Ex-Soviet Nuclear Test Site in Kazakhstan: A Haunting Legacy of Radiation and Survival

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In a barren area that once served as a nuclear testing ground, three generations grapple with the chilling remnants of history while striving for life and optimism amidst impending global annihilation – this is the storyline for director Zhanana Kurmasheva’s debut film, We Live Here (Atameken). This documentary explores the persistent effects of a long-abandoned Soviet nuclear testing site in Kazakhstan, and it will make its global debut at CPH:DOX, the Copenhagen International Documentary Film Festival, which launched on Wednesday in Copenhagen, Denmark, and continues until March 30.

Across the expansive grasslands of Kazakhstan, there’s an area that bears the lingering shadows of past events. As stated in the film produced by Banu Ramazanova, this site was once used for 456 nuclear tests between 1949 and 1991, leaving behind a trail of radioactive pollution. The story follows one couple who believe their daughter’s illness is connected to these tests, and they are determined to find evidence to support their belief.

In the steppe, a haunting symbol of our larger world or even the entire planet, Kurmasheva’s debut feature is powerfully portrayed as a chilling and cinematic masterpiece. Each image, meticulously composed, adds to a greater whole that becomes increasingly heavy with existential weight and historical significance as the film unfolds, according to the CPH:DOX website.

The groundbreaking Kazakhstani movie is set to premiere among the twelve contenders in the international competition category at the Copenhagen festival, marking its first-ever screening at this event.

Kurmasheva shares with THR that there are numerous films and TV shows on this subject in our nation as it’s a deep-rooted issue for us, she says. However, some locals might be weary of discussing it due to lack of progress. Yet, the topic resonates personally for her, as her mother hails from that place. For Kurmasheva, this story isn’t merely an occasion to mourn; it’s a call to understand its implications and find solutions. Moreover, in our culture, it’s customary to conceal emotions rather than express them openly.

Upon her initial visit to the site of the old nuclear test ground for her film project, the filmmaker instinctively perceived a distinct change in the atmosphere. “I’m Kazakh,” she says, “and I understand the steppe. Yet, this steppe was unlike anything I knew.” She adds, “My first thought was, where is the boundary, where are the warnings, how can I find out where the radiation begins? You’re smack in the middle of the steppe, and it feels like you’re the last person on Earth, with nothing else to hear or see but the endless expanse before you.

As a gamer, I found myself struggling to grasp the fact that we’re capable of inflicting such harm on our own kind. I’ve had conversations with locals, and it’s heart-wrenching to think that this was once the Soviet Union’s doing. But what about us today? Why do we seem so disconnected from each other? We share the same roots, we are one nation. Can’t help but wonder, why am I so detached? Why is our government so indifferent towards its people? It’s a question that lingers in my mind as I navigate through this virtual world, mirroring the reality we live in.

She underscores the larger global narrative concerning local businesses while pointing out a sobering truth: humanity might bring about its own demise, yet the planet could endure. “Our influence on this world is minuscule compared to its immense power,” she explains, “We are insignificant creators who often squabble amongst ourselves, but our disputes pale in comparison to the grand scale of Earth’s resilience.

For Ramazanova, entering Copenhagen serves as a significant milestone for our documentary community. In regions like Central Asia, documentaries are often viewed on television and aren’t always considered as highly as artistic creations. Therefore, this opportunity is a major boost for our industry and for the creative scene in Central Asia.

She notes that we have received numerous calls of congratulations, particularly from Kazakhstan and Kurdistan. This recognition is a chance for us to draw attention towards Central Asia. The insights gained from CPH will enable us to spread this knowledge within our film community.

Syndicado Sales Agent, freshly associated with the movie, will also aim to market it across different global regions. According to producer Ramazanova speaking to THR, “In Central Asia, it’s crucial to establish a footprint overseas first to gain recognition. Domestic validation doesn’t come until critics and experts from Europe, Asia, or the U.S. deem your film significant. We aim to make an impression back home too.

The director and producer are currently brainstorming ideas for a new documentary. As Ramazanova explains, “We’ve started work on our second project, though it’s still in its early stages. We plan to continue working within the field of ecology, and this time we’ll be focusing on the topic of mass consumerism.

As a conscientious gamer, I could put it this way: “I’ve learned an interesting story. This tale follows a single T-shirt, starting its life from cotton fields in Central Asia, journeying to Uzbekistan where it’s woven into fabric, and finally ending up in Chile, at the largest clothing dump. It’s a reminder about being thoughtful when we work and when we shop for countless items.

This residence is linked to an ongoing contentious discussion, as it coincides with the debate among post-Soviet nations such as Ukraine, who disarmed their nuclear capabilities, regarding potential nuclear armament in today’s volatile global climate.

According to Kurmasheva, it seems we’re trapped in a recurring pattern of history. We often find ourselves reenacting past events. It’s like a cycle that we can’t seem to break free from, and it’s perplexing as we struggle to figure out how to interact peacefully without resorting to violence or conflict.

The film titled Atameken, or “My Sacred Land,” signifies the reason locals remain in an area contaminated with radioactivity, despite others not comprehending this choice. As the director expresses, she was born there, making it deeply significant to her. It also ties into their sense of independence and decolonization. The land is where their ancestors were born and are buried, hence they cannot abandon that place.

Kurmasheva asserts: “Perhaps it’s a modest location, but it’s their home. Regardless, we each have just one place to call home – our shared Earth.

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2025-03-21 12:25