I just finished reading I danced on the ruins of Milana Terlato. I came across to us having to prepare a meeting with his friend Stephen Verzé on Putin's Russia and the great journalist Anna Politoskaja.
The author is a young Chechen of 28 years for cases of strange and bizarre life has had to live a dream in Paris where he could attend the faculty of Political Sciences and the School of Journalism. Experience "Dream" than the hard life and unsustainable war in Chechnya.
The book opens in Orekhovo, his hometown, in December 1994, the month that marks the beginning of the first Chechen war and closes, twelve years later, in the summer of 2006 in Grozny, the capital .
I admit I know little nothing of Chechnya, and what little I know now, I have come to know through the book of the young and to this Politoskaja Terlato. In addition to knowing very little, I was able to perceive only what we spend our televisions (although not the TV) and our radio. Or, just nothing. Or rather, nothing. Long live the power of book! Reading it was like chatting quietly over a cup of coffee, with Milan who talks about himself, his family, his country and his friends. In this way, I discovered many things, all the news that no one tells you why only a few interested but mainly because they prefer to spend much more. Actually, Putin, I never liked it and did not understand why such an anti-Berlusconi would love to go so in agreement with a former KGB officer. The money you know they have no smell or taste ... But after reading the two journalists, I made my opinion that the lovers of Berlusconi certainly will not share. Berlusconi is holy, holy remains, and is not of him that I want to talk.
But back to these two extraordinary women: because they are aware of the "great game" of the dirty war in Chechnya, the filtration camps and zacistka or the cleansing that the Russian army committed against the Chechen people.
I draw from the book, I danced on the ruins , pp.
Suddenly, an incredible noise wakes residents. Tanks, armored vehicles for transport of troops, then pour in the Federal army truck Alkhana Jurt. Dozens of soldiers are shouting from all sides, surrounding the houses, breaking down doors shots rifle butt. E 'a "cleaning".
The villagers all pose the same questions, who will be called "terrorist" to cover the shares of a Stalinist empire in full retreat? Who will have the chance to stay at home? How many will be those that disappear today?
For Alkhana Jurt, in this cool April morning, among the big losers of the lottery on terror was my friend Musa, twenty-four years. The scars of his wounds of 1995 have had probative value: it was now ranked among the disciples of bin Laden. They sent along with other boys, in the famous field Cernokosovo. Musa told me that his "stay" the hell of filtration camps:
"A Cernokosovo have loosed the rabid dogs in the truck and they made us get off using his rifle butt. Then we have passed in the corridor. It 'a rite of Russians soldiers formed two lines, shall maintain and make us pull out batons in the middle. The blows rain down relentlessly. A minute seems like an eternity. Want to protect your head with your hands. But it does not. A soldier hits you in the stomach. Mechanically lower your arms to protect the belly, and so on ... "
The torture continued on pg. 95, but I will stop first but end up not because they are hard to sustain. The question
Chechnya is a matter for the old Russia. In the story, Chadzi -Murat, Tolstoy speaks of the "Chechen thistle" that the French philosopher Andre Glucksmann resumed in the preface to the book of Politoskaia Chechnya. The Russian disgrace. By Catherine II to Putin, Russia has buried Caucasian men in the great cemetery to remind every Russian there is always a price to pay when you want to resist the orders coming from above. Putin has got it right. And the second Chechen war sinks its roots there.
Continue Glucksmann, in the preface to the book by Anna Politoskaja, Chechnya. The disgrace Russian :
As for the prospects offered by the school putiniana of cruelty, Anna here evokes the tragic consequences. "In Chechnya, we have fallen into a black hole, we have raised such a lot of cynics who killers would be sufficient to meet the needs of killer to pay the entire planet. I respond to my words: one in two people killed in Chechnya has killed a civilian in terms of summary justice. This means that thousands of soldiers who served in Chechnya are systematic Executioner (p. 10)
Sometimes walking through the ruins of the Chechen capital. I talk to her inhabitants, who look into your eyes, think back to their stories and I realize that my mind refuses to believe him, denies, rejects their stories. Simply to protect themselves. We believe and not believe it, I would not contaminate me. I'm really here, but at the same time it is as if I were a movie ...
is not possible that our authorities are so idiot ostinino to oppress those who live here! Why continue to persecute people who have already endured inhuman burdens simply because they have remained in this horrible town? (Pp.16-17)
Before concluding, I would like to report the site led by the young French Gluksmann who created this association that deals with young people to study in Paris who come from countries at war. http://www.etudessansfrontieres.org/
So begins the book of the young Chechen journalist:
Dear reader
Grozny A man wandered with his balalaika . The war had taken everything, and only the music kept him connected to life. Sometimes it was playing under my window and said that he had once passed through Russia, Europe, the whole world with his instrument. Its strange adventures all ended the same way: "But after the war ..."
One day he arrived in the courtyard of my building, his arms dangling, empty and useless without music. The soldiers had stolen his last possession. With a friend I have collected some money, then we both go to the market to buy a balalaika. On the way back we saw a dozen armed soldiers and a handful of civilians. The player lay on the ground, his body riddled with bullets. He was killed along with eight young people in the neighborhood, during a 'cleaning'. The next day, television in Moscow is proud to announce the elimination of nine terrorists.
's what Grozny today, a chaos of death and where the shadows lie human struggle to survive. This book does not aspire to demolish the old propaganda or to explain a conflict of three centuries. It is the simple story of a girl, a mirror that runs along the devastated streets of my dear Chechnya.
© 2007, 2008 Corbaccio
