«I washed shit from toilets, we were like the utterly ruined there». Blogger Vadim Vadimati Yarmashuk — about how he lived in the colony with 'low status'

In the colony, Vadim served his term with a «low status,» which was «bestowed» upon him by the security forces after showing the public a video of the blogger's sexual contact with another man. «We were like the utterly ruined, the bottom, slaves there,» — Vadim describes the situation of people with such a status.

«Nasha Niva» spoke with Vadimati about what helped him survive the mockery and abuse in prison. About the oncology, prostatitis, hernia, psoriasis, and osteochondrosis he developed due to stress. About Eduard Babaryka, who ended up next to him in solitary confinement (SHIZA), his mother's death when he was 11, coming to terms with his orientation, and plans for a new emigrant life without his beloved Hrodna.

Vadim Yarmashuk is a popular Hrodna blogger, known as Vadimati. He gained fame through his blog, where he published both social and humorous videos — for example, from a clothing store at the market where he worked for a while. He kept officials on their toes by drawing attention to issues such as the lack of bike paths or skate parks.

In 2020, he supported the protests and began publishing political content, among other things, and attended court hearings. In August 2021, he was detained in Shchuchyn, where he was going to film another video. After 40 days of administrative arrest, two criminal cases were opened against him under articles 368 of the Criminal Code (insulting Lukashenka) and 370 of the Criminal Code (desecration of state symbols). Yarmashuk was sentenced to three years in prison and served his term in the Babruysk colony. He was released on June 28, 2024, and half a year later was forced to leave Belarus: his Instagram was recognized as extremist, and, according to him, he continued to be monitored. Vadim's friend was severely beaten, with demands that he leak information about the blogger.

BYSOL launched a fundraiser for Vadim's recovery and treatment after prison

«There are many gays among policemen»

«NN»: While you were still serving your administrative arrest, the security forces published a video of your sex with a partner. You said that the head of the Shchuchyn police initially offered you cooperation, to become a «Hrodna Pratasevich». And then, allegedly, the home video would not appear on the internet. You refused then, although you feared the consequences. It turned out that your outing (public disclosure of information about a person's belonging to the LGBT community without their consent — NN) happened violently. Did you previously hide your orientation because you were worried about the reaction of your loved ones or society as a whole?

VE: My relatives, perhaps, suspected who I was themselves. From childhood, I loved playing with dolls and wearing my mom's shoes.

At the same time, I also had girlfriends. I even intended to get married at around 25, but I stopped, I couldn't deceive. And it's good that I didn't. Because there are many such families where gays marry just to appear «normal,» and then cheat on their wives.

It was society that held me back more. My popularity held me back: after all, many in the city know me, and I didn't understand how best to present it. But many times I wanted to come out.

The police did it dirtily, at a time when I was silent and couldn't speak in response, couldn't parry. What they did only shows their weakness. But the main thing is that, as a result, no one turned away from me because of it, as they might have wanted.

Павялічыць

«NN»: You said that the video with your partner was filmed by a hidden camera in your apartment. But there are many questions about how that could have happened. What's your main theory today?

VE: Many people work for the cops. Many, I think, are exactly gays, because in our country, such people are easy to blackmail. I think one of my partners could have organized everything. And I didn't notice when the camera appeared there because I didn't even clean the house myself — I called a cleaning service. In general, my house was just for sleeping: I left for work in the morning and came back at midnight.

«NN»: You mentioned that among your partners were also police officers; perhaps it was one of them?

VE: It was a long time ago with them. But I can truly say that there are many gays among policemen.

«NN»: You're a lawyer by education; how did you get into jurisprudence at all?

VE: Like my mother, apparently, I wanted to be. But do you know where I originally applied? To the Academy of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. There were thoughts that it would be a good setup — rank, early retirement, on which they would give a position as a director at a zoo or a philharmonic, as they like to do here. But I didn't get in, so I went to the law faculty.

Though if I rewind all the way back, I initially dreamed of theater school. But it's never too late.

«NN»: Did you work as a lawyer for at least a day after university?

VE: While I was still studying, I went to work as a loader, then as a warehouse manager. There was an opportunity to work in advocacy, but I would earn less there. And it seems I would never be able to work as a lawyer for long in our country.

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«The Mayor summoned me to a meeting and even invited me to work in the executive committee»

«NN»: How did politics and activism come into your life?

VE: My dear grandmother Liliya Eduardovna was a teacher. The smartest person! She subscribed to «Narodnaya Volya» her whole life, and from childhood, I read clippings from it — she cut out the most interesting parts.

Grandma voted for Zianon Pazniak, and I myself had long understood that something was wrong in our country. In 2011, I was picked up at a silent protest — I rode in a paddy wagon. They held about a hundred people for six hours then — they didn't know what to do with us at that moment. The guy I met in the paddy wagon back then, we're still friends with him. In short, I didn't just emerge in 2020.

Activism began primarily with the desire to make things better around me. I met Hrodna mayor Miachyslau Hoy during the individual entrepreneurs' protests. And then somehow on VKontakte, I published photos of European mayors and myself on bicycles and asked the question: when will our mayor also ride a bicycle to work? And he then summoned me to a meeting. He even invited me to work for them in the executive committee!

I asked for a path to be built all the way to the border with Lithuania — it could unite cities, what tourism there would be! But in the end, they only made a path to Zarytsa. We also defended a store in the village of Baranav. They wanted to close it, but it's a large village, cottages were being built there, so what's a mobile shop for? A skate-roller park also began to be built based on my request.

Павялічыць

«What offended me most was the very definition — low social status. How do you even comprehend being a person at the very bottom?»

«NN»: Let's break down what consequences the low status assigned to you in the colony entailed? (Low social status (LSS) — is a separate «caste» of detainees and convicts in pre-trial detention centers and colonies, who perform the most demeaning work — NN).

VE: In general, with such a status, you are a ruined person. You're always out of place, you're simply at the bottom. As soon as you get up in the morning, they start growling at you. In our room, there were 22 people, 14 of high status and 8 of low status, who slept on the side. God forbid I accidentally touch one of those 14 — growling and shoves would immediately start.

Sometimes everything would explode in me and I would shout — even though I shouldn't have: «I am a human being, what are you doing!» I wrote complaints which, of course, never went beyond the administration, but I conveyed my thoughts to them that people should not be treated like that.

Thank God, I wasn't beaten. The word «cock» (певень - literally a rooster, but used as a derogatory term for a homosexual or a person of low status in prison slang) was also forbidden in relation to us, but it or «comb» (грэбень - a similar derogatory term) would still sometimes slip out.

In the entire colony, there were about 100 people with low status, about 5%. They maintain a «norm» so as not to exceed this number.

We had a separate sink, and in some detachments, people had a separate toilet. In the dining hall, there was a separate table (and there was an additional hierarchy — three separate tables for different levels of low status; I was at the highest of these three low ones). We were not allowed to be greeted, have hands shaken, or have anything taken from us.

In my detachment, I always cleaned the toilets, did evening cleanups — washed shit from the toilet bowls. In my youth, I once worked as a cleaner, and that's normal. But in prison, such work is considered low, it's a reason for mockery. Although in the same prison, everyone always cleans the toilets in their own cells.

What offended me most was the very definition — low social status. How do you even comprehend being a person at the very bottom? Especially considering that many rapists did not have such a status: they were very good at leaking information, they were good informants. And so, a convict who bit off a girl's nipples, one who held a small girl hostage, raped her, stubbed out cigarette butts on her — he was in high status, respected, and the cops covered for him.

One time, due to all this, I had a breakdown and I asked to be sent to solitary confinement (SHIZA). This was partly to save myself and not to commit suicide (I planned to jump from the toilet window, from the third floor). I found out about my brother's death then, and I had spent my entire childhood with him; he was a very close person to me. Plus, I was expecting something, that maybe I would be granted early release, after all, my articles weren't serious... But right then, the deputy head of the colony, a psychotherapist, started visiting me — it turned out they had just had another incident — a drug addict committed suicide, and they didn't want another incident.

In SHIZA, I spent more than 40 days in total, but there, on the wooden planks and in the cold, I felt better — I would have agreed to sit alone in a cell-type room, because I didn't want to live with people, with scoundrels who sought to humiliate me.

But there was apparently no such order for me. However, the last time in SHIZA, I felt very bad physically; I was completely covered in scabs then and barely endured it.

Павялічыць

«In prison, I became disillusioned with Orthodoxy: people of our status were not allowed into the church»

«NN»: What kept you going all this time, preventing you from completely losing your mind?

VE: I honestly believed that we would be saved. I was waiting for it. It also helped that some people, both political and not, supported me (there were those, of course, who were afraid to do so). But someone also gave me a postcard. And they taught me to play chess. And sometimes they even helped me clean.

My relatives also helped me hold on, my aunt — a super strong woman. But people of low status were not allowed to go to church. I became disillusioned with Orthodoxy there: the priest and the Catholic priest would come, but we weren't allowed to see them. And I really wanted to go to church when my brother died — to light a candle for him.

I went with the Baptists; they were given a room in the club. They accepted me, but everyone looked at them askance for it.

Павялічыць

«Eduard Babaryka was pressured into low status»

«NN»: What do you know about Eduard Babaryka, with whom you managed to cross paths in the colony?

VE: I know that he was being pressured into a low status then. He would spend a month in SHIZA — they would bring him out and say: lie down on the bunk for low status. He refused, he held on. Meanwhile, if any other inmate sat in our spot, everyone would pretend not to notice it. But if the person was public or it was a specific instruction for him, then it would be done.

The employees there are your tormentors, your executioners.

A cop is precisely the overseer in prison; there are no others there.

I wanted to talk to Edik when we were both in SHIZA. We could have, but I didn't want to compromise him given my status. I just listened when he was talking to someone else, and it made me happy. And when I was released, I specifically sang songs — «Warriors of Light» and «Hray» (Play), so that the political prisoners, including him, would hear.

«NN»: After your release, you immediately started writing complaints about your treatment in the pre-trial detention center and colony, appealed to deputies, and even called the colony to tell the head doctor that she was «a bitch». Did you understand that even compared to 2021, repression in the country had intensified even more, suppressing any dissent, and such actions would not be forgiven?

VE: I thought they wouldn't touch me — I still had faith in people. I believed that there were people even among KGB officers and GUBiPiK (Main Directorate for Combating Organized Crime and Corruption) officers. And in general, it seemed to me that I was no longer afraid. Yes, I was scared during the first year there, especially when they told me that was it — you'll be in the colony with low status because of that video. Then I didn't know how the system worked. If they imprisoned me again, what else could they do to me? I used to tell everyone who mocked me: you can only cut out my tongue to silence me, or kill me.

In general, it seems to me, I was imprisoned precisely because I knew how to unite people. And people of different views, too. Everyone used to contact me — both personally and through my blog. And unity is a dangerous thing for them.

Павялічыць

«I asked the head of the medical unit to check a mole, but heard in response: «You are not in a sanatorium, you are not in a children's camp»»

«Nasha Niva»: You said you were almost healthy before prison. What set of diagnoses do you live with now?

Vadim Yarmashuk: For example, I developed psoriasis due to nerves. It started back in the temporary detention facility (ICHU) in Shchuchyn. At first, I couldn't understand what this crust on me was. And now, whenever I get nervous, my nose, forehead, head, and back are covered in spots.

In Hrodna prison, by the way, everyone had lice: people were bitten until they bled, white nits were in clothes, in the seams there. They went for heat treatment to get rid of them.

And in the colony, I had ringworm due to local hygiene. And specifically, right where the scrotum is — it was even shameful to talk about it. They barely cured it — gave ointment, pills.

I also now have chronic prostatitis (inflammatory disease of the prostate gland — NN). I think it's because in Shchuchyn, my cell was so cold that when I spoke there, steam came out of my mouth — it was that cold.

In solitary confinement for almost two months, I was sustained only by my rich inner world, my thoughts — I talked to myself.

I also developed a bilateral inguinal hernia. I had surgery on both sides in Belarus, but I had a relapse. It was all from heavy loads — we pushed wheelbarrows with scrap metal, which they later used to pave the area. Because we were of low status, we were forced to do the heaviest and dirtiest work. We were garbage to them, simply like slaves.

Additionally, I've been taking antidepressants for the second week; I have osteochondrosis, gastritis, and a likelihood of ulcers. I had such heartburn in prison! I ate tons of baking soda there because I didn't know what else to do. Almost the entire prison is on baking soda because of the food they're served there.

Back in 2021, I went to show my moles to oncologists — I was supposed to have them removed and examined, but then I was imprisoned. I lost three years! I told them both in prison and in the Shchuchyn temporary detention facility (ICHU): please check, I feel like something is wrong. And later, in the colony, when I was truly feeling bad, I asked the head of the medical unit, Darya Laskanyova, to check a mole. My relatives also wrote and asked for checks. All I heard in response was: «You are not in a sanatorium, you are not in a children's camp».

But most of all, I was outraged by the statement: «First, I am an officer, and only then a doctor.» Now I need to undergo examinations because melanoma is a very dangerous and unpredictable thing. And in Belarus, they just cut out my moles, but what is happening inside my body, no one knows.

Павялічыць

«NN»: Was it oncology that took your mother?

VE: My mom had lung cancer. She died when I was 11 years old. My father left my mother before I was even born; I don't even have a photo of him, I don't know what he looks like. As a result, my aunt and uncle completely replaced my parents. I am very grateful to them:

they raised me to be a person with my own position, independent — at 11 years old, my aunt was already sending me to the polyclinic alone. Perhaps with my mother, I would have been completely different, a kind of hothouse plant.

Now I'm very upset that I can't go to the cemetery — I used to go there once a month.

«I hold resentment for what was done to me. And every Belarusian allowed this to happen»

«NN»: In your first major interview since your release, there was a lot of resentment towards Belarusians, saying that you were betrayed, that Belarusians gave up. What do you propose?

VE: I hold resentment for what was done to me. And every Belarusian who previously came out to protests and those who didn't, allowed this to happen to us. We were not defended. Of course, no one can be blamed, but true solidarity, unfortunately, did not materialize for us. Plus, when I got out of prison, I heard from many that I was to blame myself. This is disappointing...

It was necessary at the time to close oneself at home and not go out, stock up on groceries and not go to work anymore. Go to a village and a dacha. OMON (special police units) would not have had enough strength to break into apartments across the country.

«NN»: What's next? You started a new Instagram account; do you plan to continue your blogging career already in emigration?

VE: First of all, I want to deal with my health. If I know that everything is good with my health: I live!

I'll go sweep courtyards if needed, because for now, many physical activities are forbidden for me; I can't even do sports. And I want to film for my blog, but I need to buy a phone, a computer — my equipment was confiscated, after all.

If I return to Belarus, I don't rule out realizing my aspiration to become a real deputy — there will be enough work. From that same Hrodna prison in the center, we will make a hotel, for example.

Павялічыць

BYSOL launched a fundraiser for Vadim's recovery and treatment after prison

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