Женщины и дети: право на жизнь

I remember a lot what happened during these two wars that took place on our land in the course of the last decade. There are a lot of tragedies, a lot of misfortunes, and a lot of tears. I would like to tell how in 1995 I arrived in the city of Grozny from my native village in Shatoiski district. Then, some time later, our district, as well as other two mountain districts – Sharoiski and Itum-Kalinski – were closed.

Daily, hourly, nightly these three districts and Argunski gorge were bombed from planes. And many peaceful residents were still remaining there. In particular, my mother, brothers and their children lived in the village. And we, part of intelligentsia, started knocking doors of various authorities, trying to do something. I remember, I had even sent a telegram to the Russian President Boris Yeltsin. I wrote that if we had been the citizens of Russia, the residents of Shatoiski district should have been provided their right to life. And I asked to provide a corridor to the people that they could leave the area.

Then we went to the representative office of the OSCE, to other places, the various humanitarian organizations. In the office of the OSCE, where we submitted a letter, we were told that our request would be viewed, and in a week we would receive an answer. Indeed, in a week the peaceful residents were granted the humanitarian corridor to leave the place. But for some reasons the route lied not along the highway used by the people to get to Shatoi, but through woods and gorges, through the abandoned villages, in particular, Suorat, Suzhi, and so on, with an exit through the villages of Saadi-Kotar (Komsomolskoe), Olkhazar-Kotar (Alkazurovo) to the plane.

This road had been never adjusted for driving on motor vehicles, and it was absolutely not clear, how taking this route the people would get out of the mountain areas. I went there together with representatives of the OSCE and the Red Cross. Upon arrival to Shatoiski district I immediately went to my native village. It was the end of May - the beginning of June of 1995. We succeeded to reach the village on cars because the weather was dry and hot. If it rained, no one could leave this place.

I came to the village, and I was met by my villagers who were exhausted by bombardments. Everything was bombed here – the district centre, the village, and the vicinities. People died, domestic cattle perished. And they were running to me, women, children, old men - with shouts and cries.

They all looked at me as at the rescuer. They began asking, what to do in this situation. I explained that the corridor for refugees would last only for three days, but advised them to leave the place as soon as possible. Because people from three other districts would start leaving the area, and the road would be overcrowded. Many of them could not manage by that time.

Indeed, we left on the very day. In spite of the fact that my villagers were almost the first, there were many other cars on the road. The way was very heavy. The dust overclouded the eyes, cars always sank in and stuck, they were pushed out manually. I witnessed, how several cars fell down to the precipice. The people were in bad condition.

Many of us went on foot, went by lorries, tractors, cars. It was a real resettlement. And I witnessed it. At that time I thought, that there were no values in the world, no ideas, to put this huge number of people, these women, children, old men, down on all fours. When they had to abandon the shelter, the villages, to throw everything and perish on the road. Those who left on the first day, survived. On the third day this road underwent bombardment, and a lot of people died and were wounded. It means, in spite of the fact that the militaries granted the humanitarian corridor through the mediation of international organizations, they opened fire at it.

I still remember well the vision of this peculiar world resettlement on those days. It was repetition of 1944, when all Chechens were deported to Siberia, Central Asia and Kazakhstan. Hundreds of people walking in clubs of dust, crying women, children, cars falling down to the precipice - it is impossible to forget it.

At that time, in 1995, as well as during the current military company there were many shocking facts of murder of defenseless people. It boggles the mind how at the end of 20-th century it is possible to do such things. I remember that in summer of 1995 in the settlement of Khaldi the whole family had been killed - six people. They were shot from the helicopter. People told, that the children escaping from the helicopter, had scattered in the kitchen garden, but all of them had been simply killed. There were a lot of talks about it, but the one who was guilty had not been punished for committing this crime. I do not remember the name of the killed family, but the residents of this village know it.

To our deep regret, neither this crime, nor any other similar cases happened to representatives of our people are highlighted or reported. Many people live in depression, think, that nothing can be changed, and nothing can be improved. But I am convinced that it is necessary to inform, write about these facts, and take them to judicial bodies. In fact, it was targeted murder of the peaceful citizens.

When the whole village is bombed, hospitals and schools are fired at, defenseless children are shot from helicopters – it is a pure and simple crime against the humanity. It is necessary to speak about it; it is necessary to search for the truth. At least we need to make sure that nothing similar would happen again. I believe that during these two wars on the territory of our republic all conceivable and inconceivable restrictions enacted by the international law had been violated. Our people suffered a lot.

At the very beginning of so-called «second Chechen war «, I also moved to the village. I need to admit, that this war was more severe and more antihuman, than the first one. Bombardments of villages, rocket and artillery shootings had systematic character. Together with my family I lived in the village of Varandy of Shatoiski district. I remember, when in the village of Chishki one person died, and our old men and women went to the funeral. On the way back they were shelled at. One woman from our village whom we all called Big Deida was killed. It was the first victim in our village right at the beginning of this war. Her death touched many of us because she was a lonely and hardworking woman. She had never meant harm to anyone; she had never said crossword to anyone, not to any person, and even to any animal. Everybody in the village liked her, and this first innocent victim of the new war was the most shocking to the people.

I remember when the column of the refugees escaping from the war actions had been attacked. I wrote a story about it. It happened sometimes in October, when militaries blocked the border with Ingushetia and did not let refugees pass it. And a huge crowd of people was stricken a violent blow. They said that 19 people had died at the scene, but probably, more people, who were wounded during this bombardment, died later on in the hospitals.

In Ingushetia I faced another problem, as necessity to search for accommodation to reside. I stopped temporarily at my relatives who had arrived earlier and had rented a two-room apartment. There were 12 people of us. It was a narrow place; it was almost impossible to breathe there. Every morning I went out, bypassed this settlement searching for leased premises. I had to go to all courtyards and ask, whether there was a room for rent. In the evening I was back and had to look into eyes of my mother and children who had come along with me. It was very painful to realize, that I could not solve this problem. At that time it required vast financial assets, which I did not have.

Finally, I managed somehow to solve this problem. Then I started working for the French organization «Doctors of the world ». Probably, only by the grace of the Almighty, I managed to get this job. I saw that our people lived in the hardest and, I can say, bestial conditions. They had to live in railway carriages, in cattle-breeding farms, and even in the thrown pigsties. It was national humiliation. Humiliation of the human dignity.

I saw, how several families lived in the same canvas tents. Being put in such conditions, they could not follow our national traditions and customs. And the conscious people suffered even more because of it.

According to the Chechen traditions we cannot beg. But our women, scorning the interdictions of our spiritual culture, for the sake of rescuing our children, overstepped all these borders and went to beg. Once in Nazran I accomplished my evening namaz (praying) and went out to the street. In the faded light of the windows (it was foggy rainy evening), I saw two rows of women standing on both sides of the street. When I started giving out alms among them I did not have enough money even for half of them. For me, as the Chechen writer, it was a tremendous tragedy and t