Then they detained Afanasyev [Gennadiy Afanasyev admitted himself guilty, cooperated with the investigation, and gave testimony that formed the basis of the allegations of Oleg Sentsov and Olexander Kolchenko, but later refused it, saying that he had given it under tortures]. I talked with him for several times, we saved a couple of guys and took them out of Crimea. People often disappeared at that time: two of my friends are still missing. Vasya Chernysh [a resident of Sevastopol, an activist of Avtomaidan, a former employee of the Security Service of Ukraine, and a member of the Ukrainian resistance in Crimea. Disappeared on 15 March 2014] and Timur Shaimardanov [a resident of Simferopol, an activist of the Ukrainian People’s House, and a resistance coordinator in Crimea. Disappeared on 26 May 2014]. When Afanasyev was detained, I did not know who and for what had grabbed him but I had to find out what was happening to him and to help. Then he began to call me and I realized that I was also under pressure, that they were also searching for me. I had an opportunity to leave for more than a day, but I did not leave because I wasn’t involved in any illegal matters. Many of the Avtomaidan participants were detained, beaten and released because they couldn’t produce anything against them. The pro-Ukrainian position is not enough for the accusation so I didn’t feel anxious, but I took security measures and moved to another place, but they managed to detect me from my car location.

At the court hearing, you told that you were tortured during the interrogations.

Everything that was done to me has already been described. There are people who experienced much more. In prison, every second person is interrogated in the same way as me or much worse. This is how the system works. Because of so much attention paid to me, I don’t want to talk about it… Did you read about Pshenichniy [Valeriy Pshenichniy, who was involved in the case of embezzlement from the Ministry of Defense and tortured to death in prison]? That’s who we must talk about. Not me.

And what about Kostya Kotov [Russian activist convicted for holding a protest]?

I don’t know him personally. There are guys who just do their job and nobody knows them. For example, I do my job in Crimea: I evacuate the military. I was asked by a commander, “What’s your name? Everybody left us but you took us out. Who are you at all? Why are you doing this?”. “It doesn’t matter. Have a safe trip!” Kostya and many others just did their best and didn’t brag. I feel a soul connection with him because I’m the same, I just do my best and don’t brag.

He killed somebody for the cause but I was a terrorist

What was your relationship with the prisoners?

I was kept in a small hut accommodating 50-60 people. They were ordinary guys. Some were just unlucky, some got to prison by chance, some were usual visitors of police juvenile rooms since their childhood. Most of them are not interested in politics, they don’t care and watch Muz-TV, TNT [Russian entertaining channels] … Of the others, the minority supported me but the majority was against me. But there are unwritten prison laws that prohibit harassment. I had no problems with that. However, I was in an aggressive environment all the time. They treated me as a stranger, as an enemy who had come to their place.

Do you mean that, for example, a guy who had killed somebody with an ax being drunken was treated better?

Of course. He killed somebody who deserved it but I was a terrorist. Nobody said that directly, but I felt the oppressiveness like high atmospheric pressure.

At the last court hearing, you said that you met in prison militia and a GRU [Russian General Intelligence Directorate] officer who fought in Donbas. How did you meet them?

I met the GRU officer in a Rostov court where his case was heard simultaneously with mine. He participated in the Crimea invasion and Ilovaisk battle, shot at my fellows. I didn’t hate him. Prison is like death, makes us equal. I was interested to hear from him the truth about those events.

I was astonished to learn that they transported military boats from Novorossiysk to Sevastopol on March 24, three days before the seizure of the buildings [of the Supreme Council and the Council of Ministers of Crimea]. The operational plan for the Crimea invasion was developed for a few days. And second, “During the Ilovaisk battle,” he said, “We did all the main things. We didn’t contact the militia.” All the main battles of 2014 that caused damage to the Ukrainian army were conducted by the Russian army.

The militia was weak, and if Russia had not intervened, had not sent its troops, the DNR [so-called “Donetsk People’s Republic”] would have already been knocked down by the fall of 2014.

I talked to the man who told this straight forward. He had no reason to lie because he was going to prison.

Wasn’t he imprisoned for war crimes?

It was domestic. GRU officers are accustomed to killing. He met a policeman who said something sharp to him, and he just killed him.

Regarding the militia, I met them during the transportation of prisoners. One of them fought for money. He was completely insane, once tried to hang himself, then slashed his wrists. The other was a nice home-grown boy of the same age, about 21-22 years old. He was wanted in Russia for extremism and in 2014 came to “Novorossia” to build a new Russia independent of the old Russia. Of course, he received a good dose of reality during the year. I asked him, “For how long have you been fighting?” “I have fought in a battle.” “What battle?” “They shot at us, we ran.” The rest of the time they were guarding something.

Everything took place under Russian supervision. He was shocked to understand that he had departed to go against Putin, but in reality endded up following him.

I asked him, “Remember 2014, all the battles, regular army. How could you resist?” “Well, we had more stuff: more tanks, more ‘Grads’, more artillery. Of course, we could not be defeated.” Where did all this come from? He understood. Then he went to Rostov to hang out, got drunk somewhere and was taken to the police, where they found out that he was wanted. That’s how he went to prison. I didn’t hate him. Such a gosling, should I have beaten him for that or what?

At the first press conference, you said that you had been arrested two days before you were supposed to leave for Donbas?

Yes, this is true. I was at the Maidan for two months; when it was all over, I spent a week at the Avtomaidan headquarters as there was a lot of administrative work. As soon as I started to clean it up, I saw on TV that the Crimea invasion had been started. Many did not believe that was a serious affair. Half of the country then was in the mess: Odesa, Kharkiv, Donetsk, Dnipro.

I understood everything and said to my fellows that I was going home: the mess started. I arrived two days later [after the seizure of the government buildings] and immediately started working: communication, coordination…

I can’t say that I took over the command, but I did all I could, and, as it then turned out, I had done a lot. And in late April – early May, it became clear that the Donbas was getting heated. Nothing could be done in Crimea, we had lost it. And I decided to go there. I had friends in volunteer battalions and planned to join them, even managed to buy a ticket to Kyiv. They found it [during the arrest] and said, “So you’re trying to escape!” That’s how I didn’t reach the war but ended up in prison instead.

Feeling like you are gone

When you went on a hunger strike for an indefinite term in May 2018, we talked with Natasha Kaplan [Sentsov’s cousin]. From conversations with you, she took the hunger strike as a well-prepared, deliberate suicide.

If I wanted to commit suicide, I would find much faster ways. I understood that a hunger strike was an inefficient way, that it would not change anything, but that was the last thing that I could do. It was not a death wish, I love life.

Did you believe that your demand to release all Ukrainian political prisoners would be met?

Of course, I didn’t. But what could I do? My goal was to attract as much attention as possible, not only to myself but to all our fellows. [Thanks to the hunger strike] they began to write more about us, I think it was a contribution that helped us get out. I understood that I risk my health more than my life. They wouldn’t let me die, but I could lose my health.

Read more: Filmmaker Sentsov launches hunger strike until Russia releases all Ukrainian political prisoners

How did doctors treat you in the municipal hospital?

I am grateful to the medical personnel of the prison camp who treated, helped, and saved me. Thanks to their work, I preserved my health. I was like in a real oasis. The military officers pressured me, sometimes softly, sometimes severely, to make me give up. And the medical personnel was not so tough, they seemed to be trying to give me a little air.

In prison, doctors are accustomed to prisoners, they understand that we are the same people as everybody else. And for doctors at the Labytnangi municipal hospital, I was just a prisoner. They are even not familiar with your case but they see you in your prisoner’s robe and that’s all, you are an outcast for them, a convict.

They didn’t want me to die, but they treated me simply: let’s get him here, now we’ll stuff a probe in his ass, everything will be fine.

“You are dying. Three days later you’ll find yourself in the morgue. Give up!” I kicked that off. I thought that if I was to die, I should die in the Federal Penitentiary Service. It was like to detonate a grenade in the enemy trench. So I did all I could to stay in prison.

How did you decide to end up your hunger strike?

145 days of hunger is a hard challenge, even with medical nutrition. At the end of the hunger strike, I felt that I was really dying. In the mornings, my upper blood pressure value was 40 and lower pressure was absent. You get used to it physically, it was difficult physically during the first and last months. And it was morally difficult all the time because you feel like you are gone. A volition and absolute weakness, month by month. The doctors showed me my medical documents – I was already familiar with cardiograms, ultrasound cards and so on – there were problems with my heart, my kidneys which were clogged, and my liver. The doctors said, “That’s all, if you don’t give up now, then you won’t be able to eat any more.” I saw from my medical documents that they were right, one of my legs was almost dead. It was a matter of days.

Read more: Imprisoned Ukrainian filmmaker Oleg Sentsov stops hunger strike on day 145

Did you know how people outside supported you?

I knew. I read The Novaya [the editorial staff subscribed Sentsov to the newspaper, and he received it most of the time]. But it’s still difficult for me to understand the scale of their support … I can see it from the reaction of people, many people recognize me on the streets, call, and write me. But then it seemed to be hardly relevant to me, as if I had a namesake on the outside. Now I’ve got already used to feel that I’m that guy.

In the interview, you said that you thought about the second hunger strike in May of this year. Did you want to re-draw attention to political prisoners?

Well, what if there is no other way? I was preparing for a hunger strike, but then the presidential election was held, Volodymyr Zelenskyy won, negotiations on the exchange were commenced, and I realized that the stupidest thing I could do at the moment was to intervene.

Nataliya Kaplan said that you refused to meet with your relatives?

It was just easier that way. My children are small and my mother is ill. It was hard for them to get there, physically. Moreover, it was hard emotionally. Imagine, you see them and have to part. How to keep living after that? It’s easier not to see them at all.

I have no home in Crimea anymore, it has been taken away by enemies

Are you going to participate in the campaign for the release of political prisoners?

I’m obliged to tell about them. I’m not a human rights activist, I’m an organizer, I’ve been working with people and processes for all my life. I wasn’t interested in the protection of human rights, but now I am engaged in social activities, it had to be this way. I can’t lay low and say, “All right, everybody, I am out of here.” I’ll do everything I can for my country, to fight Putin’s regime, and to support political prisoners. I won’t have enough time to do something specific such as to bring food parcels or to keep track of particular people. I’ll do it at a different level. I’ve already scheduled trips around the world until the end of the year. The meetings will be held at a serious level.

Can you give some examples?

It doesn’t matter. I don’t like to tell about my plans. I’ll do what I consider necessary, I’ll do my best. But this will not be work aimed at human rights protection, it will be social work related to political prisoners. All political prisoners. I won’t make this personal and go into details because then I won’t be able to do big and important things. I will take a piece for myself and will do my best without spreading too thin.

You got out of prison to another country, another city…

You’ve put the question incorrectly because you know little about my life. Actually, I lived between two cities. I have long felt suffocating in Simferopol, it was too muggy, stuffy for me. I’ve outgrown this city a long time ago and, having left prison, I returned home, to Kyiv. I have no home in Crimea any more, it has been taken away by enemies.

This split has separated my friends, my relatives. Many people from my social circle have already left Crimea because it is stifling there, it has turned into a prison like the whole Russian Federation.

Varlamov Shalamov [Russian poet and writer of XX century] wrote that the camp experience is completely negative while Oleksandr Solzhenitsyn [Russian activist and publicist of XX century] considered it as an invaluable challenge. What is your experience like?

The problem is not prison as such, but your attitude to it. Prison hammers every second prisoner into a mess. I saw how people drove themselves crazy just in six months. Prison didn’t prove to be as challenging for me as it was for others. Maybe I’m not so sensitive, maybe I was better prepared. I felt … I won’t say comfortable, but calm. It wasn’t a catastrophe. Regarding my camp experience… I’d say that any experience is good.

I had to, and I served my time. I’ve lived this period of my life properly.

What did you do in prison?

I read a lot, wrote a lot, I’ve used up 15 notebooks. I kept the diary of my hunger strike, wrote five scenarios, of which three have already been completed, two novels, two storybooks, plus some notes… They say that I’m talking in quotes. I say something and it goes to the people. I even write in quotes. I can write a book of quotes. Maybe I’ll publish it someday. I also learned English. I did physical exercises. I tried to support myself physically. When I was freed, people started saying “He is in such good shape [after the hunger strike]!” But I did not lie on the couch for a year, I exercised in order to protect my health and prepare for a new hunger strike.

Have you changed personally during this time?

Everybody would change after five years. Someone [in prison] just sits and looks at the ceiling, someone drinks chifir. There are people who develop. They are rare but nevertheless exist. I’m one of them.

I haven’t lost a single day in prison, I haven’t been bored a single day. I don’t regret these five years.

In the past, I used to be a more aggressive, tough person. They say that now I’m a sharp man – they just haven’t known me before. I do not consider myself ideal, I constantly work on myself. This process didn’t stop in prison.

All my friends were afraid that the prison would change me, harden me. But having talked with me, they said, “He hasn’t changed.”

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