Chapter 29. Peaceful People
To paraphrase Leo Taxil, I'll bet you didn't expect to meet Saveli for the fourth time. But you will. This restless man found me in 2018 on VKontakte.
He wrote to me in a private message and asked if I remembered him. I thought — is it really again?.. It would have been hard to be happy about another return of Saveli. But no. This time he decided he could help me. We called on Skype, and he told me that soon all people all over the world would be chipped to take total control.
That "news" made my teeth ache. One of the most ridiculous, yet most obsessive conspiracy theories that has been chewed over for so long that it seems even mammoths are younger than it. I've certainly heard and read about it often. Tired of it just to the point of nausea. And here we are... I was unpleasantly surprised, for it seemed to me that, for all his faults, Saveli was not so naive as to believe in such fictions. But he did. From his words it followed that the forced implantation of chips would begin no later than in a year, maximum in two, and that it was necessary to prepare. He told me how he was preparing himself. It should be said that since our last meeting he had a little daughter — I understood, about five years old — and they lived together. So, the preparation consisted of restricting himself and his daughter's food to get them used to eating less, and getting them used to other restrictions. This, he thought, would help them survive when the chipping started and they had to go into the forests to avoid it. He fervently urged me to get ready, too, and gave me links to videos of people talking about the coming catastrophe, or total chipping, and arguing that it was imminent.
I knew that trying to change the minds of people infected with this nonsense was almost useless. But I decided to at least try. After all, he still trusted me as a Teacher, albeit a former one. Maybe I can at least shake his conviction. Especially since it's Saveli. His passion for anything never lasts long. And the current idea-fix will pass, too. I told him he could relax: no chipping is imminent. Not in a year, not in two, not in five, not in ten. He asked if I was sure. I replied that I was absolutely sure. Did he remember that I had ever lied or made a mistake? Saveli didn't remember such a thing. It was obvious that his conviction had really cracked. He no longer spoke so confidently about the chipping, but still hesitated. However, it seemed as if he was afraid to be convinced.
We talked a couple of times. In the end we parted on the grounds that he doubted my words and asked me to watch the videos, which I was not going to do. But he didn't completely and unequivocally reject what he heard from me. That was progress. I just hoped it would keep him from losing his head completely and keep him going until the time when he cooled down on the subject of chipping, or when time proved me right.
...As the newspapermen say, stop the presses. Saveli turned up again, six years later. And it happened yesterday. Right now, as I'm writing this chapter. Now he found me on Telegram. He offered to talk to me, hinting that he wanted to tell me about some terrible danger threatening all people. I declined.
...I had other curious encounters on VKontakte. So, we crossed paths there with A. S. We became friends, but practically never communicated. I also saw Amsan, to whom I did not write.
One day I was contacted by a man who called himself one of the founders of a certain political party. As I understood it, it was not yet a formed party, but only an idea. However, the ambitions of these guys were enormous: according to the new acquaintance, they planned to come to power in Russia in ten years' time. He convinced me for a long time that we should co-operate, although he could not explain clearly how he imagined it. Finally he asked me to write a charter for their party. I was stunned at this turn of events. Then I asked him why he thought that a person who, firstly, did not belong to the party, and secondly, was not familiar with its programme, its objectives, or anything at all, i.e. a complete stranger, could write its charter? After all, it is outright stupidity. In response, he quite expectedly stopped communicating with me. About three years later, he wrote to me again and ironically asked me how things were going in the Teaching. I replied that things were going on as they should and, in turn, asked him how far they had come towards their goal of rise to power within ten years. He blithely replied, "What rise to power? We never set ourselves such goals."
Another time, I received a message from the creators of a group that planned to provide a platform for the founders of various teachings to speak out. These people did a search in the Russian-speaking segment of the World Wide Web, created a list of such figures, and in the group they gave each of them a separate topic where they could talk about their teachings and communicate with those who were interested. I was also included in the list. When I entered the group, I found a topic, still empty, titled with my name. I saw there topics for several prophets and founders of different teachings, whom I had already met on the Internet, as well as a number of unknown to me personalities. There were quite a lot of such personal themes — about a hundred, I think. Indeed, a lot of work was done. And the project itself had a big scope. If it had succeeded, the group would have become super-popular. I think, further they planned to create a site or even a portal, which would become a kind of a hub for contacts and interaction in the sphere of existence and activity of such kind of spiritual and near-spiritual currents, from new-age and channeling to neo-paganism and something semi-occult.
I was invited to speak out. But I really didn't like the fact that I was included in the group without asking for my consent. Besides, it was unpleasant to see my name in the same row with obvious freaks and frauds, and who knows who else. So I demanded that the thread open to me be deleted. It was done. Then I went there several times to see how they were doing. Things were not brilliant. The topics were dwindling one by one. Most of the remaining ones were empty. Only a few people wrote something about their teachings — and it was all sorts of unsavoury crap, sometimes with overtly hysterical overtones. The last time I looked in there, the group was already quite withered and almost lifeless.
It was not only in VKontakte that I met strange individuals. For example, an elderly Bulgarian who knew Russian and who, like many others, reached me through Amradkhari, wrote to me. He showered me with compliments and praise, saying that he understood what a great deed I was doing and what a feat it was. At the same time he constantly argued and insisted on his own interpretations of certain points of the Teaching. I tried to explain to him a simple thing: the founder of any teaching, especially one connected with the source of revelation, knows what it says and what meanings it conveys, and can explain them better than any interpreters. He was unwilling to see the obvious, and finally declared that he understood the Teaching better than I did. Surprised by such conceit or such shortsightedness, I decided that there was no point in communicating with him any more. But then he wrote to me again, asking for permission to translate the texts of the Teaching and to post them on some Bulgarian websites, because people need it. I answered that if he wanted to bring our texts to Bulgarian readers, it is possible only in one way: we make a Bulgarian-language website, which we administer ourselves, and post on it the texts that he translates. I don't allow translating and publishing them unauthorisedly, and I will consider such publications as copyright infringement. He was not satisfied with this arrangement. Apparently, it was more important to dispose of other people's texts arbitrarily than to introduce them to his compatriots who needed them.
There was a lot of stuff. It's hard to tell it all.
...In the meantime, events were taking place at home, the likes of which had not been seen since the late nineties. I mean the guests from Karaganda. Having gathered strength and money, the relatives made us happy with their arrival.
Actually, only my father was happy. These are relatives from his side. Mum loved them too, — but the best times when she could physically receive and look after the guests who came for a week or more were long gone. Her health got much worse and she just didn't have the energy to do it. My physical condition had deteriorated as well. Besides, having guests meant daily drinking, and we didn't want my father to start drinking again. But there was nothing to do. We couldn't say "Don't come" to the relatives who hadn't seen us or their native country for many years.
They came in a party of four. Everything turned out exactly as my mother and I had feared. She had a hard time cooking for them, cleaning up after them, etc. It was difficult to accommodate seven people in a small flat. All the beds — only three — were occupied, and some had to sleep on the floor. The guests, who had been walking around the city in the company of my father and had been drinking, went to bed, and my mother sometimes had to take a nap sitting on a chair, suffering from pain. Some of them would wake up and ask why she didn't lie down — and it sounded like a mockery, because she had nowhere to lie down. Father didn't notice these things. He got drunk every day and I started to have new problems. I couldn't rest or even go to the toilet because he couldn't move me, and there was a crowd of people around, disappearing only with him. He responded to our attempts to persuade my father not to get drunk with insults. Mum asked the guests not to get him drunk, explaining that we were in trouble. They laughed and said, "It's all right!"
It was a torment for us, and we took a breath only when the guests left. But they promised to come back in a year. And they did, — the four of them again. The torment started all over again. And now it was even harder for Mum and me. After three days of drinking, we told my father that if he didn't stop drinking, next time the guests wouldn't stay in our flat. He responded with a scolding, said that we did not order him, that the guests would come and live with us, and he would drink with them, and that we did not dare to say anything to them. Then everything went on as before.
They left, and soon we learnt that the next year we were going to have new guests, another family. I told my mum that we had to keep our promise. She had lost her fervour by then, and replied that we couldn't do anything.
So I decided to do it myself. First of all, I studied the laws as they pertained to the rights of tenants and apartment owners. I assumed that if one of them objected to other people sleeping in the apartment, they would not be able to stay. Especially if one of the tenants and co-owners is seriously ill and in need of constant care and rest. And so it turned out. When I was convinced of this, I intended to send the guests away with the help of the police and doctors, no matter how hysterical my father was.
But first I decided to try another way. I wrote to the future guests and told them in the most correct form that we had problems, that therefore we would not be able to give them the opportunity to stay with us, and they would need to rent their own accommodation in advance. And it should be said that our Kazakh relatives have two qualities: they are very stingy and very resentful. I pressed both points at once in the expectation that it would work. And it worked without fail. After a pause, they replied that they had enough problems of their own and that they were not even going to come. That was the end of it. Mum was fine with this development. Only my father, who had not been informed, wondered why the relatives had not come and why they did not give any more information about themselves.
...When I tell about what happened at home, with our family, I feel as if I'm a bit split, as if I'm calling things by other names. And I even understand where it comes from. The thing is that the notion of "family" has long ago lost its usual meaning for me. Many relatives died, others became distant. Contacts with them have become rare, not mine, but my parents'. My relatives became almost strangers, who do not care about me and whom I do not care about. The guests who came to visit were strangers to me, with whom I had nothing to talk about. During all the days of their stay, we talked to each other for 15-20 minutes, and that was about nothing. In general, everything was so that one day I realised that despite the abundance of relatives, I had no family. Both in the narrow sense of my own family — my wife, my children, my house — and in the broader sense of family as a set of relatives. There are only my parents. And my father and I have far from father-son relations. So, among my relatives, I have only my mother. The notion of "family" in the usual sense, if there is one left at all, is reduced to her alone.
My family has been replaced by my disciples. That's normal for a Teacher. He is no good if he does not perceive his disciples as his closest people, if he does not love them as much as he loves his children, sisters, brothers, if he does not devote himself and his life to them. For me, my disciples are my relatives, friends, associates and mentees. All at once. And from them I meet such a warm attitude that I have never seen from my relatives. Not all of them equally, but nevertheless. Therefore, when I speak of my family in relation to my relatives, it turns out to be something of a formality. A formal designation of a certain circle of people. My heart, on the other hand, tells me something completely different.
Unfortunately, close communication between my disciples was difficult to establish. The geographical dispersion made itself felt. Lack of personal communication in real life, which can hardly be fully compensated by telephone and video communication, impossibility of meetings, impossibility of participation in common events, which, by the way, there were none. The Teaching had its own holidays, but we did not celebrate them in any way. Again, there was no possibility to celebrate them together, and it was not very festive to do it alone. In the list of our problems, therefore, there was also the problem of creating a strong community with stable internal ties.
I was the only one who had established, constant and regular contacts with everyone. We exchanged messages on social networks, talked on Skype. And it was not only individual lessons on the Teaching and instructions, but also just conversations on different topics — about life in general, in its different aspects, about family, about society, about culture, science, politics, about anything. The disciples told me about themselves and I told them about myself. We discussed their problems together, — confidentially with each of them, — and tried to find solutions. Sometimes they were even solutions to psychological problems: for example, I was able to help some of the disciples to get rid of fears and even depression.
The conversations didn't always take place from home — on their part, of course. It turned out that we could even go for walks together. This was made possible by a video link. My interlocutor would switch on the camera on his phone, showing me his surroundings in live broadcast mode, and we would walk along the street, or along the seashore, or somewhere else, taking in the sights and neighbourhood. I have been to many interesting places in this way, from St. Petersburg to the Northern Urals, from the Caucasian coast of the Black Sea to the Canary Islands, from Germany to Israel. During such walks the effect of presence was great. Sometimes I even felt as if I could smell the smells and feel the wind on my face.
Sometimes disciples offered me gifts or material help. I refused. Once, back in the nineties, I considered it possible to accept a small thing, like a photo album from Hantur or a fountain pen from Saveli. Later on, I could still accept a book as a gift — there were a couple of occasions. Then I stopped that too. There were only a few exceptions. For example, Amradkhari's book with a gift inscription.
The second such case was organised by Endekatos Hoplites. Having decided to get the pandect in book form, he ordered the production of a single copy. The layout was not the one we had once designed, and the texts were not accompanied by logion numbering, but it was still a real book, all three parts of the pandect under one cover. Some of our comrades liked it so much that they ordered a copy for themselves with help of Endekatos Hoplites. And then they all together ordered one for me.
Endekatos Hoplites turned out to be a very active follower. He not only administered our channel, but also read out for the audio version all the texts of the pandect that remained unvoiced, i.e. part of the "Doron" and the "Evor" and the "Epistole" in their entirety. These readings were posted on the channel. Then he began to read out articles from our journal. When I stopped recording videos for a long time for a number of reasons, the updates on the channel began to consist almost entirely of audio versions of the articles. Endekatos Hoplites provided important help in other projects as well.
In this way the cause of the Teaching progressed little by little. In the course of this progress, sometimes something quite unexpected happened. For example, there was a man who offered the Teaching a donation of one and a half million euros. It was hard to believe, — but it happened. However, that person was, let's say, too much of a questionable character, so the generous offer was declined. Later, I was told that the money ended up going to charity. Well, that's good.
People kept coming to me, but no one stayed on as a disciple. There weren't more of us. There were even fewer of us because Mirna left. She had not been able to get rid of some of the stereotypes that had been formed earlier, during her time in the old circles, and had not learnt to apply the Teaching to life.
But very soon our ranks were replenished again. Amsan returned.
The story of his return is remarkable. He said that he left then for fear of not being able to follow the Teaching. For him, a very young man, almost a teenager, it seemed an unbearable burden. But he continued to think about the Teaching, to look into the texts of the pandect. He finished his studies, found a good job in his speciality. He was engaged in music, wrote songs and performed them himself. Being partial to politics, became a convinced opponent of the dictatorship, participated in various protests, was once arrested and spent several days in a prison cell. He switched to the Belarusian language. It was also a certain risk: speaking in the native language was associated with opposition sentiments, and there were known cases when police officers beat passers-by on the street, from whom they heard Belarusian speech.
During all these years — more than ten years — Amsan nurtured his intention to return to the Teaching and prepared himself morally for his return. He gave up a few bad habits, which, as he knew, are not welcomed here. And one day he wrote me an e-mail. The letter didn't get through. Amsan thought I didn't want to answer him. I know many people who in such a situation would have taken offence and spit on everything. Amsan acted differently. He remembered a passage in the pandect that says that not only the words of the Teacher are meaningful, but also his silence, and thought that I was trying to make him understand something. After some deliberation he contacted Hantur and the misunderstanding was resolved.
We had periodic group discussions on Zoom at that time. These were organised by Amradkhari. We would meet in groups of 3-5 people and discuss our work and various topics on the Teaching. It was at one of these meetings that Amsan met his new comrades. It was exciting not only for him, but for them as well, for in front of them was the man they had read about in the pandect, in the messages addressed to him.
He lived in Minsk, but often came to Homieĺ, and we communicated with him via Skype or in person. These conversations opened a new aspect of life for me — Amsan was the only person I could speak Belarusian with. I knew the language, but I had no speaking practice at all. That's why it was not easy to start. I had to get used to it, to get the hang of it. The right words did not always come to mind quickly. Amsan supported me in this endeavour, helping me, prompting me. Our conversations usually lasted two hours. At first I spoke Belarusian for 15 minutes per conversation, then for half an hour, then for an hour. Finally we switched completely to Belarusian.
Probably all this sounds strange to someone. But that's what happens when you are taught from childhood to speak and be educated in a language other than your native one.
Amsan joined the Teaching in 2020. A lot of things happened that year.
Of those that directly affected our affairs, I would like to mention two. Firstly, in the spring we launched a small English-language website, where we posted translated texts, a few journal articles, some other materials on the Teaching that Amradkhari had translated, as well as her "Diary". This was done because, as already mentioned, the screws were getting tighter and tighter on the Russian-speaking space, almost no activity was becoming possible, and we began to gradually reorientate ourselves to the English-speaking audience.
Of course, not knowing English in the light of this was a big problem for me. Several times I took up the task of learning it, either on my own or with Amradkhari's help, but I did not make much progress. There is no progress to this day. Honestly, I don't even know what the problem is or what's getting in the way — but English is not easy for me...
Secondly, on June 10, an important programme document appeared — the "Declaration of the Teaching of the United Temple", where the basics of our worldview, our beliefs, the principles of the Teaching and its goals were stated in the most concise form, in 49 short paragraphs. I drafted the Declaration, and it was very difficult. It took a long time to select what was to be included from our extensive material and to work out the wording, which had to be concise and clear. I have long known that it is easier to talk about anything in detail than in brief. And when I was working on the Declaration, I was convinced of this once again. In any case, we now had a text that told everything necessary and important about the Teaching and gave the opportunity to form a general opinion about it, at least in a first approximation. The Declaration was published on the website of the Teaching in three languages — Russian, Belarusian and English.
...In 2020, there was a covid going round the world. I will not dwell on it, for the events connected with it are well known to everyone, and I am unlikely to add anything new. Meanwhile, in Belarus, events crucial for our country and having resonance in the world were unfolding.
The next presidential elections were held in August. As usual, the results were falsified. The falsifications had already led to protests, which were brutally suppressed. But now there was a real explosion of popular anger. People started to take to the streets, they were dispersed, shot at, killed. Then they began to resist — and you could see footage of OMON riot police fleeing from people armed with sticks. The resistance caused confusion and fear among the authorities. Meanwhile, tens, and then hundreds of thousands of people took to the streets of the capital. It was a sea of white-red-white because the protesters carried many national flags. Real ones, not that official Soviet-era squalor, which people contemptuously called "sunset over the swamp". Nobody dared to disperse such protests. The police and OMON, nicknamed "cosmonauts" for their combat uniforms, watched, only occasionally frantically trying to do something.
All of this could be seen on the Internet, and I also got first-hand information from Amsan, who was very much involved in the protests. He was in these endless streams of people, observed what was happening live, and described it to me in detail. Here, in Homieĺ, there were few protests. But there were still some, and I had already received testimonies about it from Hantur.
The people felt empowered and were no longer afraid of anything. It seemed that victory was at hand, the regime would not hold on, and everything was about to change — at last! Everyone had waited so long! I watched and read online from the protests, and realised that there was only a little bit of pressure left. I followed the events with bated breath, and my whole being yearned to be there, on the streets, in the ranks of the protesters. There were critical moments when it became clear: right now, right now, we must press on, right here! And the regime will fall! And the country will become free!
The anthem of Belarus begins with the words: "We, Belarusians, are peaceful people." It's true. Even during the protests, during the nationwide uprising against the dictatorship, our people showed this quality. Nobody burnt OMON cars, did not seize government buildings, did not break windows and glass. Already ready to storm the pre-trial detention centre where political prisoners were held, the protesters let themselves be persuaded by the so-called "activists" who shouted that no casualties should be allowed, and retreated. Although there probably would not have been any casualties. The regime's henchmen, even if armed, would have scattered before the sea of people threatening to wipe them out. But the sea was rolling back. People gave flowers to OMON officers and soldiers standing in the cordons, inviting them to come to the side of the people. Everyone had heard about how the protesters culturally took off their shoes before climbing with their feet on a street bench. Belarusians are now mocked for this — they should have used force, while these people were afraid to dirty the benches. Well, in many respects it's a fair reproach. There are times when peacefulness must be replaced by... No, not aggression. Toughness. You have to be able to fight for your freedom.
The protests continued. Many expected the dictator to relinquish power or flee. Various independent analysts and political analysts gave the regime the last few days of its existence.
But it did not turn out that way. The regime gradually gathered its strength and pulled up OMON from other cities to the capital. Help came: Russian "cosmonauts" in Belarusian uniforms. There were reports that Russia was preparing to introduce troops into Belarus. Putin could not afford to lose an important bridgehead in the face of Belarus. All this gave Lukashenko, who had been panicking before, confidence and impudence. The protests, which had no further development and transition into a new, more decisive phase, gradually began to subside. Fewer and fewer people took to the streets. But they were met by more and more "cosmonauts", who crowded the capital like swarming black ants. Now they were blocking the streets, squeezing the protesters, using water cannons and flash-bang grenades more resolutely. Then the thinning columns of demonstrators began to disperse. People were grabbed and taken away.
Just as recently it was hard to believe that victory and long-awaited change were so close, literally just a step away, so it was hard to believe that it had failed, that the chance had been lost. The same analysts and political scientists were now saying that the regime would never recover anyway, and that it was in any case living out its last months.
In the meantime, the many thousands of white-red-white columns had turned into groups of hundreds and then dozens of people who no longer dared to walk along the central streets during the day, and moved at dusk through the courtyards. There were constant round-ups in the capital. Groups of protesters dispersed and people hid wherever they could. At times, several dozen people would cram into a flat and then disperse one by one and two by two throughout the night. Big and small flags appeared on buildings, wires and trees — they were ripped off. Protest murals appeared on the walls — they were painted over. After a few months, the regime continued to hold on and intensify, but the protests were completely crushed. The prisons were overcrowded. But people continued to be seized, on the streets and in flats. Terror swept the country. Many people fled abroad.
Amsan participated in the protests until their very last days, hiding from raids, trying to do something. And he didn't leave.
As I watched the revolution that could not sustain itself die, my heart broke. A chance for freedom was lost. A chance to live in a country where I could breathe and speak, where I could go about my life's work in peace. It was a disaster.
It was worse than before. This kind of terror had never been here before. Whereas before it was tight screws, twisted until they hurt, until blood was drawn, now an iron noose was thrown around the country's neck, and its hands were twisted and squeezed in such a vice that bones were breaking. And among other things, it became clear that Russia would not allow a regime change. The chance of liberation had been slim before — though it had almost come true anyway — and now it had become even more elusive.
My country has become darker, gloomier and more stuffy than ever before. After the anticipation of the light and freedom that I could literally feel, it was impossible to believe in such a thing. It was impossible — but I had to.
By the way, Alex, who had previously been sceptical about what he heard from me about what was happening in Belarus, changed his opinion then. He watched the whole course of events in 2020 thanks to the Internet, and he could not deny the horror of what was happening. And he didn't try to. On the contrary, he took an irreconcilable position towards the Belarusian regime.
On the one hand, you always feel satisfaction when you see someone has enlightened, but on the other hand... On the other hand, it didn't make me feel better in this particular case. And it only made it harder for Alex.
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