The whole truth about Marina Akhmedova. Marina Akhmedova: “You don’t choose death, so the main thing is that someone holds your hand” Conversation about reporting from hot spots, book fairs and literary awards

Marina Akhmedova is a prose writer, journalist, deputy editor-in-chief of the Russian Reporter magazine. Author of the books “Women’s Chechen Diary” and “Ukrainian Lessons”, the novels “House of the Blind”, “Diary of a Suicide Woman. Khadija" (shortlist for the Russian Booker Prize), "Masterpiece",...

• October 1, 2015, 13:00

Genre: ,

“Dances of Demons” is a mystical novel that tells about the life of a Western Ukrainian village, whose inhabitants believe in the existence of witches and demons. The witch - old Leska - lives alone on the outskirts of the village. As soon as she enters the church, the villagers flee from it. They believe that Leska can cause damage, steals milk from cows, carries crow's eggs under her arm and hangs out with evil spirits and demons. The village can’t wait for the old witch to disappear from the world...

However main war goes in human soul. Does a person make his own choice or is his fate predetermined? And is it necessary, as in ancient times, to make a sacrifice for the well-being of many, or, on the contrary, the shed blood of a sacrifice will entail rivers...

• 7 February 2015, 13:48

Genre: ,

"First report from main square Ukraine – Maidan Nezalezhnosti – I wrote at the beginning of the year. Then I could not even imagine that a war would break out in the southeast and I would make regular trips to shelled Donetsk, meet people, listen to and write down dozens of stories about great heroism and great betrayal. And that in the end I will hold in my hands a book in the texts of which some people are still alive, but in reality they are already dead. Killed.

And for those who have not heard or seen all this, let this collection become documentary and material evidence that all this is happening here and now. And all this, unfortunately, is our reality.”

• May 13, 2014, 00:43

Genre: ,

“Crocodile” is terrible, amazing, necessary for ignorant youth as a warning, an antidote, an antidote. Marina has a journalistic acumen - she plunged headlong into this isolated normal life a world that exists next to us and which we hardly notice. She lived in the lair itself in the role of a spy and brought out from this bottom her terrible and somewhat cold story. Marina Akhmedova is not talking about young Western intellectuals indulging in cocaine in the dazzlingly clean toilets of modern Moscow City offices. She obtained a story in a semi-legal manner from the very bottom, from such a bottom of life that Alexei Maksimovich himself had never dreamed of. She talks about those who sit on a “crocodile”, from which it is impossible to “get off”, because the destruction it produces in the body is monstrous and irreversible, and it is not, as a rule, children from “decent” families who fall into these “crocodile paws”. families,” and those from the back alley are the most vulnerable, deprived of a normal family, loving parents, dropped out of society and not needed either by society or by themselves.

"Guard! – Marina Akhmedova shouts. - Help! Save!" It screams differently than people of my generation would write. No, perhaps she doesn’t scream at all - she rather coldly reports what is happening, because, having stood in this rotten corner of life, she knows that these people cannot be saved.

Lyudmila...

• December 17, 2013, 18:06

Genre: ,

“Diary of a Suicide Woman. Khadija” is a girl’s leisurely story about life in one of the mountain villages of Dagestan, where the heroine from childhood learns to distinguish between the anger and mercy of Allah, who constantly puts her before a choice - white or black?

Having matured, Khadija will leave the village and plunge into the passions of the city, where you are accepted based on your clothes, where a lot of things are bought and sold. The city where there is a war going on between militants and security forces, constantly offers her a choice, but disguising white as black, and vice versa. What will she choose? Khadija herself does not know the answer to this question and only towards the end she understands that her whole life is a series of choices and each choice made determines the next one.

The prototype for the heroine was real girls involved in the gang underground in the Northern...

• 14 November 2013, 04:53

Genre:

Genre: ,

Chaos comes to the city. Residents flee from it before chaos overwhelms them and wipes them off the face of the earth just as it wipes out the houses in which they lived. The city is emptying... And it’s good if you see and know in which direction to escape from it. But what should a handful of blind people, forgotten in the midst of chaos, do? They go down to the basement of the house in which they lived in peacetime as a friendly commune... It would seem that they should die in a matter of days, because even a sighted person finds it difficult to survive in the center of the pandemonium that is unfolding - military shells are raining down on the city day and night. But the blind don't see them. They don't see what chaos has turned their city into. They make radios and every day they find themselves on the same wavelength with those who are dropping shells on them. They wait with bated breath - overshoot or undershoot? The city is silent, deserted, and it seems to them that they are the only living beings in...

Annotation

A collection of reports and interviews with the famous journalist Marina Akhmedova, published in the Russian Reporter magazine.

Marina Akhmedova

REPORTING

The girl is not for sale

Dumpling of patriotism

Cancer close to the heart

Wealthy family

Place of feat

Crocodile

"You will have everything..."

“I'll kill you. But not today"

Mom doesn't grieve

Petals and people

Hunting for men

Unnecessary help

Students arm themselves

Understand the dragon

"People are being kidnapped, Marina"

Poor people

Mice in a cage

Five nights of no love

People, animals

Lamb Rock

Postman

Love, concentration camp and other blah - blah - blah

INTERVIEW

Conversation with the dragon

Ilya Ponomarev: “A rally is an erection”

General Romanov's Dream

If anything, I am Ramzan

Glamor with an awl

How to achieve peace

Live until Monday

Unholy Father

Petenka is ashamed

Ant in the center of Paris

Alina Kabaeva: Defeats teach wisdom

"My angel, come with me..."

The Old Man and Eternity

Marina Akhmedova

"Another Other Russia"

ThankYou.ru: Marina Akhmedova “Another Other Russia”

Thank you for choosing ThankYou.ru to download licensed content. Thank you for using our way to support the people who inspire you. Don’t forget: the more often you click the “Thank you” button, the more beautiful works is born!

The problem with modern journalism is that the Internet killed it. Today, the abundance of acts and often unverified facts completely kills a journalist’s desire to live the life of his heroes. It’s probably too much of a luxury to ask a journalist to live their lives, to try to understand who these people are, how they live, and even more so to sympathize with them. I don’t expect this from our journalism at all.

There is no sympathy. There is only a division between friends and foes. You can't do anything to strangers, strangers are damned, they are always wrong. They can do anything to their own people, everything is forgiven to them, they can lie, do what they want. But if they are recognized as one of their own, then they will be supported to the end. Marina Akhmedova is one of the few journalists who do not divide people into strangers and insiders. She divides people into those with whom she empathizes and those with whom she does not. In all her stories, in all stories about people, there is a feeling - whoever they are (terrorists, drug addicts, the last people in society, whom no one respects anymore and, perhaps, their own parents no longer shake hands with them), she will always find some reason for you, after reading a story about this person, to regret and empathize with him. And for some reason you begin to think about him a little more than you generally thought about others. This is another merit of Marina. We don't think about other people who are close to us at all. We live only in our own world - closed, individual and lonely. But after reading Akhmedova’s reports, for some reason you begin to think about them - about people with whom you may never cross paths. This is probably highest achievement journalist, this is probably the meaning of humanism - to think not only about yourself, but also about other, at first glance, strangers. But Marina still somehow manages to show: they - distant - are still family, not strangers to us. And maybe someday we will stop being deaf to those who are worse off than us. This is what Marina gives me, this is why I love her. This is why every time I read her stories about people I will never meet, it seems to me that they once lived in my life.

Tina Kandelaki, TV presenter, public figure.

REPORTING

The girl is not for sale

The correspondent of “Russian Reporter” saw from the inside the life of a difficult Sverdlovsk brothel.

“Aquarium” with three floors almost in the center of Yekaterinburg. It contains cichlid fish and black-striped cichlids. And also butterfly fish and black mollies. There are no piranhas, although it has become fashionable to breed them. “Aquarium” is not exactly a brothel, but rather a salon where you can buy sex. And also - sincerity. Violating the laws of text construction, it should be said from the very beginning: fish have a soul.

And she keeps walking and walking around the house. And he tells us: “Carry the ropes!” And the administrator said to him: “Are you crazy? Eight pm! Center! And you are from the third floor window!” So for some reason he still - not to sit quietly - looks out the window. She noticed him and shouted: “You bastard! I see you. Come out!” And he - no need to remain silent - “It’s not me.” What a fool!

The long-suffering wife has been caught,” Lola, a brunette with a gentle voice and a heavy gaze, looks up from the coffee maker.

But they have been together for twelve years! She had an abortion from him and now cannot have children! She has no education. Where should she go?

“He” is a client from the salon where Vera worked before. "She" is his wife. Lola is not yet forty. She is a black-striped cichlid, a fish that lives in stagnant bodies of water. The blackstripe is peaceful, but if touched, it will show aggression and can attack a fairly large predator. Vera is twenty years old. She sits at the kitchen table, tucked under her bare foot. IN open dress With spotted colors, she looks like a cave woman.

Call. This is the client. The click of heels on the stairs. Molly's high heels And black dress barely covering her hips. Black hair in small curls and strong legs. Olya has thick red hair down to her waist, but her heavy jaw prevents her from becoming a goldfish. The girls sit at the table opposite the client. “At least offer the person some tea!” - Lola shouts to them from the next room with a fireplace.

From where I'm sitting, I can't hear what they're saying in the kitchen. The tone is a normal conversation. I can't see the client, but the girls are clearly visible. Olya smiles. Molly is bored. Vera looks at him as if she has been waiting all her life: in a few days she will pay for her rented apartment. He chose Vera. They go upstairs.

An hour later, the client, a man of average height with no special features, cheerfully comes down. Behind him is Vera with an armful of bed linen. Vera looks at me. Her eyes are yellowish. He puts three thousand rubles on the table - the cost of an hour of services in the salon. Forty-five percent of them will go to her, fifteen to the administrator, and the remaining forty will go to pay rent and “roof.” “The crisis is only to his advantage,” Vera says about the client. “His income is in dollars.”

In the evening I come to the salon again, already with my things. The kitchen smells like chicken and garlic. There are no age restrictions here - only girls under eighteen are not accepted. The oldest is thirty-seven.

Lola pours seeds onto the table. Molly is lying on the sofa, watching TV.

And yesterday the boors came. The girls were immediately attacked. They got up and left. “Why are you so full of food? Have we come to the gymnasium? We came to the brothel." - “Well, go to the brothel! There are a lot of brothels in the city. Get up and get out of here!” - "What?!" - “They said: they got up and went. We have a turn, and here you are bending your fingers.” - “We won’t come here again in our lives!” - “You will do us a favor. A huge favor."

A client can come to a brothel, put all the girls in a row, pay ten thousand each and say: “Meow,” Lola is indignant. - And they will get up and meow. And our girls will say: “We’d rather kick you to death.”

You came, and I have to jump and run in front of you just because you paid? - Vera adds, popping a seed into her mouth with her fingers. - And you do something for this: treat me with your soul, give me more money, give me a box of chocolates. And I will treat you differently - as a human being. And if you come and say: “Well, what can you do, baby?”, I will do everything that is necessary, but you won’t get what you came for.

Marina Akhmedova is the author of the books “Women’s Chechen Diary”, “House of the Blind”, special correspondent of the socio-political weekly “Russian Reporter”, philologist, linguist. He is engaged in social reporting and often works in hot spots in the North Caucasus. The book “Diary of a Suicide Woman. Khadija" was included in the long list of the "National Bestseller 2012" award.

Marina, the Vilnius International Book Exhibition has just finished: how did it happen that you represented Russia at it?
- The Lithuanian publishing house “Methodika” translated my book into Lithuanian, it went on sale two weeks before the exhibition itself. They say sales have been good. But that’s not why they invited me. At the beginning of winter, we agreed with the publishing house that I would come to the exhibition. And why exactly me, I don’t know. It must have been a coincidence.

- Ok, when did you receive the proposal to translate “The Diary of a Suicide Squad” and is it somehow connected with your premium story, which, it seems, after the broadcast on “Expert TV”, is one way or another surrounded by rumors? Many people say that you wrote a book for the sake of a grant - the topic is painfully “winning”: terrorism...
- Well, if they started translating the book immediately after the program came out on Expert TV, they would hardly have had time to publish it in time for the exhibition. The book is not small at all. And I also doubt that anyone in Lithuania watched our program on Expert; our channel has a narrow audience. I don’t know what kind of rumors the premium story will acquire after the transfer.

The book “Diary of a Suicide Woman. Khadija" is a girl's leisurely story about life in one of the mountain villages of Dagestan, where the heroine from childhood learns to distinguish between the anger and mercy of Allah, who constantly puts her before a choice - white or black? The prototype for the heroine was real girls involved in the gang underground in the North Caucasus. “Private Correspondent” publishes an excerpt from the book, kindly provided by the publisher.

For me, this story is quite clear and without rumors - I will not receive any awards. During the broadcast, I convinced myself and Kostya Milchin that it was important for me to receive them. But in reality, I don't take bonus matters that personally. I will soon have an essay coming out in Russian Reporter about “ a normal person" - that's another matter. Did I manage to convey the essence of this person and what surrounds him? I want to say that it is important for me that there is no gap between my feelings, what I saw, and the written text. Well, as for grants, I’ve already heard many times from different people that I wrote the book on purpose. Yes, I wrote it on purpose. It would be very good if they gave me a grant, because the stories that I collected in the book would somehow reach the public consciousness. Only people who shout “Stop feeding the Caucasus!” are unlikely to find the time and desire to read this book, because reading is always labor-intensive. It's a pity. There is everything you need to imagine life in Dagestan without ever having been there. I don't refuse grants. Give them to me. Really want to. I’m just not sure how the grants control the funds spent. Yesterday my cat peed on my bag. I need a bag. I wonder if I could use part of the grant on a bag, do you know?

-Did you do something to your cat? Did you offend her?
- In general, yes. At first I told her that I didn’t love her, then I brought home Egg Semyonovna, a ginger kitten for whom I had already found good hands. I traveled a lot around the regions in February, and finally left for Lithuania, leaving my cat with Egg. She had already hidden it then. But yesterday one of my friends came to visit, she complained to him, he stroked her with his heel for a long time, she probably got overexcited and... pissed on my bag.

- Let's go back to books and prizes. You’ve definitely already earned your shoulder straps – two longlists: Nose, Natsbest- Doesn’t it put pressure on your fragile shoulders? Fragile, fragile, don't shake your head!
- Fragile is, of course, pleasant, but it’s not true... I think that a long list is not shoulder straps at all. Someone nominates you out of the kindness of their hearts, but you don’t make the shortlist. Not being on the longlist at all is better than not being shortlisted. In the first case, it will be clear that there was no kind person next to you who was part of the nominators. And in the second - that your book is no good. Although I won't think so when my book isn't shortlisted. I am objectively convinced of its remarkableness.

- It’s strange, you think that the nominators are entirely “good people” ( kind to their own), nominating texts for awards solely for this reason... for some “personal reason”. Ok, I think this is not so, and therefore I do not comment. Let's move on: Russian publishers invited you to both the MIBF and Non-Fiction - your performances everywhere, as they say, attracted a crowd. What about in Lithuania?
- Well, in general, no one wanted to listen about the war and suicide bombers at Non-Fiction. Next to me stood Natalya Rubanova from AST, two presenters, my friend Oksana Yushko and colleagues from RR Olga Tsybulskaya and Tanya Filimonova. It was somehow strange to talk about suicide bombers to people whom I know well, and I’ve been buzzing all of their ears for a long time now. different topics. Tanya clapped her hands loudly after every word I said, and this only made me feel more sorry. And then Natasha Rubanova asked if it was true that I worked as a psychologist in a nightclub for boy strippers. People flocked to me when they heard the word “striptease.” I immediately remembered how I lived in a brothel. The word “prostitutes” added an audience to me. Well, then I finally opened up and said that I also worked as a saleswoman in a sex toy store and, in general, I write books for money. Everyone was happy and satisfied, only Oksana glared at me, she knew that I was mocking. But I can only say that whatever the questions were, those were the answers I gave. Honestly, it's strange to me. For a long time after the terrorist attacks, I was afraid to go into the subway. I was afraid for myself and my loved ones, precisely because, while working in the Caucasus, I saw with my own eyes how many people there were who would like to explode somewhere in a crowded place in Moscow. I talked to them and I knew why they would want to do this. And logically, when you know why, who and why, it’s easier for you to prevent it. I wrote “why, who and why,” but is it my fault that in a city where terrorist attacks occur almost every year, and it is clear that this is not the end, they only want to talk about sex? For God's sake. I can tell you about him too.

In Lithuania everything was different. A whole room gathered for the presentation of the book at the exhibition itself. Many of those who came had already read the book. And they asked specific questions - about the North Caucasus, about my work at Russian Reporter, about terrorism and about myself. About how inspiration comes, how I, for example, remember so many details that I later describe in books.

- How do you remember them?
- Like everyone else, I don’t remember. They are deposited in the subconscious, and at the right moment they emerge from it.

- Well, what about the Western format? book exhibitions Is it different from Russian? What is closer to you?
- When I entered exhibition complex in Vilnius, it seemed to me that this book event was no different from Non-Fiction. The same jostling crowds. People with full bags of books. Before I had time to reach my table, a woman came up to me with a little fair-haired girl and told her: “This is Marina Akhmedova.” After all, I’m a young author, not used to such attention, I couldn’t control myself, fidgeted, found a chocolate candy and gave it to the girl. I myself wanted to thank them for their attention.

- Judging by the reviews of the Lithuanian press, you have big success . Numerous interviews, reviews... We were greeted like a “star”. Do you want to convince me that everything happened by itself and you don’t even have a literary agent?
- Why? I am dealt with by the international literary agency Elkost. Specifically, Elena Kostyukovich and Yulia Dobrovolskaya. And they were greeted, however, very well. But I thought that this is the fate of a writer, and every author would be greeted the same way.

Another material on the same topic appeared in the Russian Reporter magazine. The article “One Hundred Hours in Hell” tells the story of Chechen Zelimkhan Chetigov, who was kidnapped in Ingushetia. His case is also filled with terrible details of torture and is also unique - like Islam Umarpashaev, this hero survived.

The director of the publishing house, Kristina Vasiliauskaite, gave me a critical look at the first meeting and immediately took me to a makeup artist. I didn’t sleep well that night, I had horror dreams about how bad I looked, that I urgently needed makeup right off the ramp. When the next day there was a photo shoot for a women's magazine, I humbly accepted everything they did - false eyelashes, with which I could hardly open my eyes, high heels and platforms, which only suicides can wear, and thin silk dresses, although it was wild Cold. Film crew At first she also rushed around with me like I was a sack. Then I convinced them not to do it. All my friends and relatives are just like them. My younger sister works as a stylist in glossy magazines. I love her very much, and in relation to all stylists I have an older sister complex. All my friends are photographers, and I know how offended it is for them when the hero starts to “shit” (that’s what we call it among ourselves). And I myself am the same journalist as all those who interviewed me. The only thing that distinguishes me from them is that I wrote a book. Three books. Now I'm finishing the fourth one. And I’ll write the fifth one right away.

As you recently admitted to Comrade Bykov on Kommersant FM, your name is new novel there will be a “Masterpiece”: it was funny to listen to how the tone of the program host changed - from ironic and arrogant at the very beginning to normal human at the end: you have “put down” a poet and a citizen. But this is not about him: about the book of reports, it was leaked... are you actually going to include materials about your work in a brothel and a strip club in it? How did you even end up there - in a brothel?
- No, Bykov was wonderful. I didn’t really like him the first time he interviewed me, it was in the summer, and then I was in great sadness related to personal matters. And he probably just “read” my mood, and as I did to him, so he did to me. And I liked the second broadcast with him. Bykov is a good citizen. And yes, I called new book"Masterpiece". Great name. But this is not about my work, but about my heroine. She's trying to love. And I'm trying to understand what love is. I noticed that for a long time could love people only through pity. By the way, I told in Lithuania terrible story about the blue aunt, whom I describe in my story “Petka”. In general, I had a friend Petka. We were seven years old. And one day we found a dead bird. They stole a box from Petka’s mother and solemnly buried the bird in it. We enjoyed the funeral. We caught all kinds of insects, killed them, and then, shedding tears, buried them. If you only knew how painfully I loved them then. Soon a whole cemetery grew up in Petka’s front garden. Then my grandmother died, and I decided to bury Petka. She wrapped him in a sheet, placed the switched-on lamp on his chest, beat out a funeral march over him with pot lids and cried. Aunt Galya caught us doing this and whipped us both with a towel. And she also destroyed our cemetery. And then one day Petka and I were standing at the store and eating a bun. Aunt Galya is coming... she took us by the hands and led us somewhere. She led me into the house, and there in the middle of the room there was a coffin, in it was a young woman with blue skin. Petka and I stood next to the coffin and crumbled a bun into it. And then one night I woke up... it seemed to me as if standing next to me blue aunt. It was real horror, so real, almost tangible. And I started to scare Petka. Blue Aunt became Petka's nightmare. Strange. I never dream about the corpses I see while working. But for a long time I didn’t know what to do with this blue aunt. I told this story in Lithuania, and readers looked at me with horror and admiration. And one director in the evening at a meeting with the mayor of Vilnius said - this is how you need to hold the audience, otherwise I spent the whole evening telling my guests about poetry. This is good, because by the end of the story I was starting to feel uneasy. And yet this story is about love. I want to understand what she's like pure form– without pity, selfishness and other impurities. Well, for example (which has long been hackneyed), as soon as a person leaves us, we stop loving him. And it has been said a hundred times in literature, in movies, and in books on psychology that love is when you are glad that the one you love is happy without you. But in practice it’s difficult... or maybe impossible. My heroine goes through this practice in every detail. But love only for a man is not interesting to me. Or maybe there is a common grain in love for a child, a tree, animals? And any love can become unconditional, like the love of a mother for a child? I know that a lot has already been said on this topic, but I want, without reading other people’s words, to come to an understanding myself - why is God love, and love is God? Why? This is how I write my reports. I just sit and watch. I dig into my heroes. I listen, I watch. And you definitely need to start feeling and loving for the report to work.

And a book of reports will be published if AST is very interested in it. Negotiations are currently underway between the Expert press service and AST. But that doesn't bother me much. My reports have been written and have already been published in Russian Reporter. All I care about is what I write in currently.

I just ended up in a brothel. My friend from St. Petersburg, photographer Yulia Lisnyak, miraculously entered the brothel, and in order to persuade the prostitutes to invite me there, she slipped them my article about the orphanage. The girls immediately trusted me, let me in, and I lived there for several days. And I can tell you that now it’s very funny to me when some gray-haired or bald guys make a movie about a brothel without ever having been there. And again it turns out about Sonya Marmeladova, difficult women's share, a misunderstood soul. Now that a woman can find a job just like a man, we need to answer the question differently - why do they become prostitutes? People in Moscow are generally somehow far from what they do. Deputies are far from the people for whom they write laws. Seriously, they should all be sent to live in the outback, and before that they should not be allowed to sit in the Duma. Me in Lately It's annoying (although my esthetician asks me not to use that word) when I see people messing around in their heads. They come up with something about the people, about prostitutes, and never intersect with either one or the other. I also live in my head, but I am making attempts to get out of there and see the real world, and not the one I invented for myself. I feel this experience in my head especially painfully when I am in the outback and communicate with ordinary people whose mind has not prevailed over their heart and soul. They work with them – with soul and heart. And in the city - with the brain. And I really want to contemplate and feel more than to study, read and understand.

But tell me: you - here you are, yes - why are you writing? Who needs this? Young people read little, “adults” have a midlife crisis, old people want something different... probably.
- I write because I want to write. I need it and I like it. And the process itself is also necessary. If you ask the question of who I am writing for... Well, I somehow don’t think about it at all. For whom and why are questions from different planes. Every writer wants to be read. But that comes later, when the book has already been written. And then I also want money... and the more, the better. And if everyone is in crisis, and someone doesn’t read much, then we need to write a book that everyone will read. I'm not saying that I can do this. But there were writers who could.

- Write what to do with you, don’t kill... By the way, just in case, what kind of death would you “legal connect”? Well, if you had to choose?..
- I would like a person to be next to me and hold my hand and tell me that I am not alone. I did this in the summer, when shepherds in the mountains were slaughtering a sheep. There was nothing I could do to help him; he would have been killed anyway. So I hugged him, the shepherd ran a knife across his throat... blood flowed, the ram wheezed, trying to connect the edges of the wound, terrible convulsions passed through his body, his heart was beating. And I, while his heart was beating, continued to hug him, and told him in the ear of the severed head that he was not alone, and I was with him now. And the heart beat and beat... I noted the time - it beat for seven minutes. I certainly wouldn't want my throat cut. This is extremely unpleasant, and probably extremely painful, scary and ugly. But I think that death is not chosen. Therefore, the main thing is that someone holds your hand.

- You don’t have to die at all, Marina. At least today. Well, the hand - yes, here it is.

Ann Lennon talked to Marina Akhmedova

Marina Akhmedova is a special correspondent for the Russian Reporter magazine. Every week we read her reports from Debaltseve and Gorlovka, Kyiv and Lvov. Marina recently published a book, “Ukrainian Lessons. From the Maidan to the East.” About what it was like to be a journalist in the warring Donbass and whether she was truly scared in hot spots - in an interview with Pravmir.

When you report in a war zone, you constantly meet people who are suffering. And it is hardly possible not to experience some personal feelings, not to have your own ideas about who is right and who is wrong. How to relate these personal feelings with the need for objectivity?

When I see a suffering person, I feel compassion for him. Or I don't have compassion. It happens both ways. But in any case, if helping is within the scope of my capabilities, then I try to do it. When I meet people suffering because of someone else, I don’t think about those who caused them this suffering. In war, in general, you cannot divide what is happening only into white and black. There is a war going on, that's all. In war there is violence. The one who presses the lever, firing shells across the city, is unlikely to even know about my existence. I am also tolerant of him.

Or another example. On my last trip, at the base of one of the DPR units, I saw two men, militia members, tied to a pole, with “Traitor” signs on their chests. I asked what they did. They robbed and killed civilians. An act that deserves unconditional punishment. But how should I feel about those who put signs on them? This is also violence exposed in public. They say that others will look and be afraid to commit the same crimes for which these are punished. But it seems to me that such spectacles only corrupt a person, kill the person in a person. I had my personal feelings, but I related them to the reality of the war, which was that there was no one to blame or hate.

And after a few days, you find yourself where people are somehow involved in the fact that the shelling took place...

So what? There is a war going on, they are shooting, shooting at them. I get strange feelings when I hear from civilians: “The residents of Donetsk are to blame for the fact that they are being shot at.” But these are only sensations, not strong feelings. So weak that I don’t even argue, I just walk away from these conversations. That is, personal communication, not related to work, I will avoid with such people. If I need them for something at work, then I will listen to them, write them down and accurately state their words. All.

-Can you tell me when you were truly scared?

At the Right Sector checkpoint, I was scared—the driver, Artyom, was taken out to be shot. They turned me away from him, saying: “You better not see this, girl.” I was afraid that they would kill him now, and after that I would never be able to feel happy. Because the driver was carrying me, we were stopped because of my Russian passport, which means it’s my fault.

When the shutters were already clicking, I approached the man who was pointing a machine gun at Artyom, touched his hand and said that you can’t kill people, that it’s very bad. He pushed me away: “Take her away!” I kept repeating that you can’t kill people, but they laughed at me. Well, besides, they put a lemon in my bag. I have this green bag, I carry a bunch of different cosmetics with me in it - day creams, night creams, for the skin around the eyes, tubes of hyaluronic acid, hand cream, perfumes, shampoos, gels, thermal waters. In general, there are a lot of different bottles there. One of them takes a lemon out of my bag and asks: “What is this?” First of all, it was already dark. Secondly, my eyesight is not very good. At first I looked at this streamlined object and thought - it seems I didn’t have such a bottle. And he says: “Creatures. Russian occupiers. She goes to enemy territory and brings them weapons. Yes, you’re completely confused...” Well, what could I say? It’s pointless to prove that it’s not yours to people who know better than you that it’s not yours. It was scary. I was scared.

-Have they changed their minds about shooting?

They could have shot. Such situations happen very quickly on both sides, and I was aware of this. As well as the fact that we were stuck there for a long time, and we hardly have a chance to leave alive. I said that I urgently needed to go to the toilet. There was one guy there, he was constantly trying to feed me or pour me tea. He thought I was cold. And I was probably shaking from both cold and fear. Because Artyom was still standing there. And this guy says to me: “Just don’t think that you’ll go to the toilet with a bag, and you can call from there.” I gave him the bag. I still had money there - two thousand dollars, with which we planned to buy medicine, food and diapers in the bomb shelter. We left the road and reached a wooden toilet. But I didn’t need to go to the toilet. I stood over the hole and said: “Lord, please take me out of this scene. I have collected enough information for a report.” I went out, and they said: pack your things and leave. We collected our things scattered on the ground and threw them into the trunk. I asked why they were letting us go, they told me: if I talk a lot, they’ll change their minds.

- In such a situation, it’s hard not to divide people into “us” and “strangers”...

Maybe. But I don’t think I saw them as completely alien. They were simply poor quality people. Fear for life is a very strong feeling. But I try to perceive these people in the context of their entire lives - unhappy, aimless, making them hate people like me. Here I see more social stratification than national stratification. But I remember them without anger at all. It was and is gone.

When you arrive at a militia checkpoint with Russian passport, they treat you friendly. When speaking Ukrainian, not very well. Likewise, at militia checkpoints, journalists with an American passport or with Lviv or Kyiv registration are not treated very well. That is, I’m not trying to call someone bad, someone good. I'm just describing reality. Therefore, naturally, when you come to a checkpoint where you can be offended simply by the fact of your citizenship, and somewhere for the same fact they can let you through, wishing you a good journey, then subconsciously or consciously you in any case begin to divide people into friends and foes. Fear for life is a very strong feeling...

In the summer there was a story about shelling of a column of refugees. Kyiv media immediately reported that it was militiamen who fired. And DPR resources report that it was Ukrainian troops who shot. And these news come out almost at the same time. There is, of course, no way to verify this.

Why verify this? We have reached the point where they shoot at columns and there are refugees in general. And this is because there are a considerable number of people who accept war in their contemporary reality, see its outcome not in negotiations, and justify violence by saying that someone is to blame. And violence should not be justified in any way. Lately I like to ask a counter question to those who ask me if I saw the Russian military equipment. Yes, I have seen her many times. And now I have a question - “What do you think should be done with the local male militias, of which there are several tens of thousands, when Russia stops arming them?” They should be put in prison, they say. Or amnesty. Next question- “Given the incredible level of violence of some people against others that has occurred over the past year, tell me honestly, are you sure that they are being aminized?” No, you're not sure about that. Then we will move on to the next stage of events - they will be killed. And along with them, sympathizers. There will be many deaths. Are you for or against? Usually no one wants to answer such a direct question. Because everyone wants to remain good and not be known as a person who justifies violence.

In general, I consider searching for someone to blame in my work unproductive. When Odessa was burned, in my opinion, the question sounded blasphemous: “Who is to blame?” Since such a crime became possible, it means we are all guilty. It's my fault too. And if I knew who to ask for forgiveness, I would ask. My point is that the question “Who is to blame?” should not silence protest against violence or justify violence.

- And when, for example, a Boeing was shot down, isn’t it important to know who did it?

Important. Do we know? I, as a simple person and even as a special correspondent, cannot figure this out. In order to make statements about someone's guilt, I need serious evidence. And this story with Boeing has already done its job in the information war - after ten minutes everyone already knew that it was shot down by Russia, and if now it ever turns out that it wasn’t her, it will still be firmly in everyone’s heads - it’s her . Nobody needs the truth now.

- And when people, sitting on the couch at home, hang up pictures “I am Donbass,” does that make sense?

I think not. But this didn’t start in Donbass. First everyone was Charlie, then Mariupol. When I feel that I am Donbass, I go to Donbass and sit under shelling along with its inhabitants. And what does it mean that someone has become Mariupol? What kind of strange grief is this for the victims of one city, when the daily victims in the city next door are not noticed? Well, what kind of selectivity is this - if you are Mariupol, why are you never Donetsk? Or is it customary in the social stratum or community of people to which you want to belong to support Mariupol, and not Donetsk, or Donetsk, and not Mariupol? Then all these statements starting with “I” are more about you than about the victims. Do you want to fight the war through social media– do not divide the victims for whom you grieve into your own and those of others.

Recently, the degree of hatred on both Ukrainian-language and Russian-language sites has increased. Do you notice this in your life and work?

- Yes. This probably affected everyone. In the morning I go to Facebook and read, for example, let this or that burn in hell. God... It’s especially unpleasant when men write this. Some kind of woman's hysteria. Moreover, just by wishing someone to burn in hell, you can end up there yourself.

- And also “vatniks”, “ukrops” and other offensive nicknames in some exorbitant quantities...

I call this psychological promiscuity. People on social media are brave. Most of those who insult and threaten would not risk repeating the same thing in person.

But the appearance of all these “dill” and “vatniks” is also an element of the information war. Behind these words we stop seeing a person who breathes, who has a name and a mother. And our imagination draws a blurry image of some kind of “vatnik” or “dill”, which is the enemy, depending on whose side you are on. A man disappears. In his place is a faceless enemy who you don’t mind killing.

You are a woman at war. You once said that you have special set dresses for reporting. Dresses are probably not the most comfortable clothes for such conditions...

- Comfortable. It’s just that war for a journalist like me is not about you crawling somewhere, running away or hiding in a trench. During business trips I live in the city. I walk around the city in a dress. Well, yes, something can fly at me, but if I’m wearing trousers, they won’t save me from a projectile. There were a few occasions when I had to fall into the ground, but they were unplanned. And the dress didn’t bother me - I picked it up when I ran. I don’t look for such situations, but, on the contrary, I avoid them. And with my dresses I seem to be demonstrating that I am avoiding danger.

When it all just started, I arrived in Anthracite in a long blue dress with small scarlet flowers. And my colleagues said that there was violence at the checkpoint. I drove up to the headquarters and said: “I’m a journalist.” And they say to me: “What kind of journalist are you? Get out of here." - “Why am I not a journalist?” “Journalists don’t look that beautiful. Go before they put you in the basement."

Then the chief of staff came out and we solved the problem. The next day he allowed me to come again and took me to the miners.

- But on the contrary, it turns out that you are not taken seriously...

I can behave during interviews in such a way that they take me seriously. But for me it is important that the first reaction is: attention, woman, don’t shoot, don’t offend her. Once I was driving from Lugansk to Kharkov, and at a militia checkpoint I got out and said: “I really need to go to the toilet! It's urgent!" They took me to the backyards, grabbing me by the arms on both sides, like a beautiful vase. Artem was so worried about my fate while they were escorting me to the toilet that he managed to tell everyone: I’m not just a woman in beautiful dress, but also a Moscow writer. So he wanted to increase my status and protect me.

When we set off, the militia advised us to go to that Ukrainian checkpoint where they and the guys a good relationship. Yes, the militias and the Ukrainian military. I have watched more than once how they make friends at checkpoints, run to each other, share food, medicine, and cigarettes. But when they are ordered to shoot at each other, they shoot... We stopped at that Ukrainian checkpoint. An eighteen-year-old boy stood there. I showed him my passport, and he asked: “Tell me, is Moscow... beautiful city? I dreamed of seeing her so much.” I felt sorry for him. I started crying. The main circumstances of his life were read from it: a child of poor parents, deprived of social opportunities, but awarded a machine gun...

Then we stopped in Debaltsevo at the same time the shelling from Grads began, and then my dress played decisive role- The Ukrainian military, without saying a word, took me out of the car and carefully lowered me into the shelter. The shelling began, and they terribly scolded Russia, and I was afraid that they would now check my passport, see that it was Russian, and drive me out of hiding. But they didn't check. When it was all over, they helped me get out and let me go. We passed a dozen more Ukrainian checkpoints. I fell asleep, and at some checkpoints the driver was told: “Don’t wake her, let her sleep.” They probably couldn’t even imagine that a journalist, and a Russian one at that, was traveling in such a dress. By the way, I was recently in Debaltsevo and asked Artem to take me to that shelter. Now there is already a militia checkpoint there. This deep narrow depression is now flooded with water. Ukrainian military jackets are lying nearby.

In general, I have a press card and all the documents. But the dress is mine main document. It's a joke. But sometimes they just take me out of the car and say: “That’s it! You won’t go any further!” I don’t know what a male journalist can do in such cases. I start whining: “What is this? I hid in the bathroom in Donetsk all night out of fear. And now you’re scaring me.” They begin to calm me down, they say: don’t be afraid, don’t worry so much, nothing will come at you, we will protect you.

But this has nothing to do with work at all. The heroes of my reports miscalculate when they think - here comes a woman in a dress, now I’ll show her what a hero I am. I take interviews quite harshly. Once Artem told me: “I’ve been leading journalists for so many months, but there has never been anyone among them with such a tough character as yours.”

- By the way, do you coordinate your articles with the heroes?

No never. Why on earth? I am confident in myself and that I quote them verbatim. Those who still did not like my interview with them or my report in which they were heroes, however, never accused me of lying. I don't have that experience. You may or may not like the work, but the characters always understand: I still have a dictaphone recording, and that’s exactly what they say on it. And I always try to handle words with care, I even try to convey to the reader the features of the direct speech of my heroes. Sometimes heroes whose names I hid for security reasons say to me: “What have you done?! Everyone I know recognizes me by talking! Only I say so!

- You transcribe the entire interview yourself. Why?

Because when I decipher, I notice some details - those that I could have missed in the conversation simply because with one half of my brain I was thinking about the question that I would have to ask as soon as the hero fell silent. Sometimes I spend ten hours transcribing for one report. This means that I sit at the computer for two days. It's very hard. But there is a plus - during this time a clear structure of the future report is already being formed in my head, I already know exactly where I will pull the threads from, where I will tie them into a knot, where I will make a loop. Of course, I can give the recordings for transcription - we have a special department in the editorial office. But my text from the beginning of the work to the end is the holy of holies. I cannot allow strangers into any stage of the process. I'm afraid that the magic will be destroyed.

But it’s also worth noting that I simply have the opportunity to spend so much time on the text. I don’t work for a daily newspaper, where texts have to be written in a stream. I calmly work on my one-off products. Although sometimes there is a deadline.

I remember when I arrived from the above-described trip home to my friend Oksana Yushko in Kharkov, who at that time was visiting her parents there with her husband, in a day and a half I had to transcribe the interview with Zakharchenko and also transcribe the recordings for the report and write it myself this report. We went to a cafe, and I practically didn’t leave there for two days. I hit the keys and hit. I drank and drank coffee. When I have deadlines in a foreign city, I always occupy some cafe and by the end of the first day I even begin to evoke sincere sympathy from the waiters. They sometimes tell me: “Looking at your suffering, we begin to love our work”...

I remember at that time I was very scared to approach that audio recording where Zakharchenko and I were hit by mortars. I put it off until the last minute, but I had a deadline. I stuck one earphone into Oksanino’s ear and let her listen to the shells whistling there. She said: “What a horror.” My hands shook, although during the shelling I was not afraid. I listened to how I ran, how I breathed, how I lay on the ground, how they told me: “If you want to live, run.” And I felt so sorry for myself that I cried. But as a result, I met these deadlines.

- What qualities are primarily needed for a reporter who works in hot spot?

I think compassion. And a sense of space. Maybe this is stupidity and nonsense, but I always feel like it is watching me and giving me orders for my affairs. This does not mean that, for example, you bought bread for a hungry grandmother, space looked at you and thought: “What a kind person, I’ll do something nice for him too.” No. It feels you doing it. In order for you to be rewarded, because it is necessary or it is simply a heart impulse, a movement of the soul. It only values ​​impulse. You will leave without helping a person or a dog, and you will feel bad - not because of remorse, but because someone feels bad. We are all connected. But this is what I consider a real human attitude. And not doing good so that it will be credited to you. This is the attitude towards others that space sees.

- What is “space” - God?

Space is God, including nature.

We were recently in a village that was “folded” - this is an expression heard among the locals. A dog was barking in the courtyard of a bombed house. I couldn’t make it out – was she on a chain? Is she hungry? Maybe her owners specially tied her up and will soon come to feed her? There was a fence between us. And the gate was closed. But we still had to find a way to get into that yard. And I was so scared. For some reason, I was very scared on that February trip. The city was heavily shelled. And I left this dog. But we had to find a way.

I don't believe that one person can help all people. But if space brings you exactly to this particular person or this particular dog, then, probably, they are already in your area of ​​​​responsibility.

Have you ever had situations in which, instead of working, you had to deal with people and help them?

My work is not clearly demarcated. I'm not a TV guy and I don't film anything. I can do both at the same time. In general, I spend a lot of time with people while working. I didn’t have any “either-or” cases, like famous war photographers. For example, no one was killed in my presence so that I could film this. I'm an ordinary reporter. And I can only talk about what was, and not about what would have been.

- What motivates you to return to Donetsk again and again? Love for your business?

And love for Donetsk too. And although I recognized this city only when the war began there, I fell in love with it, and now I live in Donetsk and Moscow. In addition, connections with people arise. For example, last time I came and took the money that was given to me specifically for this purpose to Valera - this man had his legs and fingers torn off by a shell. His house was also destroyed. He was placed in a nursing home, but he doesn’t belong there, he’s not old. And he doesn't want his life to end within these walls. He used to work as an electrician, and had already gotten the hang of fixing wiring in a nursing home with his stumps. I promised him that we would collect the missing part of the money for prosthetics. He should have called the factory and found out how much they cost. And I was already in Moscow. I called the manager, and she said: “And Valera is sitting right now and crying. When he heard the amount, he realized that it would be unaffordable for you.” I asked him to tell him that we would raise everything. Now my promise is the only thread connecting him with the desire to live. We still have two and a half thousand dollars left to raise. And soon I will bring this money to Valera. Isn't this a reason to go?

- What do you dislike in life? Are there any unloved phenomena or actions?

I don't like it when people can't understand each other. It seems that there are words and everything can be explained, but it happens that one person does not want to listen to another, and people get lost. And then my least favorite feeling comes - when I can’t do anything because nothing depends on me. That is, I really don’t like situations when nothing depends on me.

Many stories about the Great Patriotic War feature stories of miraculous events. Indeed, in extreme situations, God's mercy is especially clearly manifested. Have you heard about any such stories?

In general, waking up in the morning in Donetsk when they are shooting all night is already God’s mercy. Is it true.

I had a situation similar to a miracle, but it was not related to the war. One day I came to Orphanage. I was put in the infirmary for the night. I slept there alone, and the children’s rooms were nearby. At night I woke up from someone touching me. I opened my eyes, and it seemed to me that an old man in a luminous priest’s robe was standing next to me. Maybe it was a dream. I didn’t realize it right away. But a fire started in the orphanage - the children were drying their socks on the heaters. Of course, about five minutes later, when I had already jumped up, the fire alarm went off. But that old man, if this was not my dream, was probably not aware of the benefits of technological progress.

- Can a reporter take up a weapon to protect someone?

Can not. I can only defend with the tool that I have, and that is a voice recorder. As a person, and not a journalist, I would, of course, take up arms to protect my family. But if I come somewhere for work, I must remain a representative of my profession until the end. Not long ago, on Radio Liberty, an on-air presenter asked me if I was running around Donbass with weapons. I appreciated it so much that it was my last visit there. Someone will listen and think: well, it was not for nothing that the presenter asked her such a question, he probably has some facts... And somewhere it could cost me my life.

- Tell me, please, what does this Ukrainian experience mean to you in general?

- IN professionally I haven't gotten any better. It would be better if there was no war.

- But in general, this experience in a hot spot can be applied to something?

Besides, I will try not to offend people. To the point that I will become softer with them. During the war, I saw that a person is very fragile and vulnerable. He cannot be offended. And I was also convinced that a person simply has to be happy. If people learn to rejoice and appreciate life, which is not suffering, but on the contrary, then the forces of darkness will retreat before the forces of light.

The fact that a journalist was in the war probably still leaves an imprint on his state of mind? It is no coincidence that there are entire rehabilitation programs for people who fought.

I didn't fight or kill anyone. All this time I was just talking about people. In not very familiar conditions, but in principle I was doing exactly the same thing as during all the years of working as a reporter.

Alexander Chantsev talks with Marina Akhmedova, special correspondent for Russian Reporter, specializing in the Caucasus and acute social topics, and the author of three art books about “War”, about new drugs, problems North Caucasus and how a journalist can influence society and government.

Alexander Chantsev: Marina, what did you want to become as a child?

Marina Akhmedova: I often ask the subjects of my interviews this question, but I myself don’t remember what I wanted to become as a child. I only remember for sure that I had no intention of becoming a writer or journalist. By the age of seven, I had read several dozen books from my father’s library, understood nothing of them, and became convinced that books were written by special people. I still clearly remember how I imagined myself as an adult beautiful woman V expensive clothes floating on a yacht. Traveling. There I always accompanied a handsome, rich man (I also loved reading novels as a child). Basically, I wanted to be the beauty that a handsome prince would marry. And I didn’t want to be anyone else. But it didn’t work out...

A.Ch.: How did you get into journalism?

M.A.: Unexpectedly and unnoticed. I moved to Moscow, studied and worked as a secretary in a small publishing company. She also published a medical newspaper for doctors and patients. I had been working there for several months, and then one day the chief editor of this newspaper, Natalya Anatolyevna Smirnova, came to me and said that all the journalists had left, and she had no one to send to write a note at some medical meeting. He says: “You go.” I got scared and started to deny it, but she forced me. After attending this meeting, I spent the whole day writing a note, trying out sentence after sentence. It turned out something wildly official and boring. But Natalya Anatolyevna said that I have talent. Gradually I started writing articles for her, and within a few months I had pushed everyone who worked there out of the central pages, and I felt cramped. I switched to glossy magazine and wrote a lot of articles about sex under a pseudonym. It got to the point where they paid me double the fee for the strip. And it became boring again. I was invited to work at Publishing House"Secret of the Firm", I worked there for a short time before the opening of "Russian Reporter". This year “Reporter” celebrates its fifth anniversary. I've been working there for five years now.

And Natalya Anatolyevna has Parkinson’s disease. A long time ago. I wrote a report about her in the RR “My angel, come with me.” She calls me as soon as she sees me on TV or hears me on the radio. Her diction is impaired, our telephone conversations sound strange. I probably would have started writing anyway, even without her, but I always need a push. By the way, Natalya Anatolyevna called me immediately after the publication of your review, Alexander, of “House of the Blind” and said that she has something to be proud of. And then I tried to explain to her why I hadn’t been to her for a long time. That I may have time, but I’m too lazy to force myself. I've noticed that writing relaxes you and you quickly become impudent.

A.Ch.: After reading your reports, I got the impression that you are not least attracted to extreme situations, radical personalities, and generally transgressive topics that can frighten not only the average person, but also a more impressionable reporter. Not to mention the Caucasus, this is a shelter where dogs are euthanized, drug addicts with tuberculosis... Is there a challenge to yourself, social conventions or something else in your choice of topics? What general criterion determines your choice?

M.A.: My answer will not be modest. The first criterion is that I know that I have the gift of speech. Thanks for it to the one who gave it to me. I know that I have the ability to put what I see into words in a way that makes the readers feel and feel strongly. I can’t say that, being in a situation, for example, with drug addicts, from whom I recently returned, I feel something strong. But I feel it later when I sit down to write. My drug addicts were not only sick with an open form of tuberculosis, they were also all HIV-infected. I spent several days in tension - not to step on the syringe, not to let someone poke you with a used needle, not to show them that I was avoiding touching. By the way, I didn’t avoid touching. These new acquaintances of mine, as friends, suit me quite well. We lived together for four days. Yes, short term. But for those who live in a slow drug rhythm, and who have little left to live, four days is a sufficient period of time for friendship. And I also immersed myself in their rhythm. I just don't expect more from them than they can give. The only obstacle to friendship is that they inject themselves with crocodile, which means they will live for a few more months at most.

There is a second criterion - my ambitions. They were very well reflected in the choice of this topic - living with drug addicts. I read reports about the crocodile, a lot of reports. And everything didn’t suit me, everything was wrong. On someone else’s twentieth report about a crocodile, I decided that, damn, that’s enough, I’ll go and write it myself.

The third criterion is that perhaps I can help them. Not a fact, but suddenly. In fact, I don’t challenge anyone when choosing topics. I throw them away when I write - the way I write. It’s true that when I get bored, I try to find something nerve-wracking for myself so that I can live with this topic for a few days, no matter how difficult it may be, but without getting bored. I probably sound terrible, but the fact is that when you go where others don't go, you clearly see that this situation is not radical. It exists, it happens, and some people live in it. At the present moment of your time and at this point of your presence, this is a completely normal situation. And you try to solve it together with the heroes. Of course, I feel sorry for people in trouble. But what is very important is that I regret it later when I write. That is, the main criterion is the gift of speech. I know that it exists, and it obliges me. I sacrifice a lot to work it off.

A.Ch.: Those. During the collection of material itself, it is more important for you, as a doctor, to abstract yourself from the pain of others than to feel sympathy. What do you have to sacrifice?

M.A.: I don't know if it matters. But when I work, it turns out like this. This is not some kind of rule, I didn’t develop rules for work at all, it just happened that way, and over time I noted it to myself. When I find myself in a situation, I live in it, forgetting about who I am, where I came from, what other things await me, I completely become involved in the situation, as its element. Everything happens naturally. I can't explain how. This is not a calculation. And not even something meaningful. I analyze only after.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice your personal life and people. If I see that a person is really trying to communicate with me, but he will not become close to me, and communication with him is a waste of time, I unceremoniously remove him from me. But the most important thing I sacrifice is time. My window faces the metro, a busy street full of cafes and people. Turning from my laptop to the window, I can see life in full swing from my work chair. And I begin to yearn for life, although between us there is only glass and my reluctance to tear myself away from the chair. And I think: “What a horror, Marina, life is passing by.” And when I go out and sit with friends in those places that I missed, I say to myself, “What a horror, Marina, how can you waste time so mediocrely. You have to work. You have to leave something behind." I probably sound cynical about everything, but where the truth can be told, I like to tell it. But the truth, according to my observations, often sounds more cynical than a lie.

I have a lot of different friends, and one of my close friends always says that I am surrounded by the whole theater freaks. I like special people, but I also like ordinary people. The main thing is that they don’t try to play social games with me. And so it only seems that I am living some kind of interesting life that I am there, and there, and there. In fact, I am often bored, and I am a rather boring person myself.

A.Ch.: Can you cite cases where your texts actually specifically helped people? Isn’t journalism (and calls for help in another form, in blogs) losing the ability to evoke a lively response - in our country, where emotions have become coarsened by news of constant disasters, where the sprouts of help are often obviously doomed to die under bureaucratic asphalt, where, in after all, a whole choir of people in need of help? Or, on the contrary, it turns out that the state has delegated to us the care of our neighbors, and something needs to be done about this?

M.A.: There was a report about the monastery, when volunteers were found who wanted to cover the old church with a roof. At this church there lived an exiled priest, about thirty years old, he kept a cow, made cottage cheese from milk, sold it and repaired a church in a remote village, where men were constantly trying to steal a cross for vodka. And he, father, guarded her with a gun at night. There was a report about orphanages, when they became interested in specific children. There was a report about the action films "Understand the Dragon". Some housewives wrote to me - “Is it true? But we didn’t know. And if it’s true, then let’s do something.” There was a report on “Dogs Flying to Heaven.” My only report when I cried. After its publication I received many letters. Their main meaning is “I used to kick mongrels, I didn’t know. Now I won’t.” “I won’t now” - in my opinion, is much more important than helping one specific dog, which, however, is also important. There were a lot of reports. That's why I try to dive in and have the reader walk through and see with me. I achieve the effect of presence. I don't think people have become callous. But when you read: “In Moscow they treat stray dogs very badly. The laws don’t work. Everyone is an asshole and bureaucrats! Such and such a number of dogs were destroyed” - this essentially doesn’t bother anyone. Because the reader does not imagine all this. And news about disasters is news about disasters. Short summaries. Reading them, it is difficult to imagine the smell, pain, eyes, blood. Yes, I have big flow information, and therefore journalism must change. I talk about this so often that I’m starting to remind myself of a parrot. Journalism, especially such a component as reporting, should become like a picture. For the reader to see. We must not tell, but show. Therefore, callousness has nothing to do with it.

I delegate everything to myself. So I want young and not young people not to die from cheap drugs. And I will write about this, proving to the state that these people are not extra people in our country. And old people in dying villages are not superfluous people. We need them. If the authorities don’t need them, then I need them. And I am against waiting for them to die out. And if the deputies (which goes without saying) never go to live in a brothel, then I will show them what it’s like to live there. I still believe that the conscience of some of them will not let them sleep peacefully. In general, Mikhail Fedorovich Lipskerov has been pushing the idea of ​​a horizontal structure of our country for two days now, and has already almost proven the need for self-organization into communities. I am also of the opinion that public organizations, made up of people who love their country and do not consider the people living in it superfluous - this is very good.

My drug addicts and I went to the pharmacy to buy “ingredients” for the crocodile. In that city, the sale of Sedalgin without a prescription is prohibited. The pharmacists, seemingly warm-hearted Russian women, sold them without a prescription at a markup of eighty rubles. They didn't look them in the eye. They knew who and what they were selling to. And they understood that by earning eighty rubles, they were killing someone else. I stubbornly tried to catch the eye of one pharmacist. She finally looked at me and blushed. Well, you can say that I wrote my report for her too. She shouldn't sleep peacefully. The report has not yet been published, I just returned from a business trip. But I will definitely indicate in my text the address of the pharmacies where these pills are sold.

A.Ch.: It seems that the idea of ​​horizontal (self-)organization is now shared by many. Are you participating in protest movement, do you believe that it can change something in our country now?

M.A.: I am participating as an observer. I, like everyone else, am infected by the common reason for participating in rallies - all my friends are there, and I will go. Well, there is still a factor - but life passes. It is impossible to stay at home when your time and events are happening in your city. What should I tell my grandchildren then? Moreover, I am a journalist. But it’s good that thoughts are not heard. If those who came to the rally could hear what I thought about it, they would beat me. I am certainly concerned about the future of the country. And I constantly tried to tell in my reports how my country lives. When those who now go to rallies, all this was of little concern. Now everyone has become politicized and oppositional.

At first everything was fine - at the rallies. We rallied, we began to fight. But then speakers and sound appeared there. And then I realized that there was a gap between those speaking from the podium and me. They don't know me. I don't want to listen to stupid or monotonous speeches that don't touch me. PR, the struggle for power, ambitions, personal grievances - all this was clearly heard from the speakers. At least, clearly for me. And I kept asking myself - well, why did such shit happen? Why did my friends run to vote for Prokhorov? They couldn’t seriously believe that he wanted to become president? Perhaps this is a completely primitive approach, but nevertheless, I want to know. I tell my friend before the election: “Oh, I don’t believe you’ll vote for him. At least justify it." She makes a “you-don’t-understand-this” face and says that as long as she’s not for Putin. Well, yes, we are not in a store, the choice is limited, and you have to make it. But what should I do if I don’t trust any of them? I'm sincerely trying to develop a love for protesting. I come to rallies, to opposition camps, huddle in the thick of the crowd, and begin to convince myself that protest is good, that people have woken up, that society is growing up. But it doesn't work. Should I kill myself, or what? Yes, I see cool young people with sparkling eyes at all these rallies, but there are so few of them. There are few real ones there. I see a boardwalk with dogs with white ribbons tied to their tails. I see such meetings, walks and gatherings turning into a form of leisure, a way of life and, worst of all, a fashion. I imagine subtle political strategists over all this, when it seems to us that we are making decisions, but in fact, others are making them for us. One of the protest slogans, “You don’t even imagine us,” was spread across the Internet. I think neither the government nor the opposition represents us. It seems to me that a serious demand for intellectual communication has matured in society. The authorities, of course, will not only not want to, but will not be able to satisfy him. But it seems that the leaders of the opposition movement do not really understand who the crowd is made of, and they also speak to us in a more primitive language than we deserve. Especially Navalny. That's who I can't hear. He's a manager, he has nothing to tell me. I can tell him myself. I somehow don’t take Nemtsov and Ryzhkov into serious consideration at all. I like Ponomarev, but perhaps only because I recently interviewed him, and he, at least, was honest in the conversation.

I can't even imagine who I would like to see on the podium. Who would I like to hear? Recently, in an interview, a fellow journalist asked me: “Do you have authority? An example to follow?". I answered - “No.” Then I thought about it, went through all the living ones - how did it happen that I have no authority? But no. Then I realized that my authority is still, as in childhood, the 509th from Remarque’s “Spark of Life”. Fictional hero(but there were many such incredible sufferings in those days, he collective image). The 509th is a concentration camp prisoner who, without being a hero, tried to live and act like a man. Just like a person, not even with capital letters. I wish people were like this. What does this mean? About the fact that I haven't matured or that modern society until he can’t squeeze out a hero? I don't know. In general, I don’t understand anything with all these rallies. But, of course, if they ask my friends where I should go, I’ll go and have a look.

A.Ch.: The artistic actions of “War” (which began long before the Moscow opposition protests) and Pussy Riot compensate for their low political power with great public resonance. It seems to me that Pussy Riot was brought to logical conclusion the idea of ​​direct speech coming from "War", which was (is) less politically oriented, but nevertheless more radical. How do you feel about their activities?

M.A.: I did two materials about “War” in “Russian Reporter” - an interview with the group and a report from the birth of Mom - daughter Oleg and Koza. Not all of their actions are close to me, but gradually I came to the conviction that people like Oleg, Lenya and Koza are necessary for any society. They voice their protest. Something always begins with such people. Vorotnikov, in general, arouses sympathy among few people, but lately he reminds me more and more of such a modern saint. Not saints who become aggressive as soon as you try to take away their holiness and opportunity to do good. Namely, a saint in a modern incarnation.

Vorotnikov has a lot of shortcomings, he is unbearable, I have never met a person capable of such brainwashing, but I recognize the importance of his existence. I know what he sacrifices to do his job. But for me, “War” begins and ends with Oleg, Lenya Ebnuty and Koza. Whatever they are, at least they are real.

I didn't find any talent in the Pussy Riot campaign. A provocation based on religious feelings is primitive and not new, if only because Voina once had a similar event - a punk concert in the Tagansky court. And, as far as I understand, it was impossible to listen to this action in real life - the girls did not sing, and the clip was later edited. And I can't help but feel that the main goal of the participants was to draw attention to to their own persons. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's my feeling.

I don't want to take sides. There are always additional options between the two sides chosen by the majority. I was not impressed with the promotion. And in the desire to sentence activists to seven years, I see neither legality nor Christian love and forgiveness, which the church seems to be supposed to demonstrate. Undeveloped people, and there are many of them among the clergy, think that God will love them more if they foam at the mouth and defend the church. And God is love. That's what it says.

But I don't think Pussy took the "War" statement to its logical conclusion. Figuratively speaking, they drew another dick on the bridge, but it was no longer funny.

A.Ch.: Such a modern holy fool Vorotnikov... As a journalist, you have written and are writing a lot about the North Caucasus, all three of your books are “A Chechen Women’s Diary”, “The House of the Blind” and “The Diary of a Suicide Bomber. Khadija" - dedicated to the theme of the Caucasus. What does the Caucasus represent for you, perhaps at the level of association, sensation? And is it possible complete peace- What would you do if you had the power not of a writer or journalist, but the powers of a very powerful person, so that complete peace would be established between nations?

M.A.: I would gather all my friends, we would come to schools and spend time there open lessons for children - about the value of life. Every life. We would show chronicles from concentration camps, animals maimed by humans. Especially dogs, because they have very piercing eyes. I would teach kindness, which in the Caucasus is a sign of weakness, and tolerance, which does not exist at all in the Caucasus. I don’t know how to boost the economy there, given that it’s in a sad state throughout our country. But in the Caucasus there are resources for this. I just wouldn't be an asshole trying to get rich by any means necessary. And with such assholes in the Caucasus, as throughout Russia, if you spit at an official, you won’t miss. Need to Caucasian man brought a salary into the house and was able to provide for his family. That's all. Then everything will start to get better on its own. Until this happens, they will either join the security forces or the militants. I would do at least something towards good. Now there, and I mean, rather, Dagestan, the game is on the side of evil. Although many hide behind religion, they have it in a childish way. How many times on business trips have Muslims blown my mind, but even to me it was clear that they have very little, offensively little, understanding of Islam. There is a terrible cauldron boiling there now, and when you try to figure it out, you realize that everything is confused. That everything is not true. Therefore, I would now focus only on the economic base. I would at least give men peaceful work and see what happens. And there you can develop viticulture, sheep breeding, and fishing. There's a lot to do there. Only corruption and clans have fallen on these republics like a dead weight, they have been lying there for a long time and are dying out, but they do not want to budge.

I wrote three books about the Caucasus, and talked so much about the Caucasus that I began to feel embarrassed about my interviews. I stopped posting them on Facebook. Everywhere I say the same thing. Therefore, now I have written a novel that has nothing to do with the Caucasus. And the next book I will write is about protest artists.

As a journalist, I decided to shift the emphasis in my work in the Caucasus. Now I will talk about peaceful Caucasians as if there is no war going on there. On next week The first report from the series I planned - about shepherds - is coming out in Russian Reporter.

But, by the way, I must say that my books about the Caucasus are not really books about the Caucasus. They are about people, and the situation is shown through them and their destinies.

The Caucasus for me is a mini-version of Russia, in which all Russian shortcomings and vices are presented, but due to their small size, they are crowded, concentrated, hyperbolic, take on grotesque forms and therefore prick the eyes. But, in essence, this is the same Russia.

A.Ch.: IN last years There have been quite a few books about Chechen war– stories by A. Babchenko, “Pathologies” by Z. Prilepin, “ Chechen stories"A. Karasev, "Letters of a Dead Captain" by V. Shurygin, "There are no living suicide bombers" by V. Rechkalov, "Asan" by V. Makanin, corresponding episodes in "Hair of Venus" by M. Shishkin. Is there one among them that is closest to you, or has no such book been written yet?

M.A.: Unfortunately, I have not read any of these books. I can't say I'll read it. I really wanted to read Vadim Rechkalov’s book “There are no living suicide bombers,” but the bookstore didn’t have it, and I didn’t have enough time for further searches. By the way, I consulted with him before starting Khadija. And he was sad, afraid that I would write pop music. I told him that I was named Marina in honor of my older sister’s doll, and he then said, “So write a novel that begins with the words “I was named Marina in honor of the doll.” A good start". But I wrote about the suicide bomber. In my opinion, it didn't turn out to be pop. I also, it seems, wrote a good book about the Chechen war, “A Chechen Women’s Diary.” And since I haven’t read other books, from the list you suggested, I can only name this one as a book “close” to me, unless you consider me too impudent.

A.Ch.: What is interesting and close to you from our modern literature?

M.A.: Something is probably interesting, but nothing is close. I like the way Sorokin writes, but I’m not close to what he writes. Probably Limonov good writer, but I haven’t figured it out yet, I’m just starting to master his work. In fact, I'm trying to remember what I've read recently from our modern literature. About six months ago I was inspired by “Shaitans” by Alisa Ganieva. But I didn’t read anything for almost two years - I picked up a book and fell asleep out of boredom. And now I’m back to reading books. I can just list the books I've read so far last month– “The Elegance of the Hedgehog” by Muriel Burberry, “The Map and the Territory” by Michel Houellebecq, “Shosha” by Isaac Singer, “The Diary” by Chuck Palahniuk, “ A Clockwork Orange» Anthony Burges. I simply devoured A Clockwork Orange. There is a book that I have been re-reading for several years - “For Whom the Bell Tolls”, it always lies on my sofa. I open it and read it, but it is so beautiful that I can’t stand it and stretch it out. I should also brag about reading the book “How to make anyone fall in love with you,” I don’t remember the author, but it’s quite interesting, and most importantly, useful. Recently it turned out that this book was published in Russian ten years ago by my close girlfriend. The book became the first in the publishing house she had just opened. And Tanya, saying that the book was shit, gave me another one - “Migraine” by Oliver Sacks. But somehow I wasn’t interested in reading about migraines...

A.Ch.: Quite a tough set, and Limonov, in my opinion, is close to you in some ways - at least in his frankness, without fear of coming out to everyone openly in his texts... It seemed to me that your reports and books are similar in the sense that the actual part of the articles diluted with a powerful literary component, and your books, again, are built, as it seems, on what was seen and experienced, but at the same time they are read as such modern parable, almost like Gibran Kahlil Gibran, about war and peace, ordinary people and their universal questions, death, love, good and evil. You said it's already written next book, - what is she talking about?

M.A.: Thanks a lot. But it is not powerful everywhere - this component. Chief Editor Leibin will confirm that I had a couple of unsuccessful reports. He tactfully pointed out to me the lack of a super idea, and in response I became hysterical that no one simply loves me. And Leibin said: “Well, stupid...”.

I often hear about myself - she is not a journalist, but a writer. I don’t argue, but to myself I never agree with this. Why can't the article contain literature? “Russian Reporter” generally wins due to its reports, in which there is a literary component, or at least the appearance of it.

The novel has been written, but it is impossible to tell what it is about - about love, first of all. About aging, about beauty. About trying to create a masterpiece. About trying to understand what a masterpiece is. About suffering. About pedophilia. ABOUT precious stones and beads. About split personality. About life and death. He is a death sentence for gloss. But I hope that glossy girls will read it too. I don't want to listen when they say it's too difficult for most people. No, how much arrogance do you have to have to talk like that about the majority?!

My speech technique teacher Svetlana Kornelievna and I read an excerpt from it during class. She winced with disgust, and in some places it was really disgusting. At some point, one heroine kills another, and to describe this, I went to an autopsy. But I didn’t need details and medical details; I had already seen how a corpse was opened. I needed energy. Svetlana Kornelievna then caught me in the corridor of “Expert” and, still wincing with disgust, said, “Well, my dear, not everyone would dare to let their insides out on a piece of paper like that.” But this is not my gut! This is the gut of all women. My biggest fear with this novel is that the author will be confused with the heroine. And there are other fears. For example, that I wrote shit.

AST announced that I would be reading an excerpt from the novel during library night. I arrived, the readers gathered, I took my sheets and could not read. When I realized that I couldn’t read, I felt terribly ashamed and scared. I have always attracted large audiences, but something happened at the Nekrasov Library. And while anxious librarians were jumping around me, my hands were shaking, my tongue was paralyzed, and I looked at the readers in horror, realizing that not only could I not read them an excerpt from this terrible novel, but I didn’t want to talk about it at all. It was such a fiasco. But somehow I quickly recovered from it and suggested we talk about “Khadizha.” I generally come to my senses quickly.

I don't know if this novel was a success for me or not. All I know is that I will never read it because it terrifies me. And I will never let my parents read it. But I still decided to call it “Masterpiece”, because my heroine persistently tries to create a masterpiece, not realizing that she herself is a masterpiece. She will never know.

Interviewed by Alexander Chantsev