By Vasily Terkin, journalist of “Novaya Gazeta”
Translated and edited by Voices of Ukraine
I came to my parents’ place to spend the night. Father was sitting hunched over on the couch watching the TV sadly. There was black-and-white footage of the fallen in Odessa on the screen, accompanied by heartbreaking funeral music.
My mother whispers: “Whole day watching news about Ukraine.” Father, meanwhile, switches the channel. There someone is giving an interview and saying it is dangerous to speak Russian on the Ukrainian streets, because “Right Sector” will immediately open fire.
Father gets even sadder. I try to reassure him, “Dad, these are only half-truths, do not take them so close to heart.” Dad shudders, “What do you mean ‘half?’ These Nazis burned 40 people alive, is that a half-truth?” I try to explain, “After the soccer match, fans were attacked by pro-Russian activists, who killed a 17 year-old boy. In response, fans went to the House…”
Father does not let me finish, angrily noting, “This is Bandera’s propaganda!” I retort that it is what the correspondent of our newspaper “Novaya Gazeta” reported from the scene. Things should be more clear to her, since she was there. I even point out that the fans didn’t have Molotov cocktails at first. They found the gasoline and oil at the camp of the pro-Russian activists, bottled it and started throwing these bottles at the windows of the Trade Union building.
And then my father unexpectedly throws a punch at me. My dad, with whom I have always had a great relationship, jumps into a fight with me! His eyes like I had never seen before: red with blood, inhuman, craving vengeance. He is hypertensive with heart problems, this is extremely dangerous for his health. Recently a new series of the “Masjani” cartoon was released, where the main character went mad from TV-propaganda. So, this is not an exaggeration, it is really happening to people. I never would have thought.
I jump out of the door and onto the street, no time to put on shoes, wearing just socks, while my father is screaming: “Banderite!!!! Fifth Column!!!!” Luckily my cell is in my pocket. I get to the corner and call a taxi.
The taxi driver looks at my socks suspiciously. I apologetically explain that I had a quarrel with my wife, and she kicked me out. As we drive home my father calls. It’s clear from his voice that he feels lost. He says he is sorry, begging me to come back. Of course, I went back. The TV was turned off by then.
Source: Vasily Terkin FB