Confession of exile

Confession of exile Sometimes you have to hear this opinion: when it is hard for people, they are not sad songs, but invigorating, lifting spirit. Why sort out the old sorrows, we must try to forget them ... This has its own truth. But what if the experience is not forgotten, hourly, every minute reminds of itself? Probably, at least once you need to speak out, throw out your pain, relieve your heart. In my old notebooks in the summer of 1993, a kind of confession of refugees from the suburban region has been preserved. With Tamara Daskieva, we turned out to be fellow travelers: we went from Grozny to the Sunzhensky district. An elderly woman complained about a headache and, as it were, explained in justification: “She did not sleep at all today. My daughter screamed at night in a dream. He said, I dreamed that Ossetians with machine guns were pursuing ... " What a strong shock should be if, after so many months, nightmares are not released! “And since then I can’t fall asleep at all,” Tamara admitted. “I will forget about five minutes - and dreams, as if I would pull the bones of my son out of the ground ...” ... No need to be sad. God saved the sons then. The whole family survived during the battle in the suburban area, and even replenished with a new member: Tamerlana had the first -born. And they got a job, in general, relatively good: the husband with other refugees stopped at Nazran, and she with the children in Grozny, in the apartment, at their disposal to Beslan Kostoev. Tamara was infinitely grateful to the Kostoev family. “They even put a sewing machine for us, I earn a living by sewing,” she said. She seemed to be lucky with work too: at the Karabulak factory, chemical reagents are ready for her, who worked at the chemical plant all her life. It was more difficult with housing. As much as Tamara remembers, housing was an eternal problem for them. “In 1944,” she said, “I turned four years old.” Of the three children in the family, I was the oldest. The younger brother during eviction was only two weeks. Burdened with small children, the mother could almost nothing on the road. Many people then died of hunger and cold, my father died in Kazakhstan. Mother, like me now, earned sewing, changed the sewn on bran ... In 1957, we returned home lightly: we were so happy that we were allowed to return, that they took almost nothing. But our house in the suburban area, in Oktyabrsky, was occupied by an Ossetian family. We never had a chance to live in him: they built it just a year of eviction. Mom asked for permission to look at him, and at the same time saw the owners and her things. They invited us to buy this house, but we did not have funds, we got a private apartment. 3-4 years lived without registration, without work. The district police officer constantly came, checked us. Then the commission arrived from Moscow, the registration was allowed retroactively. They built a house from Saman. By that time, my brother died, and I got a job as an apparatchian, I entered the Baku chemical in absentia. Over time, they gave an apartment from the plant, allocated the car in order. The younger brother built a house last year only last year. And then he was left without a house, as our parents at one time ... We did not demand to return the father’s house when we arrived from Kazakhstan, although it was bitter to realize how unfairly we treated us. Moreover, we were not going to shed blood. Fatima Dakhkilgova Resident of Vladikavkaz -On October 31, my parents went to the bazaar and did not return. We did not know what happened. At home, except me were: my aunt (mother’s sister)-Lyuba (20 years old), sister-Larisa (17 years old), brother-Yakub (13 years old), two cousins ​​at the age of 5 and 3 years. We saw out the window as at noon next to our house killed the Ingush-hostages, mainly women and children. I can’t say how many of them were killed there, because it was very difficult to look at it, and I often moved away from the window. Not far from our house there was a large playground on which all this happened. It was approximately 11 o’clock in the afternoon when they began to take the prisoners of the Ingush. There were almost no men among them, except for several adolescents and old people. A huge crowd of Ossetians gathered around them, mainly our neighbors. But there were Ossetians that I did not know. All of them laughed loudly, whistled, hooted whenever they killed another Ingush. A large circle was formed around the Ingush. Several guards were taken out a man in a circle and held tightly until they were convinced that he died. They killed this way: they beat on the head, in the face, in the stomach, cut off their ears, nose, grunted their eyes, stewed cigarettes on their bodies. We noticed a woman from the window a little older than 20 years. In her arms she had a boy of two or three years. She wanted to pass by the crowd, but, apparently, frightened, she ran into the entrance of house No. 15. She was a long time. Leaving the entrance, not paying attention to the crowd, she wanted to quickly pass by. It was the only way from this house. Several Ossetians looked at her and began to scream. The woman wanted to run away, but several guards and civilians caught up with her. Having taken the child and dragging the woman into the circle, she began to hit her face simultaneously and undress. Having stripped a naked, she was dragged into the porch. All this time she screamed, cried, beat off. Some guardsman grabbed the boy by the legs and, very swinging, hit his head against the wall of house number 15. But the boy shouted very much. The guardsman hit him twice his head against the wall. The boy stopped screaming, and the guardsman threw him into a pile of the bodies of the killed Ingush. His mother was again dragged from the entrance. Several guards held her hands, the rest for a long time extinguished their cigarettes on her body. They lit them again and stew them again. Some of them had lighters, they laughed a woman with a laugh face, arms, hair. Her terrible scream stopped only when she died. But even after that they continued to extinguish the cigarettes on her body, then she was thrown into a common pile. Aunt forbade us to look out the window and led out of the room. All day we were afraid that they would come for us. At three in the morning we left the house and went to our father's friend. He is Russian, lives in Vladikavkaz. For three weeks we were hiding in his family, then with his help the father took us to a tan. Why are we such a fate, what are we to blame for? Where can Ingush build a house to live in it without fear that they will take it away? ... Tamara had other questions. - If you are there, in Oktyabrsky, go outside of Friendship Street, house 115, apartment 19, ask new residents how they sleep on other people's beds after the armed bandits pushed the owners barefoot and shattered from this house at night? However, if the Ossetian people showed the truth, I think many would have woken up. Now they are strengthened by the propaganda that the government leads. I do not worry about my things: losing the acquired - not the worst. The humiliation that the Ingush people suffered is much harder. I only dream of one thing: so that Russian troops left from there ... Do you know what pleases me? When we were freed from hostages, our whole family was in the hospital. I learned that there are Ossetian hostages. I wanted to see how they are kept, because for us, the Ingush captives, a existing hell was created in the gym of the village of Sunzha. This is a nightmare that was going on there ... Ossetians came to look at us as a menagerie, threatened with reprisals: they say, in Ingushetia their people were suffered by torment. Only bread and sometimes water were brought to us ... I wanted to see if the Ossetian captives really cost a bad job. They missed me, and I saw that they are in normal human conditions. Honestly, I did not have evil on them, on the contrary, I was glad that they were kept like this: it means that the Ingush, despite all the trials, did not lose humanity, they did not make the same atrocities over the ordinary people that we experienced ... Recorded Maria Katysheva. 1993