A city of desolate mothers
Published 29 August, 2008, 14:28
It hasn't rained in Tskhinval for almost a month. The dust left behind by the bombardment still hangs over the city. And the imprints of blood haven't been washed away. Like the heavens above, some South Ossetian women can no longer cry. So much has been taken from them that even tears, the natural mechanism for coping with grief, have dried up. Tskhinval is now a city burning with anguish. A city of desolate mothers.
Parents are not supposed to bury their children. But Taisia is laying a son to rest for the second time. Even in a city soaked in grief her story is heartbreaking.
“Show this to Georgian mothers. Why did they let their sons come here? Why did they let them kill my boy? What have I done to you?” Taisia Sytnik asks.
Taisia's son Georgy was her biggest source of pride. Young and handsome, he had just finished medical school and found a job at a dental clinic in Moscow. Last month Taisia bought him a medical outfit.
“Look at what I brought to you…I wanted you to be the most handsome (man) in Moscow…” Taisia says.
When Georgy heard Tskhinval was under attack, he rushed home – to help the injured. On August 9, he stepped out of the basement to get some bandages when a piece of shrapnel hit him.
Georgy died instantly. But the suffering his mother would have to endure had just begun. For the next three days, she remained trapped in the basement with her son's body lying next to her.
Surrounded by women and children she couldn't even cry. Meanwhile, death was slowly taking over the body of her dear boy.
Like Georgy, hundreds of Tskhinval residents were crushed by GRAD (or Hail), multi-rocket launch systems given the nickname from the atmospheric phenomenon. Indiscriminate and plentiful, these killing machines beat Tskhinval to a pulp.
“They were killed by GRAD. A mother and daughter. It was definitely GRAD because it tore off the mother's head. And the daughter – she doesn't have a leg,” a local said.
The Georgian rockets didn't just kill. They also mutilated their victims beyond recognition. Vyacheslav Mami has worked at Tskhinval's morgue for more than 30 years but he had never seen such badly disfigured bodies before.
“The only way you could identify most of the bodies is by their clothes or some documents. The mutilation was so extensive and so multiple that when my own colleagues received them, I didn't recognise them,” says Vyacheslav Mami, Director of Tskhinval morgue.
But as hundreds were being killed, this little boy decided to make his appearance in the world. His mother Shurena was taken to hospital on the eve of the Georgian assault. She went into labour hours after the bombardment began.
“The heavy shelling was non-stop. Our hands were shaking but we still were able to deliver this baby boy. Praise God that he's kept us all safe. You know you can't completely annihilate the Ossetians,” says Ira Kuzaeyeva, a nurse.
Shurena is still so traumatised she can hardly speak. She is still too frail to leave the basement where her son was born and her family doesn't know where she is.
“I still don't know what happened to my family. My husband went to fight. Thank God my baby is ok,” says Shurena Kachmazova, a young mother.
Shurena told us she comes from a small village on the border with Georgia. And as we were going to visit the area, we decided to find her parents.
When we reached Shurena's village, it appeared to be completely deserted. The women and children had left, only the men stayed behind. Shurena's father was at home. When we told him he had a grandson, he broke down in tears.
“My daughter left days before the bombardment and since then we haven't heard a word about her. We prayed for her to stay alive. Her mother went to Tskhinval to look for her,” says Nudar Kachmazov, Shurena's father.
This is their first grandchild and the family has long anticipated his arrival. Shurena's father made this traditional South Ossetian cradle.
And he has already chosen a name.
“I want him to be named Geimurat. I want him to become a good man,” Nudar Kachmazov says.
But such family reunions are rare. The war caught many people off guard, allowing some to flee and trapping others in their basements.
Tearing families apart, forcing mothers to fear the worst.
“My son is there, my daughter is also in Tskhinval. I don't know what will happen to them. I just don't know what to do,” a local said.
Having fled the bombardment, these mothers couldn't escape the desperation of not knowing whether their children were still alive. When the French Foreign Minister came to visit a refugee camp in Russia, the hopeless women just wouldn't let him go.
“They don't spare anyone… Innocent people die… Please help us…. Please help us if you can… Please help our boys… Please…” women were saying.
Meanwhile, what was happening in Tskhinval was worse than anybody could have imagined. Death in its ugliest form was striding over the city, leaving rotting bodies on the pavements.
A large family used to live in a house, now ruined. Two of them – a young woman and her 5-year-old son managed to escape – while the grandparents and a teenage boy stayed behind.
The traces of blood map out their last movements. The three were buried in their own yard, among the corn stems and tomato plants.
“The neighbours couldn't drive them to the cemetery because the fighting was still on. But neither could they leave the bodies out here. It's a matter of honour for South Ossetians. You have to bury the dead,” says Konstantin Tebilov, Tskhinval resident.
Taisia was also forced to bury her son in the garden. When the barrage subsided, she wrapped his body in linen and with the help of
neighbours, carried him to a place where, as a boy, Georgy used to play hide-and-seek with his younger sister. She is now 18 and the only
reason for her mother to carry on.
“They will have to go on – for the sake of their daughter. Her entire future is now at stake…” said Alan Parostayev, a relative.
Days after the bombardment ended, Taisia and her relatives exhumed Georgy's body to give him a proper funeral. As his coffin was lowered
into the grave, two more families arrived at the cemetery to bury their sons. Unacquainted before, these mothers are now bonded by their
black veils.
In South Ossetia, when somebody dies, the immediate family is usually spared the grim task of arranging the final ceremony. Relatives and
friends normally take care of everything.
But with so many having been killed, the actual funerals themselves have become something of a torture. In the first days of war, coffins were in short supply.
“We didn't have enough coffins. The electricity was off and all the workshops were closed. Than, a few days later, a batch of coffins arrived from Vladikavkaz as humanitarian aid,” said Vyacheslav Mami, director of Tskhinval morgue.
Out of 300 coffins, only eight are still remaining. But as the dead are laid to rest, the survivors live to fight another day.
Even after the fighting had ended, Tskhinval hospitals reported a steep rise in the number of patients suffering and dying from heart attacks.
This pharmacy, which didn't close even during the assault, is now
almost completely out of stock.
While medicine is being distributed free of charge, pharmacy staff are trying to keep track of who needs what.
“We're keeping this journal for accounting purposes. We are required to ask our customers about their home address and this simple question
brings some people to the brink of hysteria. What home, they say… Everything has been burned…” said Zhuzhena Abayeva, the pharmacy director.
One young mother came to get some painkillers. Her migraines just won't go away, she says. And her baby has become restless. It's no longer war, but peace is still very far away.
Concert
A deafening silence followed by the throng of heavy artillery: this was how the war came to South Ossetia. Throwing people out of their beds and off the course of normal life.
For Valery Gergiev, one of Russia's most renowned conductors, this concert was his way of saying goodbye to the old Tskhinval. Vibrant and colourful as it was just a month ago, the city now smells of decomposing human flesh.
“I'm an Ossetian myself and I came here with the world famous Mariinsky Theatre to Tskhinval to see the horrible destruction of this city. It was a huge act of aggression on the part of the Georgian army but it is not yet a known story to the world,” said Valery Gergiev, Mariinsky Theatre artistic director.
Some of the audience later compared this concert to a long awaited communion. For several days after the bombardment, Tskhinval was left without religious services.
When the violence subsided, we found the province's head priest walking around the town to check what was left of his once large flock.
«60 per cent of my parishioners were killed, annihilated. They particularly tried to target churches because they knew people were hiding there,» said Father Georgy, Bishop of South Ossetia.
Even priests found it hard to preach forgiveness in Tskhinval. With so many killed, the animosity is still fierce.
It was Georgian soldiers who killed Evelina's son. It happened 16 years ago during the first round of clashes between Georgia and South Ossetia. Over the past few weeks, Evelina, a nurse at one of Tskhinval's hospitals, had to relive her loss over and over again.
“During the bombardment, many of the injured we received were 20 to 21-year-old boys. They were so young – like my son when he was killed,” said Evelina Kokoeva, Tskhinval resident.
The cemetery where Evelina's son is buried was also damaged during the assault. Even the dead weren't spared.
The traditional view that men fight in wars and women suffer the losses no longer holds true. According to South Ossetian officials, female soldiers, including snipers, fought on the Georgian side. And on the Russian side, too, the number of female troops was higher than in any other conflict.
Meet Katya. 25 years old. Single. A junior sergeant. She entered the Russian army six years ago to continue the family tradition and to escape unemployment in her home city of Vladikavkaz.
“My parents were a bit concerned about me going to war…” she said.
Her battlefield is this makeshift bakery where she spends more than twelve hours a day.
With her unit stationed deep in the rear, Katya hasn't seen much of the fighting. Yet the vintage decor of the room she's sharing with her
fellow soldiers serves as a reminder of how this conflict began.
Joseph Stalin was one of the first leaders to proclaim South Ossetia part of Georgia. Himself half Georgian, half Ossetian, Stalin didn't
have any qualms about changing the administrative borders. During the Soviet period, both Georgia and South Ossetia were part of a much
larger country.
Back then, Milena Razmadze was teaching geography at a high school. In her photo album, the Georgian and Ossetian students seem blissfully
unaware of each other's ethnicity. This issue only came up in the early 1990s when Zviad Gamsakhurdia came to power in Georgia.
“Gamsakhurdia was saying all the time that Georgia was for Georgians. I remember one day I came to my class and asked how could
this be? There was a Georgian boy sharing a desk with an Ossetian girl. Should we kill one of them?” said Milena Razmadze, Tskhinval resident.
Born in Georgia, Milena moved to Tskhinval more than 50 years ago after marrying a South Ossetian.
“We got divorced but I never thought about leaving Tskhinval. This is my home,” said Milena Razmadze.
But after the Georgian incursion, thousands of ethnic Georgians who lived in South Ossetia prior to the conflict had to flee their homes fearing reprisals from their South Ossetian neighbours.
Before the violence broke out, this village – about 15 kilometres from Tskhinval – was populated mainly by ethnic Georgians. You cannot find a single soul here anymore and most of the houses were set on fire.
The Georgians fled in a hurry, leaving behind most of their belongings. Some even abandoned their elderly parents. When Russian emergency
workers entered this village they didn't find a single person under 60.
With hundreds killed and the city of Tskhinval in ruins, no wonder tolerance is in short supply. This mother whose son was killed by Georgian troops says there can be no reconciliation.
“Their blood is poisoned, I tell you, it is. Today they are peaceful, tomorrow they could slaughter us all,” said Ada Kokoeva, Tskhinval resident.
Two Georgian families still live in this apartment block. During the bombardment they were hiding in the basement together with South
Ossetians. But the neighbours no longer talk to each other.
“What concerns us, our relations with the Georgians didn't change… But they are somehow estranged from us,” said Ada Tebilova, Tskhinval resident.
We tried to speak to these Georgian families but nobody answered the door. According to some estimates, prior to this conflict, ethnic Georgians made up a third of South Ossetia's population. When the fighting began many fled to Georgia. Except for Milena Razmadze.
“How could I flee? My sons would have been in danger then,” said Milena Razmadze.
Milena says she never felt threatened because of her ethnicity. The only time she feared for her life was during the bombardment when she
was hiding in this bunker with her 5-year-old grandson.
“He was so frightened he started to cry: ”Grandma, the Georgians will come and kill us!“ I answered: ”I am Georgian, can you imagine that I would kill you? Don't be scared," Milena says.
But the fear of Georgians still remains, even among adults. Posters like this one are plastered all over the town warning residents against
buying Georgian goods. It says even barrels of wine may contain explosives.
Dozens of ethnic Georgians remain in captivity in South Ossetia. Most of them are believed to be farmers from neighbouring villages who were detained for questioning and are now in limbo.
According to South Ossetian officials, there are about 200 Georgian POWs in Tskhinval, most of them are believed to be civilians.
In Tskhinval officials say they are ready to hand them over to Georgia but Tbilisi is not in a hurry to file an official request.
And when a state fails, people are prepared to take justice into their own hands. Unlike the farmers sweeping Tskhinval's streets, these two
men came to South Ossetia armed with the weapons. They were captured with their tank in the midst of Georgian assault.
“All we want now is to get back home alive. And to see our families and friends,” they said.
Both signed a contract with the Georgian army less than two years ago. And both are now blaming the Georgian leadership for what has
happened.
“We didn't expect that we'd have to come here. We are just common soldiers, we did what we were ordered to do,” they said.
These prisoners say they never aimed their guns at civilians, but the state of neighbouring villages suggests otherwise.
A Georgian artillery unit these prisoners belonged to was stationed in front of a 15th century church. Some of the traces of the Georgian presence still remain.
Georgian troops stayed for two days firing at the village from underneath the crosses. Empty ammunition boxes and some of their weaponry are still scattered across the area. The villagers didn't dare to shoot back at the old church.
“They put a tank here at the top of the hill and started shooting in all directions, at all the buildings,” a local says.
In a local school, some of the classrooms don’t exist any more. Students' books litter the football field. Most of the residents have fled or died.
“So many people were killed we don't have enough land to bury them. Two of our people were taken prisoner,” a local says.
The villagers are now hoping for a prisoner exchange. The commander of a South Ossetian unit holding Georgian POWs says the negotiations are ongoing.
But despite their bruises and the uncertainty, these Georgian prisoners are still lucky. The fields around Tskhinval are now filled with the bodies of their dead comrades.
One valley became the point of no return for many Georgian soldiers.
“Our people made coffins for the Georgian dead. They are now ready to be shipped to Georgia. No matter what happens we're Christians and the dead have to be buried in a good, traditional way,” a South Ossetian military man said.
Yet this is what many of the victims of this conflict were denied. Mutilated and burned beyond recognition, dozens of bodies went missing. Among them not only soldiers, but also journalists.
No parent would wish to be present at their child's funeral but lately for Yulia Klimchuk it was the only thing she was praying for. Her son
Aleksandr was killed in South Ossetia and if it wasn't for his colleagues in Russia, this Georgian family might never have recovered his body.
Aleksandr was a photographer for the Russian news agency ITAR-TASS. Based in the Georgian capital Tbilisi, he often covered tensions between Georgia and its breakaway republics. When the war began, Aleksandr and his colleague Grigo Chekhladze traced Georgian forces in South Ossetia. Nobody knows for sure what happened next.
“The doctors couldn't tell me the cause of death. I was only told that their bodies had been picked up by Russian troops and delivered to this Tskhinval morgue,” said Sergey Uzakov, ITAR-TASS photographer.
He was the one who identified the bodies and the one who promised Yulia she would have the chance to bury her son. Together with colleagues, he somehow found these two metal boxes and drove them across the border into Georgia.
“Other journalists have joined us here. Our friends from AP, Reuters, France Press, Time are here today. We all see it as our duty to complete this,” said
Sergey.
At least three journalists were killed and more than ten injured in this brief war. But when it seemed like there was nothing more to report than death and suffering, we found Nino.
Like most people in Tskhinval, she was in pain. Excruciating and almost unbearable pain, but one that will soon be forgotten.
50 centimetres and 2.8 kilogrammes. A bundle of new life in a city stricken by grief. A reward for everything her parents had to go through.
“We were at home, it's located deep in the gorge, thank God, the Georgians didn't reach us! But we were really worried…” said Albert Tuvaev, the girl’s father.
For Nino, It's her first child. And she has already chosen a name.
“I want to call her Maria or Marianna,” Nino says.
According to an ancient South Ossetian belief, when many boys are born, war is just around the corner. But this child – the first to be born after the end of hostilities – is a girl. It’s hoped that this means peace will return to South Ossetia.
