Chernobyl

Twenty Years
I remember the Chernobyl nuclear disaster very well because it began in the Soviet Union the same day as my first wedding took place back in the USA. The exact date it started was worse than an omen, because we flew to Europe that evening and arrived in London -- just as the first rumors of the accident were making their rounds. This was before ubiquitous internet access and 24 hour news, so it was hard to get any facts. But we knew about it immediately.

Many Londoners, however, seemed oblivious during the first few days of the “toxic event,” even while radiation continued spewing out of the burning reactor number four. Someone or some article from the International Herald Tribune suggested swabbing iodine above one’s knees and one’s wrists as a block against fallout. Don’t drink milk, avoid rain, and wait for news updates. Some honeymoon!

Wild rumors began flying: Kiev was under martial law. Thousands of Soviets were poisoned and dying. The Red Army had sealed off dead zones. Warsaw was in the path of a large plume; Sweden would be next, then Scotland.

My first wife Liz Pauk and I warily proceeded and next made our way to Paris. Since we had unlimited Eurail passes, we could hop most trains and go just about anywhere in Western Europe. We headed for the south of France, where Liz became ill, but recovered enough that we pushed on to Italy via Pisa, and eventually we made it as far east as Vienna before heading back west via Germany. By that time, a clearer picture was emerging. Yes, the Iron Curtain borders were being sealed as a safety and security precaution by the Warsaw Pact countries. Yes, radiation was a real danger, but there wasn’t much anyone could do about it. We flew back to the States from Paris.

The Soviets lost something like thirty-one killed either in the initial accident or trying to contain it. Twenty years later, we still don’t know how many have died or suffered as a result of the disaster. Estimates range from 9,000 to over 90,000 dead or dying from radiation poisoning.

The timing for us personally was so bizarre it still makes me wonder. What are the chances of getting married on such a day? We chose that date out of convenience, having been just laid off by Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill as they transferred their business operations out of North Carolina and therefore had a block of time before starting new jobs at Duke University.

All in all, 1986 was a rough year. The space shuttle Challenger blew up in January, and Ronald Reagan and his crew of yahoos were acting like scary war mongerers, supporting Islamic extremists against the Soviets in Afghanistan and fighting a series of clandestine guerilla wars in Latin America. The Reagan administration funnelled weapons to Saddam Hussein in his war against Iran, even while it also supplied weapons to Iran and propped up the Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega. All in keeping with George Orwell's dystopian 1948 vision for 1984.
Oh, the ironies abound for today, exactly twenty years later. A salute to the rescue teams and all those who died.