When Kirill starts training at ten o’clock
in the morning in St. Petersburg, it’s three in the afternoon
where Lyubov lives, some 4500 kilometers further
east on Lake Baikal. Both live in Russia, the
largest country in the world. But Russia’s
true greatness — it is
said — lies not in its area,
but in its people. There are more than
146 million Russians. Each with a
story to tell — stories full of
hope and joy — of sadness and anger. On our trip through this vast country, we meet six people from six
different generations. Each has much
to tell — about childhood
and youth, about working and
growing old; about life in
big cities and in tiny villages; about having
children and about dying in Russia. Our journey begins close
to the Ural Mountains. Then we go to central Siberia,
and on to northwestern Russia Chelyabinsk is an
industrial city halfway between Moscow
and Novosibirsk. Jelena is heading to
a storage room to collect some things for
the children in her care. So — we have diapers
for all of them. These would be
good for Marishka. Yes,
perfect. And a few pacifiers
for the babies. And something
to play with. A nice new toy
for Marishka. She’s tired of
the old ones. This hedgehog will
bring her luck! The children for whom these
things are intended have not always had
good luck. These rooms in the public
hospital in Chelyabinsk are reserved for
special patients. They’re reserved
for children. Many are
ill — some have chronic
conditions. Their parents
cannot — or are may
not — care for
them. Instead of their mothers,
they have Jelena Boiko, who works for an NGO
called ?Women of Eurasia“. The NGO takes care of children
from disadvantaged families. Diapers for
girls and boys! Look what I’ve brought you!
A hedgehog! Come
here. Don’t be
afraid. Nobody will
hurt you. I’m here. Did you miss me,
my golden girl? I missed
you, too. Look, a
hedgehog! Don’t be
scared! I work as
a mom. All day long, I do
everything that mothers do. Most of the children only
spend a few weeks here. She needs peace
and quiet. She’s
tired. She’s swallowing
too much air! But some stay for
several months, until they are sent on to
children’s homes or adopted. These are the
littlest ones. They’re so small
and so alone. Many of them were
simply abandoned. By their own
mothers. The mothers said after the birth that
they didn’t want to keep the child. Sometimes because
they’re HIV positive. Those children are first brought to
us in the hospital to be examined. Some of the children
have had to be removed from junkies‘
apartments. Where the parents are on
drugs when you get there. And the child is running
around on its own, and the parents are
basically unresponsive. 1.6 million babies were
born in Russia in 2018. 2,300 of them were abandoned
right after their birth. Around 44,000 children are
officially registered as orphans in more than 1300 children’s
homes across the country. The birthrate in Russia has been
lower than the deathrate for years. So the state has created incentives
for women to have children. A family receives half
a million rubles — around 6,500
euros — per child as a one
time payment, earmarked for its future education
or for a place to live. The scheme is supposed
to strengthen families. But hundreds of children learned the
word ‘Mama‘ here in the hospital. That’s what they
called Jelena Boiko. This child had to be taken away from
her parents at 4 and a half months. Her mother messed up
once in her life — that’s why her
daughter is here. But I hope she’ll get
her act together again, and then the girl can
return to the family. Until then she has
to stay with us. Such a round—cheeked
cutiepie! Want to eat
something? In the morning there’s washing,
dressing, and tooth—brushing. That’s also the morning routine over
1000 kilometers to the northeast — in Russkinskaya
in Siberia. The children
here are older — and they start the day
at 7 AM with exercises. Sixteen year old Veronika
Teflina is one of Russia’s nearly 17
million schoolchildren. Done. Now before
breakfast, shower, make your beds, and
brush your teeth. Veronika lives in this
boarding school with two hundred other girls
and boys from the region. Her parents are reindeer
herders and members of the indigenous
Khanty ethnic group. For generations they have
followed their herds of reindeer in the
north of Russia?. . But for the
past ten years this boarding school has been
Veronika‘s surrogate family. I’ve grown used
to the teachers, and I like it at school
better than at my home. Russkinskaya is located
in the boreal forest, or taiga, of
western Siberia Just two thousand
people live here. Half of them are Khanty,
Mansi and Nenets. Together with around
30 other groups, they are officially
recognized as the ?indigenous small—numbered
peoples of the North.“ Some of these ethnic
groups have fewer than 200 members and are
nearing extinction. They are spread across an area that
covers nearly two thirds of Russia. Like Veronika, many of the students
only see their parents twice a year — for a few weeks in the winter and for
three months in the summer vacation. The rest of the year, the
state takes care of them — providing education, meals and
a dormitory free of charge. In particular in northern Russia,
where many nomadic people live, there are dozens of boarding
schools like this one. School starts at eight AM and
goes until two in the afternoon. Then we have naptime
until four. At four we get a snack and
then we do our homework. Later we have
sports — basketball or
volleyball. Or we go for a
walk outdoors. Patriotic education is an important
part of schooling in Russia. It is supposed to instill
a love of the motherland, which needs to
be defended. The students are obliged to take a
course called ?Life Safety Skills”. Some of them volunteer for
an additional qualification. At the beginning of the
school year they ask us if we want to join a
military club. There you learn to march, shoot
and take apart a weapon. If you want, you can
say you’ll join. Most of those who
do are boys, but there are some
girls, too, like me. I like
weapons. I like learning to use them,
no matter what mood I’m in. Even if it ruins
my nails. It’s pretty
exciting. Every kind of weapon,
not just machine guns. I’m not scared
of them — I like
them! Our representative of the
next oldest generation prefers using his fists as weapons. We meet him in the
northwest of Russia — in Kolpino near St.
Petersburg. And his name is
Kirill Michailov. 23 years
old. 1.90 tall, 82 kilograms. My hands hurt. And I
got hit on the head. But I was
lucky. My opponent
fell over. It was lucky for me. Now I can
feel the adrenaline in my blood. And I feel
good. This kind of no—holds—barred
fighting has only few rules. You basically keep
on hitting until your opponent can no
longer defend himself. Kirill Michailov has been doing
this sport for two years. His nickname in the
ring is The Bouncer. Here, reputation
counts. Fighters want to be known as toughest,
the quickest, and the best. Other nicknames include Wild Latino,
Fearsome Farmer, Mighty Migrant. There are believed to be tens
of thousands of young men who fight like this or
similarly in Russia — a sizeable fraction of the nearly nine
million men between 20 and 29 years old. For Kirill, boxing is about
more than just the show. I moved from soccer to no
holds barred fighting. I used to be really
crazy about football. But serving in the
army changed me. I wasn’t so excited
about soccer anymore, so I started looking
for something else. After work I couldn’t
just sit around at home. I needed to find an
outlet for all my energy. So I got into the ring and
I won my first fight. Then the second, and
then the third. Kirill recognizes that the
show fights are brutal — but he says fighting helps him to
be a nicer guy in everyday life. He claims it can help prevent men from
being violent in other contexts — at home with their
family, for example. Domestic violence is a
huge problem in Russia. But can boxing in the
ring really help protect families and
society as a whole? We experience an
explosion of emotions. Like soccer hooligans
when they battle. We don’t hate
each other — we respect our
opponent. Even when he kicks
you in the head. You have to release the tension,
the tension of daily life. Otherwise you start
drinking like some people. Others turn
to drugs. Another type might just fade
away and die because of the monotony of
life in Russia. So to relax some take
up parachute jumping. Some take
to drink. And the third kind fight
with their fists. It’s so important for the
little ones to eat well. The worst thing is when
they don’t want to eat. At the beginning
they’re stressed out, and have no
appetite. But soon they settle in
and start eating better. Then they begin growing and
their health improves. Some of the children have been
spoiled with sweets at home. When they come here, they have
to eat porridge and soup. At first they refuse, but
they have no choice. And then they start
eating everything. Food is
coming! Here is your
compote. Sit down! The nice man
is there. Elena Boiko’s 24 hour shift
at the hospital is over. It’s time for the 40 year old
to go home to her own family. Her work as a professional mother
is paid for by Women of Eurasia. The NGO was founded 15 years ago to
help the disadvantaged in Russia — abandoned children, people
with AIDS, disabled people, women in prison, youths from
underprivileged families. The organization
has plenty to do. According to
official statistics, around one million people
in Russia are HIV positive. Elena’s organization also
accepts funding from abroad — which means that she and other
employees are listed as ‘foreign agents‘ by Russian
justice officials. It’s a stigma, but Jelena
doesn’t let it get to her. We work in
several shifts. Sometimes 24 hours at a time,
sometimes only during the day. Two days on shift,
then a two—day break. When children from an orphanage
come in for an operation, we spend the entire time with them on
the surgical ward to take care of them. Sometimes they need just
three days to recover, but sometimes they
stay for two months. Then we visit
them every day. The worst thing is when they start
crying and calling out ?Mama, Mama.” We know that from
our own children, from when we take them to kindergarden
and they don’t want to stay there. It’s heartbreaking to see how
they don’t want to let me go. But I have
a trick. I distract the kids, I say
I’m coming the next day, I give them something to play
with or something sweet to eat. Then the nurse
comes and I leave. That helps them deal
with the separation. Elena is actually a
cook by profession. But seven years ago
she left her old job, and has been taking care of
disadvantaged children ever since. She earns 22,000
rubles a month — the equivalent of 270 euros, about half
the average monthly wage in Russia. With that she supports her famier two
children and her father, on her own. Elena’s
husband left. These days, the family
of four lives in a two— room apartment on the
outskirts of Chelyabinsk. How was
your day? Good. Did you take
your pills? Yes. Good. Call Grandpa
to the table. This is our special
buckwheat with milk Have some tea
with us! It’s the start of a family evening with her
father Alexander and her son Vladimir. Her daughter Ekaterina
isn’t home yet. Today a girl was
brought in. She cried
and cried. How old? Two. Her mother is pregnant and
had to go to the hospital. There was no one
else at home. Her second
child? Yes. The girl didn’t
want to eat. She was
really upset. She stood at the door
calling ?Mama, Mama!” But then she did
start playing. She was curious,
like all children. That’s
nice. Stories like that are
part of my work. If I had to carry it around
inside me all the time, it would be
unbearable. But when I tell my family about
what happens to the children, they give
me support. It relieves me to have my
loved ones listen to me. So I can give my warmth
to my own children. These children also only
see their parents rarely. From June to August it’s summer vacation
for Veronika Teflina and her schoolmates. They are flown by helicopter
to the nomad settlements. There are no roads or railway
lines through the Taiga here. Only the Trom—Agan River
can be traversed by boat. It’s named after the
main Khanty god. Veronika is already starting
to feel a bit sad. On the one hand, she is looking
forward to seeing her family. But she knows she’ll
miss her school, which is said to be one of the best
in a radius of a hundred kilometers. I started first grade back
when the school opened. We were the first pupils.
That was 10 years ago. According to a large—scale survey
of young people carried out in 2018 by a Russian institute
with links to the Kremlin, most Russian children would
not miss their schools. What do we call our
traditional dwelling? A chum? That’s right,
a chum. And in the middle of the
chum is a fireplace. Seven out of ten students surveyed
said they didn’t like school because they had too few subjects that
were useful for their lives. Another study says that students
in Russia are more interested in environmental topics
than in Russian politics. That’s ceertainly true
of Veronika Teflina. And we’ll lfind out more about
her love of nature later. But first back to Kolpino, to
amateur fighter Kirill Michailov, who faces very different
problems in everyday life. This is what his working
day looks like. With
card? Kirill works in a small mobile phone
store in a large shopping mall. It’s sometimes hard to
deal with the customers. I’m in sales, and one
of us has to win — either I or
the customer. It’s like in
the ring. Maybe there’s
water inside? Maybe. Or a short
circuit. We’ll have to
change the button. How soon will
we know? After it’s
been changed. First I worked as
a security guard. For a
month. That wasn’t so great because it
was at the other end of town. Then I started here — first only
once in a while, then full time. It’s been
good so far. Kirill works 12—hour
shifts, five days a week. I have to make a conscious
effort to stay calm. That’s also important
in the ring, because negative emotions won’t
do you any good in a fight. You shouldn’t let your feelings take over.
You need to keep your cool. Here at work I sometimes feel
like I’m going to blow a fuse. When too many customers
want something at once. Or when they’re
difficult. But I can let all those
emotions out in the ring. And emotions are now the topic at the
General Middle School in Russkinskaya. The most important thing in the dance
is to show our national character. You know that.
Be modest! You have to look
at the audience. You know where
to look, right? Never down at
the floor. And remember the
graceful arm movements. Be graceful. And don’t forget to look to the
side to see who is going where. Got that? And
smile! Beautiful girls have
beautiful smiles! Here
we go. You have to show
modesty in the dance. Not everyone
was smiling! I like our
teachers. Sometimes they’re strict with us,
but then it’s our own fault. The teachers in the school only
scold us if we deserve it. They’re
pretty fair. Fairness is also of importance
here, as well as safety. Kirill Michailov is training
for his next fight. I have to bandage
my fingers, otherwise I’ll have
problems with my hands. I could break a finger,
or dislocate one — anything could
happen. It’s better to protect
myself ahead of time. Kirill comes to this gym
twice or three times a week. But he doesn’t
have a coach. I don’t want to
spend the money. I know that I do some
movements incorrectly. For example, when you punch you
have to use your whole body, but my legs are so untrained and
wooden that I can’t manage to do it. Actually I should find a
real trainer somewhere else. But in streetfighting it’s usually
not the perfect technique that wins, but your mental
willpower. In just a few days Kirill will take
part in the championship final. And maybe, in
his next win. And we
stretch — and
stretch — that’s
nice. Little
one. Children need
a mother. That’s why
we hug them. They need
human warmth. They have to feel that we
are taking care of them. That helps them
get well faster. The physical contact tells
them that they’re not alone. Come over
to us! Shall we
draw a car? Where is the
green pencil. Did it
roll away? It’s give
and take. Little things make them happy and
they pass their happiness on to us. We share their
happiness. About their first steps, their
first teeth, their first words. They discover
the world. And it’s a world where they
are no longer so alone. Even if it is limited by the
four walls of a hospital room. This is what
I need. This constant
cuddling — it’s like never—ending
childhood. It’s
great. My own children
have outgrown that. They say, “Mom stop hugging us.” They’re
tired of that kind of attention. But I’m
not. I have so much motherly
love inside of me. And I’ve found an
outlet for it. This is a win—win situation for all
of he children are happy and so am I. The children of the reindeer
herders delight in scenes like this part of the traditional life
of their parents in the tundra. The tundra biome lies north of
the boreal forest, the taiga. There are hardly any trees in
the tundra, but lots of grass — food for the
reindeer — and lots of room
for grazing. At the boarding school the boys
practise for a nomadic life. With lassos instead
of basketballs. This course is
compulsory. And complimentary to the Life Safety
Skills course and the weapons drill. In a few days, some of the
children from the school in Russkinskaya will be herding
reindeer instead of learning math. It’s not a prospect that
thrills Veronika Teflina. She likes
the tundra, but she’d rather see the
reindeer in the local museum. She has mixed feelings about
her upcoming trip home. I’d rather be here
than at home. Here I have the girls and boys
around me that I’ve grown up with. I’ll miss them
when I’m at home. It will be strange
without them. But — the time to say
goodbye comes anyway. Kirill Michailov also has to pack, for the most important fight
he’s been in to date. This evening is the start
of the final round of the championship with participants
from all over Russia. Kirill from Kolpino wants to be
up there with the best of them. Kirill is striving
for one thing: victory. No matter what
it costs. I’m
nervous. This is the biggest
competition of my life. Every fight is a challenge,
but this one is special. When I was preparing, my
main focus was on endurance. That is my
weak point. The other is
my punch. So I trained both of
those things on my own. Meanwhile, somewhere down
there in the taiga — the world’s largest forest,
Veronika’s family is waiting. She takes one last photo
with her friends. All the pupils from the
boarding school in Russkinskaya will be flown out to the
nonmadic settlements where their parents live
with their reindeer. Of course it’s sad
when they leave. But we’re also
happy for them. They’ll be with their parents, whom
they’ve been missing all year. They’re so excited because they’ll
all be flying out at the same time. Just a few minutes to
go before the fight. Ten pairs of fighters are
about to enter the ring. Kirill has met his opponent
for the first time today. What is he thinking
right now? We’re not friends, but we
mustn’t hate each other. We’re just letting
out energy. It’s emotional release
— nothing more. Kirill gets five
thousand rubles cash. That’s sixty
euros. Open your
mouth. My cheekbones
hurt. Bite down
hard. Harder. Where
exactly? This was Kirill Michailov’s
sixth victory in a row. I can feel the
adrenaline. It’s pure
release. The ultimate
feeling. I’m
happy. The poet Johann Wolfgang
von Goethe wrote: To be loved,
what happiness!. What happiness,
ye gods, to love! But happiness
is subjective. It’s in the eye
of the beholder. Elena feels happy mothering
other people’s children. I wish every child
had a mom and a dad. I wouldn’t have a job, but
the children would be happy. My dream is for there to be
no more abandoned children. That would be
wonderful. Veronika from the taiga can’t imagine living without
the other girls in her school, but she also can’t imagine life
without the boreal forest. I was born in
the forest — my parents didn’t
go to the hospital. I always
miss it. I love to see my
dogs bark for joy. And my family is
happy to see me. What’s my
dream? To be a police
officer. Or maybe later to
join the military. So as to defend
her happiness — as her course Life Safety
Skills teaches her. Veronika and Kirill feel
similarly in this respect. He was one of the 270
thousand young men in Russia called up for military
service every year. Every man should be able
to protect himself, his family, his friends
and his country. That takes
courage. You have to hit out,
before you get hit. With that attitude toward their homeland,
we end Part 1 of The Russians — from
birth to ch-
ildhood and
youth. And how do Russians’ feelings
about their country change during their working
lives and as they age? We’ll find out in Part Two
of our Russian journey.
I actually just finished watching this doc. It's really really interesting. Really well done.
I really enjoyed this. Very interesting documentary. Thank you for sharing it