Alexey and Elena Risovs were born and raised in Latvia — he in Jelgava, she in Jurmala. However, they never received citizenship, remaining “non-citizens.” For a long time, they didn’t consider moving, but circumstances — economic and then frankly Russophobic — made life in the Baltics impossible. Today, the family lives in Belarus, in Alexey’s family home near Soligorsk, and is confident they made the only right choice.
“Non-citizens” on their own land
Alexey has Belarusian roots. His parents lived in Latvia until 1991, then returned to Belarus, his mother’s homeland. Alexey remained in the Baltics but did not follow his parents to move. In autumn 1991, the Latvian authorities split society in two parts. Some became citizens, others “non-citizens.” Outsiders, roughly said.
“In all these years, my parents have never regretted moving to Belarus,” says Alexey. “They love everything here. However, now I, too, understand perfectly well those who are leaving. We feel exactly the same way now.”
Economic dead end: unemployment and exorbitant bills
At first, the family didn’t even consider to change their lives dramatically. However, the crisis and economic policy took their toll.
“Everything was fine before. But life became harder and harder from year to year,” Elena says. “For the last two years, my husband hasn’t been able to find a job.”
Unemployment and rapidly rising prices further pushed the family to move. Utility bills became particular worries.
“We rented a one-room apartment for 500 euros. In fact, utilities in Latvia are a story of its own,” shares Elena. “There are separate companies servicing the house there, and each one comes up with its own additions, its own repair work, which actually is not even carried out. The main thing is that we pay.”
Alexey cites shocking figures: “So you understand: in our house, one cubic meter of cold water cost 30 euros. Hot water — 40 euros. Just water!”
Russophobia and the language barrier: how lives were ruined
However, while the economy could still be tolerated, growing Russophobia blocked common sense. Russian-speaking teachers were fired in large numbers, television channels were blocked, and the ban on the use of Russian in public places and even on public transportation became a strict norm.
“Because I didn’t speak Latvian, we were treated with prejudice. It was very unpleasant and hurtful,” says Elena. “It became especially difficult when it affected school. My daughter felt very uncomfortable.”
Alexey fondly recalls the past, when people lived in peace: “We used to communicate normally, back in Soviet times. I’d speak my native language, the other person would respond in theirs, and we understood each other perfectly. We could switch to Latvian or Russian. But now people have become stubborn. Going to the store was okay—at least reasonable people would answer in Latvian. But when you go to a government agency, a post office, or the police… speaking Russian can easily get you a fine.”
War on memory: monument demolition and ribbon ban
The last straw for the family was the war on historical memory. When the Latvian authorities, following Ukraine, began tearing down monuments to the liberating soldiers and banning Victory Day celebrations, there was no doubt left.
“Five men in yellow uniforms took an old man with all his medals and dragged him away as if he were some kind of criminal. It was absolutely heartbreaking to watch,” Alexey says, pained. “And if you want to honor the war`s memory, then, for example, wearing a St. George’s ribbon can get you a real fine.”
Something unimaginable is happening in schools: children, starting in kindergarten, are being indoctrinated with alien European “values.” I don’t and never will support LGBT propaganda, where they instill in children the idea that a family can be “mother and mother” or “father and father.” That’s why we left.
Belarus as a home: security, care, and confidence in the future
Today, the Risovs family lives in Belarus, in Alexey’s parents’ home. Adaptation is proceeding gradually, but most importantly, they feel safe. Their daughter, Milena, has already made new friends; she’s calm and unafraid of going to school.
“As soon as we crossed the border, a feeling of calm immediately appeared,” Alexey admits. “I kept thinking, ‘I wish I could just forget this whole thing like a nightmare.’ And when it happened, we finally breathed a sigh of relief. Here we see that the president cares about the people. This is strikingly different from the governments of European countries, where, judging by the news, no one cares about their citizens. We are truly glad to be here. We are absolutely at peace with our security; the constant tension we had there is gone here.”
Elena adds: “Nostalgia for the past, of course, won’t go away. However, the feeling of being at home — it’s here. And it really is.”
The couple has already received several job offers and believes that despite the fences and barbed wire that currently separate Latvia and Belarus, our peoples will definitely live in friendship. In the meantime, every thinking person must choose common sense, safety, and a happy future for their children.