Komar og to andre medlemmer av hviterussiske PEN – oversetterne Uladzimir Liankevich og Siarzh Miadzvedzeu – ble pågrepet under en fredelig protestaksjon i Minsk.
- Les PEN Americas krav om frigivelse: https://pen.org/press-release/pen-america-calls-for-the-immediate-release-of-pen-belarus-members/
Polina Sadovskaya i PEN krever at Hanna, Uladzimir og Siarzh frigis umiddelbart.
– PEN America er oppført over den urimelig pågripelsen av våre kolleger, som er ledere i en anerkjent litterær forening og menneskerettsorganisasjon. Vi krever deres umiddelbare løslatelse så de kan vende tilbake til sitt viktig oppdrag – å kjempe for det skrevne ord og sitt forsvar av ytringer i en krisetid.
De viser til at presidenten har mistet politisk og moralsk støtte og at det belarussiske folk krever å få uttryyke seg fritt. – Forsøkene på å kneble politiske motstandere gjennom arrestasjoner, kidnappinger og trakassering er dømt til å mislykkes, heter det.
I en uttalelse 1. september skrev Hanna Komar:
We are angry. Driven to hysteria. It’s their own fault that we became unstoppable. And there is no predicting how we will act. We cried out as one, a roar, around them, in front of them, because it was impossible to react differently. There were no words left, no strength left, only this remained out of all the tools. A cry of despair, helplessness, a cry of injustice, of fatigue. Crying out as an attempt to reach living beings. A cry to drown out their walkie-talkies. A cry for them to surrender. They let us go. Surrendered. They realized that it was better to come over to our side before it was too late. Screaming as group therapy.
I didn’t want to just go with everyone. I decided it for myself on the 26th, when I stopped running away. You cannot run away from yourself. In the very beginning, when we were about to start marching, they blocked our way by linking into a human chain. So we, as a huge crowd, shouted ‘Shame’ at them for a long time. I realized that my voice, which I had not had for almost two weeks, had returned to me. I realized it and was elated. My voice came back to me. As well as a sense of our strength.Near the Philharmonic, we were cut off by a police van and a chain of riot policemen. The girls started running away, but, as a surprise to myself, I went to the front, in front of these subhumans, urging women not to run away, but to stand together. “Article 17.1,” the riot policeman told us, and I was startled. He, a man who violated the CONSTITUTION and who is expected to face a criminal inquiry, is scaring us with a petty hooliganism charge for trying to cross the meter-wide road, which they had blocked off in the first place! ‘You betrayed us, you betrayed us, how could you?!!’ I shouted, but it was not me but a new Hanna. I know it’s the hormones that were being produced in my blood. Adrenaline and whatever else there is. I lost my sense of fear, there was only anger, rage that spoke in the voice of justice, the voice of my values.
I left before the end of the march, but I know that there is no stopping us, whether it is three hours or three months. Some of my favorite cheers: ‘I always take a video camera with me’ [Editor’s note: a line from a popular 90s comedy show] and ‘We do not need you to walk us home.’ Immensely grateful to all women who continue to fight and overcome fear, overcome inertia, fight for the return of our freedom.
- Les uttalelsen fra Hanna Komar og andre om kampen for rettferdighet: https://www.voiceofbelarus.com/womens-march-in-the-center-of-minsk/
Da Inger Bråtveit skrev om sitt besøk i Belarus, skrev hun at «å få møta belarusiske forfattarkollegaer og unge menneske som drøymer om å verta forfattarar i eit land der vilkåra for å utrykkja seg er under press, fekk meg til å løfta blikket, for etterpå å slå det audmjukt ned.»
- Les Bråtveits artikkel i sin helhet her: https://www.forfatterforeningen.no/artikkel/om-bu-i-eit-land-der-tida-har-stoppa-og-lova-ikkje-fungerer
Her er et av Komars dikt (oversatt til engelsk):
A GOOD DAUGHTER
You get kicked off the bus, drunk,
I press my doll to my chest
and stay silent.
I smile at your friends, those drunkards
and fools, like I’m good
and stay silent.
You dig the fork into the flesh
of your arm. I hand you a towel
and stay silent.
I bang on the neighbours’ door
to protect my sister and mum
and stay silent.
I watch you sleep where you fell,
breaking chairs and our hearts
and stay silent.
As you are growing old
and breaking down,
I am silently healing my wounds,
Your good daughter.