Time To Take A Break
I have worked since I am 16 years old. What a privilege it has been for me.
My work has never been one coming with hardship — I have worked to enrich myself, to confront to realities I did not know and to give of my time and my energy to those less fortunate than me.
When visiting a prison, I once met a tiny lady wearing a large red coat — she had a colourful scarf on her head. Her eyes sparkled as she showed me her work. She gave me a wonderful pencil case, which she sewed as part of her vocational activities. Through an interpret, I asked her how long she has been here, and why. After a short look over my shoulder, she replied. Standing behind me, a prison staff certainly nodded, to allow Irina to answer. He answer struck me. With tears in her eyes, she answered that she did not have a choice; after her son’s suicide, she had no revenue. Her husband had left them long time ago. She needed to feed herself and her two daughters. So she stole. Until she got caught.
I left with an immense sense of injustice – and obviously took up her case with the authorities.
Yet, I also keep this lady in my mind since. Thanks to her, I had understood the value of my own engagements.
In this life trajectory, taking a break has been a difficulty.
One of those, in August 2011 was marked by the arrest of Belarusian human rights defender Ales Bialiatski. He has since been released and rearrested and remains behind bars for arbitrary reasons. And he has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
Another summer, another year. In August 2014, a repressive wave started in Azerbaijan, leading to the detention or fleeing of all leading independent human rights defenders, journalists and activists. The country’s civil society and media space remains marked by the repression started in 2014. It so happens that I was supposed to be on holidays when Euromaidan started, as well as when the outbreak of Covid led to massive risks surrounding prison and urgent action was needed to prevent the worst from happening. In July 2021, after the world changed and our lives were marked by lockdowns, it is the hack of our Instagram account that marked my summer holidays. I was also supposed to enjoy a few days off, early February 2022 until it became clear that, following the vote of the Duma on 22 February 2022, Russia would attack Ukraine. And of course, in politics, there is no such thing as a break.
I also remember my spring 2016 holidays though. They were marked by the positive news of my friend’s release, Intigam Aliyev, the widely respected human rights lawyer of Azerbaijan.
When working for organisations in which solidarity amongst colleagues matters — and when you take whom you work with to heart — it is sometimes difficult to value time off.
In my case, it has never been because of the structure or the people I worked with — quite the opposite actually, but because of a sense of duty. And because of a certain sense of guilt: “How can I enjoy holidays, when others are behind bars or under threat?”
Because so many colleagues, human rights defenders and activists, who live in repressive or conflictual contexts, or face war, see it the same way as I do, rest and respite programmes for them matter so much. We forget that, to be resilient, we need to be able to resist. To resist, we need to be able to breathe and smile.
After 24 years of almost uninterrupted activism in various roles, my own rest and respite programme will be a few weeks off with my family, before we start our new life. Aware of the privilege to be able to write about this — and get it done, I very much look forward to the next 24 years of aspiring for change, inspired by others and to join forces for human rights and climate justice with friends and colleagues. Stay tuned!
Oh, and, yes, I am leaving again with a reading list like in August 2020 (proof that I have actually had true holidays, too, along the road), but I will not share it this time.
