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kraslag
NO ESCAPE FROM KRASLAG The Trans-Siberian Railway and a concrete wall along its right-of-way separate the Nikolaevka neighbourhood from downtown Krasnoyarsk (Siberia). At the turn of the 20th century, it was a working class suburb named after Czar Nicholas II. Today’s Nikolaevka is a sort of a ghetto densely inhabited by those with a criminal past and present. The “devout thief” Andrei Perets has been living here since recently. To find his house you just need to ask anyone in the street – they will tell you but only after getting to know when and where from you’ve been released, if at all. People know him for being a "fair" person knowing the criminal "law" and all that. Andrei is the owner of a malina – a hideout where those released from jail may come and live for a while deciding what to do or where to go. At the time we came to visit Andrei, there were three "passengers" in his hideout. Andrei’s past is obscure: he had a few convictions for robbery and spent a long time in jail. He’s been out of prison since a few years now. During one of his terms, he suggested to build a church on prison premises and got it done. After release – around 2002, he met Father Valery Soldatov, an Orthodox priest who, at that time, was a chaplain for regional prisons, and began working for him as an acolyte, wore a cassock and Father Valery even arranged a room for him in a low-income dorm-like complex where he himself lived. Today, all this is in the past. For reasons only Andrei may know, he returned to his underworld he was used to. He says however he is no longer involved in grave crimes, earning his living by petty fraud such as selling fake drugs to passengers of Trans-Siberian trains. For the Orthodox Easter, Andrei still visits Father Valery to take communion and the last time he even offered him an egg – a traditional Easter gift – with a touching, childish marker-written dedication: "To Our Father from Perets and Valentos”. Valentos aka Valentina is Andrei Perets' girlfriend. Life of a former convict is an ongoing struggle for survival. A half of Andrei’s house has recently burnt down: someone threw Molotov cocktails into his yard. “That’s fine - he says - I’m like Saint Job, ate the dust and live on”. Then, a murdered woman has been discovered nearby, and police, according to Andrei, immediately wanted to pin this on him - he barely escaped another prison term. When he talks, it's always about the injustice of the “system” and an eternal resistance. Talking to former convicts on their “territory” you may come to a paradoxical conclusion. At a time when the social tissue of the Russian society is disrupted, when the social environment is disorganised with almost no trust to each other, no solidarity or mutual help, the criminal milieu remains perhaps the only stratum of society where all this still exists, although in a peculiar form. Also, those with criminal convictions are the most legally savvy people in the country, after professional lawyers, of course, willing to fight for their rights to the end, unlike the broader population. That said, the nature of criminal relationships, criminal argot, culture and habits have long ago poured out of prison gates and entered the flesh and blood of the Russian state and society. Many traits that characterise today’s Russia stem from the prison: informal hierarchies, a cult of force and money, distrust and suspicion, unlimited hedonism translating into alcohol and drug abuse. Here, again a paradox: a society which soaked up the criminal culture and habits has not developed (and is not apparently willing to develop) any measures to socially reintegrate those released from jail. “Nobody needs problems”, - said one local businessman answering a question whether he was prepared to hire former convicts. This is understandable. Hard-core criminals would never work for a modest salary if faced with a perspective of easy money. A vicious circle: no public or non-governmental body exist to socialise former convicts; some of them might still want to quit their criminal profession but they rarely accept low-pay jobs offered to them by the employment offices. After being released, they face an invisible wall of alienation and are forced to seek support from their like to survive. Just as Nikolaevka is separated by a concrete wall from the city, Russian criminals are isolated in their parallel anarchic universe. An obscene motto which may loosely be translated as "You never get a blowjob from a cop, you never escape from Kraslag” is tattooed on Andrei Perets’ legs to reflect this reality. Kraslag is an acronym for 'Krasnoyarsk Prisons'. This tattoo cannot be undone anymore and Andrei and his "passengers” cannot be pulled out from their criminal underworld. Moreover, crime in Russia becomes sometimes a form of an unconscious social protest since the society has no skills or possibilities to relieve social tensions in a civilised way. The Russian government has recently initiated a large-scale prison reform aimed at putting an end to Stalin-era penitentiary practices but many experts remain skeptical as to what this reform is going to produce.
“Better be jailed than saint”
At the turn of the 20th century, Nikolaevka was a working class suburb of Krasnoyarsk. Today it is densely inhabited by those with a criminal past and present. The Trans-Siberian railway and a concrete wall built along its right of way separate this ghetto of sorts from downtown Krasnoyarsk.
Zhenya, a resident of Nikolayevka. Zhenya’s mother who has two more children, works as a cleaner for the railway and lives with a hard-core criminal who was recently released from jail.
Andrei Perets, owner of a malina – a hideout where those released from jail may come and live for a while deciding what to do or where to go.
This Orthodox chapel on the Watch Hill overlooking Krasnoyarsk is well known to all Russians because it features on the 10-ruble notes, thus making it a symbol of money rather than faith.
Eduard, a hard-core criminal and a tatooer. He spent more than a half of his 39 years behind bars.
The high security prison #6 is located in the middle of a residential neighbourhood in Krasnoyarsk. When the Soviet Union was approaching its demise in October 1991, a large-scale mutiny took place here with hostage-taking and victims. The inmates held power for more than a month having seized weapons from the guards. From this mutiny, a whole wave of prison upheavals has begun, sweeping over the country at the end of the USSR.
An icon of Christ in Andrei Perets’ home.
Father Valery Soldatov once chaired a diocesan department in charge of prisons. Andrei Perets worked for him in his church as a sacristan and even wore a cassock. Then their paths diverged. Father Valery believes hard-core criminals are practically impossible to rectify. ‘Maybe someone succeeded in it but not me”, - he says.
A tomb of a Gypsy headman
Station square in Krasnoyarsk. Railway stations have always been a magnet for petty criminals. Those traveling along the Trans-Siberian Railway may be offered “drugs” – the so-called “hashish” which in fact is a mix of dried chewing gum, ash and tobacco.
A tattoo depicting a woman in a Nazi cap showing off her breasts. During Soviet times, tattooed Nazi symbols were very popular among criminals as they symbolised their resistance against the "system".
River Yenisei near Krasnoyarsk. During Soviet times, it saw thousands of prisoner transports taking convicts up north to Norilsk and other Arctic parts of the GULAG archipelago.
Sasha Gromadsky, 41, took part in the mutiny that broke out at high security prison #6 in Krasnoyarsk in October 1991. Gromadsky is not his family name but a nickname: he served one of his terms in a remote Siberian village of Gromadsk.
Graffiti in central Krasnoyarsk.
Those recently released from jail may come to Andrei Perets' hideout in Nikolaevka and live for a while deciding what to do and where to go.
Siberian landscape
A criminal tatooer’s hand.
Simple living at Andrei's hideout
A tattooed star on the knee means "Will never get down on my knees before a cop".
A motto tattooed on Andrei's feet that may loosely be translated as “You never get a blowjob from a cop, you never escape from Krasnoyarsk Gulag”.
Andrei Perets with his girlfriend Valentina aka Valentos.
A man poses for picture in a T-shirt with the logo of a local radio station that broadcasts criminal songs - the so-called shanson.
Badalyk Cemetery in Krasnoyarsk where many criminal bosses and fighters killed during the mid-1990s mafia wars are buried.
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