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laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

The Chernobyl nuclear disaster
On April 26 1986, the No 4 reactor at the Chernobyl power station in Ukraine blew up. Facing nuclear disaster on an unprecedented scale, Soviet authorities responded by sending thousands of ill-equipped men into the radioactive hell. A book by Russian journalist Svetlana Alexievich tells the stories of eyewitnesses who recall the terrible human cost of the catastrophe.

When a routine test at Chernobyl went catastrophically wrong, a chain reaction went out of control creating a fireball that blew off the reactor's 1,000-tonne steel-and-concrete lid. There were 31 fatalities as an immediate result of the explosion and acute radiation exposure would end the lives of hundreds of others in the days that followed.

Evacuation of local residents was delayed by the Soviet authorities' unwillingness to admit the gravity of the incident. Eventually, more than 100,000 people were evacuated from the surrounding area in Ukraine and Belarus.

Bags of sand were dropped on to the reactor fire from the open doors of helicopters (analysts now think this did more harm than good). When the fire finally stopped, men climbed on to the roof to clear the radioactive debris. The machines brought in broke down because of the radiation. The men barely lasted more than a few weeks, suffering lingering, painful deaths. But had this effort not been made, the disaster might have been much worse.

As a result of the accident 485 villages and settlements in the surrounding countryside became uninhabitable, and 70 of those had to be completely demolished, dug up and carried away in trucks to be buried.

What follows is the story of Lyudmilla Ignatenko, the wife of one of the firemen sent in to tackle the blaze on the night of the explosion.

We were newlyweds. We still walked around holding hands, even if we were just going to the store. I would say to him, "I love you." But I didn't know then how much. I had no idea. We lived next to the fire station where he worked. One night I heard a noise. I looked out the window. He saw me. "Close the window and go back to sleep. There's a fire at the reactor. I'll be back soon."

Everything was radiant. The whole sky. A tall flame. And smoke. The heat was awful.

They went off just as they were, in their shirt sleeves. No one told them that they needed special gear. They stamped on the bits of burning debris that had been shot into the fields by the explosion.

At seven in the morning I was told he was in the hospital. I ran there but the police had already encircled it, and they weren't letting anyone through, only ambulances. The policemen shouted: "The ambulances are radioactive stay away!"

I saw him. He was all swollen. You could barely see his eyes.

"He needs milk. Lots of milk," my friend said. "They should drink at least three litres each."
"But he doesn't like milk."
"He'll drink it now."
Many of the doctors and nurses in that hospital would get sick themselves and die. But we didn't know that then.

I couldn't get into the hospital that evening. The doctor came out and said, yes, they were flying to Moscow, but we needed to bring them their clothes. The clothes they'd worn at the station had been burned. The buses had stopped running already and we ran across the city. We came running back with their bags, but the plane was already gone. They had tricked us.

When I got back to the fire station they measured me with a dosimeter. My clothes, bag, purse, shoes - they were all "hot". And they took that all away from me right there. Even my underwear. The only thing they left was my money.

The hospital in Moscow was a special hospital, for radiology, and you couldn't get in without a pass. I gave some money to the woman at the door, and she said, "Go ahead." Then I had to ask someone else - to beg them. Finally I'm sitting in the office of the head radiologist. Right away she said: "All right, listen: his central nervous system is badly affected, and his skull." 
OK, I'm thinking, so he'll be a little dizzy.
"And listen: if you start crying, I'll kick you out right away. No hugging or kissing. Don't even get near him. You have half an hour."
He looks so funny, he's got pyjamas on for a size 48, and he's a size 52. The sleeves are too short, the trousers are too short. But his face isn't swollen any more. They were given some sort of fluid. I say, "Where'd you run off to?" He wants to hug me. The doctor won't let him. "Sit, sit," she says. "No hugging in here."

He started to change; every day I saw him change. The burns started to come to the surface. In his mouth, on his tongue, his cheeks - at first there were little sores, and then they grew. The skin came off in layers - as white film ... the colour of his face ... his body ... blue, red, grey-brown.

The only thing that saved me was that it happened so fast; there wasn't any time to think, there wasn't any time to cry. It was a hospital for people with serious radiation poisoning. Fourteen days. In 14 days a person dies. When he turned his head, there'd be a clump of hair left on the pillow. I tried joking: "It's convenient, you don't need a comb." Soon they cut all his hair off.

I tell the nurse: "He's dying." And she says to me: "What did you expect? He got 1,600 roentgen. Four hundred is a lethal dose. You're sitting next to a nuclear reactor."

When they all died, they refurbished the hospital. They scraped down the walls and dug up the floor. When he died, they dressed him up in formal wear, with his service cap. They couldn't get shoes on him because his feet had swollen up. They buried him barefoot. My love.

Sergei Vasilyevich Sobolev - one of those responsible for constructing the shield over the Chernobyl power station.

There was a moment when there was the danger of a nuclear explosion, and they had to get the water out from under the reactor, so that a mixture of uranium and graphite wouldn't get into it - with the water, they would have formed a critical mass. The explosion would have been between three and five megatons. This would have meant that not only Kiev and Minsk, but a large part of Europe would have been uninhabitable. Can you imagine it? A European catastrophe.

So here was the task: who would dive in there and open the safety valve so we could pump out the water? They promised them a car, an apartment, aid for their families until the end of time. They searched for volunteers. And they found them! The boys dived, many times, and they pumped out the water, and the unit was given 7,000 roubles. They forgot about the cars and apartments they promised - that's not why they dived. These are people who came from a certain culture, the culture of the great achievement. They were a sacrifice.

And what about the soldiers who worked on the roof of the reactor? 3,600 soldiers worked on the roof to clear the debris and get it ready so we could build the concrete shield. These guys got it the worst. They had lead vests, but the radiation was coming from below, and they weren't protected there. They were wearing ordinary, cheap imitation-leather boots. They spent about a minute and a half, two minutes on the roof each day. They gathered fuel and graphite from the reactor, bits of concrete and metal. It took about 20-30 seconds to fill a wheelbarrow, and then another 30 seconds to throw the "garbage" off the roof. These special wheelbarrows weighed 40 kilos just by themselves. So you can picture it: a lead vest, masks, the wheelbarrows, and insane speed.

No one was really supposed to go up there. The job was supposed to be done by radio-controlled robots that the Americans and the Japanese gave us, but the radiation disrupted their electronics and they broke down after a few minutes.

The most reliable "robots" were the soldiers. They were christened the "green robots" [from the colour of their uniforms]. They slept on the ground in tents. They were young guys. These people don't exist any more, just the documents in our museum, with their names.

Arkady Filin - one of the so-called liquidators (people whose job it was to dig up and bury all the contaminated land and property in the huge area around Chernobyl)

You immediately found yourself in this fantastic world, where the apocalypse met the stone age. We lived in the forest, in tents, 200km from the reactor. There were between 25 and 40 of us; some of us had university degrees or diplomas. I'm a history teacher, for example. Instead of machine guns they gave us shovels. We buried trash heaps and gardens. The women in the villages watched us and crossed themselves. We had gloves, masks with respirators and white surgical robes.

The sun beat down on us. We showed up in their yards like demons. They didn't understand why we had to bury their gardens, rip up their vegetables when they looked just like ordinary vegetables. The old women would cross themselves and say, "Boys, what is this - is it the end of the world?"

In the house the stove's on, the meat is frying. You put a dosimeter to it, and you find it's not a stove, it's a little nuclear reactor. I saw a man who watched his house get buried. We buried houses, wells, trees. We buried the earth. We'd cut things down, roll them up into big plastic sheets. We buried the forest. We sawed the trees into 1.5m pieces and packed them in plastic sheets and threw them into graves.

Outside the villages we dug up the diseased top layer of soil, loaded it into trucks and took it to waste burial sites. I thought that a waste burial site would be a complex pice of engineering, but it turned out to be an ordinary pit. We picked up the earth and rolled it, like big carpets. We'd pick up the whole green mass of it, with grass, flowers, roots. It was work for madmen. If we weren't drinking like crazy every night, I doubt we'd have been able to take it. Our psyches would have broken down. We created hundreds of kilometres of torn-up, barren earth.

There was an emphasis on our being heroes. Once a week someone who was digging really well would receive a certificate of merit before all the other men. The Soviet Union's best grave digger. It was crazy.

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The Chernobyl nuclear disaster On April 26 1986, the No 4 reactor at the Chernobyl power station in Ukraine blew up. Facing nuclear disaster on an unprecedented scale, Soviet authorities responded by sending thousands of ill-equipped men into the radioactive hell. A book by Russian journalist Svetl... Read more

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laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

What is a friend? A single soul, dwelling in two bodies” – Aristotle

True friendship is perhaps the only relation that survives the trials and tribulations of time and remains unconditional. A unique blend of affection, loyalty, love, respect, trust and loads of fun is perhaps what describes the true meaning of friendship. Similar interests, mutual respect and strong attachment with each other are what friends share between each other. These are just the general traits of a friendship. To experience what is friendship, one must have true friends, who are indeed rare treasure.

Friendship is a feeling of comfort and emotional safety with a person. It is when you do not have to weigh your thoughts and measure words, before keeping it forth before your friend. It is when someone knows you better than yourself and assures to be your side in every emotional crisis. It is when you can sleep fighting and get another morning with a better understanding. Friendship is much beyond roaming together and sharing good moments, it is when someone comes to rescue you from the worst phase of life. Friendship is eternal.

Different people have different definitions of friendship. For some, it is the trust in an individual that he / she won’t hurt you. For others, it is unconditional love. There are some who feel that friendship is companionship. People form definitions based on the kind of experiences they have had. This is one relation that has been nurtured since time immemorial. There are famous stories about friends in mythologies of different religions all over the world. They say a person who has found a faithful friend has found a priceless treasure.

Psychologically speaking, friendship may be defined as ‘a dynamic, mutual relationship between two individuals. As children become friends, they negotiate boundaries within which both partners function’. This helps them to function like healthy individuals in life as they learn to draw a line as and when needed in a relation. This greatly helps in the emotional development of an individual. However, any relation needs constant nurturing and development from all the people that are involved in one. Friendship cannot survive if one person makes all the effort to sustain it without any mutual recognition from others.

Since friendship starts the moment a child starts socializing, the kind of friends that the child chooses should be taken care of till the time he / she learns to differentiate between right and wrong. Wrong peers or lack of socializing can lead to severe psychological traumas and disorders, finally leading to social maladjustment. The correct peer group is essential for the development of the personality of a child. Both positive and negative experiences refine the personality of the individual. Thus it is essential that you find friends who are compatible with you on an emotional and psychological basis.

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What is a friend? A single soul, dwelling in two bodies” – Aristotle True friendship is perhaps the only relation that survives the trials and tribulations of time and remains unconditional. A unique blend of affection, loyalty, love, respect, trust and loads of fun is perhaps what describe... Read more

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8 years

graciana › Treasure

8 years

6 years

Shavkat › A friend can accept who you are

6 years

laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

The Death of PoetryThe consensus seems to be that poetry is dead. It was great in its time, but its time is past. Who reads poetry now, for God's sake? No music, no video clips, no pin-up poets - absolutely nothing sexy about poetry whatsoever.So what killed poetry? Undoubtedly one of the culprits was pop, although this was just one aspect of an entertainment industry whose influence went so deep that it managed to ensure that no one any longer would have an ear for poetry.In its day poetry was kept alive by a certain sensibility that many people in the middle and upper classes had. These were people who could travel out into the countryside and just sit and listen to the birds singing and the wind gently whistling through the leaves - or marvel at the ever-changing shapes of the passing clouds. They were people who could turn their backs on the chatter of urban life for a time and contemplate something that seemed grander or more profound or more uplifting - something poetic.The people who grew up to be like this were people who were familiar with silence. Houses a hundred years ago must have been relatively quiet places - places conducive tomeditating upon the shivering little bird on the bare branch of the tree outside in the bleak midwinter evening. After all, what else was there to do? If you wanted music you would have to play an instrument. If you wanted chatter you would have to invite people over and start chatting.Added to this was a culture centred on books. Long before it was possible to cheaply reproduce and widely distribute either images or sounds, the printing press had made it possible for a culture to spring up which revolved around the written word.Things have changed. People grow up with a constant supply of mass-produced music and chat and TV images and noise - a wall of sound keeping almost everything else out. The sheer extent of the exposure creates, in many people, a psychological need to keep the music and the chatter and the noise going. The place seems empty and time seems to pass in a deathly way without it. When no oneany longer was able to take pleasure in silence there ceased to be an audience for poetry and the artform we had known for some 3,000 years died.Since it is dead why don't we just leave it to rot in its grave? But some of us believe that we should try to keep alive the memory, at least, of what once was. We can still read the old poems there on the yellowing paper even though the audience for whom they were intended has largely disappeared.As an effort in this direction we offer a little introductory tour of the graveyard of English poetry.

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The Death of PoetryThe consensus seems to be that poetry is dead. It was great in its time, but its time is past. Who reads poetry now, for God's sake? No music, no video clips, no pin-up poets - absolutely nothing sexy about poetry whatsoever.So what killed poetry? Undoubtedly one of the culprits w... Read more

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8 years

Smokey2017 › Poetry is wonderful
And express one feelings
But hardly used anymore

8 years

6 years

Alianess › It's so sad poetry is no longer valued as in olden times. I love poems a lot.

6 years

laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

Write a story which involves a blind or disabled personThe sun was setting as Samuel sat in his car near the railway station. He was waiting to pick up his nephew from the station. As he had found a place to park and the air had cooled down, he decided against getting out fo the car. His nephew knew where to find him.The road that passed by the railway station was a busy one but there was a single lights-operatedcrossing that periodically turned green for about ten seconds for the pedestrians. As if by magic all vehicles stopped before the crossing every time this happened.Presently Samuel saw a blind man walking very slowly on the other side of the road. There was no one else on the other side. On reaching the traffic lights, the blind man stopped. It appeared that he wanted to cross. Samuel was curious to see how a blind man managed a crossing like this.The lights turned green for the pedestrian and thevehicles stopped, but the blind man did not move. Ten seconds passed and the vehicles sped off again. Three timesin a rowthe lights turned green for the blind man to cross but he didnot. Obviously he was not going to make it on hisown.Samuel got out of his car and crossed over to theother side of the road at the next change of lights. He asked the blind man whether he wanted to cross the road. The blind man nodded.So when the lights changed again, Samuel quickly helped the man cross the road. It took more than ten seconds but the waiting vehicles did not move until the duo had crossed safely.Once across, Samuel asked the blind man where he wanted to go. The man said he wanted to go to the canteen. Canteen ? He must mean the canteen in the railway station. So Samuel took the man by the hand and led him to the canteen. On the way he met his nephew Tony. On seeing his uncle with the blind man, Tony offered to takeover the task of leading the blind man.At the canteen, the proprietor came out and took over. The blind man was one of his relatives. He thanked the helpful duo and led the blind man inside.Having done what they could, Samuel and Tony headed towards their car. They were glad they could see. Being blind was certainly a big handicap.in a rowone after another without a break

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Write a story which involves a blind or disabled personThe sun was setting as Samuel sat in his car near the railway station. He was waiting to pick up his nephew from the station. As he had found a place to park and the air had cooled down, he decided against getting out fo the car. His nephew knew... Read more

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8 years

Maydelene › Nice story...

8 years

laglaglag1 › thank's

8 years

laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

My HobbyMy hobby is reading. I read story books, magazines, newspapers and any kind of materialthat I find interesting.This hobby got started when I was a little boy. I had always wanted my parents to read fairy talesand other stories to me. Soon they got fed up andtired of having to read to me con... Read more

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8 years

Borderline › nice

8 years

7 years

HazySue › I love to read also. It has a way of taking you to a place you might never go otherwise.

7 years

Matt › I love to read alot

7 years

laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

A visit to the dentistMy tooth hurt through the night. I had to take a painkiller to lessen the pain. Worst of all I didnot get a wink of sleepthe whole night through.The next morning. I told my mother about my toothache. It was obvious I could not go to school. So instead she took me to the dentist... Read more

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8 years

Maydelene › Everyone should need to visit the Dentist regularly..

8 years

laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

My first day at school My mother accompanied me to school on the first day. Other parents accompanied their children as well. We all waited in front of the school office.Soon a teacher came and led us to some classrooms. There we were put into four separate classes. This was when some children began... Read more

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laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

Caught in a stormBlack clouds gathered above us, but we were too intent on playing football. We hoped that the clouds would go away so that we could continue playing.Our hopes weredashedwhen suddenly heavy rain began to pour. In a few seconds we were all soaked to the skin. To make matters worst, li... Read more

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laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

My  ClassmatesWe are a noisy lot, that is what our teachers say about us. This is largely due to Ah Keong. He is the noisiest of us all. His voice is like that of a bull frog but volumes louder. It seems that he cannot talk softly. Actually he does not talk, he shouts. Perhaps his living with his family of ten children has something to do with it.In this noisy bunch lives a boy who hardly ever opens his mouth. This is Padma, the boy who sits next to me. He is such a gentle and soft creature that one would think that he is asissy. This is not so. No one dares call him one for he isa member of the school's Karate Club.Then there is Doris, our class monitor. She sits right in front of the teacher's table. She is such a model student that all the teachers love her. We all love her for she does notboss us around. Shehas given up doing that long ago. All she does is to make sure that the teachers have sufficient chalk and that the classroom is clean.Right at the back of the class sits our class sleepy-head. Mat seems to need more sleep than others. He catches cat-naps in between lessons. Theastoundingthing is that he can fall asleep almost instantly. The moment the teacherleaves after a lesson, Mat's snores start up and we know he is at it again. Remarkably he wakes up when the next teacher arrives.Every class has a clown. Our class has Jack, otherwise known as "Jacko The Clown". He is always up to some prank or other, putting tails onthe boys' pants, frogs in the girls' desks and powdered chalk on the teacher's chair. So when we hear a girl scream or see men-teachers strolling around with chalk on the seat of their pants, we know that Jacko has struck again.The other classmates too have their own unique personalities. Each contributes his or her part to our class. All in all we are a group of young children who perhaps are a bit noisy at times, buton the whole are well-behaved and pleasant to be with.sissya boy who other boys dislike and laugh at because they think he is weak or interestedin activities girls usually like, or a person who is weak and cowardly

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My ClassmatesWe are a noisy lot, that is what our teachers say about us. This is largely due to Ah Keong. He is the noisiest of us all. His voice is like that of a bull frog but volumes louder. It seems that he cannot talk softly. Actually he does not talk, he shouts. Perhaps his living with his fa... Read more

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laglaglag1 › New article
8 years ago

Pakistani star of Indian show found deadWeb ReportLast updated on July 23, 2017 at 1.21 pmZain AliThe mysterious death of Zain Ali, a Pakistani singer who contested in the Indian reality show 'Sa Re Ga Ma Pa' in 2012, has sent shock waves across the music fraternity. Zain was found lying unconscious in a washroom at his friend's place in Sheikhupura.The singer, who hailed from Lahore, left his homeon Thursday night to visit his friends. His brother,Sonu Ali, was quoted as saying to The Express Tribune, "Zain told us he was going to hang out with his friends for a few days but we woke up to the news of his death."Police are investigating the case. However, rumours of drug overdose are doing the rounds. Sonu confirmed that his brother did have drug addiction issues, but denied drug overdose taking Zain's life. The Express Tribune also stated that initial reports allude to a potential brain haemorrhage as being the cause of Zain's untimely death. However, the actual medical reason is still to be ascertained and the family is awaiting the final postmortem report.With news of Zain's death coming shortly after the suicide of Linkin Park lead singer Chester Bennington, Pakistan's Punjabi music community initially dubbed the Lahori singer's death as "another suicide". However, Zain's family are certain that the musician did not take his own life, "I am certain he didn't commit suicide but I guess we'll have confirmation once the investigation and postmortem reports are here," said Sonu to The Express Tribune. The singer was apparently working on a new music for an upcoming film and was eagerly looking forward to it, which makes the news of his demise even more shocking.Zain was catapulted to fame after his appearance in Sa Re Ga Ma Pa, and he quickly became a household name in both Pakistan and India. His supporters even included Bollywood powerhouse Shah Rukh Khan. Many industry veterans considered Zain to be at the forefront of the future Pakistani music.Check out one of the late performer's acts on Sa Re Ga Ma Pa below.

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Pakistani star of Indian show found deadWeb ReportLast updated on July 23, 2017 at 1.21 pmZain AliThe mysterious death of Zain Ali, a Pakistani singer who contested in the Indian reality show 'Sa Re Ga Ma Pa' in 2012, has sent shock waves across the music fraternity. Zain was found lying unconscious... Read more

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8 years

Smokey2017 › No Idea on who he is sorry

8 years

laglaglag1

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laglaglag1

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