mai stati sentiti, ai combattenti sovietici in Afganistan (i cosiddetti afgancy), ma anche alle infermiere e impiegate e alle madri di chi è stato inviato là tra il 1979 e il 1989. Atrocità terribili, sofferenza per chi se n’è andato, propaganda imbevuta di patriottismo e barre di zinco che non potevano essere aperte dai familiari di chi moriva in combattimento.

Un segreto di stato come molti altri nell’Unione Sovietica, anzi, ancora più perfido e subdolo, che ha distrutto intere famiglie mai risarcite, mai ascoltate. Una guerra voluta dai vertici politici sovietici di quel periodo, senza alcun senso, dispendiosa, inutile – in cui morirono più di 20 000 e ne rimasero feriti 50 000, tra i sovietici, ma anche mezzo milione di afgani!

Ecco allora cos’era questa “grande causa internazionalista e patriottica” di cui si parlava nei giornali in Unione Sovietica, senza mai ammettere ufficialmente che si trattava di una guerra vera e propria. Non si potrà mai sapere com’è stata davvero la guerra dai libri di storia. Le testimonianze orali di chi l’ha vissuta, invece, sulla propria pelle, sono qualcosa di prezioso e da conoscere assolutamente.

A pensare, poi, che dal 2001 ad oggi in Afganistan ancora si combatte…
UPDATE: non più, ma la situazione è ancor peggiore.

[Mohamed Al · Rating 5 out of 5]

‎عندما قيل لي بأن هذه الرواية تصنّف كرواية صحفيّة، تخيلت بأنّني سأقرأ ريبورتاجًا أدبيًا فيه الكثير من الملل والتفاصيل وبعض المتعة والتشويق ك"خبر اختطاف" لماركيز، ولكنني وجدت هذا العمل مختلفًا عن أية رواية صحفية سبق لي قراءتها أو القراءة عنها.

‎تقوم "سفيتلانا أليكسييفيتش"، الفائزة بجائزة نوبل للآداب عام ٢٠١٥، في هذا الكتاب بالتقاط صورة فوتوغرافية (بالكلمات) للشّعور الإنساني للفرد في الحرب، وليس الحدث .. أي حدث الحرب نفسه.

‎وهنا بالضبط يختلف عملها عن عمل المؤرخين، كما تقول، لأنّها تؤرّخ لأشياء لا تترك عادة أثرًا. ففي حين تنتقل الأحداث الكبرى إلى التاريخ وتُخلّد فيه إلى الأبد، نجد أنّ الأمور الصغيرة، لكنّها الرئيسة بالنسبة إلى الإنسان، تختفي دون أن تخلّف وراءها أثرًا يُذكر.

‎ولذلك حملت على عاتقها مسؤولية "تقليص التاريخ حتى يبلغ الإنسان ولا يكتفي بالأحداث!"

‎ملاحظة سفيتلانا في محلها، ويبدو أن الموضوع لا علاقة له بالتأريخ عند العرب وحدهم كما كنت أعتقد، بل هو موضوع تشترك فيه جميع الأمم. عودوا إلى أمهات كتب التاريخ لدينا وستجدون بأنها كتب تؤرخ للملوك والأمراء وممالكهم وحروبهم وحماقاتهم ولكنها لا تتطرق بتاتًا إلى الشعوب التي حكمها هؤلاء الملوك، وعاشوا في تلك الممالك، وخاضوا هذه الحروب، وتعرضوا لتلك الحماقات.

‎إن سفيتلانا تكتب تاريخًا جديدًا، أبطاله الرئيسيين ليسوا الملوك وحروبهم وحماقاتهم، بل الناس وأحاسيسهم ومعاناتهم!


‎الجدير بالذكر، أن تأثير الحرب وآثارها المدمرة لا تقتصر على المشاركين فيها، جلادين كانوا أم ضحايا، قتلة أم قتلى، بل يمتد ليشمل كذلك كل من يحاول الاقتراب منها ولو عن طريق الكتابة عنها، كما حدث لمؤلفة فتيان الزنك.

‎تقول سفيتلانا :

‎"يوجد لدى كل إنسان إحتياطي من القدرة على تحمل الألم، الجسدي والنفسي، لكنه نفد لدي منذ وقت بعيد"

‎سفيتلانا التي تخصصت أو بالأحرى خصصت جزءًا كبيرًا من حياتها الكتابية في توثيق مآسي الإنسان أصيبت بعد كتابة "ليس للحرب صوت أنثوي" بفوبيا من الدم، فلم تعد تتحمل رؤية وجه طفل ينزف فمه، أو رؤية الأسماك التي يلقيها الصيادين بعد صيدها، إذ كانت عيونها الجاحظة والجامدة تسبب لها شعورًا بالخوف الذي لا طاقة لها به!

‎ربما تكون كلمة "مستمتع" غير ملائمة لوصف حالتي الشعورية مع هذا الكتاب الذي منح لأول مرة صوتًا للمقهورين، ولكنها فعلاً متعة أن تقرأ عملاً يعري الإنسانية تمامًا ويفضح عيوبها دون خجلٍ أو حياء!

[Taghreed Jamal El Deen · Rating 5 out of 5]

فتيان الزنك هم الجنود السوفييت الذين عادوا إلى ذويهم في توابيت مغلقة مصنوعة من الزنك، تُرسل قطعة الخردة تلك إلى الأم ويُقال لها هذا ابنكِ .. يُمنع عليها فتح التابوت ووداعه، يُمنع معرفة كيف مات فهذه أسرار حربية!
ما زال يدوّي في رأسي رجع صدى صوت إحدى الأمهات وهي تقول لهم ابني يبلغ متران طولاً، كيف لهذا الصندوق المسخ أن يكون ابني ؟!

عادةً ما أمتنع عن تقييم الكتب المبنية على أحداث حقيقية احتراماً لقدسية حياة أصحابها، أما هذه المرة فكانت الخمسة نجوم طريقتي في قول " اقرؤوا الكتاب " ..
اقرؤوا كل ما كتبت سفيتلانا وبخاصةً هذا الكتاب.
اقرؤوا لتعرفوا ما هي الحرب وما تفعل بالإنسان، بكل إنسان؛ البعيد عنها والقريب.
فليقرأ كل من يبرر القتل تحت أي مسمى، وطني أو ديني أو غيره..
فليقرأ ليعرف أن الشعارات أكبر كذبة في تاريخ البشرية، وأنه ومن يسمى " عدوّه " من طينة واحدة، وأن كل ما عدا كينونة الإنسان الفرد كذبة، وأن اللحم والدم هما الحقيقة الوحيدة.
لِيقرأ ليفهم أن الأوطان لا تشيّد بالسلاح، والعدالة لا تقوم على الدماء، والحق ليس إلى جانب المنتصر.
وأعرف تماماً أن أحداً ممن تعنيه هذه الكلمات لن يقرأ.
ولا زال البحث المستحيل جارياً عن إنسان يحزن على القتيل من أي طرف كان، وعن إنسان يقف إلى جانب المظلوم دون معرفة لأي مذهب ينتمي، وعن أم تدرك أن من مات على يد ابنها هو ابن أم أخرى أيضاً، وأن الفاجعة واحدة.

" الميت لا ينتمي إلى أحد، لم تعد تبدو على وجهه سمات الحقد. "

وأخيراً .. أليس من سخرية الأقدار أن تكون أفضل الكتب التي قرأتها هي الكتب التي تحكي الحرب ؟ هل أهرب من الواقع إلى الواقع ؟!

[Miltos S. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Κάθομαι πλάι στον τάφο... Περνάει μια μητέρα με το παιδί της και την ακούω να λέει:
"Μα τι μάνα είναι αυτή; Πως μπόρεσε τέτοιους καιρούς να αφήσει τη μοναχοκόρη της να πάει στον πόλεμο;" Στην ταφόπλακα είναι γραμμένο: "Για τη μοναχοκόρη μου".
Μα πως τολμούν αυτοί οι άνθρωποι; Είχε δώσει τον όρκο, ήταν βοηθός χειρουργού, ένας χειρουργός είχε φιλήσει τα χέρια της. Ήταν στο Αφγανιστάν για να σώσει κόσμο, τους γιούς αυτών των ανθρώπων!
Άνθρωποι, φωνάζω μέσα μου, μη φεύγετε! Σταθείτε μαζί μου πλάι στον τάφο. Μη με αφήνετε μόνη...

Ήθελα να ήξερα τι σκέφτονται αυτοί οι μεγάλοι εγκέφαλοι εκεί στα υπουργεία παιδείας και δεν εισάγουν άμεσα αυτό ή έστω αντίστοιχα βιβλία στην εκπαίδευση των παιδιών μας.
Πραγματικά, ποιος νοήμων άνθρωπος θα είχε οποιαδήποτε διάθεση να βρεθεί/εμπλακεί/προκαλέσει πόλεμο μετά από ένα τέτοιο ανάγνωσμα?
Αλλά εμείς περιμένουμε να περάσουν 100 χρόνια να σιτέψει πρώτα το βιβλίο καλά και μετά βλέπουμε.

Όσο για το βιβλίο αυτό καθ εαυτό, απλώς επιτρέψτε μου να χρησιμοποιήσω μια φράση που είδα σε ένα άλλο review εδώ στο Goodreads: "Read this book and be changed".

Οι στρατιώτες φώναζαν "Μαμά!", όποτε τα πράγματα χειροτέρευαν, όταν οι πόνοι γινόταν αφόρητοι. Δεν τους άκουσα ποτέ να φωνάζουν κάποιον άλλον.

[BlackOxford · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Enduring Shame of War

War is a nightmare. It remains a nightmare longest for those soldiers who have survived it. The truth is that they don’t survive it, they re-live it one way or another for the rest of their lives. And what they re-live is exactly what all combat soldiers do: the utter absurdity of what they have accomplished.

So this book, although written in 1990 reporting the thoughts, memories and regrets of young Russian soldiers and surviving family members, female civilian employees and nurses who were assigned to Afghanistan, is indistinguishable from the reported experiences of American young men in VietNam twenty years before or of the British and American soldiers who followed the Russians into Afghanistan thirty years later. Roughly a half-century of experience of violent death. This experience is always the same for the grunts who do the shooting and diving for cover, and who suffer from the fear and discomfort of patrols, outposts, and missions that they know are not only dangerous but also ill-founded and useless.

And the personal consequences for these soldiers are virtually identical: alienation from family and friends, drug addiction, psychotic episodes, psycho-somatic disabilities, and a host of other maladies generally known as PTSD. It has become clear that every front-line combatant suffers deeply and permanently from the experiences of killing, being the constant target of killing, and the witnessing of comrades being killed and maimed. The Russians put the situation succinctly:

“… in order to experience the horror you have to remember it and get used to it. Within two or three weeks there’s nothing left of the old you except your name. You’ve become someone else… It’s a total transformation, it happens very quickly, and to practically everyone… everyone’s damaged in some way, no one escapes intact.”

But there is something else that is now also becoming evident. The most enduring effects of combat may not be in the soldiers but in the societies to which they and the bodies of their colleagues return. The introduction to the book is by a veteran of the American War in VietNam who was part of the interviewing process among the Russians. He is very clear about the central commonality between his comrades and the young Russians:

“… of all the comparisons between the American GIs who fought in Vietnam and the young Soviets who fought in Afghanistan, perhaps the most remarkable and consistent is their bitterness towards their governments. Both groups of men feel profoundly betrayed, and it is having been lied to that most sticks in the craw.”

Warfare destroys the fabric of the society that undertakes it. The hundreds of thousands, indeed millions, of disillusioned young men who have been through combat experience and return carry with them this sense of betrayal. They may hesitate to talk about their experiences of death, privation, and suffering. But this betrayal is unavoidably communicated to spouses, family and friends. They are the vectors for a social virus which is unstoppable. Neither the absurd restrictions imposed by the Soviets about discussion of military experience, nor the equally absurd propaganda by the US government about the national duty to stop communism could halt the spread of suspicion that the real enemy is the government.

That the Russian war in Afghanistan was a precipitating factor in the fall of the Soviet state, I think is unquestionable. That the American war in VietNam started a significant if less drastic change in American politics beginning with the Reagan administration and subtly spreading at state level is also likely. That the American wars in Iraq and Afghanistan contributed to the breakdown of traditional political party positions in America and the eventual elevation of Trump and his divisiveness is explicit. Wars kill more than people. War destroys trust in organisations and institutions far removed from the battlefield. War demands deceit within the nation that pursues it.

But the deceit involved in war goes even deeper than governmental and military lies, distortions and cover-ups. All of these recent wars were popular in the sense that there was wide-spread public support for their prosecution. In each the stated motivations and objectives were noble: to free, to protect, to build, to develop. Families were proud to send their sons to do their patriotic duty. Everyone was re-assured by the statements of political leaders that military involvement was both necessary and essentially short-term. When the facts of the case emerged, it was clear that the public had been duped. Or rather, they had duped themselves through their naive confidence in largely vacuous concepts like justified warfare, theories of strategic vulnerability, the evil of socialism (or capitalism). They, not their governments were the real culprits. They didn’t just allow war, they promoted it.

Shame is an overpowering emotion. The testimony of soldiers is literally shameful in a population that knows it has erred grievously. The public response to soldiers returning from VietNam was exactly the same as for the Russians returning from Afghanistan - shame. The soldiers were the scapegoats for that shame but it resided in those who mocked them, blamed them, accused them, and ignored them. And this shame has a cultural half-life longer than the generation alive during the conflict.

Shame, because it is so unbearable, gets passed along surreptitiously. And it shows up in a sort of self-hatred of the kind visible in America and Russia at the moment. They cannot admit to their own monstrously bad behaviour. So they turn on each other and create diversionary issues - abortion rights, immigration horrors, budget deficits - to avoid confronting the shame.

So the shame lingers and festers. Given an opportunity it provokes the need to demonstrate confidence, bravado, to mask its presence. And the process of war begins its cycle once again. As a Russian artillery officer put the situation: “Our children will grow up and deny their fathers ever fought in Afghanistan.” But those children will probably be sent to fight somewhere else.

[فهد الفهد · Rating 3 out of 5]

فتيان الزنك

نشرت في جريدة الرياض، السبت 26 نوفمبر 2016

http://www.alriyadh.com/1550369

عندما ذهبت جائزة نوبل للآداب في العام الماضي إلى صحفية بيلاروسية تدعى سفيتلانا ألكسيندروفنا ألكسيفيتش؛ أثارت نقاشا حول انحراف الجائزة لتشمل الصحافة والآداب المتفرعة منها، غير أن فوز هذه الصحفية فتح للقراء في كل مكان فرصة التعرف على تجربة فريدة في استثمار الواقع لإعادة انتاجه في نص واقعي كما في كتاب "فتيان الزنك" الصادر عن دار ممدوح عدوان في 368 صفحة.

بداية، لنا أن نذكر بأن ألكسيفيتش ولدت في مدينة ستانيسلافوف، في أوكرانيا السوفيتية في 31 مايو 1948 م، واشتهرت بكتبها الواقعية التي توثق من خلال مونولوجات مطولة قصص ضحايا الحروب والكوارث النووية في كل من روسيا وأوكرانيا وبيلاروسيا والتي كانت سابقاً جزءًا من الاتحاد السوفييتي قبل انهياره، تضم كتب ألكسيفيتش قصصاً مؤثرة لجنود وطيارين وموظفين وعمال وأمهات وزوجات بل وحتى أطفال مروا بتجارب مدمرة وبقوا ليحكوا لنا قصصهم المؤلمة.

حصول سفيتلانا ألكسيفيتش على هذه الجائزة المرموقة دفع حركة الترجمة العربية إلى تقديم أعمالها للقارئ العربي، هكذا صدرت خلال العامين 2015 م و2016 م عدة ترجمات لألكسيفيتش، أولها صدور كتابها "صلاة تشرنوبل" عن دار طوى بترجمة مشتركة من ثائر زين الدين وفريد الشحف، "صلاة تشرنوبل" هو كتاب ألكسيفيتش الثالث حسب تاريخ الصدور، وقد ركزت فيه المؤلفة على تقديم شهادات ضحايا حادثة انفجار مفاعل تشرنوبل الشهيرة، والتي وقعت في 26 أبريل 1986 م، تصنف حادثة تشرنوبل على أنها إحدى أسوأ الحوادث النووية ولازالت تداعياتها حاضرة حتى اليوم. دار ممدوح عدوان قدمت خلال هذا العام ثلاث ترجمات عن طريق المترجم عبدالله حبه، حيث ترجم كتاب ألكسيفيتش الأول "ليس للحرب وجه أنثوي" والذي تقدم فيه مئتا امرأة روسية شهاداتهن عن الحرب العالمية الثانية، وكتابها الثاني "فتيان الزنك" والذي يتناول تجارب حرب أفغانستان، وكتابها الرابع "آخر الشهود" والذي تقدم فيه شهادات أطفال في أزمنة الحروب. في "فتيان الزنك" اختارت ألكسيفيتش لكتابها هذا العنوان المعبر جداً، حيث كان المقاتلون الأمميون السوفييت يعودون إلى عائلاتهم على غير توقع أو انتظار في توابيت من الزنك، خلفت الحرب السوفييتية الأفغانية قرابة الستين ألف قتيل وجريح على الجانب السوفييتي، في مقابل مليون قتيل وجريح على الجانب الأفغاني، بالإضافة إلى تدمير تام لأفغانستان وتهجير لملايين من الأفغان الذين لازال بعضهم يعيش في مخيمات بائسة في باكستان المجاورة، استمر التدخل السوفييتي تسعة أعوام امتدت من 1979 م وحتى الانسحاب سنة 1989 م، ورغم كل هذا كانت حرب أفغانستان حرباً صامتة في الداخل السوفييتي، لم يكن الشعب السوفييتي يعلم شيئاً عن هذه الحرب، وكانت الصحف السوفييتية نادراً ما تشير إلى ما يحدث في أفغانستان، وكانت الحكومة السوفييتية تصر على أن الوجود السوفييتي ليس عسكرياً وإنما هو لتقديم المساعدة والتنمية لحكومة وشعب أفغانستان، وحدها العائلات التي كان أبناؤها يعودون في التوابيت الزنكية من عرف بما يحدث. وتكشف لنا المؤلفة من خلال شهادات متعددة، كيف زج بمقاتلين صغار في السن، تخرجوا لتوهم من الأكاديميات العسكرية في حرب لا يعلمون عنها شيئاً، بعضهم كان يظن أن هذه الحرب ليست إلا نزهة تدريبية سيعود منها ببعض المال وبعض المقتنيات الرأسمالية المفقودة في الوطن، ولكنها كانت حرباً ضروساً لم يعد البعض منها، وعاد آخرون بلا أطراف أو بذاكرة ممتلئة بمشاهد القتل والجرائم والانتهاكات، وهو ما دفعهم إلى الكحول أو الانتحار فراراً من عذابات الضمير وذاكرة الدم.

تعرضت سفيتلانا ألكسيفيتش لمحاكمات متعددة بسبب كتبها، حيث اعتبرها البعض مسيئة للتاريخ والو��ي السوفييتي، بل رفعت عليها قضايا من بعض الأمهات اللواتي تحدثن لها عن آلامهن وأحزانهن، وعدن عندما نشر الكتاب ليرفضن ما كتبته ألكسيفيتش معتبرات أن كتاباتها تشوه صورة أبنائهن الذين قتلوا أبطالاً في أفغانستان، في حين أظهر كتاب ألكسيفيتش أنهم ليسوا كذلك، وأن حرب أفغانستان حرب عبثية، وأن السوفييت كانوا في هذه الحالة هم المعتدون على بلد ضعيف وشعب يدافع عن أرضه، على عكس قتلى الجيش السوفييتي في الحرب الوطنية العظمى – التسمية السوفييتية للحرب العالمية الثانية – والذين يعتبرهم الجميع أبطالاً، دافعوا عن أرضهم وشعبهم أمام النازيين. ولعل من أجمل ما قالته ألكسيفيتش في إحدى المحاكمات، وهي شهادتها التي وجهتها لأمهات "فتيان الزنك" الموجودات في المحكمة قولها: "جئت لكي أتبادل الحديث مع الأمهات، وطلب المغفرة منهن لأنه لا يمكن إيجاد الحقيقة بلا ألم، ويبقى السؤال نفسه الوارد في كتابي: من نحن؟ ولماذا يمكن أن يفعلوا بنا أي شيء؟ إعادة الابن إلى الأم في تابوت من الزنك، ومن ثم إقناعها بأن تقيم دعوى في المحكمة ضد الكاتبة التي كتبت كيف أنها –أي الأم- لم تستطع تقبيل ابنها لآخر مرة وغسله بالأعشاب وتمسيد تابوت الزنك، فمن نحن؟" وقالت: "ما أكثر الكتب التي كتبت عن الحرب! وما أكثر ما صنع بأيدي البشر وعقولهم من سلاح! بحيث أصبحت فكرة القتل شيئاً عادياً... لكنني أكره الحروب، وأكره فكرة أن يمتلك أحد ما الحق في سلب حياة إنسان آخر".

[غيث الحوسني · Rating 4 out of 5]

"من الصعب الاعتراف بكوننا محتلين. ويجب علينا الآن ليس الجدل بصدد إقامة النصب التذكارية بل التفكير في المغفرة. يجب علينا جميعا طلب المغفرة من الفتيان المخدوعين الذين قُتلوا في هذه الحرب الخالية من أي معنى. يجب طلب المغفرة من الشعب الأفغاني - الأطفال والأمهات والشيوخ - للمصائب الكثيرة التي داهمت أرضهم"

فتيان الزنك: رواية الأصوات والمونولوجات المتعددة يقوم بروايتها أصحاب المعاناة.

أولئك الفتيان الذين جاءوا من مدن السلام ومن الحياة المسالمة إلى الحرب ثم العودة إلى الوطن لكن جثثاً في توابيت مصنوعة من الزنك إبان حرب الأفغان تلك الحرب التي وصفتها إحدى شخصيات الكتاب بالحرب الغير مفهومه.

تعد الكاتبة نقطة تحول في تاريخ الجائزة، لأن فوزها يعيد إلى الاذهان حديث ماركيز حول تعديل شروط الجائزة لفرع الآداب كي تتسع إلى أن تشمل التقرير الصحفي والكتابة الوثائقية و تعده جنسا أدبيا لما له من أهمية لخدمة الأنسانية، تماما كما تقوم به الأجناس الأخرى، وبفوز سفيتلانا أكدت نوبل هذا المسار.
وفتيان الزنك هو العمل الأكثر إثارة للجدل في المجتمع السوفيتي آن ذاك وقد عانت الكاتبة بعد صدوره في عام ١٩٨٩ من المحاكمات والملاحقات والتي ذُكرت هذه المعاناة في نهاية الكتب بشكل مفصل وصادم.

الرواية رائعة جدا

https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...

[Sarah ~ · Rating 5 out of 5]

فتيان الزنك - سفيتلانا أليكسييفيتش


سفيتلانا :
"لا أريد أن أصمت، ولا أستطيع الكتابَة عن الحرب أكثر " ..

رغم أنني لا أقرأ عادةً هذا النوع من الأدب - الأدب الوثائقي وخاصّة إذا كان متعلقًا بـ حرب أو كارثة .. ومواضيعَ الحروب وقصصها وبشاعتها لا أقرؤها مطلقًا إضافةً إلى أدب السحون .. لكن لا يمكنني أن أتوقف عن القراءة لـ سفيتلانا، كتاباتها تأسرني بـ صدقها وأسلوبها....
ولا يمكنني إلاّ أن أنهي الكتاب حتّى وإن اكتئبت بـ سببه، تمامًا كمـا حدثَ مع (صلاة تشرنوبل) ....
وأتساءل دائمًا هل كلّ الأدب الوثائقي هكذا أم أنّها ميزة اختصت بها سفيتلانا وحدها.
~

سفيتلانا تنقل في فتيان الزنك قصصًا وشهادات من الحرب الأفغانيّة ..
قصص الفتيان الذين عادت جثثهم في توابيت مصنوعة من الزنك ...
شهادات الجنود الذين حاربوا في أفغانستان ورأوا الأهوال والذينَ جرحوا وقتل أصدقاؤهم أولئك الذين تخلّى عنهم الجميع ولم يجدوا تقديرًا بعد عودتهم؛ لا من الوطن ولا من الشعب، وأصوات أمهات الجنود الذين قتلوا هناك والزوجات، تنقل ألم الحرب وقسوتها وقظاعاتها وبشاعة العنف في صور صادقة ومؤلمة .....

تقول سفيتلانا في خطاب محاكمتها التي جرت بـ سبب نشر هذا الكتاب :
"إنّ الكتب التي أؤلفها هي وثيقة وفي الوقت نفسه رؤيتي للزمن. أجمع التفاصيل والمشاعر ليس من حيَاةِ فردٍ معيّن، بل من كلّ هواء الزمن وفضائه وأصواته."
اعتبر فوز سفيتلانا بجائزة نوبل وتعرفنا عليها، أفضل ما حدث في هذا الكوكبِ البائس منذ عقود .

[E. G. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Prologue
From the Notebooks

--Boys in Zinc

Post Mortem
'Boys in Zinc' on Trial

[Sleepy Boy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Visceral, searing, and full of emotion. Svetlana found herself "having" to write this book, I think. She opens the book with her going to Afghanistan and not wanting to cover yet another war after her emotional experience in publishing War's Unwomanly Face. She, however, realized these people's stories had to be told, especially with the at-home propaganda machine churning out nonsense like "Our brave international soldiers are planting trees, paving roads, and helping the Afghan people."

Much like any war that is not popular or considered a mistake, the combat veterans heavily contemplate why exactly they were fighting, dying, and mentally scarring themselves. Given how the veterans were treated when they returned home by their politicians, the civilians, etc., I am even more completely comfortable calling this Russia's Vietnam.

An incredible learning experience for me that Svetlana doesn't shy away from is how many Soviet women were involved in the war. I was unaware of this facet within the war beyond medical staff and how often they bled and died just like the men.

The author closes her book with various transcripts of the court proceedings brought against her once the book was published. People who the KGB pressured to rescind their statements and say she twisted their words. Mercifully just about across the board, the court sided with the author.

[سماح عطية · Rating 4 out of 5]

لم يغب عن ذهني لحظة أثناء قراءتي له أنّ الصوت الضاجّ بالألم هنا هو صوت عدوّ كان لنا محارب،
وأن "الأشباح" الذين تحدثوا عمّا فعلوه بهم من قتل وتدمير وسرقة واغتصاب وإهلاك إنما هم إخوان لنا في الإسلام ..
وأنّي طوال قراءتي لمعاناتهم مما حدث لهم في أفغانستان،
وما تركته الحرب وقسوتها وقسوتهم فيها عليهم إنما أراه يثبت قول الله عز وجل عنهم وعنّا ..

"إِن تَكُونُوا تَأْلَمُونَ فَإِنَّهُمْ يَأْلَمُونَ كَمَا تَأْلَمُونَ ۖ وَتَرْجُونَ مِنَ اللَّهِ مَا لَا يَرْجُونَ"

[João Carlos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Maldito sejas, Afeganistão!


”Rapazes de Zinco” (1989) é mais uma obra da escritora e jornalista bielorrussa Svetlana Alexievich (n. 1948), galardoada com o Prémio Nobel da Literatura em 2015 – “pela sua escrita polifónica, monumento ao sofrimento e à coragem na nossa época.”
O seu projecto literário Vozes da Utopia congrega cinco obras: ”A Guerra Não Tem Rosto de Mulher” (1985), ”As Últimas Testemunhas” (1985) (a ser editado em Portugal em 2017), ”Rapazes de Zinco” (1989), ”Vozes de Chernobyl” (1997) (4*) e ”O Fim do Homem Soviético” (2013)(4*) – e representa um novo género literário de não-ficção em que dá voz aos intervenientes, num estilo documental conjugado a partir de entrevistas, numa prosa de invulgar concisão, dominada por uma sensibilidade desconcertante, sobre histórias dramáticas e trágicas que envolveram homens, mulheres e crianças, em inúmeros contextos geográficos, políticos e sociais.
Em ”Rapazes de Zinco” a temática é a guerra: no caso específico a Guerra do Afeganistão 1979 – 1989 ou a Guerra Afegã-Soviética na qual existiu o envolvimento militar directo das tropas da União Soviética num contexto da Guerra Fria, onde assistimos mais uma vez, tal como já sucedera em outras guerras, ao dissimilar da mentira, a verdade nesta circunstância é um conceito relativo; neste caso específico, para os cidadãos soviéticos, as tropas tinham sido enviadas ao Afeganistão para trabalharem em projectos humanitários e de construção de infra-estruturas, cumprindo-se um dever enquadrado como ajuda internacional.
”Rapazes de Zinco” é um livro cruel – a guerra decorre no terreno, mas os mortos são enterrados em segredo, dentro dos famigerados caixões de zinco – um relato a várias vozes de mulheres, mães e esposas - viúvas, e de ex-combatentes, sobre os jovens, homens e mulheres, que ou não regressaram vivos ou dos que regressaram vivos, retornam como “outras pessoas”; numa guerra que durou quase dez anos, com mais de quinze mil mortos e mais de quatrocentos e cinquenta mil feridos e doentes, e que deixou um rasto destrutivo, na minha perspectiva, mais individual do que colectiva, gerando comportamentos e atitudes irremediavelmente dominadas pelo ódio das pessoas - ex-combatentes e outros cidadãos - que no regresso têm a percepção da mentira e da inutilidade de uma guerra que acabou perdida contra as forças da guerrilha afegãs.
Svetlana Alexievich em ”Rapazes de Zinco” confere, igualmente, um enquadramento sinistro entre as relações de militares e das mulheres civis, voluntariadas para servir e socorrer, e que rapidamente se vêem enredadas em exigências sexuais implacáveis; ou da indiferença burocrática decorrente dos que são enviados mortos – nos caixões de zinco – sem que possam ser rapidamente entregues às famílias ou sequer que possam abrir os caixões; ou do desespero e do calvário dos que regressam, marginalizados e excluídos como párias da sociedade - os "afgan": ”Percebi que aqui ninguém precisa de nós. Não interessa o que passámos. É desnecessário, incómodo. E nós também somos desnecessários, incómodos.
(...)
Acordo de manhã e fico contente se não me lembro do que sonhei. Não conto os meus sonhos a ninguém, mas eles regressam... Sempre os mesmos…” (Pág. 197 – 198)
No final de ”Rapazes de Zinco” há uma secção dedicada aos vários julgamentos e às várias acções intentadas por um grupo de mães de combatentes mortos no Afeganistão e por ex-militares contra Svetlana Alexievich.
”Rapazes de Zinco” é um livro implacável sobre o horror e o inferno da Guerra do Afeganistão 1979 – 1989 ou da Guerra Afegã-Soviética.

[Maziyar Yf · Rating 5 out of 5]

پسرانی از جنس روی ، چهره دیگری از مردم روسیه و جمهوریهای سابق آن نشان می دهد ، در این کتاب روسها نه به مانند کتاب جنگ چهره زنانه ندارد مورد هجوم هیولای نازی و جنگ کبیر میهنی قرار گرفته اند ، نه مانند کتاب زمان دست دوم به دارایی و شان انسانی آن ها توسط حکومت کمونیستی تجاوز شده ، نه به مانند کتاب صداهایی از چرنوبیل ارزش جان آن ها توسط حکومت و مس��ولین بی لیاقت به هیج انگاشته شده و نه مانند کتاب آخرین شاهدان کودکان روسی شاهد کشته شدن پدر و مادران خود یا والدین شاهد و مشاهده گر مکیده شدن خون فرزندان خود توسط خون آشامان نازی بوده اند .در اینجا روسهایی که خود تا به حال قربانی ( چه سیستم کمونیستی و چه جنگ) بوده اند ، حالا خود به قاتلانی نه در اندازه نازی ها ، ولی مانند آمریکاییها در ویتنام تبدیل شده اند .کتاب پراست از سرنوشت جوانانی که بدون دلیل می کشند و خود توسط مردمانی که از کشور خود دفاع می کنند کشته می شوند . شاید این کتاب به خوبی شباهت انسان ها و داشتن خوی مشترک خشونت را نشان بدهد . چه روسی یا آمریکایی یا فرانسوی یا ایرانی و عراقی و افغانی همه ما در خشونت ورزی با هم اشتراک داریم . اما جنگ شوروی در افغانستان که به کشته شدن یک میلیون غیر نظامی و ویران شدن یک کشور انجامید شاید یکی از مهمترین علتهای تجزیه شوروی و یکی از عوامل تاثیر گذار سالیان اخیر باشد ، از دل همین جنگ است که تروریست های القاعده و طالبان سر برداشته وبه الگویی برای تروریستهایی مانند داعش و گروهایی دیگر از این قبیل تبدیل شده و جهان را به مکان نا امن تری تبدیل کرده اند . به هر حال ، کتاب شاید به دلیل متجاوز بودن روسها ، کوبندگی ما بقی کتابهای خانم آلکسیویچ را نداشته باشد ، اما به هر حال کتابی ایست به شدت تاثیرگذار و افشا کننده که در کمترین حالت ارزش پنج ستاره را دارد

[Nada Elshabrawy · Rating 5 out of 5]

ماذا فهمت هناك؟ إن الخير لن ينتصر أبداً. و الشر لا يتناقص من العالم . الإنسان كائن فظيع . و الطبيعة جميلة ..

[PGR Nair · Rating 4 out of 5]

ZINKY BOYS: A REQUIEM TO THE REMEMBERED

When I read a few days ago in Ladbroke betting site that Svetlana Alexievich, the great Belarusian writer, is topping as a probable candidate for 2015 Nobel prize for literature, I felt a palpitation in my heart. Ever since I read her book Zinky Boys, I have been a great fan of this writer. Now that she has won the prize, my joy knows no bounds as she is a truly deserving writer to win Nobel Prize. I own two books of her-Zinky Boys and Voices from Cherneobyl. Both of them fall into a kind Oral history of ordinary people entangled in the events that are beyond their control; superhuman events that had torpedoed their life- The Soviet Invasion of Afghan and the Chernobyl Nuclear tragedy. The throng of tragedies that she portrays through episodic narration from the voices of the people and witnesses she had interviewed after the events overwhelm any sensitive reader. The trauma of ordinary people who were incapacitated by the immensity of sorrow as a result of the unforeseen events acquire extraordinary dimension as we read them.

Zinky Boys chronicle the stories of mothers, Generals, widows, Privates, nurses, Civilians and even Military advisors who were traumatized by the soviet invasion of Afghanistan from 1979 to 1989. The war claimed about 50,000 Soviet causalities, most whom were young boys recruited to fight the Afghan Mujahideens. The Soviet dead were shipped back home in sealed zinc coffins (Hence the term ‘Zinky Boys’. The title is an ironic allusion, on the one hand to the zinc coffins used by the Red Army in this war, on the other hand to the Soviet imagery of ‘steel men’, soldier and workers in heroic narratives of earlier wars.) while the state was denying the tragedy and even the very existence of a conflict in Afghanistan. The whole book as I said is a chorus of voices; voices that reverberate with pain and agony. They offer a unique and hauntingly powerful insight into the realities of war and how the iron curtain of Soviet Union made it invisible and improbable.

Here is an excerpt. Note how she builds up the emotional crescendo by repetitions and associations to simple aspects of her child.

MOTHER

He was always small. He was as small as a girl when he was born, just couple of kilos, and he grew up small. I’d cuddle him and call him my little sunshine.

The only thing he was afraid was spiders. Once he went out to play. We’d bought him a new coat and when he returned I hung it up in the cupboard and went into the kitchen. A few minute later I heard this strange noise , shelp-shlep, shlep-shlep. The entrance-hall was full of frogs. They were jumping out of his pockets. He picked them all up. ‘Don’t be frightened Mum,’ he said, stuffing them back in pockets, ‘they’re nice little creature’. My little sunshine…

He loved toys to do with war, tanks, machine guns, pistols. He’d strap guns round himself and march round the house. ‘I ‘m a soldier, I’m soldier.’
When he went to school, we couldn’t find a uniform to fit him and he was lost in the smallest one they had. My little sunshine…

Then they took him off to army. I prayed he wouldn’t be killed. I prayed he wouldn’t be beaten up and humiliated by the bigger, senior ones-he was so small. He told us how they could force you to clean out the toilets with a toothbrush and wash out other people’s underpants. That’s what I was afraid of. He wrote and told us when he was being posted and to send him photos of his mum and sister….*

He didn’t write where he was being sent. Two months later we had a letter from Afghanistan. ‘Don’t cry, Mum, our flak-jackets are very good,’ he wrote. ‘Our flak-jackets are good…’ My little sunshine….

I was already expecting him home, he had a month more to go in army. I managed to buy him some shirts, and a scarf, and shoes. They’re still in the cupboard.
The first thing I knew about it was when a captain from headquarters arrived.

‘Try to be strong, mother…..’ That’s what he called me.

‘Where is my son?’

‘Here in Minsk. They’re bringing him now.’

I fell to the floor. ‘My little sunshine. My little sunshine.’ I got up and threw myself at the captain. ‘Why are you alive and my son dead? You’re big and strong and he’s so small. You’re a man and he’s just boy. Why are you alive?’

They brought in the coffin. I collapsed over it. I wanted to lay him out and they wouldn’t allow us to open the coffin to see him, touch him, touch him….Did they find a uniform to fit him? ‘My little sunshine, my little sunshine.’ Now I just want to be in the coffin with him. I go to the cemetery, throw myself on the gravestone and cuddle him. My little sunshine….

( *As part of the regime of military secrecy conscripts are generally sent to their units straight from the training-camp)
..............................................................................
I know there are puritans who consider that interviews and oral history are not literature in the sense intended by Nobel and the sense employed by the Academy all these years. I do not bear any disinclination to "creative-nonfiction" or "Journalistic Literature" (an excellent example in this genre is that of the late Polish Journalist and writer Ryszard Kapuściński whose works like "Emperor", "Sha of Iran" and "Another day of Life" are marvellous testaments of intercultural encounters and life in turbulent times like in Ethiopia, Iran and Angola) so long as the works are great testaments of humanity. Well, this genre is not new also as many writers like Alexander Solzhenitsyn (Gulag Archipelago), Truman Capote and Oliver Sacks have written similar works.

The greatness of that Svetlana Alexievich lies in the fact that though the book is written as a collage of polyphonic voices, the voices are distinctive in many episodes. Being a mother, she excels well in narrating memories of mothers and widows.Her prose is lucid and devastating. She sees things with heart and her Ear is the witness. I couldn’t read the book at a stretch when I read it in 2006 as many passages gave a lump in my throat and made my eyes misty. Yes, the book is not altogether devoid of sentimentality, though the writer has strived to maintain great restraint, concision and solemnity in her narration. The feminine memory has an adorable charm in this book. Their voices are more ethical than political. I wish to cite one more small passage from the voice of a Widow.

There’s a big photograph of him hanging on the wall.'Take Daddy down for me’, my little girl asks, ‘I want to play with Daddy’. She puts her toys round his picture and talks to him. When I put her to bed at night she asks, ‘Who shot Daddy? Why did they choose Daddy?’ I take her to nursery school and when it’s time to take her home she’s in tears. ‘I’m not leaving school till Daddy comes to fetch me. Where’s my Daddy?’

What can I tell her? How can I explain? I’m only twenty-one myself. This summer I took her to my mother in the country, hoping she’d forget him.
I’m not strong enough to go on crying day after day…I watch a man with his wife and child, three of them going somewhere together and my soul begins to scream….’If only you could get up for one single minute to see what a lovely daughter you’ve got .

This incomprehensible war is over for you, but not for me, and for our daughter it will never be over for she’ll go on living after us, Our children are the unhappiest generation of all-they’ll have to take responsibility for everything…Can you hear me?

Who am I crying to….

Zinky boys is a marvellous attempt in writing multiple autobiography. The monologues and memories that come alive in Zinky Boys are monumental testimonies of the misfortunes inflicted by mankind.

[Yara Yu · Rating 4 out of 5]

علقوا فوق القبور لوحات وانقشوا الحجر .. أن كل شئ كان عبثا .. و انقشوا علي الأحجار كي تبقي علي مر القرون

هذه هي الحرب من انتصر ومن هزم ومن استفاد .. من الجاني ومن المجني عليه لا نعرف .. لكن كل ما نعرفه ما تخلفه من دمار وضحايا من صرخة أم علي ابنها وبكاء أخت علي أخيها وتشريد أطفال وعائلات
حتي من يخرجوا من الحرب علي قيد الحياة لا يكونوا كما كانوا قبل الحرب نفسيا أو جسديا فمنهم من خرج بإعاقة ستؤرقه طوال حياته ومنهم من تأثر نفسيا لدرجة توقفت حياته عند فترة الحرب
فتيان الزنك هي من روايات الأصوات المتعددة وهي ثالث أعمال الكاتبة من هذا النوع بعد آخر الشهود وليس للحرب وجه أنثوي
كتبت بشكل روائي بسيط بدون حبكة أو تعقيد واستعرضت الشخصيات التي تأثرت بالحرب
صفحات صادقة مليئة بالألم

[Mohamed Metwally · Rating 4 out of 5]

My fourth book in Non Fiction November, and my second book for Svetlana, whom I discovered with 'Voices from Chernobyl' which I found after watching the Netflix series...
This book would be my first indepth reading about the Afghan war, I've been exposed to Afghanistan before while reading 'The Kite Runner' and 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' for Khaled ElHusseini, but that was on a fictional base, giving a general picture of what the country was before and what it became to after the russians left and the taliban came.The beauty here in this book is that it's written by an opposing voice from within the aggressor side.
The worst thing any nation can do is to consciously start a war by invading another country using the youth of it's people to fuel this aggression, and expect them to come home as heroes, ignoring the atrocities they were forced to commit in the name of their country, even worse, leave them without any help to integrate back within society, and when it turns out they are broken empty shells, that they have gone to war and came back damaged, their government was the first to fail them.
The voices speak from first hand experience of the machinations of war, it is full of hurt, loss, and retellings of the personal experiences of what it really is to be at war, they all confirm it is nothing like the movies, its more brutal and harrowing than the most gory hollywood act.
The book is more into the psych aspect of war, from a gathering of personal insights, presented as it is told by those who experienced it be they survivors or the parents of those who came back in the Zinc coffins that gives the book its name, the book is putting them together to give the reader a glimpse at the abyss of brutality that is war, it is not about the Afghan atrocity itself.
Yet one thing is pretty clear from my reading, that the invasion of Afghanistan was a Russian mistake. And this calls on me to read further on the war itself...

MiM

[Huy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tôi xin được vote cuốn sách này tất cả các sao mà tôi có, không chỉ bởi tài năng kể chuyện của Svetlana Alexievich khi thu thập những câu chuyện lịch sử, đưa đến tiếng nói cho những thân phận bị lãng quên, lật lại những ký ức tưởng b��� chôn vùi mà còn bởi sự dũng cảm của bà trước những áp lực mà cuốn sách đã gây ra, một lần nữa, tôi phải nghiêng mình thán phục trước một tài năng hiếm có.

[Yazeed AlMogren · Rating 5 out of 5]

لايمكن إيجاد الحقيقة بلا ألم، هكذا ردت كاتبة الرواية سفيتلانا أليكسييفيتش على أمهات وأقارب القتلى في أفغانستان من الجيش السوفييتي عندما حاكموها بتهمة تزوير الحقائق والإهانة للشرف والك��امة.
هذا الكتاب يصنف كرواية من الأدب الوثائقي والتي يستشهد فيها الكاتب بحادثة وقعت ويعيد صياغتها والإضافة عليها بأسلوبها الخاص.
من أراد معرفة حقيقة الحرب فليقرأ ماتقوله أمهات القتلى وأقارب المصابين، لاشيء أسوء من الإنخراط في حرب لم يكن هدفها الدفاع عن أرض الوطن، تبقى ذكريات الأمهات عن أبناءهم هي محور هذا الرواية وأساسها، دار ممدوح عدوان كانت محترفة أدبيًا بنشر نصوص المقالات ومقتطفات من جلسات محاكمة الكاتبة ليعلم القارئ مادار من سجال حول نشر هذا الكتاب وكيف تقبله أهالي القتلى والمصابين.
وأخيرًا من أراد معرفة حقيقة الحرب فليقرأ هذا الكتاب

[Martin · Rating 5 out of 5]

What made this book so powerful, so heartbreaking, was its simplicity. In Zinky Boys, Russian journalist Svetlana Alexievich interviews the mothers, widows, civilians and soldiers whose lives were destroyed by the USSR's ten year war in Afghanistan. The 197 pages are filled with dozens of short interviews which left me close to tears, depressed, imagining myself burying a son or thinking what it would take to kill without judgment.

Page 23. An army nurse recalls, "Sometimes we massacred a whole village in revenge for one of our boys... I remember one girl lying in the dust like a broken doll with no arms and no legs... And yet we went on being surprised they didn't love us."

What a quote! "And yet we went on being surprised they didn't love us."

Some of the stories are stuck in my head. A soldier leaping into a trench-- and onto a mine. His legs were blown off. Soldiers admitting they massacred civilians in senseless acts of revenge. Their "confessions" to Alexievich-- how they turned into animals, how they can longer look at a woman, how some wish they could shoot anyone who looks at them the wrong way on the street. Those who survived saw their humanity killed off.

The Soviet Union destroyed Afghanistan. The exact number of lives lost never will be known, but the estimates of Afghan dead are staggering. The Soviets lost at least 15,000 men. Men? I should say boys. Many were conscripts, 18 to 20 years old, who had little military experience, were given unlimited guns and ammo, and learned to kill everything that moved. Alas, zinky boys. The bodies of the Soviet soldiers were shipped home in zinc coffins.

I can picture one of those coffins concealing the maimed body of a Russian teenager, lying in a drab flat in Moscow, a mother draping her body over it, crying out for her son.

Page 32. A mother, whose son was killed doing his "international duty" to defend the Motherland. "I can't carry on any longer, I just can't. I've been dying for two years now. I'm not ill, but I'm dying. My whole body is dead. I suppose we're already dead but nobody knows."

Page 53. A mother. "They brought in the coffin. I collapsed over it. I wanted to lay him out but they wouldn't allow us to open the coffin to see him... Now I just want to be in the coffin with him. I go to the cemetery, throw myself on the gravestone and cuddle him."

There are a couple common themes running through all the interviews. One is betrayal. Nearly all the soldiers and civilians who served in Afghanistan tell Alexievich they believed they were sent to Afghanistan to do good. They were there to defend an ideology, to defend Russia's borders, to help the Afghan people see the truth of socialism. After experiencing the horrors of war, they begin to question.

When they return home (often without eyes, legs, and/or arms), they feel an array of emotions: pride, revulsion, guilt, sadness, longing for love and comradeship-- bonds some mythically believed had been found in the filth of the front lines. And betrayal. Many of the boys --again, think 18 to 20 year olds-- deflect responsibility for their war crimes and place it on the monstrous Soviet government. They resent the criticism launched at them by a public that has also finally learned the truth (Moscow tried to keep secret the average yearly deployment of 100,000 Soviet troops; when the zinc coffins started coming home people began to understand what really was happening).

Some clung to hope.

Page 43. Sergeant-Major. "I accepted the official line so completely that even now, after all I've read and heard, I still have a minute hope that our lives weren't entirely wasted."

Tragedy struck more than once. Families were lied to about their sons' whereabouts (in some cases even the soldiers weren't sure where they were headed). Then the war wrecked their bodies and minds-- and tortured their emotional lives. When the soldiers returned home (alive or in a zinc coffin) they and their families were run over again-- by the shame of fighting in what many began to see as a dirty, useless war.

Yet the war's transformational power wasn't only destructive. Some soldiers admitted longing for what they had in Afghanistan that they could never get again at home: the test of their mortality, the challenge to overcome hardship, the bonds with their fellow men-at-arms. This positive feeling pales in comparison to the overwhelmingly negative vibe that pours from the pages, but it is remarkable nonetheless.

This feeling reminded me of John Keegan's final paragraph in his one-volume study of WWI.. on the mystery of that war. It might be said of many wars. "If we could understand its loves, as well as its hates, we would be nearer understanding the mystery of human life."

Alexievich also received many letters from readers which make up the final pages of Zinky Boys. Some thanked her; others excoriated her for reporting the truth. You can sense some Russians felt liberated at finally being able to criticize their government, for finally being able to learn the truth-- while at the same time being tugged the other way by guilt and shame.

I could not fathom how some Russian civilians blamed themselves for the war. In a country where the people had no say, had no access to information about what was going on? In a nation run by a monstrous government that forced mothers to bury their sons at night so few people would take notice?

Zinky Boys made me reflect on my own responsibility living in a free nation with access to information. It is a heavy question to consider. The book provides an interesting comparison to the U.S and its current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, if you are self-secure enough to walk down that path.

Don't we also believe we are doing good? Don't we also believe we know what's best for others? Don't we also find all kinds of ways to deflect responsibility or rationalize brutal behavior? Don't we all have contradictory feelings tugging inside us, just like the soldiers interviewed by Alexievich? They hated their country for what it made them do, but some didn't necessarily hate what they did. Others did feel the burden of war crimes.

And what is it about war-- the most destructive force on earth-- that provides an opportunity to do the most productive self-reflection?

Thanks to Naeem for recommending a book that got me thinking even more-- and asking more questions-- so that I may continue to dance with my doubt.

Five stars for Zinky Boys-- a shattering book!

[پیمان عَلُو · Rating 3 out of 5]

_ عجب! پس یک بی جربزۀ تمام عیار شده‌ای،فردینان ! جدا که موش مهوعی شده‌ای...

_بی جربزۀ تمام عیار،لولا ! من جنگ و تمامی چیزهایی را که در آن هست نفی می‌کنم...من ابداً وجودش را نمی‌خواهم...نمی‌خواهم تسلیمش بشوم...به حال خودم اشک نمی‌ریزم...
فقط جنگ و همۀ آدمهایی را که می‌جنگند،نفی می‌کنم،نه کاری به این آدم ها دارم و نه کاری به خودش.حتی اگر آن‌ها نهصد و نود و پنج میلیون نفر هم باشند و من یکی تنها،باز هم آن ها هستند که اشتباه می‌کنند،لولا، و منم که حق دارم،چون فقط منم که می‌دانم چه می‌خواهم: می‌خواهم نَمیرم.
_ولی نفی جنگ غیر ممکن است،فردینان! وقتی که وطن در خطر است،فقط دیوانه‌ها و بی جربزۀ ها می‌توانند از جنگیدن شانه خالی کنند...

_پس زنده باد دیوانه‌ها و بی جربزۀ‌ها ! یا در واقع،کاش فقط دیوانه‌ها و بی جربزۀ‌ها زنده بمانند ! لولا، آیا اسم یکی از سربازهایی که طی جنگ صد ساله کشته شدند،را یادت هست؟...
هرگز سعی کردی یکی از این اسم‌ها را پیدا کنی ؟...
نکردی،مگر نه؟...
هرگز سعی‌نکردی.آن‌ها همانقدر برایت ناشناس و گمنام و بی اهمیتند که کوچترین اتم این رو کاغذی روبرویت،از لقمۀ صبحانه‌ات بی‌اهمیت‌ترند...پس خودت ببین که برای هیچ و پوچ مرده‌اند،لولا ! احمق‌ها برای هیچ و پوچ مُرده‌اند ! به خدا قسم که درست است! خودت می‌بینی که درست است! فقط زندگی است که به حساب می‌آید.در هزار سال بعد از این،شرط می‌بندم که این جنگ،هرقدر هم که الان برای ما با اهمیت باشد،پاک از یادها خواهد رفت...
شاید چند نفری از متبحرین گاهگاهی اینجا و آنجاش را بیرون بکشند،که آنهم به خاطر تعیین تاریخ دقیق گورهای دسته جمعی مشهورش خواهد بود... این کل چیزیست که آدم ها توانسته‌اند تا حالا دربارۀ افراد مختلف چند قرن پیش،چند سال پیش و حتی چند ساعت پیش پیدا کنند...من به آیندۀ اعتقاد ندارم،لولا...



از کتاب مقدسم:
« از سه نقطه‌ها مشخص است،لازم به معرفی نیست.»

[Banu Yıldıran Genç · Rating 3 out of 5]

aleksiyeviç'in elimde en uzun süre kalan kitabı oldu sanırım. bunun nedenleri çeşitli: -hakkında çok çok az şey bildiğim bir savaş hakkında, afgan-sscb savaşı hakkındaydı. tabii ki bir sürü arıştırma yaptım ama galiba diğer kitapları kadar içine almadı beni.
-kitapta sscb askerleriyle yapılmış çok fazla söyleşi var, anneler, hemşireler, eşler de var ama çok tekrar var gibi geldi bir süre sonra. bir de hepsi aynı şeyi anlatıyor: evet, çok acımasız bir savaş, neye gittiklerini bilmeden katılmışlar, yaşananlar zaten korkunç... diğer kitaplarda farklı bölüm başlıklarında farklı bakış açıları oluyordu.
- savaşın neden başarısız olduğu, afganların gerilla taktiği ve neden en başta savaşa lüzum görüldüğü de açıklansaydı keşke dedim bazen.
yine de başımızın belası işid'in, el kaide'nin kökeni nerede yatıyor, abd bu işin neresinde, hepsi çıkıyor araştırılınca.
kitabın en can acıtıcı bölümü önce bir güzel dökülen anne ve askerlerin sonra yazara dava açmaları. bu dava da kitabın sonuna eklenmiş, çok da iyi olmuş. ama içiniz acıya acıya, hatta ağlayarak okuduğunuz bazı anıların sahiplerinin o çirkefliklerini görmek de acayip bir his. ki svetlana aleksiyeviç'in savaş karşıtlığı, bu çocuklara nasıl bir merhamet duyduğu o kadar belli ki...
bu arada çeviri oldukça başarılı, dipnotlar süper!

[Кремена Михайлова · Rating 5 out of 5]

Не могат да преживеят, че СССР го няма вече…

Почти не съм преписвала цитати за ръце, крака, черва, кайма… от афганската война (СССР-ци, афганци и камили), а това, което ми се стори най-нагло (в съдебната зала гражданин коментира войната в Афганистан и книгата на Алексиевич):

„Армията ни не беше воювала отдавна. Там проверявахме себе си, съвременното оръжие… Заради такива драскачи като вас днес предаваме позициите си в целия свят… Загубихме Полша… Германия, Чехословакия… Дано да доживеем деня, когато Горбачов ще бъде съден за това. И вие също. Вие сте предатели. Къде са нашите идеали? Къде е великата ни държава?“

А иначе „Цинковите момчета“ е за три неща: Смърт (умрелите), Смърт (оцелелите), М��йки (и един обесил се баща). Може да се каже и четвърто нещо: Обида. За оцелелите или близките на загиналите – че това е било напразно, престъпно, измамно…

„Ако не сме ние, там щяха да са американците. Ние сме интернационалисти!“
„Виждахме нашите момчета осакатени, обгорели. Виждахме ги и се учехме да мразим. Да мислим обаче не се учехме“.
„Самата аз го учех: „Дългът си е дълг, синко. Той трябва да се отдаде.“
„Кой ви каза, че хората не обичат войната?“
„А пък кого да мразя сега…“

Не мога да разбера защо все пак тази книга не ме „хвана“ както „Чернобилска молитва“ или „Време секънд хенд“. След книгата за Чернобил с месеци четох и гледах материали, а сега още по време на четенето исках да захвърля книгата за Афганистан. Или е написана по различен начин от другите книги, или е толкова страшна, че сама нарочно съм се дистанцирала. Не исках да си представям нито самата касапница в Афганистан, нито ужаса на майките или завърналите се обезобразени или полудели момчета (пак много силно/страшно начало на книгата). Има и момичета разбира се. И пак като в другите книги на Алексиевич за соца – Аз сам/а исках! Пак дълг, пак родина, пак чест... Каква родина в Афганистан, не знам, но и те не знаят.

„Заминаваме да изпълняваме интернационалния си дълг…“
„Запомних, че световният империализъм не спи, а у дома ни очакват като герои.“

Всъщност ето няколко разновидности на „Аз исках.“

„Аз сама го изпратих там! Сама!“ (майка)
„Втълпяваха ни, втълпяваха ни и най-накрая ни втълпиха, че това е „интернационален дълг.“
„Бях глупак… Осемнайсет годишен… Какво ли съм разбирал?“
„Сам кандидатствах… Мечтаех да попадна на тази война… Беше ми интересно…“
„Да, убивах… Защото исках да живея…“
„Момчета, искате ли да работите на нови коли?“ (шофьор – измамен, казали му, че го пращат в Ташкент)
„А там от не един съм чувала – да убиваш може и да ти хареса, да убиваш – това е удоволствие. Това е силно чувство.“
„...правилно разбира политиката на партията и правителството...“
„Съветваме ви да си помислите. Ако не, ще се обадим в университета и ще кажем що за комсомолка сте. Родината го изисква…“ (мед. сестра, принудена да замине)
„Нашият идеал, нашият герой е човекът с оръжие…“

Затова вместо към боевете се насочих към други неща – например куфарите със стоки, които се носят към СССР. Е защо, след като е толкова изостанал братският афгански народ и трябва да му се помогне, от там се влачат дрехи, техника, джундурии – невиждани в СССР „съкровища“…

„Войната, казаха ни, е справедлива, ние помагаме на афганския народ да приключи с феодализма и да построи светлото социалистическо общество. За това, че нашите момчета загиват, се мълчеше.“

„Вярно ли е, че има парцалки и видеотехника с купища? Магнетофони, плейъри… Какво си донесе? Може би нещичко ще продадеш?“

Не бях изненадана от последната част на книгата – съдят Светлана Алексиевич и книгата. За обида на честта на войниците… „Ние защитаваме честта на загиналите си синове. Върнете им честта! Върнете им Родината! Съсипахте страната! Най-силната на света!“

Може би това е причината точно тази книга на Алексиевич да не стигна истински до мен – хората разказват някак „стиснато“, защото е трябвало да се мълчи, защото те самите не са наясно, а после дори се отказват от думите си и съдят авторката. Да се откажат от тази война, значи да се откажат от живота си; така, както дядо ми не преживя, че т.нар. комунизъм е бил един кух балон, така и мъжете и жените „от“ Афганистан не искат да допуснат в себе си истината. Затова – предимно ядосването за самата война ми остана, но много конкретни герои не запомних. Най-вече една загинала жена – и как майка ѝ след това не може да понася пролетта, слънцето, природата, радостта…

Ето пак, не преписвам за откъснатите момчешки глави (18-20 годишни), а това – за „великата“ им държава:

„А до неотдавна бяхме велика държава. Може и да не сме били, но сами се считахме за велика страна. Заради ракетите, танковете, атомните бомби. И вярвахме, че живеем в най-добрата, най-справедливата държава. А вие ни казвате, че сме живели в друга – страшна и кървава. Кой ще ви прости това? Настъпихте ни по болното място… Най-дълбокото…“

„СССР беше велика държава, за мнозина – кост в гърлото. Не би трябвало сега да разказваме къде и от кого е била планирана разрухата на нашата страна. В това число и от ръцете на добре платени Западни предатели.“

И все пак – за момчетата (макар и С. А. да е имала проблеми точно заради този откъс).

„Върнах се… Майка ми ме съблече, като пеленаче, целия ме опипа: „Цял-целеничък, свидният ми!“. Отгоре съм цял-целеничък, а вътре ме изгаря. От всичко ми е зле: ярко слънце – зле ми е, весела песен – зле ми е, нечий смях – зле ми е. Страхувах се да оставам сам вкъщи, спях с полуотворени очи.“

Последно от „Цинковите момчета“:

„Сутринта тръгвам на работа… Слизам надолу по стълбите, а те ми идват насреща… Трима военни и една жена. Военните вървят напред и всеки носи фуражката си на лявата, полусвита ръка. Отнякъде знаех, че това значи траур. Знак за траур… Тогава хукнах не надолу, а нагоре… И те очевидно разбраха,че това е майката. И те нагоре… И аз тогава – в асансьора и надолу… Трябва да изскоча на улицата, да офейкам! Да се спася! Да не чувам нищо. Нищо! Докато стигна до първия етаж – асансьорът спираше, качваха се хора – те вече стоят там и ме чакат. Натискам копчето и нагоре… Към моя етаж. Чувам как те влизат … Крия се в спалнята. Те след мен… фуражките на ръцете…“

За самите момчета и момичета там, на войната, в Афганистан, не мога…; в книгата има предостатъчно… Бих говорила по-малко и за „политическите“ аспекти, но се налага да е повече заради просъществувалите или възраждащите се про-СССР-настроения (редом с неонацизма).