{"id":46796,"date":"2022-03-15T06:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-03-15T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/leregardlibre.com\/?p=46796"},"modified":"2022-09-25T15:59:57","modified_gmt":"2022-09-25T13:59:57","slug":"the-grey-bees-of-the-russo-ukrainian-war","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/leregardlibre.com\/en\/literature\/the-grey-bees-of-the-russo-ukrainian-war\/","title":{"rendered":"\u00abGrey bees\u00bb, inhabitants of the Russian-Ukrainian war"},"content":{"rendered":"

Tuesday books <\/a>- Diana-Alice Ramsauer<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It's a timely novel. Sadly well. Grey bees<\/em>, a contemporary work by Ukrainian author Andrei Kourkov, recounts the daily life of two villagers trapped in a region on the border of the Donbass - a territory \u00abin the gray zone\u00bb, i.e. one that has tilted neither to one side nor the other. The book is not a war novel, it's an account that reminds us that, before the tragedy of February 24, all the elements had already been in place for almost 10 years: explosives. And we've tended to (prefer to) forget it.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

Two guys stay in their little village of Mala Starogradivka, just below Donetsk. One lives on the Shevchenko road (Pachka Khmelenko), the other on the Lenin road (Sergue\u00ef Sergue\u00eftch). One is pro-Russian. The other pro-Ukrainian. All other inhabitants have fled the fighting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Read also | Who wants to fight for democracy?<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ever since childhood, these two almost-fifty-year-olds have been enemies. Not for political reasons, just because they didn't like each other as kids. Period. But since the outbreak of war in the Donbass, and the absence of electricity, shops, a post office and anyone to talk to in their little village in the \u00abgray zone\u00bb, a relationship of mutual aid has gradually developed between them. A friendly distrust or a respectful tenderness from a distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[Sergue\u00eftch] looked at Pachka and thought that if they hadn't remained the only two inhabitants of the village, he would never have spoken to her again. They would have lived in parallel, each in his own street, each with his own life.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n\n\n

Apitherapy: treatment with bees<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

The story is told from Sergeich's point of view. The Ukrainian. He's a beekeeper, and after sleeping, dreaming a lot - often nightmarishly - listening to the silence change according to the stages of the confrontations, putting coal back into his boiler, he finally turns to his sole priority: checking that his bees are doing well. Ever since the war began, Sergue\u00eftch has felt responsible for his hives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His hives, which before the fighting were part of his livelihood. According to the beekeeper, sleeping above the beehives would cure all ills. The governor of the region would come from Kiev to be revitalized by the buzzing bees. He would then slip a handsome sum of money into the Ukrainian's hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/a>

The Donbass region of Ukraine, 2017, three years after the start of the war \u00a9 Rosa Luxembourg Foundation<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n\n\n

Like \u00abcollateral victims\u00bb<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

The third year after the fighting began. When spring arrives, Sergue\u00eftch decides to leave with his six beehives pulled on a trailer by his green Chetviorka. His insects don't rest easy, and are in danger of fleeing at the sound of gunfire and shells occasionally crashing into areas close to the village. He wants to give them beautiful flower meadows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00abHe had left behind the \u201cerpedists\u201d [ed. note: a word derived from DPR for \u201cDonetsk People's Republic\u201d, the name of the self-proclaimed secessionist state in 2014] and Ukrainian soldiers. Behind him the roar of guns near and far. Behind him the war in which he took no part, but had simply become its inhabitant. Inhabitant of the war. By no means an enviable fate, but far more tolerable for a human being than for bees.\u00bb<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n\n\n

Familiar names<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

And so he set off. First towards the DPR, then further south. The places he passes through, interspersed with the more or less friendly checkpoints where he has to repeat tirelessly that he comes from the grey zone and not from Ukraine or Donetsk, resonate with current events.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Read also | Ukraine: war 2.0 on social networks<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What to think when Sergue\u00eftch stops in the Zaporijjia region - where the largest nuclear power plant was hit by Russian fire at the beginning of March? How does he feel when he recalls Mariupol - the strategic coastal town under siege, bombed, whose maternity hospital is currently making the headlines? What does one imagine when he remembers an acquaintance from Kherson - one of the first and most important cities currently occupied? Names which, just two months ago, would have been vague geographical evocations of no importance in an overly detailed novel, but which today symbolize the advance of Russian troops into the Ukraine. Not to mention Crimea, one of the points of departure in this recent story, but also the point of arrival for the man sometimes referred to as a \u00abrefugee\u00bb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We've said it, Grey bees<\/em> is not a war novel. Sergue\u00eftch takes no position on the conflict, it's not a political pamphlet, and its account of the clashes is only marginal. The subtitle \u00abWhen Russia's big brother is watching\u00bb is purely marketing, for although Moscow's eye is very much present, it is not the book's thesis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n