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``We must now worry about the children of the
children of Chernobyl,'' said Gennady Groushevoy,
head of Children of Chernobyl. ``The health danger
is reaching into a second generation ... but the
government has retreated into a Soviet-era
attitude of silence.''
In all, 7 million people in the former Soviet
republics of Belarus, Russia and Ukraine are
believed to have suffered medical problems as a
result of the April 25, 1986, accident. In
Ukraine, more than 2.32 million people, including
452,000 children, have been treated for
radiation-linked illnesses, including thyroid and
blood cancer and cancerous growths, according to
Ukrainian health officials.
www.nytimes.com/aponline/s...rnobyl.html
Activists: Chernobyl Radiation Lingers
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: November 13, 2004
Filed at 8:34 p.m. ET
SVETILOVICHI, Belarus (AP) -- The signs say ``KEEP
OUT'' and warn of radiation contamination, but the
mushroom-pickers trudge right past them carrying
their pails. Eighteen years after the reactor at
Chernobyl in neighboring Ukraine exploded, spewing
a cloud of radiation that blew north and
contaminated 22 percent of this ex-Soviet
republic, activists warn of a new threat facing
Belarusians: the longing to return to normal life.
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The government -- and many Belarusians -- are
eager to put the world's worst nuclear accident
behind them. President Alexander Lukashenko,
branded Europe's last dictator, has made it a
priority to repopulate much of the
Chernobyl-infected region beyond the hardest hit
areas.
But opposition parties and advocacy groups such as
the Belarus-based Children of Chernobyl accuse the
government of overriding warnings that radiation
continues to contaminate this region of pine
forests and mud-splattered farming villages.
Belarusians, many of them poor and ill-informed
about radiation, are returning home to villages
that still require permanent monitoring because of
higher than average radiation levels. Tractors
till farmland, cows graze and residents fill their
yards with vegetable gardens. Others are venturing
into the ``exclusion zones'' -- the worst hit
areas -- to forage in the forests for berries and
wild mushrooms, which are then sold throughout the
region.
The critics claim that the government of this
tightly controlled nation of 10 million is
capitalizing on the plight of desperate jobseekers
to repopulate still dangerous areas and boost
agricultural production.
In the last five years, Belarus has struck 1,000
population centers from the danger list. It has
boosted regional farm production by 30 percent,
cut Chernobyl-related welfare funding from 14
percent of the approximately $3 billion annual
budget to 4 percent, and censored health
statistics of rising death and cancer rates, the
opponents say.
``We must now worry about the children of the
children of Chernobyl,'' said Gennady Groushevoy,
head of Children of Chernobyl. ``The health danger
is reaching into a second generation ... but the
government has retreated into a Soviet-era
attitude of silence.''
In all, 7 million people in the former Soviet
republics of Belarus, Russia and Ukraine are
believed to have suffered medical problems as a
result of the April 25, 1986, accident. In
Ukraine, more than 2.32 million people, including
452,000 children, have been treated for
radiation-linked illnesses, including thyroid and
blood cancer and cancerous growths, according to
Ukrainian health officials.
Most villages around the plant remain off-limits
today, though some Ukrainians are moving back
despite government warnings.
Sixty percent of the fallout landed over Belarus,
contaminating a region that was home to more than
1.5 million people. Some 125,000 families were
evacuated, and large swaths of forest and farmland
were declared ``exclusion zones,'' sealed by
checkpoints.
Many of the evacuees still complain bitterly that
household belongings, left behind during their
hurried retreat, later turned up for sale in
regional markets, while they lived in limbo in
shabbily constructed apartment blocks.
Nikolai Nagorny, director of the International
Committee of the Red Cross' Chernobyl program,
said that cases of thyroid cancer -- one of the
few radiation-related illnesses that has been well
studied around Chernobyl -- have skyrocketed among
children in Belarus' affected regions, from just
two cases of thyroid cancer before the accident to
at least 1,000 in the 10 years after.
``I don't feel any danger, and even if I did --
what would it matter?'' said Raisa Stradayeva, 62,
as she and her grandson, Andrusha, trudged home
through the rain in Svetilovichi, a village just
outside the highly contaminated exclusion zone.
``I have to live somewhere and this is my home,''
she said.
Besides, she said, the health risks can't be that
severe because ``People are returning all the
time.''
Not only Belarusians; foreigners are coming too,
mostly from poorer ex-Soviet republics, seeking
jobs and housing.
Yuri Kuzmich, head of Belarus' Chernobyl exclusion
and monitoring zone, rejects accusations that the
government is intentionally sending anyone into
danger. In his office in Gomel, a city of 500,000
that has suffered increased radiation-related
illnesses, Kuzmich said his staff does all it can
to keep people out of the worst-hit areas and
provide information to those living in the
surrounding region.
But, he admits, not everyone is on the same page.
State-run farms ``have plans to fulfill ... and
they want to fulfill these no matter what,'' he
said. Those farms need workers, and farm workers
come.
``The passage of time and economic necessity take
their toll,'' he said, sitting beneath a portrait
of Lukashenko. ``Human memory is short. Eighteen
years might as well be 100.''
Kuzmich's team oversees the exclusion zone,
manning checkpoints, escorting visitors into the
region and collecting scientific and medical data.
Some employees are also assigned to oversee the
villages under radiation monitoring.
However, a reporter visiting recently was never
questioned when entering the exclusion zone,
checkpoints appeared deserted and the mushroom-
and berry-pickers walk through on the main road,
via forest paths or on buses that still pass
through the zone.
Margarita Artemyeva, who moved here from
Kazakhstan, was helping her 25-year-old daughter,
Natasha, wallpaper her new home -- a damp bungalow
identical to its neighbors.
``I don't even think about it. I'm not scared at
all. If there was a real danger, we'd know it,
wouldn't we?'' said Artemyeva, 44. She rejected
the claim that the poor are being used to
repopulate the area.
Critics claim vegetables, milk and meat from
Chernobyl-contaminated regions such as
Svetilovichi are being sold throughout Belarus.
But in a nation where the average monthly salary
is about $150, few have the option of putting
health concerns first and buying imports.
Besides, the berries and wild mushrooms supplement
meager diets and also sell well.
After Artemyeva mentioned she loved mushrooms, one
of Kuzmich's employees took her aside and gently
warned her against collecting them in the
exclusion zone.
children of Chernobyl,'' said Gennady Groushevoy,
head of Children of Chernobyl. ``The health danger
is reaching into a second generation ... but the
government has retreated into a Soviet-era
attitude of silence.''
In all, 7 million people in the former Soviet
republics of Belarus, Russia and Ukraine are
believed to have suffered medical problems as a
result of the April 25, 1986, accident. In
Ukraine, more than 2.32 million people, including
452,000 children, have been treated for
radiation-linked illnesses, including thyroid and
blood cancer and cancerous growths, according to
Ukrainian health officials.
www.nytimes.com/aponline/s...rnobyl.html
Activists: Chernobyl Radiation Lingers
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: November 13, 2004
Filed at 8:34 p.m. ET
SVETILOVICHI, Belarus (AP) -- The signs say ``KEEP
OUT'' and warn of radiation contamination, but the
mushroom-pickers trudge right past them carrying
their pails. Eighteen years after the reactor at
Chernobyl in neighboring Ukraine exploded, spewing
a cloud of radiation that blew north and
contaminated 22 percent of this ex-Soviet
republic, activists warn of a new threat facing
Belarusians: the longing to return to normal life.
Advertisement
The government -- and many Belarusians -- are
eager to put the world's worst nuclear accident
behind them. President Alexander Lukashenko,
branded Europe's last dictator, has made it a
priority to repopulate much of the
Chernobyl-infected region beyond the hardest hit
areas.
But opposition parties and advocacy groups such as
the Belarus-based Children of Chernobyl accuse the
government of overriding warnings that radiation
continues to contaminate this region of pine
forests and mud-splattered farming villages.
Belarusians, many of them poor and ill-informed
about radiation, are returning home to villages
that still require permanent monitoring because of
higher than average radiation levels. Tractors
till farmland, cows graze and residents fill their
yards with vegetable gardens. Others are venturing
into the ``exclusion zones'' -- the worst hit
areas -- to forage in the forests for berries and
wild mushrooms, which are then sold throughout the
region.
The critics claim that the government of this
tightly controlled nation of 10 million is
capitalizing on the plight of desperate jobseekers
to repopulate still dangerous areas and boost
agricultural production.
In the last five years, Belarus has struck 1,000
population centers from the danger list. It has
boosted regional farm production by 30 percent,
cut Chernobyl-related welfare funding from 14
percent of the approximately $3 billion annual
budget to 4 percent, and censored health
statistics of rising death and cancer rates, the
opponents say.
``We must now worry about the children of the
children of Chernobyl,'' said Gennady Groushevoy,
head of Children of Chernobyl. ``The health danger
is reaching into a second generation ... but the
government has retreated into a Soviet-era
attitude of silence.''
In all, 7 million people in the former Soviet
republics of Belarus, Russia and Ukraine are
believed to have suffered medical problems as a
result of the April 25, 1986, accident. In
Ukraine, more than 2.32 million people, including
452,000 children, have been treated for
radiation-linked illnesses, including thyroid and
blood cancer and cancerous growths, according to
Ukrainian health officials.
Most villages around the plant remain off-limits
today, though some Ukrainians are moving back
despite government warnings.
Sixty percent of the fallout landed over Belarus,
contaminating a region that was home to more than
1.5 million people. Some 125,000 families were
evacuated, and large swaths of forest and farmland
were declared ``exclusion zones,'' sealed by
checkpoints.
Many of the evacuees still complain bitterly that
household belongings, left behind during their
hurried retreat, later turned up for sale in
regional markets, while they lived in limbo in
shabbily constructed apartment blocks.
Nikolai Nagorny, director of the International
Committee of the Red Cross' Chernobyl program,
said that cases of thyroid cancer -- one of the
few radiation-related illnesses that has been well
studied around Chernobyl -- have skyrocketed among
children in Belarus' affected regions, from just
two cases of thyroid cancer before the accident to
at least 1,000 in the 10 years after.
``I don't feel any danger, and even if I did --
what would it matter?'' said Raisa Stradayeva, 62,
as she and her grandson, Andrusha, trudged home
through the rain in Svetilovichi, a village just
outside the highly contaminated exclusion zone.
``I have to live somewhere and this is my home,''
she said.
Besides, she said, the health risks can't be that
severe because ``People are returning all the
time.''
Not only Belarusians; foreigners are coming too,
mostly from poorer ex-Soviet republics, seeking
jobs and housing.
Yuri Kuzmich, head of Belarus' Chernobyl exclusion
and monitoring zone, rejects accusations that the
government is intentionally sending anyone into
danger. In his office in Gomel, a city of 500,000
that has suffered increased radiation-related
illnesses, Kuzmich said his staff does all it can
to keep people out of the worst-hit areas and
provide information to those living in the
surrounding region.
But, he admits, not everyone is on the same page.
State-run farms ``have plans to fulfill ... and
they want to fulfill these no matter what,'' he
said. Those farms need workers, and farm workers
come.
``The passage of time and economic necessity take
their toll,'' he said, sitting beneath a portrait
of Lukashenko. ``Human memory is short. Eighteen
years might as well be 100.''
Kuzmich's team oversees the exclusion zone,
manning checkpoints, escorting visitors into the
region and collecting scientific and medical data.
Some employees are also assigned to oversee the
villages under radiation monitoring.
However, a reporter visiting recently was never
questioned when entering the exclusion zone,
checkpoints appeared deserted and the mushroom-
and berry-pickers walk through on the main road,
via forest paths or on buses that still pass
through the zone.
Margarita Artemyeva, who moved here from
Kazakhstan, was helping her 25-year-old daughter,
Natasha, wallpaper her new home -- a damp bungalow
identical to its neighbors.
``I don't even think about it. I'm not scared at
all. If there was a real danger, we'd know it,
wouldn't we?'' said Artemyeva, 44. She rejected
the claim that the poor are being used to
repopulate the area.
Critics claim vegetables, milk and meat from
Chernobyl-contaminated regions such as
Svetilovichi are being sold throughout Belarus.
But in a nation where the average monthly salary
is about $150, few have the option of putting
health concerns first and buying imports.
Besides, the berries and wild mushrooms supplement
meager diets and also sell well.
After Artemyeva mentioned she loved mushrooms, one
of Kuzmich's employees took her aside and gently
warned her against collecting them in the
exclusion zone.
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