Someone asked what I’d like to have photographed during the war that I didn’t have a chance to. The first thing that came to my mind were the doctors – those working for 24 hours for more than 40 days. From the very first glance, they were exhausted, their hearts frozen. But deep inside, they were wounded with every wounded soldier and died with every dying soldier. The hospital of Stepanakert was like an entrance to hell, where the workers were angels. It was both the most dark and light-filled place. I regret I didn’t photograph more. It wasn't allowed, an order that came from “above”. I had a chance to take a few shots during those endless 40 something days.
So we have documented only a small part of the war. A small and allowed part. Tomorrow, some written text will trump visible proof and make us invisible. As always.
Photo : Areg Balayan
A volunteer doctor naps
Stepanakert’s hospital after shelling
Reanimobile takes another wounded soldire to the hospital
“I noticed that some of the wounded had numbers on their hands, each of them had following numbers on their hands. I asked the staff members what was the point of the numbers. It appeared they were unknown soldiers, they were unconscious, didn't have any identification documents or any friend that could tell their names. The doctors kept bringing them and treating. If the guys were lucky, they came to consciousness and were able to tell their names. In reality, this was extremely tragic and painful.
Some of the guys were apparently the soldiers of the enemy's forces: after the surgeries they started talking on their language.”
“That day was the birthday of a wounded soldier. The girls had tried to make a small celebration for him. 2 hours after taking this photo we were all evacuated.”
Another surgery at the hospital
Hospital’s nurses and doctors at the shelter
A nurse comforts distressed colleague
