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LETTERS FROM CHECHNYA:

"And Then We Had to Leave..."

by Rendt Gorter

Special to the G21

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A new war in Chechnya sees the New Zealander Rendt Gorter abandoning a promising SCUBA diving school, and returning once again to the North Caucasus. Heading a large relief operation of a major relief organisation on the ground in Chechnya and Ingushetia, he finds the needed professional distance distracted by having know this haunted land too well when he worked there from 1995 to 1997 during the previous conflict. In this series he reflects on his personal experience in a war that has been largely ignored by the world.

"And then we had to leave. First they bombed the airport .. you remember how we live in RTS, in the north of Grozny, not far away from the airport .. and we knew it was going to get worse. We packed everything we could in the car and headed south out of the city through Tsherno-retshe. It was the 26th of November and it was the day the rockets landed in the market place. We later found out how Marianna from next door lost both her legs in the explosion. And her son died there too. Oh, it was a terrible day!"

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Dagmar talked without interruption. Ostensibly she had come for work. Employment for Aleg, or even for herself, would open a window out of the cramped life they had endured since that fateful day. But really, she just wanted to tell her story.

"We brought the old Russian lady from next door with us. I have known her all my life. Ah, she used to carry my books when she walked me to school. And she's got no-one else to help her. Of course she couldn't stay at the mosque, what with her being Christian. We asked everywhere for help, but there were a lot of people fleeing to Ingushetia then already. I found Dusha, you know the one that cooked for you here in Nazran, and she took us to the church. The priest wasn't there but the man in charge helped. But they had a lot of people already staying there."

The words came without interruption. Intermittently her hand would tug at her headscarf or brush nervously across her face. But her story had no end.

"I've been seeing her regularly. We feed her and look after her. We managed to locate a relative in Ukraine and maybe she can go there one day."

"We have been at the Mosque ever since we arrived. We are 14 sharing the room, but at least we have somewhere to stay. I have been selling my jewelery so we can live. You know, my bracelets and some rings. It's what's kept us going. But once it's gone, it's gone."

The furrowed face frowning across the table at me looked nothing like the cheerful Dagmar that used to welcome us when we would arrive in Grozny back in 1996 and 1997 for our short visits - short because even then it wasn't safe to linger. Dagmar was a neighbour and helped the cook to feed the team at the Merlin base. She had heard from Duqul and Bashir, who were our guards again, this time round in Nazran, that I was back. And I was hiring. A small detail that means a lot to a refugee. And she was not the first to come and see me.

".. and Aleg is back in Grozny. The roof of our house has collapsed, but at least the walls are still standing. Aleg says that it is possible to make a shelter in one corner. Its all we've got. He's trying to clean it up. Maybe I'll go back with the children soon. If there will be food distributed there then we can make it. There is just no point in staying here. It's been 5 months now, and staying here will not help anything."

Her story continued for quite some time, until Bashir came over and pretended there was a phone call for me. Dagmar took the opportunity and bid farewell to us. Silently, she walked off into the dark night.


This is the third in a series of reports from Rendt Gorter, in Chechnya, to the G21.


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