Poet Nasta Kudasava: If I had stayed in Belarus, I would have been silent too

A few years ago, even before leaving Rahačoŭ, Nasta Kudasava recounted that the atmosphere in the city had become difficult: people were afraid to communicate and speak openly. Now, the poet sees no signs that the situation has changed for the better. "It seems to me that it has become even worse," she says. With acquaintances who remained in the country, the poet tries not to discuss political topics. But she has no feeling of returning to normalcy.

People inevitably adapt, Kudasava believes. To continue living, a person must somehow fit into the circumstances in which they find themselves. She considers such adaptation to be natural.

"It's clear that they mimic. Yes, undoubtedly. To live, one must feel alive, somehow fit in. And that's normal. I would probably do the same if I had stayed there, trying to somehow fit into that context. But I wouldn't say that this is a return to normal life."

Kudasava separates this ability to live on in given circumstances from true normalcy. Describing the situation, she uses the word "ghetto":

"To the extent you can do something in a ghetto, while you are still allowed to live, you will do it under the conditions that are permitted to you."

Separately, journalist Dzmitry Hurnievič asked the poet if she condemned those Belarusians who choose silence amidst the repression within the country and the war in Ukraine.

"What choice is there? I would do the same," the poet replied.

According to Nasta, when she made the decision to leave, she well understood the alternative. Staying and speaking out openly for her meant risking prison, especially since her children would have remained in Belarus:

"If I had stayed in Belarus, I would also have been quietly silent and adapted, naturally, to simply get through this time."

"We must physically survive"

Dzmitry Hurnievič mentioned a reproach sometimes heard against Belarusians: that other nations continue to fight even in the most dangerous circumstances, while Belarusians have learned to mimic and wait.

Kudasava disagrees with such condemnation.

"I am always for expediency; I believe that a person must first and foremost preserve their life and health, because what kind of preservation can be spoken of? The preservation of Belarus. If Belarusians, as you say, lie down under tanks, we will simply be physically destroyed. We must physically survive."

As the poet argues, there is nothing abnormal in a person trying to live and do what they can in the circumstances given to them.

But here arises another question — where does necessary adaptation end and compromise begin, after which it is already difficult to remain honest with oneself.

"This boundary, this balance is very thin, so as not to slide into something ugly, and not to do something after which you can no longer call yourself an honest person."

For Kudasava herself, the solution was departure. She didn't know where she would work or what she would do, but she understood that she wouldn't be able to remain silent and adapt for long.

"I don't know how to be silent. I don't know how to be cunning and silent. If I knew how, maybe I would have stayed."

The poet does not impose her choice on others. Staying in Belarus and choosing caution, in her opinion, is no grounds for condemnation.

"If a person has an instinct for self-preservation, that's normal, that's healthy, and that's how it should be."

Will there be a place for books in a world of short videos?

A significant part of the conversation was dedicated to literature. Dzmitry Hurnievič asked the poet if words still hold their former meaning in a time when social networks have flooded people's lives, especially children's, and a significant portion of content has turned into short videos with constant attention switching.

Kudasava admitted that she herself thinks about this. In her opinion, it's impossible to live constantly in such a rhythm: at some point, a person gets tired and wants to disconnect from it.

"It seems to me that people will still get tired of such a rhythm, that some fatigue inevitably sets in, the brain shuts down, it's impossible to live constantly in this frantic rhythm," — Kudasava believes and admits that she herself can get stuck on her phone for a long time, endlessly scrolling through feeds. But it's worth stepping away from it for even a day, and the perception of the surrounding world changes.

"You realize, dear God, how wide and diverse life is, how calm and beautiful it can be."

Kudasava does not idealize literature and does not believe that being well-read automatically makes a person moral. An educated and well-read person can perfectly well turn out to be a criminal. But literature has another function.

"Literature at least teaches one to think. It teaches critical thinking."

Reading, in her opinion, broadens horizons and compels a person to go beyond their own experience, to try to understand other people, other societies, historical and cultural contexts.

"So as not to be focused only on oneself and not to think that you are the only good one, and everyone else is bad. That here we have good people, there bad, and so on. To understand that life is not black and white, I think it's important to read more."

"Number One Star" in literature for Kudasava

The host also asked Kudasava if there were any writers she would like to emulate. The poet replied that she doesn't want to emulate anyone:

"I don't want to emulate anyone. I am simply me. I am who I am, even if I will be worse than many. But this is my path, my texts."

But there are authors she admires, undoubtedly. And one figure remains special to her.

"Probably, to this day, the number one star for me is still Marina Tsvetaeva."

According to Nasta, she recently reread Tsvetaeva and remained under the same strong impression.

"Still, I know no equals to her in the world. For me, she is simply something inhuman. It was simply not possible to live as a human being and create such texts."

When asked which Belarusian authors she would place at the top, Kudasava named Ales Razanau, Ryhor Baradulin, Uladzimir Niakliayeu, Anatol Sys, and Maryya Vaitsiašonak. She also confessed that she doesn't like making such lists: afterwards, she always worries that she has forgotten someone important.

Further reflecting on Belarusian poetry, Kudasava agreed with the definition of Belarusians as a "nation of poets," noting however that she doesn't know other nations well enough to compare.

And she sees one of the reasons in the language itself.

"Our language is simply very melodic, euphonious. It seems to me that it was created for writing poetry. Beautiful poems and songs turn out wonderfully in it."

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