Fiaduta's Mittens, Zolatava's Mug. Exhibition of Prison Artifacts Opens in Warsaw

Former political prisoner Aleh Kulesha was Belsat's guide for the exhibition.

"One of my friends came home after her release. Maybe a day passed, and she and her mother, after having lunch, went out onto the balcony for a smoke. The former political prisoner was still finishing dessert when she turned around — and her mother was standing there, crying. 'Mom, what's wrong? I've been home for almost a day, calm down!' she hugged her. But her mother pulled back her daughter's clothes and took a spoon from an inside pocket, which she had automatically hidden there out of prison habit…" — recounts Aleh Kulesha, a former political prisoner and co-founder of the Belarusian Association of Political Prisoners "To Freedom."

These mother's tears are a silent answer to why exhibitions like "Entry Point — 123" are organized.

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Photograph and case with hygiene products of political prisoner T. K.

"Witnesses of Violence and Survival"

"The 'Entry Point — 123' fund exhibition is a project about entering contemporary Belarusian reality through concrete, silent, yet extremely eloquent artifacts. It is an attempt to comprehend a historical moment through objects that have become carriers of memory," states the exhibition's annotation, which opened at the Museum of Free Belarus on January 20 and will run until March 1.

The exhibition displays more than 30 items from that same Belarusian — prison — reality, which were taken out of prison and the country by their owners on December 13, 2025. We recall that on that very day, 123 (hence the number in the project's title) political prisoners were released as part of an agreement with the U.S. state administration and transported to Ukraine by Belarusian KGB officers. The items that former political prisoners later handed over to the museum, now in display cases, became "witnesses to the experience of imprisonment, violence, and survival."

Completely simple things. And at the same time — not simple at all. Behind them are not just tears. Behind them are entire "pieces of life." A book could be written about every spoon or mug in the exhibition.

Among the exhibited items are the mittens of Aliaksandr Fiaduta, the mug of Maryna Zolatava, the watch of Aliaksei Herman, Alena Hnauk's "zek's stash," a postcard from Maksim Znak, Alena Elkina's women's underwear…

"Look here, there's a jar from 'Rollton' vermicelli, in which you could boil water, brew tea. Probably from prison, because in the pre-trial detention center, they issued state-issued ('polazhnyakovy') mugs. Excuse me for using prison slang ('fenya'), but 'fenya' is also an entry into that world, also our artifact. 'Polazhnyakovy' refers to what the state gives you for use, what you are 'entitled' to. For example, here's a state-issued spoon, straight from the penal colony. This is actually a rare artifact. Because when a person is released in the usual manner, all state-issued items ('polazhnyak') are taken from them. And these items are valuable precisely because they were not taken, as people were simply snatched from colonies and prisons on that day, and the KGB officers didn't care if they took out state-issued items or not. That's why there are many such things at the exhibition," says Aleh Kulesha.

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Alena Hnauk's towel and soap, one of the exhibits of the "Entry Point — 123" exhibition

"This is 'Polazhnyakovy,' meaning — without quality or warmth"

Kulesha notes that one of the most valuable exhibits here is a prison "mutka," which, according to the former political prisoner, is used in places of detention as a monetary (and "life," adds Aleh) measure. Essentially, it's a small bag made of polypropylene film — the bottom part of a cigarette pack wrapper. But when this bag is filled with coffee, tea, or sugar — it acquires a specific monetary value.

"For example, in my 'zona' (penal colony), such a 'mutka' at that time cost the equivalent of three packs of 'Winston' cigarettes," explains Aleh Kulesha.

The "mutka" at the exhibition is presented as an original and a modern copy — filled with coffee. Next to the "mutka," on the same large cube-shaped display case, lies Alena Hnauk's "zek's stash" — a plastic bag tied into two parts with a knot: in one, tea bags, in the other, a matchbox ("karabel" / ship) in which homemade cards (paper squares with numbers of different colors) were kept.

The "stash" is next to the black balaclava of former political prisoner Viktar Mek, in which he was transported from the Babruisk penal colony to the Ukrainian border. On the nearby display case is the prison jacket (fuika) of Yury Rubashenka, with his uniform in the pocket. We check the thickness of the jacket: it's unlikely one could endure even Warsaw's frosts in it, let alone those of Homel, Babruisk, or Vitsebsk.

"In prison — it's a 'tsyalaha' (padded jacket). If I went out in it now, I would freeze in 15 minutes (it was minus seven in Warsaw). This isn't the same 'tsyalaha' that was issued to civilians. This is all state-issued ('polazhnyakovy'), meaning — without quality or warmth," explains our guide.

"The stench from the soap was unbearable"

Aleh Kulesha approaches the very first display case. It exhibits items from a women's penal colony. He recounts what miserable waffle towels (using the derogatory term "skarach" for a small, poor-quality towel) women have to use in the 'zona'. He dwells on pieces of authentic prison soap ("Last issuance at PC-24"), which "traveled" to freedom with Alena Hnauk. Aleh claims that in his colony (Kulesha served his term in Babruisk), "white" soap was not issued — only dark soap.

"And there was a hell of a lot of it, because almost no one used it. It was raw and made from dead dog meat — the stench was simply unbearable. And if you don't get 'warmth' or support from outside (freedom) and don't have a 'mutka' to buy yourself some shampoo, you were forced to use what the 'zona' gives you…" — explains Aleh Kulesha.

Also there — paper napkins of Ala Dziasiatnik ("Napkins with the symbol of fire… In the Brest pre-trial detention center, we were not given hygiene products. I saved and used only three napkins; they were a symbol of strength for me, my talisman…"), a mug with a world map belonging to journalist Maryna Zolatava (you look at the mug and see Maryna's warm smile — how good it is that she is already free!), a knitted hat of Natallia Malets, and next to the hat — another spoon.

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Viktar Mek's immersion heater and clips

"Look here again. Such seemingly trivial things. A jar from the sugar substitute 'Salamix.' Ah, 'enjoy to your heart's content.' But in the 'zonas,' it is forbidden to have sugar. In the colony, if I remember correctly, we were issued 12 or 14 small sachets of 5 grams per month. But one still craves sweets. And people use this kind of sugar substitute. If you're in the pre-trial detention center and you understand what awaits you in the 'zona,' you'll definitely try to get this out…" — recounts Aleh Kulesha.

Why is sugar forbidden in penal colonies? So that life doesn't suddenly seem sweet? That too. But primarily — so that 'zeks' don't brew moonshine.

"This, by the way, doesn't stop the convicts. True, no one has seen it being distilled, but everyone has heard stories about it. Bans don't mean that the 'zona' doesn't live its own life. It lives, it thrives — and sometimes very intensely. But everything that was there must remain in the 'zona.' That's the rule. So journalists on the outside also need to think with their heads…" — advises our tour guide.

We assure the former political prisoner that we try to do so all the time…

Павялічыць

"For a mug — two 'matchboxes' of the best tea…"

The balance of the entire "Entry Point — 123" exhibition is provided by two objects — the most isolated, the most vertical and tall (in a physical sense), and the most striking. They are like two guards, or perhaps two angels, intently gazing into the space of that Belarusian reality, which is not easy to enter and utterly impossible to leave — one can only be freed.

First: in the left wing by the entrance — a white-red-white flag with the names of political prisoners (the flag of Maryia Hryts). Second: in the right wing — a postcard from Maksim Znak:

"Irysha, hello!.. I hope you enjoyed the tea ceremony. I'll tell you the recipe: for a mug, two 'matchboxes' of the best large-leaf tea, stir with a stirrer, drink with pleasure, elegantly setting aside extra tea leaves on a napkin. The postcard — very much so! But I didn't even give up a spot! A simpleton? No! There's simply no reason for her to sit here. I admire. I embrace. I. 27.02.2021"

Books could be written about this.

Павялічыць

Maksim Znak's drawing

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