Konstantin Dyachkov

Series  Unwanted People

Unwanted People


Stern Soviet style abbreviation SISS (it stands for State Institution for Social Service) precedes the words nursing home for elderly and disabled people. It only has four letters, as if out of pity for patients of this institution, who would definitely not be able to comprehend four more capital letters. These letters seem to somewhat explain a halo of mystery and secret ban around these quite respectable and placid alms-houses.

Old ladies laughing, old ladies crying, ladies who speak much and look severely at me, ladies who seem not to notice the camera at all and those smartening themselves up or asking with severe gestures not to disturb them … Talkative old men and sweet old ladies trying to stuff my pockets with oranges and sweets – quite happy life, with no grief or fear, distress or poverty.

To be honest, two things intrigued me from the very beginning: absence of mincing manners and special attitude towards a photographer among personnel (mostly women!). They seemed not to notice me at all – believe me, it is extremely difficult to reconcile Russians with camera. And, lastly, in communal environment these elderly people opened up their souls in an incomprehensible way – after a while ordinary people give you the level of pacification that could only be reached after a week or two of secluded life in a remote monastery.

Maybe, they are lucky enough to reach the age when at the cost of losses and disappointments people come to simple and clear rules, to purity of Christian ideals. Life of the old people becomes simpler, just the way it should be from the very beginning of each person’s life.

They stopped arguing with their health (old age is a disease beyond cure) and left behind their honours and wealth. Most of them give their pension to children and grandchildren without thinking much either of this sacrifice or other actions of themselves. Thirty years ago they would not even meet each other, and even if they met they would not say hello to each other. But now their accomplishments and status do not mean as much. They could easily switch stories with neighbours and the latter would not become less interesting – familiar feeling of ownership lost its significance here.


Zhelezkovo

During Soviet times a house was built for the kindergarten, later there were no children left, so the building was temporarily used for school. When schoolchildren grew up – three years ago – it was made into a nursing home for elderly and disabled people.

“Are you planning to see poverty and devastation there? – asked Tatyana Alexandrovna, head of the local settlement, the evening before. – You won’t find anything like that. The conditions there are better than at my home”.

The next day we met Svetlana Nikolayevna Vevivald, director of the nursing home for elderly and disabled people. She used to be the principal of the kindergarten that was in the building before. She was happy to introduce us to the old ladies living there: “Feel free to take pictures, write about them and come here every day if you like. It is fun to them. You see, conditions are good here, and it is not scary here at all. Many of them could not even dream of such conditions before. I mean four meals daily, village, hot water, cleanness, medical care, etc. Besides, there is no staff turnover here; we treat old people as our own family. Most of them would have died long time ago if they stayed at home. Some of them were brought here from cellars, Zhukov sisters – from under collapsed roof where they lived for several months, some – from a bathhouse where they lived in order ‘not to disturb their kids’. Only after a while they begin appreciating this home.”


* * *

Mariya Karpovna Ivanova. Ex-frontline soldier was a miner for three years.

“Among other places, I was in Myasnoy Bor, too. Terrible battles… Gosh! What battles! Field covered with dead bodies, lots of mines… A lot of our men blew up, I felt so sorry for them… I saw a lot of frightening things, Lord forbid!

I had been worked for a plant for 30 years, shaving wood. People from the plant visit me once in a while. To tell the truth, I do not know their last names. I brought up a son, he is 62 now. I also have a granddaughter and great-granddaughter. She used to be a straight A student but now, when she got a little older she gets B’s as well. And this place is just like paradise. Please write about this, everything is great, all employees are very polite and kind, no one hurts us - otherwise I would cry the whole time…”


* * *

Nina Andrianovna, former building engineer.

“My daughter and I live here. She is disabled because earlier was terribly beaten in Tver. Her husband married again, and my older daughter did not need us any longer, so we had to stay with different people. Much earlier a new city was built in the Kara Kum, I worked as engineer there, our pumping facilities were famous in the whole world, foreigners used to come there to study. But then the Soviet Union fell apart, and life became more difficult for us, Russians. They would not let children go to school till they harvested all cotton, kept them in fields for months. Some chemical was used on the cotton to make it open up quicker, so many kids got poisoned. Then 30 families, including ours, decided to leave. We were not allowed to take anything, just what we had on us. It was almost like during war, when my mother made us dresses out of maps and posters – she washed paint off of linen and sewed clothes for us. As for our life here, my older son visits us once in a while, too. He is SWAT officer, lives in Chechnya.”
Nina Andrianovna, her daughter Marina Nikolayevna and their two cats (mother and son) live in a separate room.


* * *

“Vysotsky’s songs about war, above all, songs about ‘very real people’… Song about stars…” Memorial evening of Vladimir Vysotsky on the occasion of his jubilee in the hall. We see embroidered rugs on chairs, two gray-haired ‘boys’ and a dozen of old ladies. Some ladies do not hear anything, later they say they only remember some flickering before their eyes and pieces of phrases. But it is a kind of pastime, too – to leave their rooms, walk down, have a sit, and listen.

However, they spend more time sleeping. There is a TV set in every room, but even if they turn it on, they do not watch it. Last summer a trip to Iversky monastery was planned, the people who planned it were wondering if everybody would be able to fit in a small Gazel van. They worried to no purpose – only seven people came down. In winter they rarely go outside. It is slippery, windy and dark. So they get up, walk to the dining room and back. In summer old men and women walk through the village and down to the river, go fishing.


Velgiya

This nursing home is a little over a year old. Liliana Vladislavovna, psychologist, is telling us that for those coming here the first few days are difficult. “This is when you have to talk to them a lot, since many of them take coming here as punishment, as verdict. It takes days, even weeks you have to do something to help people’s hearts warm up, teach them to reconcile with their lot and look at their life within these walls from a new perspective. Almost all of them come because of troubles: conflicts with relatives, unbearable conditions of life, etc. Here we relieve them of their heap of problems.

It is easier for those who used to have some social work. Reserved people with years of struggle, loneliness and hardships behind are having more difficult time. At first, old people long for home, no matter where it is. They are people of settled habits, but with time they understand it is much better here.

Some of them are wealthy. Children have no material problems but, for some reason, their parents choose our nursing home.

The best lesson I learned here is that we should in no circumstances judge anyone: children, grandchildren, etc. I surely know that after weeks and months of careful talks a conflict gets discovered, and our old ladies often turn out to be partially to blame for it. Nobody is sent here without reasons – every family story has its pitfalls, but we judge no one and welcome everybody”.


* * *

Elderly people have been living in their new home for a year, and a wedding has already taken place here. Lidiya Fyodorovna and Genrikh Nikolayevich were first to get married. In summer they had a real wedding ceremony at a registry office, with a fancy car, flowers and banquet. Their relatives came, too.

“I had to get settled, - says Genrikh Nikolayevich. – I was lonely, so we came together. I convinced her; I had to try hard since she is a stubborn woman. Finally, she gave in. There is almost another couple here, but nothing comes of it so far – they are not serious enough.”

“He noticed me right away, - says Lidiya Fyodorovna with a smile. – I came to the nursing home in March. Long time ago I worked in a prison camp. Then it was closed, prisoners were taken away, and buildings became a rest home for personnel of Plesetsk space centre which was situated near our camp. Military men were spared but we, civilians, had to move. We were given a free one-way train ticket to any place of destination. So my husband and I came to Leningrad, to our son’s place. He sent us to a village, not far from here. This is where my husband died, and I was left all alone. I lived in that house for 9 years. My son visited me but then he said he was not allowed time off at work. What can one do without work? It is difficult to find another one! I got sick and had to move here. Now everything is fine, here I have food and hot water, the place is clean. It is so hard to live all by yourself, very, very hard. There is no one to talk to, to share with. And my children simply have no room for me since they have a grown-up daughter and only two rooms. It is not their fault that I got here – this is life”.

“I did not pay attention to her age – she is ten years older than me. But she has a great soul and very pleasant personality! – says Sergey Genrikhovich in a low bass as if singing a slow song. – We lead a quiet life. You get up in the morning, wash yourself and then go to the dining room that opens at 8 a.m. In summer we can go fishing, but now it is dark and cold. Sometimes they ask me to play bayan, the ladies who can walk sing some. To live here is much better than to live all alone. There was a movie on yesterday; today we are going to have a quiz. Everything is great; I do not see anything bad here. Of course, we are old, so our health sometimes lets us down.”


* * *

Bazarova Tatyana Nikolayevna: “There are many well-educated old ladies here. For instance, I have technical secondary education, 46 years of work experience. It is a shame that my company still exists, other people work there but no one remembers us. What can you do? During war we helped adults in the wood. Since we were too young to saw (only 10 years old), they appointed us to remove branches and boughs. We cleared the territory for a new forest, so that the country doesn’t get left without timber. This is the mood we had at the time. Now we have a different dream: to die quietly.”


* * *

The next day I came to the room 2 to read Chekhov’s novels to Antonina Vasilyevna. In the morning I picked a book without thinking, at random, so it was the ninth volume. At first, I opened Men but was asked to read ‘a long one, so it does not end right away.”

Anyone may come here, the door is open. Anyone can bring clothes or fruit, but nothing will be accepted. They say they have enough of everything.

It is better to just sit and talk to an old person without hurry. It becomes important when in a rush and bustle you stop to think: why am I doing this? Will I remember it after many years?



Photos from the nursing home in Krivtsy workers settlement (Karelia),

From the nursing home for the elderly and disabled people, Borovichi, Novgorod region

From the nursing home for the elderly and disabled people, Zhelezkovo, Borovichi district, Novgorod region.


Text and photographs by Konstantin Dyatchkov

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