A guy from Baranovichi denounced a girl because she refused to date him
"He told me that he would file a report against me because he knows what stories I have saved. I thought it was nonsense."

Hanna Kurys. Photo: Viasna Human Rights Centre
Hanna Kurys is a 23-year-old girl from Baranovichi who was sentenced for over 200 Instagram stories from her archive criticizing the war. She was held in captivity for a year and a half, and then deported from the country. She told Viasna about the lack of adequate medical care, the indifference of the prison administration, and harsh living conditions.
"I was imprisoned for being against the war"
Initially, Hanna was detained under an administrative article. She believes that the report against her was written by a guy she refused to date.
"He told me that he would write a report against me because he knows what stories I have saved," the girl recalls. "I thought it was nonsense. Then it all ended with an administrative charge. But six months later, I received a notification that a criminal case had been opened against me, because they found stories in my Instagram archive. I was hoping for 'restricted freedom' (a type of correctional labor), but I was given a real sentence.
Essentially, I was imprisoned for being against the war. In 2020, I was 17 years old, I didn't participate anywhere and didn't go anywhere. And when I was in the pre-trial detention center (SIZO), I thought they would release me to 'restricted freedom', and I wouldn't write or comment on anything anymore, I would stay quiet. But when they imprisoned me, I realized that I would tell absolutely everything."
She spent the first 10 days in the temporary detention facility (ICU). Despite it being summer, it was very cold there; women slept on the floor. They only received parcels after three days. The diet there was the worst of all the places Hanna had been.
"I survived only on tea," the girl recalls. "On the tenth day, an ambulance took me away because I started suffocating. It was probably due to stress, as everything resolved itself at the hospital.
My phone was confiscated during the detention. And I was part of a study chat where we simply shared 'homework'. As a result, the girl who was the admin of that chat, and a boy who shared some non-political news there, and another girl, were taken. They all served 10 days. Also, in the ICU with me was a woman who was arrested for forwarding a message about the earthquake in Turkey to her husband."
"The staff didn't believe in headaches"
Before the penal colony, Hanna spent several months in the Brest pre-trial detention center (SIZO) with other political prisoners. Among them was a girl who denounced her boyfriend — allegedly for participating in a rally. As a result, it was said that he had no crime, but she did. And she was imprisoned for participating in marches. There was a political prisoner who was imprisoned for a five-euro donation to the Sports Solidarity Foundation. And another cellmate — a woman who was imprisoned for a rally in 2020. While she was imprisoned, her son was taken to an orphanage because relatives did not want to take him.
In the Brest SIZO, prisoners face a virtual absence of medical care. Hanna had intestinal problems, but there was no medicine.
So she just lay on the floor, crying, and was ready for the staff to write reports against her — anything for something to change.
The situation improved only thanks to the active intervention of her grandmother, who wrote complaints to the Ministry of Health and attended meetings with the SIZO administration. As a result, Hanna was allowed bed rest for 4 hours a day, which significantly eased her condition. In the Homel penal colony, her intestinal problems almost completely disappeared, flaring up only once due to stress from work.
"They told me a story about a woman who had bleeding — an ectopic pregnancy — but they didn't call an ambulance for her until the very last moment," Hanna says. "When doctors finally arrived, they said that in a couple more hours, the woman would have died. Another girl fell from the second bunk bed. Her leg was blue, and she couldn't walk. But they didn't do any X-ray — they just applied bandages."
During her imprisonment, Hanna herself suffered from migraines, which once again highlighted the indifference of the colony staff — they simply "didn't believe" in headaches. The doctor refused to give any medication when Hanna was on a long visit, arguing that her temperature and blood pressure were normal and that she "also sleeps with a headache".
"In the colony, the duty psychiatrist dispensed blood pressure pills, which don't help during migraines," Hanna recounts. "But when my head started aching in the morning, sometimes I realized that due to lack of time, I either brushed my teeth or went for a pill."
By the end of 2024, even basic medications (for colds, painkillers) ran out in the colony due to lack of funding. Prisoners were offered to order them from home. But foreign women were in an even more vulnerable position.
"One of the Ukrainian women, who was imprisoned for drugs, had thyroid problems," Hanna recounts. "It was even visible on her due to swelling, so she constantly needed hormones. But they ran out, and she couldn't do anything because she had no relatives in Belarus, and it was problematic to deliver them from Ukraine."
If any of the prisoners felt unwell on the colony grounds, other prisoners would carry her to the infirmary, not on a stretcher, but in a blanket.
"This is abnormal, abnormal"
Hanna recounts that in the Homel colony, pressure affected all groups of women — including people with disabilities and elderly women.
Once, a political prisoner observed from the workshop window how a woman with a disability (she had epilepsy) in the frost, for about four hours, soaked up a huge puddle with a rag into a bucket.
"The administration considered it fair enough — for a person in the frost to mop up a puddle with a rag, for taking out a piece of bread from the canteen," Hanna says. "Another political prisoner was called to the checkpoint, supposedly for release, but then immediately detained again."

Hanna also recalls cases when the administration and staff used searches and uniform inspections to humiliate women. One of the girls was summoned for an inspection due to a false denunciation about having intimate piercings.
"They told her: 'Strip, we'll search you'," Hanna recalls. "And then — 'sit down and spread your legs...' This is abnormal, just abnormal... Another operative ripped transparent badge holders right off the girls' chests. He just tore it off — that's ordinary harassment."
"They wrote a report against me for a kitten drawn with chalk"
Almost all prisoners work in sewing production ("sewing shop"). Hanna describes this as a difficult process, combined with psychological pressure, meager pay, and absurd punishments. For example, she received about 20 rubles a month, as the main sum was deducted for food, clothing, lawsuits, and other expenses. Those who don't know how to sew are forced to learn under constant stress.
"There are masters there — these are civilian people who oversee the process," Hanna says. "We had a simply disgusting master. They put me at a sewing machine, but I couldn't do anything (and I didn't really want to). And they tell me I have to sew fast! And for the two months I was there, they constantly yelled at me."
As a result, she managed to switch to the position of a pattern maker (marking fabric with chalk). The girl liked this more, and she even sped up many processes. However, they found something to punish her for.
"They wrote a report against me for a kitten drawn with chalk on the fabric," Hanna smiles. "I wanted to cheer people up; it didn't spoil the fabric at all, as I erased it immediately. The entire team was delighted. Everyone always thanked me.
And an employee gave me a form to write an explanation of why I drew the kitten. I ask if I seriously need to write that I wanted to cheer people up? She says: 'Write: I drew the kitten out of my own indiscipline'. Another political prisoner, a pensioner, received a report for sharing a mandarin segment with another pensioner."
But physical labor in the colony is not limited to the workshop; they are constantly involved in household chores. For example, they haul sand, cement, and stones in huge carts.
Hanna also recalls a case when one of the operatives ordered them to take water, add some shampoo to create foam, and pour it onto the wooden floor to wash it later. When the women started washing the floor, controllers came and began to scold them for flooding the unit below.
"I also had a curator named Drozdova," Hanna recounts. "She once called me to talk about who I am and why I'm imprisoned. I explained. She said: 'You should have gone to fight. Either you go, or you keep quiet'."
"When I saw the Ukrainian flag, I was absolutely delighted"
The girl's life after release began with an unexpected deportation to Ukraine. Hanna did not expect release, as she thought only 'media people' were being released. Despite the initial stress, she describes the adaptation process as very quick and successful.
"I was sure that we were going to be shot now," Hanna recalls her first thoughts after being told to pack her things in the colony. "I sat and cried. They tied our hands with tape and took us somewhere. When I saw the Ukrainian flag, I was absolutely delighted. I got where I wanted to be, because I've loved Ukraine very much since childhood. However, I couldn't stay there, so I chose Lithuania.
In the colony, they showed us how poorly refugees live in Europe. That they live at the train station, eat porridge... I watched and understood that they were unlikely showing us real events, but there are people who believe it."
Now Hanna has undergone a medical examination and trained in manicure courses. But the main difference in her new life was the absence of constant fear of law enforcement.
"In Belarus, I would sit there, trembling," she recalls. "I see a person in uniform — that's it, it just starts for me... I thought I would tremble... simply tremble... for the rest of my life. But as soon as I saw Ukrainian police officers, I immediately thought: 'My God, what wonderful people, how they truly protect me. And I feel so calm!'"
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