Lyudmila

Lyudmila This woman surprisingly corresponds to her name: smiling, friendly. Upon learning that I was in Grozny, cried, hugged me. She is a native thunderstorm, her parents and grandparents were born there.
Vasily, the father of our heroine, taught at the institute. At the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, he served in Iran as a water supply and sewage specialist, but soon fell ill with a tropical fever. Having received disability, he returned to Grozny. The city was bombed, but the parents of a little Lyudochka could not imagine how to leave their native places.

Father was sick for a long time, then he began to work in a construction organization and in 1948 settled on Argunskaya, later renamed Demchenko Street. “I still dream of this house,” says Lyudmila Vasilievna. She studied at school number 5 on Pavel Musorov Street. In the memory of the quarter where the youth passed, her tears are strangling.
Luda did not see Chechens until 1957. I did not think about what land lives on. Chechnya was called the Grozny region.

There were vague rumors about some kind of eviction, but no one explained anything. In 1957, Chechen guys began to appear on dancing, behaved like everyone else, but the girls were afraid of them.
I show articles and photos about deportation, about atrocities in Haibakh, and together we cry about the bitter fate of the people, about which Luda, who lived in Grozny at that time, did not know anything.
After graduating from the institute, she began to work. The team had both Chechens and Ingush, but she does not remember that conflicts arose with someone because of various religions and customs. On Easter, she brought Easter cakes, treated everyone, received congratulations. Kurban-Bayram always remembered and congratulated the Muslim colleagues.
Luda married Gennady Ermoshkin, also formidable. The mother -in -law was from the family of dispossessed, saved from death only thanks to kind people who supplied her with the documents of the deceased girl. So she lived her century under a stranger to the name of Akulina Mironovna. She did not forgive the authorities and always sympathized with the expelled Chechens.
In 1969, they received a well-maintained apartment in the Staropromyslovsky district.
I visited there and brought Lyudmila photographs of a striking lane dear to her heart: the house was dilapidated, only a willow under the window, planted 20 years ago by their little daughter. There were neighbors of the Yermoshkin, Vakha and Umar, who were friends with their son Andrei. Through me, they, who lost each other, at least exchanged addresses. Many Chechens lived in that house, the relationship was friendly, and nothing bad Lyudmila could remember.
So it was until 1991. And then suddenly sounded: “Russian”, “Armenian”, “Jew”, “Chechen”. The 66-year-old Lyudmila Vasilievna will still not understand what happened, in all the troubles blames Dudaev, Yeltsin and Grachev.
The war for Lyudmila began unexpectedly. It seems that intuition did not deceive children - they wanted to leave. The son went to Dushanbe, a daughter with his family, Rostov region. But the parents did not want to leave Grozny, hoped that everything would subside, the children with their grandchildren would return. So we lived in anticipation of better times.
At the end of December 1994, Lyudmila went to the center for groceries for the New Year's table. The gastronon on Lenin Street was closed, and people handed each other news: troops were introduced into the city. Fear took possession of everyone, but the Russians were afraid of less, Russian troops. A mobile mechanized column where Yermoshkin worked, stopped working. Life lost meaning. Rather, he boiled to keep the house, survive and wait for the children ...
Bombed scary, especially in the center. They produced rockets with rods, was light as during the day, and inexpressibly terribly ... Ermoshkin held the icons in their hands, prayed ... crying, Lyudmila shows me her then letters: there was no postal connection, but she continued to write, it was easier.
January 11, 1995
Hello, my dear! Dad and I are alive and while holding on. Around the ruins, as in a terrible movie. Near the cinema "Russia" people are buried right on the field ...
In the 34th school, soldiers live, the patients are sick and thin, we even wore them food, and thought, maybe we will find out what. The colonel came out, drunk, the bast does not knit, we were scared, we didn’t go anymore.
February 3, 1995
I will take the letter to the train, maybe they will take it. I would like to quit everything and leave. When will it end?
February 27.
In the red cross, they gave a bottle of oil, 600 grams of sugar, flour and cereals. So we are not hungry.
March 3.
It seems a little calmer. We have only one envelope, we put letters from our neighbors there. Put them to the addresses. There is no water and light, gas went, but weakly. In the microdistrict, people roam the destroyed houses, collect food. Do not rush to condemn them: everyone was hungry ... terribly quiet. There are almost no people. Dead city.
March 15.
They say you can send letters by mail. We went to the city. We met the Titovs. They are very thin. A projectile fell into the house, but thank God, they did not hurt them. Found Luda Efimov, her house is destroyed, but she is alive. Alive and Raya Kudinova, but from her children no news. They stop at the posts, talk rudely: “Where are you rhusked?” A granny met, asks to eat, and we ourselves have not a baby, go further and cry. Then they saw the bazaar, bought cheese, immediately ate. They met a tank with water, for the first time they got drunk with good water, and there was nothing to dial.
March 25.
Many are offended by Chechens, but I can’t. Remember Alikhan from our street? He helped us to take everything out of Andrei’s apartment, he has a Lada. First of all, she collected photographs, dirty, flooded. Then I will clean it.
April 2.
Our chief Sultan Dzantimirov arrived, said to go to work. Such joy! We go home, write acts for recovery, Chechens do not let go without tea. The colleagues do not allow me to go anywhere alone, and the sultan from work and carries to work in his car. We do not recognize the cities, we wander among the ruins, as in the forest. Life is only on the outskirts.
In April, letters began to reach. Lyudmila even went to visit the children. But there was no question of their return. Terrible was restored, and fear grew. Rumors were scared about robberies, murders. The Russians left, and although she repeated: “Never!”, She noticed that they were handing over her nerves.
In 1997, they still decided to leave. We boldly at their relatives, and fear tired.
Ermoshkin live with their son in Novosibirsk a small “Chechen” company, without starting new acquaintances. Longing. The preserved plate is endlessly twisting, where Kobzon sings about Grozny. Gennady is sure that if he stepped on his native land, he would immediately recover. But it’s scary to move again, they are under 70 ... they are looking for old acquaintances on the Internet, rejoicing and crying, watch photos of the restored Grozny. Lyudmila does not lose hope of seeing his native land, which, believe, loves her and waits.

Lyudmila Pavlichenko