http://www.osu.edu/O-H-I-O/?item=1979
http://www.osu.edu/O-H-I-O/?item=1975
http://www.osu.edu/O-H-I-O/?item=1977

“thank you so much for writing this post: an eye-opening look into something that many people take for granted…”

and – thank you for your blog.

warmest wishes,
veronica

Ann, thanks for your very insightful comments on this subject. Our organization (Chernobyl Children’s Project International) recently started investing significantly in “in-country” rehabilitation for these kids. While an opportunity to summer abroad is very attractive for many families, there are many other Belarusian families who would not even consider sending their kids to a stranger’s home. (If the situation were reversed, I would feel the same!) Also, we work with many ill or handicapped children from home a vacation abroad would not be realistic — for example, children recovering from cancer or heart operations.

Your point is quite valid however . . . it is really hard for people to get excited about programs in which they are directly involved, thus the appeal of these summer programs. Real change requires the long view. Charities have to do their best to ride both horses in order to both keep their funding stream alive, and to affect real change in the regions. For our part, we are moving more and more toward in-country programs. People have to help themselves, and be supported in that, and not always be left beholden to the charity of others.

All the best to you,

Kathy Ryan
Executive Director/USA
Chernobyl Children’s Project International
Visit: http://chernobyl.typepad.com

I have very mixed feelings about these programs. First of all, for how long are people going to continue being labeled “Chornobyl affected”? Twenty-one years after the accident, most of the Ukrainian territory designated as Chornobyl-affected is fine for human habitation, with radiation levels lower than natural background radiation is some parts of the world (northern Finland, for example), or even completely dissipated. What makes a child “Chornobyl affected” today? His zip code? Because his parents listed his permanent address as being in the 4th zone, even though he was born hundreds of kilometers away and grew up in a different region of Ukraine?

I certainly think the chance to spend a summer in another country is a fantastic opportunity for any kid, no matter where they are from. And the more Ukrainians, especially young Ukrainians, who can travel abroad and see examples of life in other countries, the better. At the least, they will see what other people expect and receive from their governments – good roads, clean water, gas lines. Maybe they will learn about how people in those countries actually pay their taxes, and actually receive government services back from them. They can learn that it is not normal to expect to give or receive bribes for every little transaction. They can see that in some countries laws are serious things, followed by your average citizen and enforced by your average police officer. They will also see that most people in those countries work pretty hard, too, and money doesn’t grow on trees there and your average person does not own a Bentley. In other words, exchange opportunities generally break myths about foreign countries, as well as about your own country.

On the other hand, the hundreds of thousands of dollars these organizations spend to bring a few children every year to the US, Italy, France, etc., could make a HUGE difference in the lives of thousands of people living in Chornobyl-affected villages: build or renovate the gas lines so there is gas heat in every home, school, hospital, and other building in the village so they don’t have to burn wood for fuel (which causes a whole set of respiratory and other problems from the smoke); clean wells and build sanitary systems so every household has access to clean water, and with the gas heat, hot water for more sanitary washing; renovate roads, repair decrepit schools, install quality windows for better insulation. Invest in small business development to create jobs. The list could go on and on.

Richard D North, author of the website Chernobyllegacy.com, writing about the so-called “rehabilitative summers abroad”, points out a fatal flaw in most of the humanitarian efforts surrounding the Chornobyl accident, “one of the bad things about it is that the kids have to buy into the ‘horror story’ to get on the ride – or rather, they learn that victim hood is profitable.”

This is certainly the great dilemma for programs like UNDP’s Chornobyl Recovery and Development Programme. They work hard to to destroy the myths, to help people move beyond the victim syndrome and take control of their lives again. The slow, plodding work of economic development, social mobilization, and community development does not produce dramatic results quickly; instead, it takes years of steady support and maybe you’ll see a measurable change in society.

But international donor agencies and charities want to give money and support in response to a tragedy. And if you don’t play up the “tragic lasting effects” of Chornobyl (which may or may not even be real), you don’t get aid. It’s a real conundrum.

I do believe aid organizations want to help people have better lives. But when I hear them talking about “we’re going to support this community because it’s not too far from Kyiv and we can easily visit it in a day during our short visit to Ukraine”, it’s hard for me to take them seriously. If they really want to help the most needy, the most affected, the most at-risk people, then they should go to the far away, isolated, hard-to-get-to places – precisely because no one goes there. And if they want to make a difference in a child’s life, help make her home town better. A “rehabilitative” summer in the Ireland is fantastic and I’m sure lots of fun, but when you send that child back to her village with poor heat, unclean water, and little access to the outside world due to terrible roads (not to mention no computers or internet), have you really made that child healthier? Have you really improved her life?

I wish aid organizations would stop doing what is easy for them to do, and what makes them feel good, and would start doing the hard work that helps disadvantaged people have better lives.

I went to the BBC Radio office in Kyiv, had a recording session (which was kind of cool), and pretty much forgot about it.

Well, thankfully Woman’s Hour didn’t forget! The feature will broadcast on 9 October 2007 at 10 am GMT. You can listen to the broadcast via the Woman’s Hour website.

Update: the program segment is archived at the link above, so if you missed the live broadcast, you can still listen to my segment over and over and over.

We started the day early, our group of about 20 leaving Kyiv at 8:00 am. During the ride north to the Exclusion Zone, we received folders with maps of the Zone and a notepad, as well as Terra-P dosimeters produced by the Ukrainian company ECOTEST.

These simple dosimeters (labeled “for everyday use” on the packaging) measure gamma radiation, and include a Geiger counter to measure beta radiation. Gamma, however, is the more serious and dangerous of those two types, though, and it was what most concerned us during our mission.

The device measures in millisieverts (mSv), with .30 mSv being the standard acceptable norm in Ukraine. Interestingly, one guide informed us that the standard acceptable norm in the US is about twice as high as in Ukraine, and even higher in some European countries. The Soviet Union, and later Ukraine, took a very conservative approach when setting acceptable norms for radiation levels. Many places we visited during this trip were well below even the conservative Ukrainian standards.

Our first stop of the day was a couple kilometers outside the Exclusion Zone, at the site of a base camp set up in May 1986.

One of our guides, Oleh Veklenko, described the day they arrived and set up this camp, on May 3, 1986. The brigade of about 3000 men first went to a location about 18 kilometers from the nuclear power station, only to discover that the radiation levels were extremely high there. They were moved to this site farther away, arriving about 3:00 pm at the large grassy field. Within an hour, the onslaught of 3000 soldiers stirred up so much dust that the air was filled with the sandy clouds. At dinner that evening, Oleh recalled eating his porridge in which he could feel the sand. He wondered what danger they were consuming.

There was a tent camp on the site for the first year, after which brick buildings were constructed. The camp was in use for at least three more years, until it was abandoned sometime in 1990.

Sergey first returned to the camp site in 2001, and at that time its remains were clearly visible from the road. In the last 6 years, though, the trees have grown significantly, and the site is no longer visible from the road.

Once inside the Exclusion Zone, our first stop was at the sign designating the border for the Chornobyl raiyon (like a county in the U.S.). Radiation measured at .12 mSv.

Our next stop was at a former vehicle decontamination point.

Sergey described the route a team would follow after a reconnaissance mission, going through the first checkpoint and washing. If the vehicle was still “dirty”, it was washed again. If still dirty, it was sent to the vehicle graveyard. In practice, though, Sergey said they often found ways around the decontamination check. He describes one such occasion in his collection of short stories, Worse than Radiation. My dosimeter measured a gamma level of .24 mSv.

We stopped next at the village Zalesye, located southwest of the town of Chornobyl.

I had readings from .16 mSv to .27 mSv, both below Ukrainian norms. I always feel a bit uncomfortable walking through abandoned villages, looking in the windows and yards of someone’s home. It doesn’t feel right to me to be a voyeur into someone’s home. And when I checked the radiation level and found this village was well within the conservative Ukrainian standards, I was so sad. Sad for all that people lost, all that trauma they suffered. I looked at Sergey, showing him the .16 mSv reading, and he said “I know. For what did they do all this?”

From Zalesya, we bypassed the town of Chornobyl and stopped just north of it at the one remaining working decontamination point in the Exclusion Zone. It seemed more like a scrap metal collection point.

Collecting scrap metal has become a profitable industry within the Exclusion Zone.

At the next stop, near the buried village of Kopachi, we all received a special protective suit, including booties to cover our shoes, gloves, and face masks.

It seemed a bit extreme, and Sergey himself said he thought it was ridiculous. But the rules are the rules, and since we were going off the paved roads, Chernobylinterinform, the agency managing visits to the Zone, required us all to put on this get-up.

Unfortunately, pictures speak louder than words, and I knew the pictures of our group in these crazy outfits would leave a stronger impression on those who read my blog than anything I could write attempting to dispel myths about the Zone. The pictures are pretty cool, though, I have to admit, and it was fun to feel like we were doing something exotic and even risky, even though we weren’t.

Several villages were completely razed and buried underground in the months following the accident, such as Kopachi. Here, our group stands on a mound under which is buried a Kopachi house.

My dosimeter read .24 mSv at the top of the mound. A few yards away, I measured .50 mSv.

We proceeded on and stopped next at the edge of the so-called “Red Forest.” The name was given in the weeks after the accident when the pine needles turned red as the trees died from extreme radiation exposure.

The forest that now stands on that area is all new growth since 1986. Although there are no more “red” trees, the name Red Forest has stuck.

Sergey told us that during their radiation reconnaissance missions in 1986, if they saw the signature red trees they didn’t even bother to take readings in that area – they knew it was over 1 roentgen/hour (.11 Sieverts/hour). The readings today measure 2000 times lower than in 1986.

We made a few more stops at various points along the edge of the Red Forest, and at the so-called “Torch”, the sign at the entrance to the territory of the Chornobyl Atomic Energy Station.

We stopped outside the 4th reactor, at the infamous visitors parking lot.

We were supposed to go over by the administrative building, near the cooling pond and the Chornobyl monument, but as we drove up we saw the delegation of the Minister of Emergencies, who was at the site preparing for the upcoming visit of the President and Prime Minister, who signed a contract for construction of a new shelter object over the destroyed reactor on Monday. So we headed instead over to Pripyat, stopping first at another buried village, Chistohalovka.

This is all that remains of the village, the World War II monument that stood in the center of the village.

There was a new sign just inside the gate at Pripyat (at least I hadn’t seen it on my previous visits).

Rough translation:

Attention Pripyat visitors!
For your complete safety we ask that you follow these guidelines in the town:
1. You are in a zone of increased ionizing radiation. Try to refrain from using alcohol or food products on the streets of the town.
2. A large number of buildings in the town are in emergency condition, there have already been incidents of structural failure. Therefore we highly recommend that you do not enter into buildings, even if you do not see any external damage or warning signs.

Do not forget that you are on the territory where one of the worst ecological catastrophes in human history occurred. Out of respect for the deeds of those who gave their health and lives in the fight with the consequences of the accident, as well as those who lived in this town, we earnestly request that you do not destoy Pripyat for souvenirs and do not litter on the streets – there are no municipal services in the town that could clean up.

Respectfully,
The administration of the internet project PRIPYAT.com
WWW.PRIYPAT.COM – site of the town Pripyat

We went to some places in Pripyat that I hadn’t seen before. One was the police station.

Bill in the holding cell.

Visiting the jail gave me a whole new appreciation for this amazing evacuation that took place in under 4 hours in Pripyat. Granted, it happened about 36 hours later than it should have, but still, to evacuate 45,000+ people in a matter of hours is amazing. Include in that number the prisoners and hospital patients – it’s incredible to think about moving those people in a safe and proper fashion.

In one jail cell was a huge pile on the floor of the prison records – hundreds of index cards with the information about people who were arrested.

I regret that I didn’t take a picture of the whole pile. We picked some up at random, reading aloud the crimes and fines. Most of them were for alcohol offenses – making samogon (home-brew liquor), driving while intoxicated, or my favorite “crossing the street with difficulty.” In 1986, Gorbachev’s prohibition policies were in full force.

Behind the police station was some kind of vehicle graveyard, which includes an old reconnaissance vehicle like the one Sergey said he used in 1986.

There were 7 such vehicles in his group, but the identification numbers are missing from this one, and so he can’t tell if it’s the one he himself used.

Next we walked past a really interesting and unique tree – half regular pine, half blue spruce.

It’s bizarre, and of course one’s first reaction is that it must be some kind of mutation. But no, it’s nothing as exotic as that. In fact, it was (and still is) a common practice to graft a more expensive blue spruce onto a less expensive regular pine, which was a more economical way to decorate a town with lovely blue spruces. This tree was just such a graft, only no one has tended or pruned it it over 21 years, and thus both parts of the tree have grown healthily and abundantly.

One of our last stops was at a seemingly innocuous little building with a small parking lot. We took measurements at two different places approaching a strange-looking hunk of metal, both of which were relatively low. On the actual piece of machinery, though, everyone’s dosimeters went berserk.

Openings on the side of the machine were just large enough to put a hand through, and we recorded the highest radiation measurements of the day inside the object.

One person had a measurement of over 80 mSv. I didn’t leave my hand in long enough for the dosimeter to reach that extremely dangerous level. Sergey’s guess is that this was some kind of earth-digging machine, which would explain the high contamination on the inside of the machine, if it was used to excavate highly contaminated soil. It was a good lesson about the dangers of radiation, and the impossibility of judging safety and danger. You really need special equipment, and you really have to check every few centimeters.

We ended our day at the Chernobylinterinform offices in the town of Chornobyl, where we had a de-briefing and reviewed our mapped radiation measurements. Sergey showed us the hand-drawn map he made in 1986 for his reconnaissance missions.

The official maps of the territory were classified and thus the reconnaissance teams were not allowed to take them with them on their missions. Sergey also told how they had no paper; soldiers themselves bought school notepads and divided up the blank pages so as to be able to record their measurements.

Sergey talked for a bit more about their experiences on reconnaissance missions in 1986. The highest measurement recorded in that year was 10 roentgen/hour (or about 1.2 Sv/hour). Our highest recording on this day was 85 millisieverts/hour, thousands of times lower than 21 years ago. “Hundreds of thousands of liquidators did not work for nothing,” Sergey commented. There efforts truly had remarkable results.

The day was long and exhausting (we returned to Kyiv about 9:00 pm), but very interesting and extremely educational. Pripyat.com is a fantastic organization doing really great things in and for the Exclusion Zone. Their newest project is a proposal to make the town of Pripyat into a kind of reserve – if not a nature reserve, maybe an urban reserve?

More photos from the day trip are here.

We are all exhausted, full of impressions, happy, grouchy, overwhelmed, goofy and very very dirty. In fact, I think we are all so dirty we’re not even dirty any more – at least we don’t seem dirty to each other any more.

We could not have had a more remarkable stream of bad luck with water. Absolutely everywhere we have been there has been a problem with water. We knew that one or two villages wouldn’t have running water, so we planned the itinerary to intermix those with villages that have running water and indoor plumbing. But in every single village, there has been one problem or another and we had no running water. In one, the sewage system was broken and thus we could not use the indoor toilet or brand new shower in the Youth Center. In another, the water pump broke two days ago and the entire village is without water. In a third, even though they had told us they had running water in the youth center, it turned out to not be true. 2 villages ago we bought a big basin and a bucket. After heating well water with our electric tea kettle, I tried to teach everyone how to bucket-bathe. They didn’t catch on, to say the least. Judging by the amount of water splashed all over the washroom, I can only guess exactly what they each did in there.

In Korosten, the local Youth Parliament arranged for us to stay in the building of the local Red Cross chapter. Apparently the building used to have hot water and working showers, but no one thought to double check. When we arrived, of course the first question from everyone was “Where is the shower?” The workers informed us that they have no showers anymore, and just one toilet. They suggested we go across the street to the local banya (public bathhouse). I hurriedly went to the only hotel in town to check into a room so everyone could use the shower there. Guess what? There was some kind of accident there and they have NO WATER. I nearly burst into tears, and I didn’t have the courage to tell our group yet.

I decided to check out the banya and reserve it for us for later this evening. Guess what? It doesn’t work today! Our luck is really absolutely unbelievable.

Our local partners, the Korosten Youth Parliament, had arranged for us to do our presentation today in the town park, after which we would all participate in a trash-collecting action to help prepare for tomorrow’s “Town Day” festivities. I’d been watching the clouds gathering all morning, and just as we walked out of the Red Cross to head to the park, the downpour started. The Youth Parliamentarians hurriedly made arrangements for us to use a room in the Culture House, while we called for taxis to drive us there. I feel like someone is having a great laugh at our expense – no water where we want and need it, and tons of water where we don’t want it.

It’s been a great week with this group, and I have come to love each and every one of them, but I also am ready to finish our program, go home to my own bed and shower, and sleep for a week. I felt myself on the edge when I found out the hotel has no water, honestly not able to take anymore – it feels like it’s just been one thing after another this entire week, and I am exhausted. Fortunately, I have many friends here in Korosten, via Igor, and I called Vlad. I already don’t remember what I said to him – he later told me he didn’t understand what was wrong, but he could tell from my voice that I really needed help. He managed to figure out where to meet me, and drove over immediately. While the group went off to make their presentation with the school kids, Vlad took me to another banya on the edge of town and helped me reserve it for 8-10 pm tonight. I took a quick look around, asking all kinds of questions that seemed to surprise the manager, like “Do you have showers?” and “Do you have hot water?” She answered everything with “Of course!”. I was SO relieved!

Vlad and a couple other friends will join us tonight, and not only will we have an evening of hot running water and showers, we will also have a cool cultural experience – I doubt any of our group has been to a Russian banya before.

My mood has picked up, even as the rain is coming down harder. We won’t been cleaning the park today, but we’ll be cleaning ourselves, and I think that will be much more fulfilling for our volunteers than anything else could be today.

One new stop for me was the famous amusement park, scheduled to be opened for the May Day celebrations just a few days after the accident.

I made this fun little video there. We were standing on asphalt, and a few meters away was a patch of moss. Moss LOVES radiation and absorbs it like crazy and this little patch created a heck of a hot spot.

A few meters away it was back to low readings.

We also stopped at a kindergarten. That was a sad spot, I thought.

Everyone starting clicking away with their cameras when we came across this on the floor.

I thought it was put there specifically for tourists, but our guide reminded us that in 1986 the Cold War was in full force and all schools regularly had various security drills, including drills for chemical attacks. One such drill took place just a few days before the accident. Unfortunately, none of those drills were put into practice for the first 36 hours after the accident.

The tour always includes a stop at the information center, in the shadow of the fourth reactor.

I didn’t listen to the official presentation much this time, since I heard it all last year. Instead, I spent more time looking at the pictures and displays around the room. Something that really caught my eye were some photos from inside the destroyed reactor building. I don’t remember if they were there or not last year, but this year I quickly noticed them as I’ve done so much reading about Chornobyl since my first visit. In particular, I was really excited to see a photo of the so-called “Elephant’s Foot”, a big hunk of gunk. I’d read about it in several different books but couldn’t quite grasp what it actually looked like. It, and several other hunks of gunk, are made up of melted fuel with whatever other material got caught up with it when it cooled and re-solidified. Since I’ll never see the actual “Elephant’s Foot” with my own eyes, I was pretty excited to see this photo of it.

Here are my photos, and here are Dad’s photos.