"My only goal now is to get the children out of here as soon as possible." Belarusians share how their lives are changing

Photo: lookby.media

Larisa (57 years old):

— The latest is the appearance of a mobile internet limit. At the dacha, if you watch one film, there isn't enough for a second. Previously, my husband could download hours of music. Now, if he downloads, we'll all be without internet. And sometimes I also need to work.

So now we choose — either music, or movies, or work. We had to change to a more expensive tariff, but even that is still limited.

This winter, I somehow heard about accidents particularly often: both in Malinovka and Sukharovo, due to various pipe bursts, people were without water, without electricity, or without everything at once. We had a very small accident, fixed in a couple of hours. But now I have an empty container for water at home, just in case.

Something I noticed: they've stopped cleaning the stairwells altogether. Before, at least once a year, I'd see someone with rags. I haven't seen that in a long time.

In autumn, there was a period when I constantly saw Pakistanis, Indians, and other foreigners everywhere — usually, they were standing in groups in the center with some bags and belongings.

In polyclinics and hospitals, there are also many foreign doctors — from Africa, the Middle East, Asia. Against their background, it seems that Slavic medical staff are a minority. Or maybe it doesn't just seem so.

And I also see many Chinese people, for example, in supermarkets. Most are in business suits. What they are doing here, I don't know.

Olga (46 years old):

— Over the past few years, it has been completely forgotten that state-funded free medicine exists. Even with a cold, our family goes to a private clinic. A couple of years ago, when I tried to go to my local doctor, they frankly told me: 'You work, so you can pay for a gastroscopy, and the queue is overflowing with pensioners.'

I also found out somehow that district polyclinics should have mammographs and that women over 40 are supposedly prioritized for examination. I tried to call to make an appointment — they said that there is a mammograph, but it has been broken for a long time. Why they don't fix it, I don't know. And analyses more complex than general ones are also not likely to be done in a regular polyclinic. So we stopped going there.

Overall, it's hard to compare the present time with what it was even in 2019. Back then, we lived in a different country and made plans related to this country. Now, nobody makes such plans anymore. We linked our future, some hopes, with Belarus. Now, I and my acquaintances have only one goal — to get the children out of here as quickly as possible.

My circle of acquaintances no longer connects any future with this country. As parents, we have unequivocally come to the conclusion that this is not a country for our children to live in.

I am an entrepreneur. In 2020, individual entrepreneurs had a single tax of 5%. Then almost all types of activities, including mine, were transferred to a 20% income tax. And since last year, contributions to the Social Protection Fund (FSAN) are calculated differently. As a result, I started paying three times more there. This is noticeable.

In other words, it seems my income has increased over these years, but the authorities are constantly looking for ways to cut it. To say that such measures do not contribute to the development of private business is an understatement. In my opinion, entrepreneurs in Belarus exist solely out of some stubbornness.

Irina Petrovna (71 years old):

— Probably everyone knows how pensioners live. It seems like they add some percentage to our pension, but, honestly, I don't even calculate it.

Because the price growth is so advanced that I have been at this poverty threshold for a couple of years now, and I remain there.

Now I buy products from the cheapest segment. I don't even look at vegetables and fruits; I know they're not affordable. Apples cost 5 rubles! True, today was pension day, and I couldn't resist buying one avocado for 2.40 and two bananas. For example, when I buy dumplings, I calculate how many days I can stretch one pack.

As for medical care, if my children didn't pay for my visits to doctors in private clinics, I wouldn't allow myself anything. A gastroenterologist's appointment there costs 60 rubles, and a neurologist's is 120.

But now I'm concerned not even about my financial situation, but about how my emotional state has changed. In the sense that my hopes for something to change around me in the near future have vanished. Everything has stopped at one point and isn't moving anywhere.

It's hard for me to realize this. I used to live with a feeling of flight, I am a very energetic, curious person, always believed in the future. Now my children and grandchildren have been forced to leave, and I live with a feeling of constraint and fear that has absolutely enslaved me.

My social interactions have greatly diminished, as there is no trust in people; everyone is wary. The difference between those who left and those who stayed is growing. We live here as if in reverse time, with a minus sign, going into the past. But I look at those who left — relatives, acquaintances — they live with a plus sign, despite finding it difficult. But they are moving forward.

I used to love walking in Yanka Kupala Park, in Alexandrovsky Square. I hadn't been there for a long time, and just the day before yesterday, I went — empty benches. Once everything was full. Now I don't see life on the city streets, and it's so strange to me. Probably, young people are sitting in cafes and restaurants, I don't know. But where are the others?

I used to be a theater-goer, but now I don't go anywhere because I have neither money nor suitable shoes for the theater. In general, I don't have money to change my wardrobe.

Fares are getting more expensive, and I would like to have some kind of travel pass, if not free, then at least discounted.

Anastasia (43 years old):

— We really felt the utility payments, because the apartment is registered to a relative classified as a "social parasite." And in winter, we also felt the work of the utility services themselves, because snow was practically not cleared in our area. Only a tractor would come to clear the parking lot. We cleared the rest ourselves. There hasn't been a janitor in our building for a long time; he disappeared about a year ago. Neither the entrance nor the adjacent territory is cleaned.

In the house itself, about half of the neighbors have changed over the last five years. As much as we were friends with all the old ones, we don't even get to know the new ones.

You can't go anywhere with a dog just like that anymore, only with a muzzle and on a short leash. When he first appeared, we used to travel with him on public transport, and no one bothered us. Now new rules for transporting dogs on public transport have been adopted.

Recently I saw a scene on a bus: people entered with a Yorkshire Terrier in a carrier, and the driver didn't want to go because, you see, a dog cannot be on public transport without a muzzle. The passengers were shocked, asking him where muzzles for Yorkies are sold. Now dogs will also have to be mandatorily registered. But most of them were already registered anyway. Do they really expect to collect a lot of money from those who stayed? Indeed, if there's no money at all, any amount will probably be useful. First, they started "gouging" everyone for apartments; now they'll move on to dogs. I wonder if they will take into account village dogs.

But, most importantly, what are we paying this money for — in our area there have never been and still are no dog playgrounds. Many places have restricted entry with dogs. Instead of developing such infrastructure.

We sent our children to study in other countries. Earlier, they chose between our universities. But the quality of education has significantly dropped. Good teachers continue to leave schools. Plus, the admission of "target students" (sponsored by companies/institutions) has greatly increased, cutting down on fee-paying and state-funded students. And "target students" have different requirements; they don't necessarily need a high score. Our children couldn't find anywhere to study here.

Prices are constantly rising; my husband and I calculated that our usual grocery basket has increased in price by 30% over the last two years. Now you pay 50 rubles at the store, and there's almost nothing in your bag.

Fortunately, I can afford sports. The last time I was at a concert was in 2020. Since then, I don't like the artists who come to us. But sometimes I go to the theater with friends. Tickets for everything started selling out almost two months in advance. I don't understand the hype around the Youth Theater (TYUG) at all. Acquaintances went because there were still performances in Belarusian. We bought tickets to the RTBD, also for a Belarusian production.

Katsiaryna (51 years old):

— This winter, during the frosts, I paid three times more for heating. We live in our own house; we have a gas boiler. In general, my personal financial situation has worsened in recent years. Even in small things, for example, I stopped getting manicures. Before 2020, I could afford to pay 50 rubles for it once a month; now it probably costs more, but even 50 is already expensive for me.

I didn't often travel before, but now the mere thought that such an opportunity doesn't exist in principle gives me a completely different feeling about life. We live very isolated. A few years ago, we moved to another area. It's interesting that in the old days, at our previous place, we knew all our neighbors, and it was normal — we'd walk by and stop in, sit and chat, exchange seedlings. But now no one visits anyone; we just greet each other, and not even everyone.

Another sign of these times: when I start watching something on the internet, my husband always asks me to close the windows — you're already scared automatically.

Alexander (52 years old):

— I work in construction and I know that Belarusian companies did indeed apply for specialists from Pakistan, India, Nepal, Bangladesh — from all over that region. This opportunity appeared last year. And our company also approached an agency. In fact, 90% of those who arrive, claiming to be concrete workers, plasterers, and painters, actually have no relation to construction. At most, 10% of all arrivals were truly some kind of specialists.

Our salaries satisfy them. We asked: in some countries, they earn 100 dollars a month. Here, on a construction site, a worker today can earn 1000 dollars.

Why aren't Belarusians queuing up to earn such money? Because there are none. There are simply no people physically — normal, responsible, non-drinking. Many of those who remain, how to put it more gently... In general, they come, of course, but they work at most until their first paycheck.

That's why everyone invites Pakistanis, sifts through them, even trains those who are willing to learn. And there are no middle-aged Belarusians willing to work, not just in construction.

As far as I know, this segment of people is missing in other spheres too. And that's something I couldn't help but notice recently.

But I regularly see foreigners both on construction sites and in the collective farm — they work there as livestock breeders and milkers. Do they save the situation? In fact, they are better than many Belarusians who are currently asking for work. At least these ones don't drink.

I noticed that there are no our MAZs (Belarusian trucks) on construction sites; only 'Chinese ones' are driving. Where our equipment goes — to Russia or African countries — I don't know where they are competitive, but we don't have them here.

What's pleasing to the eye: I started to notice that while after 2020 there was a trend of many things closing in the public catering sector, now the trend has changed, and, on the contrary, cozy places are constantly opening, and infrastructure is expanding.

But the country's isolation adds to the pessimism. There is no technical development. I'm a curious person, always looking at what's happening in the world and comparing it to what's happening here. And nothing is happening here. It's frustrating that the country is falling far behind. The whole world has been making electric cars for a long time, and we're happy with gasoline-powered 'Belgee' cars.

Among personal inconveniences is the absence of normal television channels (Eurosport, Discovery). Of course, they can be watched via sharing, but it's not as convenient anymore.

And even me, a father of daughters, this whole militarization frightens. Everywhere you look — billboards with soldiers and representatives of law enforcement agencies. This is the main direction that propaganda is currently inflating, and it is very noticeable. This depresses me. In their understanding, this is patriotism. But what does it consist of? In killing people? We are a small state, which means the point of all this militarization is simply a huge waste of money. We won't be able to defend ourselves or attack anyone. And why? In my opinion, we need to go a different way; we need to negotiate with all our neighbors, not threaten them.

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