Survivors

As with most of us living in Russia, I first learned of Kalmykia in school, in geography class. Of course it was just general knowledge, including the fact that the Kalmyks, or western Mongols (Oirats), emigrants from Zungaria (or Zün Gar in Mongolian), began to settle lands between the Don and Volga Rivers in the middle of the seventeenth century, which led to the founding of the Kalmyk Khanate.

Today, the modestly-sized Republic of Kalmykia resides in the southeastern part of European Russia, sharing borders with the Republic of Dagestan, Stavropol Krai, and Rostov and Volgograd Oblasts. Ecologically speaking, the region is in the steppe zone, meaning it is partial to full desert, and covers some 76,000 square kilometers.

All of this we had learned. But of the repression of the Kalmyk people, of their exile in Siberia, and of their genocide, I knew nothing. Such things were simply not spoken of in Soviet schools.

I first found myself in Kalmykia in September 2015. After traveling through the Caucasus, some friends and I wound up in Elista, the capital of Kalmykia, for one day. While short, our visit was memorable. What made the deepest impression on me was the Buddhist temple (khurul) in the village of Arshan, not far from Elista. To this day I recall the words of a monk who met us at the entrance:

“Stop, and you will hear the wind, then you will understand it, and only after that will you feel it...”

In my short stay, I saw much and came away astonished by the distinctive character of this culture, by the uniqueness of the Kalmyk language, and also by the hospitality of the locals. I wondered how it could be that a nation with so few members had not been swallowed up by our huge country, that it had not lost its personality, had not forgotten its roots. How were the Kalmyk people able to preserve their unique qualities, their lifestyle, their faith, surrounded as they are by neighbors who are so very different?

From that day I began to take an interest in Kalmyk history. Reading about their deportation in 1943, about their long years of exile in Siberia, I reflected on the tenacity with which they endured their incredible suffering. In 2013 and 2014, two documentaries came out: They Could, And So Can We, by Sangadji Tarbaev, and The Devoted Soldiers of Shiroklag, by Arslang Sandzhiyev, both about the exile. And a single question haunted me: how could one people justify treating another so badly? 

It was at that point that the idea of my photo project was born, with the working title, “The Living.” It would be a documentary project to photograph a generation, those aged 67-99, that had endured repression and deportation, and also to photograph historical places associated with these events.

In April 2017, I arrived in Kalmykia for my second visit, this time as part of a photo-expedition. My goal was to portray a people who deserve respect and the things that are sacred in any culture and that have allowed Kalmyk culture to survive to our day.

A major challenge was the fact that even today the older generation of Kalmyks does not like to recall those tragic years. Many of that generation do not want to remember, others cannot remember, and others – to this day – still fear speaking about that: “Let not our descendants see what we saw!”

On the other hand, in the end the understanding that it is important to preserve national memories so that similar tragedies do not recur, so that the younger generation can know the truth of its ancestors’ lives, gave each of the project’s participants strength to tell their story.

On December 27, 1943, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR issued a decree abolishing the Kalmyk Autonomous Republic. Immediately thereafter, Operation Ulussy – the deportation of native Kalmyks to Siberia – began. The eviction of the Kalmyks was described as punishment for their mass opposition to the Soviet government and for fighting against the Red Army. Under the supervision of the NKVD, over 4,000 troops were recalled from the front lines to carry out the operation. In just two days, over 100,000 persons were removed from their homes. People were hauled off in cattle cars, and many died of hunger, cold, or disease en route. The Kalmyks were resettled throughout Siberia – in Omsk, Novosibirsk, Sverdlovsk, Tyumen, and other oblasts. They were not allowed to live together, and just a few families were settled in each village.

Around half of the Kalmyk population died during the exile.

On March 7, 1956, the Kalmyks were rehabilitated, and allowed to return to their homeland. People abandoned the places they had been settled into and returned to their native land. Over the ensuing decades, the Kalmyks somehow succeeded in preserving their culture, language and traditions. In 1991, the Russian parliament declared the deportation of the Kalmyks to be an act of genocide.

The road to Kalmykia passes through completely flat steppe land. The view is only broken by the line that is the horizon. The hue of the land is surprising: a sandy grey. The name Elista translates as “city on sand,” and it was rebuilt after the war and the Kalmyks’ return from their Siberian exile.

Locals say that only a few buildings date from the prewar period, including the Rodina movie theater. It was here, in 1943, that the Kalmyks were rounded up before their deportation to Siberia.

Everywhere there is silvery wormwood – its persistent, pungently sour smell and the penetrating wind. In the distance, one can see flocks of sheep and herds of horses. In April, tulips and wild irises bloom in the steppe. People live in accordance with time-honored tradition. They do not hurry about.

In Kalmykia they drink white tea and wish visitors a white road instead of a lucky one. Dzhomba, Kalmyk tea, is made with cream, salt, spices, and lard. Kalmyk women often utter prayers for health and good fortune as they stir this viscous white liquid with a ladle.

Kalmyks are focused on family, children, Buddhist beliefs, and the steppe. The Kalmyks are children of the steppe. The business of their lives centers around tending a flock of sheep, grazing them, and protecting them from the elements and predators, shearing them, moving them from pasture to pasture, and welcoming newborn lambs. Women work as equals alongside the men. In the summer, the children help their parents in their difficult labors. And Kalmyk families are large – 5 or 6 children is not uncommon. Grandparents often have 10-15 grandchildren.

Over the course of this project, I conversed with ordinary people, people who love their homeland, their history, their songs and dances. The Kalmyks have always had it hard: the unendurable, withering heat of summer and the cold winds of winter; the constant shortage of water; the difficult physical labor. Yet through it all they express a boundless love for their severe land.