Day Of Subjunctive Inclination

On the anniversary of Raman Bandarenka's murder, let us remember the fallen.

Lately, I have been thinking more and more often that Raman Bandarenka and Andrei Zeltser could very well have become friends. For example, they could have stood shoulder-to-shoulder together at one of the marches. Or they could have escaped from the riot police together and hidden in the same entranceway. Or could have met on the way to the march and recognized each other through the Belarusian system of identification "friend-or-foe" - by the flag in the hand, or by the badge, or by the clothes.

No, let's better talk about peaceful life. For example, they could have met at a concert of Liavon Volski. They could have accidentally bumped into each other somewhere on the dance floor, had a laugh, sung along to Liavon, and then, after the concert, they could have headed to the nearest bar. And they could have discovered that they had so much in common, as if they had been friends since kindergarten, and that it was strange that they hadn't even known each other in our small country.

Or no, it could have been very different. For example, one day their wives would give birth in the same maternity hospital, and Zeltser and Bandarenka would be stomping under the windows, like in the cinema. It would be freezing, they would be shivering from the cold, and then one of them would go to the coffee machine and get two cups. They would get to know each other, and then Andrei would give Roman a ride home. It would certainly be a late night, and preferably a snowstorm, and on the way they would stop to pick up a lone pedestrian, and it would turn out to be Aliaksandr Taraikouski. His brother said that Aliaksandr loved to walk, and if he was coming back from somewhere at night, when public transport stopped running, he would walk, even if it meant walking across the city. That's how they would all get to know each other and become friends.

And then, in the summer, six months after that night snowstorm, they would decide to drive together across Belarus. Along the Nioman, for example. They would stop in Biarozauka and meet Vitold Ashurak there. And after Biarozauka they would take a little turn from the river route to visit the Vaukavysk museum. There they would meet museum director Kanstantsin Shyshmakou, and he would give them a personal tour. And he would tell them so many interesting things about Hrodna region that the travelers would really want to go further.

And then their car would stall. Right on the road. Soon, a truck would stop and the driver would get out and ask what happened and how he can help. They would talk and get to know each other. The trucker's name would be Hennadz Shutau.

In the fall, they would surely meet at a soccer game. At a friendly match between Belarus and Ukraine, for example. And Artsiom Parukau, Dzianis Kuzniatsou, Nikita Kryutsou, who was a real soccer fan, would be sitting next to them. And, of course, a little clumsy teenager Dzima Stakhouski. In the life in which they would all have met and become friends, he would have never jumped off a roof not to go to jail. In the country where they would have become friends, no one would have been imprisoned for breathing or speaking. There they would all have been free and happy. And most importantly, alive.

I know that history doesn't allow for the subjunctive mood. Yet it is in the subjunctive mood that all of them are still alive, full of energy, making plans, sitting next to us in the subway. I really wish that everything I have written were not a fairy tale, not a fantasy, not a dream that will never come true again, but a near future. Even more I wish we would never forget about the fallen heroes and remember them at least on this day, which will forever be a day to remember the fallen. And even more, without the possibility of changing everything in the subjunctive mood, I would like us to remember them all on our victory day. With a minute of silence and the white-red-white flags at the dip.

It will be soon. Very soon. I believe so.

Iryna Khalip, specially for Charter97.org

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