Translator: Olena Konstantinova Reviewer: Maksym Kuzhdin
Hello.
(Music)
(Music ends)
This video, which is called "Haytarma Round the World",
was filmed last year by Crimean Tatars of my age,
living in different countries of the world.
Divided by borders, time zones, and kilometres,
they came together in this video, in our folk dance called the haytarma.
If you watched the film "Haytarma",
you must know that the name of the dance is translated as "to recur, move, return".
The dance symbolizes the cycle of life
with all its joys, doubts, and sorrows.
In fact, haytarma is not only a folk dance.
This video that we filmed last year, when those well-known events happened,
symbolizes everything that has happened to my people for the last 70 years.
And we know all too well what "to return" means,
because 70 years ago, our grandparents were evicted from Crimea.
Against their will.
But 50 years later, my parents returned to the peninsula
because they wanted to live in their Motherland.
Sadly, after 20 years, history repeats itself,
and now it's my generation that is scattered around the world.
I myself cannot enter Crimea.
And today, I'm here to tell you the history of my people
through the story of my family
and the stories of men and women I personally consider heroes.
This picture symbolizes the deportation of the Crimean Tatars.
You must know from history textbooks
that on May 18th all Crimean Tatars
were put on freight trains
and taken to Siberia and Central Asia,
falsely accused of collaboration with the occupying army.
I learned the story from my grandmother when I was five.
She was 18 at the time, bedridden for a year already by sciatica.
For all three weeks of the deportation, she lay motionless on the bedsheet.
She was taken by train to Siberia,
her younger brothers bearing the bedsheet.
My family didn't live in Siberia for long.
Soon they were sent to Central Asia,
where the basics for survival were also lacking,
just barracks without windows or doors.
There was a curfew.
But the Crimean Tatars managed to find enjoyment in life even then.
They would pay a visit to a friend,
where they would dance the haytarma together.
And do you know why they went to see their friends?
Because Crimean Tatars, however difficult conditions were,
always cooked as best they could for their guests.
You will know this man very well.
This is our national leader,
with whom the Crimean Tatar National Movement began,
Mustafa Dzhemilev.
15 years in Soviet labour camps, 300 days on hunger strike ...
You know, I'm 28,
and I've been learning a lot from Mustafa:
how not to fall into despair, how to enjoy life,
despite the fact that at the age of 71,
when he thought he would regain his homeland for good,
he was deprived of it.
He teaches me a lot.
But today, I'd like to tell you about another hero, Musa Mamut,
of whom probably none of you know.
When I was five, the first book I read -
first granny read it to me, then I read it by myself -
was "Flames over Crimea".
The book tells the story of Musa Mamut.
In 1975, when it was still forbidden
to live and have a residency permit in Crimea,
Musa Mamut and his family returned there
and he tried to obtain the official permit.
But what they did was they initiated a criminal case against him for it.
He ended up getting two years in a prison camp.
So Musa Mamut spent two years in Kremenchuk.
But on his return to Crimea, he again tried to get a permit.
And when a second criminal case was initiated against him
and police came to arrest him,
he doused himself with petrol and set it on fire.
And after three days, he perished because the burns were so extensive.
All Crimean Tatars who lived in different places at that time,
in Central Asia,
in Kherson - because it was banned to settle in Crimea -
in Siberia,
all of them sent telegrams to Musa Mamut's family.
My family, granny and mum, also sent a telegram of condolence.
Two weeks later, a KGB officer came to them
and asked, "Did you send the telegram?"
My granny said, "Of course, we did.
Don't I have the right to express sympathy?"
"Well, but you realize it's a political issue?" said the officer.
To which my granny replied,
"Where's the politics in a man wanting to live in his homeland,
but you won't let him?"
The KGB officer said,
"You have a 16-year-old daughter who is going to university soon,
you don't need all this trouble.
We'll arrange things, and you won't have any problems.
But you shouldn't draw public attention to the story."
And my granny said, "If necessary, I will set myself on fire too."
Well, of course, the conversation met no success,
and during the next three years when my mum tried to enter medical school,
she wasn't allowed to, her dream never came true.
When I was born in 1987,
the Crimean Tatar National Movement gained the much-desired victory.
After the Tatar demonstration in Red Square,
our people regained the right to return
to their homeland.
My family seized the opportunity.
I was two and a half years old, my sister was six months old,
when my parents, despite the fact that they were doing well in Uzbekistan,
decided to return and build a new life in their native land.
It was really difficult and -
this is what the rally on 18th of May really looks like -
it was very difficult because jobs were scarce,
and the first two years
we lived in a 25-square-metre room,
together with two more families.
My mother, who had a degree in economics,
had to wash the floor at the local airport.
I also know what it means
to be an outcast in your own land.
I felt it strongly
when I was in school, and I had problems with classmates,
because I was the only Crimean Tatar in my class.
It might well be the reason why I left Crimea and came to Kyiv.
This photo is the beginning of a new story.
It's February 16th, 2014;
it's the rally near the Crimean parliament building.
It's officially the beginning of the annexation of the peninsula
when Crimean Tatars tried to hold Russian supporters in check.
But, unfortunately, everything was all already underway.
It was the first time I was scared.
I and my friends, Alim Aliev and Tamila Tasheva,
met to think things over.
What should we do?
We came up with the idea of a platform to at least inform people.
Then we thought it would all blow over in three weeks,
and nothing would happen.
Sadly, it's gone on and on.
It's my mother on March 8th last year.
Ten days after my mother went out to the rally
supporting the unity of Ukraine -
Crimea became part of Russia,
Putin putting his signature to, you know, as it were, the "historic moment".
And this is Reshet Ametov,
who became the first victim of the annexation.
He went out for a single-person protest
but was abducted by the so-called Crimean self-defence.
His body was later found in a forest.
It was the same type of passion as that shown by Musa Mamut.
This person is a symbol of the lost Motherland for me.
I'll explain why.
On March 1st, when our initiative had existed for several days already,
the Federation Council took the decision to allow Russian troops into Ukraine.
And this man became our first forced migrant.
At that moment, we, the CrimeaSOS initiative,
didn't understand that in the future we would have to support forced migrants.
This is the Crimean Tatar artist Rustem Skibin.
That day he called me and said,
"I'm leaving Crimea, but I don't know what to do next.
Help me, please, meet me ..."
And that's how he became our first forced migrant.
In a year, to our regret,
the number of migrants, both from Crimea and East Ukraine,
helped by my friends at CrimeaSOS increased to 120 thousand people.
This is Lilia Budzhurova, editor-in-chief of the only Crimean Tatar TV channel, ATR,
which on April 1st stopped broadcasting on the territory of Crimea.
This was yet further sadness and pain for my people,
since this channel, for a long time,
despite the annexation, the occupation,
was a source of unity for many families.
But when on April 1st the channel was about to stop broadcasting,
Lilia Budzhurova addressed viewers with some very simple words,
saying that if we survived Stalin and the Soviet Union,
then we would return and build a home on our land.
No doubt about it!
Iskinder Nibiev is one of the prisoners of the new Crimean administration.
He was filming the rally on February 26th, the rally I showed you in the photos.
And now he faces five years in prison
for "involvement in mass disorder".
Here he holds a Ukrainian flag.
He was never ashamed of his views because he supports his state,
he is a patriot of Ukraine.
And the fact is that on the Crimean peninsula,
hundreds of thousands are held imprisoned.
And they are our citizens.
They are behind-the-lines fighters.
Today.
For our sake.
Among those imprisoned are
my mum, my dad, my friends.
You know, it's already a year since I've been home.
And my friends at CrimeaSOS haven't been home for a year either.
And when it becomes really intolerable, my friend Alim Aliev cheers me up.
He says, "Don't be afraid, we will dance the haytarma on the ruins of the regime."
This symbol was made by me and my sister for this year's deportation anniversary.
It's a swallow flying over Crimea.
Crimea is red,
for today, it sends out an SOS signal to the whole civilized world.
Because human rights are being violated.
Because there is no freedom of speech.
Because of the difficult situation existing there now.
And this swallow is us today, Crimean Tatars, all Crimeans,
who want to return.
This swallow is me who is dreaming of hugging her parents in her homeland.
Actually, today, this swallow symbolizes not only us,
but Crimean Tatars of both categories:
those who stayed on the occupied land, those who had to leave home.
The swallow is dedicated to all forced migrants.
And, for your information, there are more than a million of them in the country.
I really want to hope, and I strongly believe,
that the swallows will return.
They always return.
And the spring shall come.
Thank you.
(Applause)