From: MSN NicknameEagle_wng  (Original Message)    Sent: 7/14/2005 2:30 AM
Jule, 13, 2005

Linda

The story of Zarema, written down and edited by the Chairman of the Society of prisoners of filtration (concentration) camps, Vaha Banjaev, the ChRI.

"The child was crying for more than an hour, - Zarema says, - at the sidewalk, in several meters from cafe "Linda". - I entered the cafe and asked, "Whose girl is crying outside?" But nobody answered me; everybody tried not to look at me as if I was asking not them. I again went out to the street and was standing at the sidewalk, not daring to approach the kid, who was about two years old. And I also could not leave - her crying was overturning everything inside of my soul. And why does nobody approach to the child for so long?

"Well, what are you crying? Where is your mum? Do not cry, your mum will come soon". I opened my handbag and searched for anything to console the girl. I found keys of my house and tinkled with them.

Suddenly I heard ticking of the small plush toy, which the child had in her hands. Not having realized, what kind of sound it was, I tried to take the toy from her, but the girl strongly seized it. And at this time I was pushed by some men, passing by wearing civilian clothes, and silently, but with a threat in the voice they told me, "Leave the child and get out quickly! It is none of your business!" At that moment I saw two wires, leading from the toy directly into a pocket of the coat. I realized that it was a bomb, and someone doomed to be lost should approach to the child, but it was not me. Otherwise these two men would not demand from me to get out.

Having put my hand in the pocket of the girl's coat, I felt some cold subject with a red bulb like a beacon, and at once I realized that it was the detonator of an explosive.

I felt a real fear… The most tragic moments of my life passed before my eyes. I was 35 years old; in that war I had lost my husband and my child. I collected the particles of my 3 years old son, who had been broken off with a bomb. Then I traded at the market, in the 4-th micro-district of Groznyy, right before our house, and I saw, how a plane promptly dived and let out rockets on our house. My husband and the child, and many other inhabitants of our house were lost.

At that moment I could not think over, what I was doing. Having seized the child, I ran to a deserted place and, having released the kid from this fatal "toy", threw it on the ground. I then I ran further, already without the child. But almost at once the man in the civilian blocked my way and spitefully said, "You, bitch, where are you running? To death?!" I distinctly saw, how he directed a pistol at me, there was a sparkle of a flame, something pushed me in the breast and I had lost consciousness before I fell on the ground.

I came to myself, in the 9-th city hospital, as I learned later three days later. In the room, near my bed my brother and my sister, Zelim with Zalina were sitting. Having seen, that I had come to consciousness, they began to ask, "Whose is the child? Why did they shoot at you?" I asked in reply, "Is the child alive? Where is she now?" The sister, calming me, said, "The child is alive! She is with us. In the Office of the Public Prosecutor they think that it is our child. In your things they found the passport and by the registration found our address. We found out about your wound from workers of the Office of the Public Prosecutor. They brought the child to us".

In a month I left the hospital.

When I came home, I saw the girl playing in the yard so carefree, as if it was her native house. The girl with enthusiasm was playing already with a real doll, not noticing what was happening around her. I approached to her and took her up on my hands, but she was trying to reach the doll, which remained on the ground. Not distracting her, I left the girl to play and entered the house. In the house there was a question, "Whose is the child? What to do with her? And what will be then?" At that time the Office of the Public Prosecutor and employees of the FSB, and even the ATC was engaged with the same, when they found out, that the child was not ours. This child was a riddle for everybody. Why wanted to blow up the child? And whom they wanted to blow up by means of the child? Parents of the child also did not appear.

Time passed... Minutes seemed to be hours, hours - days, days - weeks. More than one month passed, when a note was thrown to our gate. It was written in it, "Tomorrow leave the child at the cafe "Linda", it is none of your business. If you inform someone, for the second time there will be no mercy". We did not know what to do. Whether to inform the Office of the Public Prosecutor or not. It was clear, that these people did not feel pity to the child and to anybody else. It was also clear, that the child should become bait for murder of someone. Even at the cruelty of this war, at the bitterness of my own losses I could not understand: how was it possible to kill someone and to use an innocent child for it? Brutal these people who wished to make so should be what!

Zelim made a decision: to wait for development of the events. We were going to prevent this terrible crime at any cost. I with the child was transported to a safe place. Next day in the evening my sister Zalina arrived and said, that the girl should be given, that some people had come to the brother's house; they threatened him and demanded the child. They gave the term till ten o'clock tomorrow's morning. The child should be at the cafe "Linda", otherwise all of us would die. "It is none of our business? It is enough that you were almost lost, because of this girl", - the sister told me.

Then I realized, that the sister and the brother had firmly decided to give the child. I said, "No! I'd better die, but I shall not give the child, and tell it to the brother. And now go out". The sister began to cry to ask me, "Do not you understand, at what time we live? Give the child, if they have decided to kill her, they will anyway, but they will also kill us together with her. Who will stop them? Who will protect us here? There is lawlessness around, nobody will protect us. Think well, what for do we need these troubles? Do not we have enough troubles without it?" Seeing her condition, I promised to the sister, that I would take the child to the cafe. But the same evening I left the Chechen Republic together with the girl.

I found out about the further events in our house from my friend, whom a month later I sent to our house. Leila, my friend, said that the next day after my departure, in the evening armed people in masks and in camouflage approached the house of the brother by three cars. They took the sister and the brother in an unknown direction. They released the sister next morning, having told her to bring me with the child, if she wanted to see the brother alive. There was also another piece of news: mother of the girl appeared. Through Zalina and Leila she transferred a letter to me. It was written in it,

"Darling, I do not know, who you are, but all the same, thank you, for you have rescued my child.

My name is Iman; I am mother of that girl, whom you have rescued, risking your life. I shall try to explain to you the story connected with the child. My husband was at war in the first war and was detained by Kadyrov's people by someone's information. They tried to enlist him, as well as other four Chechens, who were with him. They were given weapon and a car and demanded to kill the families of insurgents, at whom they would specify to them. The husband agreed to leave alive from there, though he was not going to do it.

When he was sent to the murder, he did not do it and escape from them. In respond Kadyrov's people took away our girl and that day wanted to blow up my husband, using the child, but you interfered and rescued my child. My husband saw you, when you was calming her down, even he could photograph her. But when Kadyrov's people came up to you, he thought, that you were with them, until one of them began to shoot at you. After that he watched you, and knew each your step. He saw, how you took a bus and left the Chechen Republic . The husband said that you saw him and were looking at him from the bus, that the daughter recognized him. When the bus moved, he took a taxi and showed you off up to the frontier, but when you crossed it, he arrived back and gave me the address of all your relatives...

He learned from me about everything, what happened in your house. When I told him, what had happened to your brother and the sister, he said, “It does not matter, who she is, thank her. He sworn to me, that he would revenge them for everything, I sure, they will pay, I know Zaur well... At the dawn he said goodbye to me and left. I have not heard anything about my husband any more, but Kadyrov's people, those, who must have made the blowing, for several times came to my mother and asked about Zaur. I hide from them. But then for some reason they were found killed, some of them in their houses, some at the suburbs of the city. Whose hand has laid down on them I do not know, maybe, the FSB, or who knows… everything is possible... I sometimes came to see your sister Zalina to learn about the child, and casually came across your friend Leila.

I wished to arrive to you, but Leila forbade me, having explained, that it would be better. I wished to see you not less, than the child. If something happens to me, the child will be yours. I transfer you earrings and rings, let her put them on, when she grows up, and savings - 20 000 roubles. I am searched for everywhere, and if they find me, they will kill. And I wanted so much to see you even for a moment and to caress the child, if it is possible..."

I was strongly touched with her letter, I cried, re-reading it again and again. I wrote the answer and specified the address for her to arrive. We with the girl were waiting for her mum. She got used to me and called me mum, and I called her Linda. She liked this name, and I did not know her real one. In the city, to which we had escaped from the Chechen Republic , Linda liked to go for a drive to a ship, roundabouts, to walk in a park and to look at animals. In a word, we began to live; to be pleased with life and almost began to forget about the war and about our tragic past.

Once, when we together with Linda were coming back from a shop, she ran up to some woman, who was sitting near a railway, and began to speak, pointing at me, "Granny! Granny - mum". By her brisk behavior I realized, that the woman was very close to her! Having greeted, I asked:

"You, probably, are Linda's grandmother, are not you?"

"You have guessed, but let's not speak at Inna", - she answered.

"You have said “Inna”? Is it her name?"

"Yes, I named her, but we shall call her, as you do; now she is yours".

"And where is Iman? What's wrong with her?"

Rovzan (it was her name) leant against a concrete support, bitterly burst into tears, and answered:

"They killed her; she was waiting for messages from you so much… She suffered very much, she missed the daughter. Her nerves did not sustain it; she went to your house, though she knew, that there could be supervision there. They caught for her and shot, nobody protected her… What was she guilty of? What for did she pay? What shall I tell Zaur? Now nothing will stop him any more… He will not calm down until he revenges everyone, who has destroyed his family. Now he will hunt for the FSB and Kadyrov's people.

Rovzan embraced and stroked the grand daughter.

"This child is the only relative, which Zaur has, he, probably, will try to find you after the revenge if, certainly, he remains alive. I should return by this train. Probably, it will be better for both of you".

She kept silent for a while, with a tender smile, through tears, looking at the child and added:

"Zarema, I found out from your sister, where to find you. Your brother is alive; he has been set free though he is strongly beaten… And Zaur sent me, he asked me to tell you that this girl is yours now". With these words she turned to leave, negatively having shaken her head in reply to my invitation to stay for a while with us, to have a rest. But suddenly with loud sobbing she rushed up to the girl, squatting, kissing her and stroking her head. The girl also began to cry, embracing the grandmother… Rare passers-by looked back at this stage, but silently passed by. At last Rovzan left, and I, as I could consoled Linda, distracting her with conversations about roundabouts, horses in the park and other themes interesting to her.

About half a year passed. There was no news from father of Linda any more. I hardly issued the status of a refugee in the UVKB of the United Nations, convincing these officials that in the Chechen Republic danger of death threatened not only to me, but also to "my child". However, I could not tell them the story as it was, because, as knowing people had explained it to me, the United Nations officials could request documents of adopting of Linda by me and other documents, which I could not get anywhere. At last, I was encouraged and said that in the nearest months we would be sent to live in one of the western countries. And at this time my sister Zalina came to visit me, she brought some money and, the main thing; she brought news about the father of Linda.

By my calculations, three days later after the arrival of Rovzan, in Groznyy, in the same cafe "Linda" a major of the FSB Petilin with his friends-assistants, Russians and Chechens, whom people name “Kadyrovs” was celebrating his birthday. And by then Zaur had managed to find out, that his wife had been lost from hands of these people. They were sitting at the shifted tables, saying toasts to health, remembered their lost comrades, bragged of their "feats". None of them knew that Zaur was waiting for such a moment for a long time.

Zaur unexpectedly entered the cafe, showing an explosive around him - tens of trotyl blasting cartridges...

"Sit silently everybody! Now it is my turn to say a toast, for the peace of the soul of my wife, for the peace of the souls of all children and women, whom you have killed... Major, pour me the full glass of soldier's spirit".

"We drink vodka", - the major silently said.

"Then open the bottle!"

The Major opened a bottle with shivering hands and stretched it to Zaur.

"I shall say a toast, and the major will drink for your peace. Major, drink from the bottle to the bottom, you will burn down quickly, and you will have a snack with this explosive".

The major did not have time to make five drinks of vodka, as shadow of Zaur disappeared, after him the cafe "Linda" flied up to the air... And burning chips, pieces of bodies and smoking pieces of clothes of a khaki color were dropping on the ground for a long time.

Chechenpress , the Department of letters, 13.07.05

http://chechenpress.co.uk/english/news/2005/07/13/02.shtml