Day one
We ended up in the reception center of Severny settlement late in the evening. Straight from the Zelenograd court, together with two Azerbaijanis, we were loaded into a prison van. The Azerbaijanis resisted and asked to go home - to get a towel and a toothbrush. They were not allowed. On the way to the detention center, we stopped at some medical facility to check whether we had lice. The check went like this: "Do you have lice?" - "No." - "Will you wash?" I did not express a desire. The Azerbaijanis first went into the shower, but after looking at all this disgrace, they also refused. "Don't want to - don't have to." They scribbled something and sent us off. The rest of the night was spent in a tiny holding cell. As for furniture - only walls and bare iron mesh.
Day two
In the morning - assignment to cells. Before that - a search. The procedure is quite humiliating: you stand before the guard in your birthday suit and also give some explanations. They took away my toothpaste because it was in an aluminum tube, and a pencil. As the operative said, "a pencil could serve as an instrument of crime." They were also very interested in my SIM card. The guard spent a long time checking whether it was blocked. Just in case, I said yes. Then they simply broke it. They allowed me to keep a stack of paper and a notebook. On average, 10-11 people live in a room. It's tolerable, if only the conditions were better. Only two or three have bed linen. But you get the feeling that the sheets haven't been changed for years - you're afraid to touch them. Though sometimes the blankets are sent for roasting - to eliminate insects. My neighbors are Moldovans, Azerbaijanis and Tajiks. Many were taken straight from construction sites. They were brought like that - covered in concrete, paint and cement. In the cell we have a sink and a toilet. True, it all works very cunningly. Only cold water runs from the tap. And the toilet flush is connected to the hot water.
Day five
I thought that apart from us, ordinary prisoners were also held here. However, the neighbors claim that only illegal immigrants live here. There are special cells for blacks and Chinese. Vietnamese are somehow kept together with everyone else. I haven't met any Europeans here.
It is not easy to get out of here. Most often, natives of Central Asia are lucky. They are the majority here. Tajiks are sent home by whole planes. But other nationalities have a hard time. They told about a Georgian who has been languishing in these cells for a year already. Very little budget money is allocated for deportation, so the queue for buying a government ticket moves slowly. You can pay for the trip out of your own pocket, but there is a whole list of conditions. First, the ticket must be a plane ticket. Because for transportation by rail, an escort is required, and there are no funds for that either. Second, the plane must depart from the airport closest to the reception center. The reasons are the same: saving on gasoline and police escort. But since most detainees have no relatives or acquaintances in Moscow, there is no one to help. Letters and long-distance calls from the reception center are forbidden.
Day seven
The only entertainment is trips to the canteen. They take people out to eat from several cells at once - about 30 at a time. The menu: porridge made of overcooked grain or mashed potatoes, which tastes like wet dust mixed with gasoline. Of this, only the soup can be slurped, with difficulty. But eating in the reception center is an art. There are only six spoons in the canteen. The detainees manage as best they can. Some lap it up like dogs, others drink from the edge. Craftsmen make spoons from plastic bottles. I managed with a crust of bread. Later, my wife sent me a little cake for my birthday and attached a little spoon to it. It was a miracle. I learned that 12 rubles a day are allocated for the upkeep of an illegal immigrant. Yeah, you can't even feed a canary on that amount...
Day ten
I managed to get a pen. It turns out that once a week, for three minutes, upon a written request, they allow you to make a call. If you don't get through, you wait another week. You can talk exclusively about buying a ticket. Today I used this right - I tried to find a lawyer. It was busy all the time. The operative sympathized with me. Then the guys in the cell explained that, as it turns out, there is an exit to the city through "9". So it turns out they didn't warn me on purpose. Visits, although allowed, are not welcomed. In general, relatives need to stock up on patience, and to push, demand, and make a fuss. If you want without unnecessary red tape - the rate is 500 rubles. You must definitely demand an inventory list for the package. Otherwise, the gifts will almost certainly be halved. For example, good cigarettes "Prima" will be replaced, etc.
I wrote a complaint to the prosecutor's office.
Day fifteen
The result of all complaints - I was transferred to a "two-man cell". It is much more pleasant to be here. But there are disadvantages - limited communication. If earlier I could pass a note to someone in the outside world, now it is difficult. In the reception center I met a fellow countryman from Nikolaev. He's been stuck here for a month already. His relatives don't know what's happened to him. He asked me to contact his mother. Now she will have to come to Moscow and buy a ticket for her son. A Moldovan on the next floor declared a hunger strike. His three-month term of detention has already expired, but they still won't send him home. True, the protest led to nothing. A day later, they simply extended his term.
Day twenty
We were taken to the bathhouse. They herded us into some little room and warned: the water is slightly warm because the heating hasn't been fixed yet. One bar of laundry soap for ten people. Only four showers are in working order. To avoid creating a queue - one lathers up, another rinses off and flies out like a bullet. In the neighboring cell on our floor, quarantine has been declared. An epidemic. Something intestinal. Several people were taken away by ambulance. A woman came to us, sprayed a thin stream of chlorine bleach on the floor from a spray bottle. It was called disinfection.
Day twenty-five
You can go mad from idleness. If only they made us work. Walks, unlike in an ordinary prison, are not provided here at all; there is no library, no newspapers. Also, a light bulb burned out in our cell. When they fixed it, all the wiring on the floor went. But nothing, five more days - and long live freedom!
P.S. The story of the misadventures of Ukrainian Vladimir Shelukhin and Muscovite Inna Makarova is not over yet. The fate of the Russian-Ukrainian marriage still hangs by a thread. Shelukhin still has several court cases ahead with officials from the Zelenograd OVIR. And it is no secret that Russian courts today resemble a game of roulette: lucky or not. Often laws are not taken into account. The spouses fear that under the current circumstances Vladimir will not be able to obtain a residence permit at all. But they are ready to fight. They are now collecting documents to file a lawsuit against the Zelenograd OVIR for causing moral damage. If it doesn't work in Russia, they are ready to go even to the Strasbourg Court.