Former Political Prisoner: Don't Lose Your Determination Or Faith In Victory
- 13.08.2026, 10:52
There's a lot of work ahead.
Former political prisoner Kim Samusenko recounted the events that took place in Minsk on August 9–10, 2020:
“I can breathe freely again and recall that evening—the eyes of my neighbors who were standing near the polling station, unable to comprehend how they had been so deceived, and the tears of my friend, who was an election observer and couldn’t hold back her emotions when she read the official results.
I can’t forget the teachers—some of whom once taught at my school—who now fled my school through the back door like rats.
I cannot forget the head of the Frunze District Police Department, who promised that everything would be done according to the law, and that there would be no detentions or violence.
I know some guys who ended up at that Frunze District Police Department station that night. There was violence, but there was no law.
He gave me his word only because he was afraid—because he saw the people around him. He was even afraid to wear his uniform and came in plain clothes.
And I can’t forgive him.
It’s strange to me to read people saying that Belarusians didn’t know there would be violence that night.
I knew what was coming, and I thought there would be even more of it. But not going out means losing your conscience; losing your conscience means losing yourself.
Those who say they didn’t expect violence are either naive (and that’s good, because, unfortunately, it hurts, but it gets better with time), or they’re foolish (which is worse, because it usually doesn’t get better), or they’re deliberately lying to themselves so as not to take responsibility for being unprepared for the violence, for not having done everything that needed to be done (which is the worst of all).
I was prepared for violence, so despite the heat, I was wearing a black motorcycle jacket, a mask (because I knew they’d be looking for me), tactical goggles (because I knew there’d be rubber bullets), and milk in my backpack (because I knew there’d be tear gas). There was tear gas, there were bullets, and they were looking for me.
And the worst part was that there was an envelope on the table at home with two farewell letters to my family and instructions on what to do if anything happened.
We crossed the Rubicon on August 9 at 10:49 p.m., when the first flash-bang grenade exploded in the crowd of angry but still peaceful people.
After that, turning the page would be an affront to people’s dignity.
We understand this, and they understand it.
So there’s a lot of work ahead. I don’t know what date will be the one we later remember as the day the last grenade exploded (and I fear it won’t be a flash-bang grenade), but that day will come. There is no other way.
How I long to see my people once again focused, angry, tense, and full of energy, just as they were on that night and the few that followed.
Hang in there, boys and girls!
Sharpen your scythes, don’t lose your determination or your faith in victory—don’t let those collective farm cowards win over your souls and minds!”