Across Belarusian prisons, wardens routinely force political detainees to clear every trace of snow, scraping down to the asphalt. Prisoners haul sack after sack of snow away from the facility and are often denied time or facilities to wash and warm up afterward.
Human rights activist Leanid Sudalenko, serving a three-year sentence in Vitebsk, describes his arrival during deep winter: ‘As soon as you enter the prison, everyone — including those in quarantine — is ordered out to the courtyard to start shoveling.’ Inmates are given improvised shovels made from plywood nailed to broom handles and ordered to remove snow until the blacktop shows. ‘No, not a single snowflake is allowed to be seen at the prison,’ Sudalenko says.
Snow duty falls mostly on political prisoners. Minsk-based rights group Viasna reports Belarus currently holds more than 1,100 political prisoners. Those who refuse or try to avoid the task face punishment: solitary confinement, bans on visits and packages, and other penalties. Snow removal is not treated as regular labor, so prisoners must rise hours earlier than normal to complete it, sometimes working while drenched in sweat and without adequate opportunity to wash.
Prison routines intensify the exposure to cold. Inmates are assembled outdoors for roll call three times a day; each roll call can last up to an hour and is never moved indoors or shortened, even in sub-zero temperatures. Solitary confinement, to which many political prisoners are subjected, makes conditions worse: heaters often do not work, blankets are withheld, and prisoners sleep on the floor or bare metal cots. Warm underwear and other personal items may be confiscated.
Former political prisoner Darya Afanasyeva, who spent two winters in the Gomel Women’s Penal Colony — where opposition figure Maria Kolesnikova also served five years before her unexpected December 2025 release — recalls relentless early shifts. If snow begins to fall, there is no respite: after work, prisoners must go out again to shovel. Those with money can buy sturdier tools; others must improvise. Beyond scraping asphalt clean, inmates must bag the snow and carry it away so administrators never see it on site. Women fill sack-sized bags or repurpose shopping bags, dragging them to large piles behind the canteen and shower blocks.
Medical needs and basic hygiene are routinely ignored. Afanasyeva says she had a medical restriction against lifting heavy loads but was still forced to carry snow. In one winter, an illness affected perhaps 40% of inmates; officials discussed quarantining but instead underreported the extent of sickness. Sick prisoners are often forced to wait outside in freezing weather to receive medication. Structural failings in some blocks — for example, a leaking roof in Gomel’s cellblock 13 — mean inmates must wear heavy coats even while sleeping.
Prison rules also limit how women may dress: pants are forbidden and skirts or dresses are required, with prison-issue or family-supplied leggings allowed underneath in winter. Without support from home, many inmates lack warm underwear, scarves and proper footwear. Some resort to wrapping tights around their necks for warmth, only to have guards confiscate them; others put sanitary pads inside damp, thin issue shoes to add insulation.
Former prisoners describe lasting trauma from these winters. Afanasyeva says the season now triggers memories of suffering instead of childhood joy. Sudalenko calls the administrators’ demands a mockery and a form of torture. To avoid outdoor shoveling, some women volunteer for extra indoor shifts despite the hardship.
Translated by Jon Shelton