t was our second day in the Chernobyl exclusion zone. Mum and I We drove for about an hour towards Belarus. We passes many towns, most imperceivable to the eye, but for the geiger reading. Eventually we stopped and there was a lone, immaculate cottage. Surrounded by trees and fields, this was once a bustling town. We walked up the path, and there she was: an apparition. A five-foot tall babushka, Hanna, beaming at us. Her warm smile and sad wise eyes instantly brought my grandmother back to life. I had found her. Hannah was born in this village-and after being evacuated to a small apartment in a barren nameless city, she, like many other babushkas she decided to defy the police, and return to the zone. To her childhood, her buried husband, her home. Some 1200 people returned, most over 50. Just over 100 re-settlers remained alive prior to the Russian invasion. A knock at the door, and our babushka’s only neighbour in the village arrives. A little more surly and distant than our chirpy Hannah, this is clearly a friendship out of convenience. We all sit at the table for lunch. A small feast. Growing it local has a whole different meaning in the zone. The food is radioactive. Mum and I somehow avoided eating the forest mushrooms- notoriously highly radioactive, though there was a glint of disappointment in Hannahs’s eye. She perked up again when we agreed to a shot of home-made vodka – alcohol supposedly kills the radiation. By the third shot, a local tradition apparently, Hannah and her once surly friend burst into song. Their sombre notes, the love and pain resonated through the room. We were all silenced. The lives of these elderly women were nothing but stoic. Just to stay alive, they continue to sing their folk song alone in this abandoned paradise. And suddenly I begin to cry. My final goodbye to my nanna. This was her home. I had returned. I always promised her I would. Despite her telling me not to bother in her matter-of-fact Russian.

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski
t was our second day in the Chernobyl exclusion zone. Mum and I We drove for about an hour towards Belarus. We passes many towns, most imperceivable to the eye, but for the geiger reading. Eventually we stopped and there was a lone, immaculate cottage. Surrounded by trees and fields, this was once a bustling town. We walked up the path, and there she was: an apparition. A five-foot tall babushka, Hanna, beaming at us. Her warm smile and sad wise eyes instantly brought my grandmother back to life. I had found her. Hannah was born in this village-and after being evacuated to a small apartment in a barren nameless city, she, like many other babushkas she decided to defy the police, and return to the zone. To her childhood, her buried husband, her home. Some 1200 people returned, most over 50. Just over 100 re-settlers remained alive prior to the Russian invasion. A knock at the door, and our babushka’s only neighbour in the village arrives. A little more surly and distant than our chirpy Hannah, this is clearly a friendship out of convenience. We all sit at the table for lunch. A small feast. Growing it local has a whole different meaning in the zone. The food is radioactive. Mum and I somehow avoided eating the forest mushrooms- notoriously highly radioactive, though there was a glint of disappointment in Hannahs’s eye. She perked up again when we agreed to a shot of home-made vodka – alcohol supposedly kills the radiation. By the third shot, a local tradition apparently, Hannah and her once surly friend burst into song. Their sombre notes, the love and pain resonated through the room. We were all silenced. The lives of these elderly women were nothing but stoic. Just to stay alive, they continue to sing their folk song alone in this abandoned paradise. And suddenly I begin to cry. My final goodbye to my nanna. This was her home. I had returned. I always promised her I would. Despite her telling me not to bother in her matter-of-fact Russian.

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

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Cybele Malinowski

The Babushka's of Chernobyl

the exclusion zone

The Babushka's of Chernobyl

the exclusion zone