People and concrete
It would be impossible to get by without the Sayano-Shushenskaya power plant. Megawatts of energy are unaccounted for. Hydrologists are predicting disastrous floods down the river from the plant unless there is a dam to stop it. Yet, the arguments made by residents of Cheryomushki and Sayanogorsk are much simpler: these settlements were set up around the plant, and as soon as the plant goes, the villages go with it. Izvestiya reporter Andrei Krasikov visited the power plant and quickly learned that not only would the dam stand strong, but so would the people.
So, what does the power plant look like on the inside? Six, seven, eight. I'm counting the steps on my way up. A dark shaft with the stairs lit only by dim bulbs. I had to climb 1120 steps just to get from the engine rooms to the top of the dam. For comparison: one flight of stairs in a typical 5-storey building has 16 steps. As soon as I reach the twentieth landing, I have to stop to catch my breath.
On August 17, 2009, brave men wearing heavy boots rushed to the top of this 70-storey building to shut the gates. If they had not done so, the aftermath would have been even more catastrophic than it was. One of the flights takes me into a tunnel inside the dam. The tunnel connects one bank to another. There are 12 such tunnels in the dam. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, since the dam and the tunnel itself happen to be crescent-shaped. There are vertical shafts in the wall every 30 metres.
As Vadim Zateyev, chief monitoring engineer, quickly explains, "These are observation wells, where we monitor the dam's condition."
"Why are the walls in this well wet? Is it dangerous?"
"The dam is the last thing I'm worried about," Zateyev replies. "Everybody is asking me how long it'll stand. My answer? A hundred years. Why? Because our accountants just can't register a longer lifetime. So, on paper, it's a hundred years. In actuality, though, it'll stand even longer."
Afraid of knowing too much
"Later, I figured out that the accident only took 15 seconds to happen," Yuri Shinkarenko, who was working on August 17, reveals.
"What were you doing when it happened?"
"I was at engine six in the access room. I had taken only two steps into the room when the flood literally swept me off my feet. I don't even remember how I managed to get out. There was no time to prevent it or evacuate everyone. The engines were all shut off immediately. The dead bodies weren't even picked up until later; they had to be cut from the iron."
"Aren't you afraid to come back here?"
"I am. I'm afraid because I know too much. I've been working here for 30 years. I was one of the men who assembled all ten units. There were four repairs after that. The guys who died were from the older guard. The new guys are just reckless. They're not afraid of anything because they don't know anything. I know a lot and that's exactly why I'm afraid."
Questions to PM not staged
Yelena Malik, the widow of Andrei Malik, who died in the disaster, is the one who got to speak with Vladimir Putin during a live telephone conference. She accepted a job at the power plant right after the tragedy. She's a professional choreographer and accountant. Now, she works in the procurement department.
"Work helps me forget about all of this," Yelena explains. "And you can't raise two children on the salary of a kindergarten dance teacher. I was offered a job here and I'd like to take on additional training and work here. I don't want to leave this place."
"The media has claimed that RusHydro told you what to ask the prime minister. Is that true?"
"Absolutely not! They just told me a day in advance that a live conference was possible and somebody might get to ask a question. I called the widows I know who live nearby and asked what we should bring up with Putin. We all decided that our children's education and our employment is what matters most. And we didn't even care which one of us did the asking. But as it turned out, I got the microphone."
Putin responds with action, not just words
"There's more certainty now regarding job placements. They've promised to extend our contracts. And they're even considering letting our children study for free. Legally, our children could be placed in the same category as children of deceased police and military officers, which means they have more chances of getting a free education," Yelena explains.
"Don't you find that it's scary to come here after the power plant caused you so much grief and loss?" This is a question I addressed to every single person I met at the plant.
"Iron is iron. It wouldn't have shot out by itself, without extra help. And that's not just my opinion. People in the village, even relatives of those who died, think the same thing. And I have a hard time understanding those who are making petitions to close the plant. We all need the plant. All of us here and the entire country," Yelena says.
Yulia Zholob, Maksim Zholob's widow, echoes Yelena's sentiments: "We can't do without the plant." She herself left the plant, though. It's extremely difficult to find a job in Cheryomushki. But Yulia was lucky enough to land an administrative job at the best local hotel.
"It's hard for me to go to the plant. My husband and I used to go to work there together. I just can't cope with it right now. Maybe the pain will ease with time and I'll be able to go back to the plant. But I'm 31 and I've lived here my whole life. And now my husband's grave is here too."
"You'll get a million! I wish my husband worked there!"
It's hard to write about this and talk about it. But I think I should anyway.
"They don't say it to my face, of course," Yelena Malik admits. "But they all think we're asking for too much. They can't seem to understand that we're young women with children. A lot of us don't have jobs or a good profession. Our husbands were the ones supporting us. We had children and weren't worried about anything before. But what's in store for us now?"
After a long pause, Yulia Zholob confesses, "Somebody actually said to me, ‘You'll get a million! I wish my husband worked there!'"
Talking about this shameful subject quickly became too much to bear for Yulia and Yelena. The two women simply clammed up. It was awkward for them to say bad things about their neighbours. And yet, they realised that not everyone thought such disgraceful things.
There is one more issue that cannot be omitted. Some of the victims' families have been torn apart in the wake of the accident. When the government and RusHydro decided to focus on providing aid to the children of the victims rather than the parents, some parents objected. Why should their daughters-in-law get everything when they have to settle for pennies?
Yulia Besarabenko, a member of RusHydro Moscow's office staff whom I met at the power plant, acknowledged that there is in fact such a problem. But as she said, the most important thing at this time is supporting the children. Of course, the company will try its best to help the victims' parents, as well. Free health treatment programs might soon be made available for them.
Off the record, the power plant's staff admitted that jealousy and discontentment are in the air. Cheryomushki is facing all of this for the first time. The residents used to all believe that they made up one big family. They cherished the history of the plant's founders, strong friendly men with broad shoulders and huge hearts. It's heart wrenching to think that this rich history was buried under the plant's ruins along with the good people who worked there.