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Home›Chechen Culture›The City which is not Present on the Earth

The City which is not Present on the Earth

By admin
November 3, 2010
1305
1
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The city which is not present on Earth! Did you hear of such? But I was there. The city of my love died. I went for a walk on the stranger for me streets of dead city. No, people were there. But there was not the soul. Not single soul.

After an of six hours walk I went back into a yard, where I grew. I hadn’t got a desire to talk. Having a drink of cold water, I measured maintenance of glucose in my blood. Blood glucose monitoring system showed high numbers. Idly stretched for medicine and heard weeping of my nephew. Entered a house, sat down on a sofa and stroked a kid. My four-year-old nephew wiped eyes, stretched to me the thin arms and, slamming long cilia, continuing to whine, decided to liven me:

-It is talked, in America there are cities which built, but forgot to inflict on a map. And in Russia there are cities, which inflicted on a map, but forgot to build.

I sadly smiled and mentally returned on the streets of Grozny.

I grew here. Studied, lived. It seemed that I knew every tree, every building and almost all habitants of one of the most beautiful cities of North Caucasus. Groznians can be known on the breadth of smile, to kindness of the soul and naive faith in existence of justice on earth.

A city woke up under the trilling of the tram-car ringing of bells, plant honks and music from a megaphone on a central area.

The enormous heads of blossoming out roses beckoned the beauty, spitting fountains gave diamond drops to passers-by, hurrying to live another day in city of dream .

A blue celestial large tent was decorated by the rare patterns of clouds, and a gold sun gave the heat to all people of good will, to inhabiting this half-million habited city.

Outpost “Grozny” was built on effaced from the face of earth twenty chechen settlements by the Russian general – deputy Ermolov, who entered history of my people, as punish.Grozny became the mute witness of long Caucasian war, October revolution, 100-days fights, tragedy of vainakh people in February, 1944, Russian rebelling of 1958, disintegration of soviet empire, attempt of Chechens to build the state and horrors of two war companies.

Small North Caucasian republic with a population hardly more than 1 million 200 thousand persons, in which almost 80 percents of native population lived compact, declared about the desire to become independent, released Brothers-Ingushs from the part and got that, how Ukrainians talk, “маемо, що маемо(we have that we have)”. I’ll not dug into questions who, when and why assumed a bloody butchery, but I believe in justice of Judgement Day.

It does not cost also to talk about beauty of city which anymore is not present.

I know, believe, see that in place of city of my love they try to build a new city with the former name. Cartographers will not have to change the name of point on a map. And, who will bring back to life this city, who will return its soul? Is it possible?

Only The Most High knows how voraciously I looked intently into the persons of passers-by, trying to catch in them the lines of former kind beautiful Groznians alas.

Today I have to talk to you about a post-trauma stress disorder, simply speaking, to post-military depression which practically all Chechens have.

The population of republic, outliving horrors of two wars, has a certain complex of symptoms, related to remembrances about these horrific human imagination events.

Our life was clearly divided in half on “before and after”.

We got to know adversities and privations, grief and humiliations, hunger and cold. We not to get enough sleep, anxiously expecting a new, when we will be heard and will return a right to live, love, to born children, model dumplings, collect sunsmelling and succinic grapes, seat a corn and beet, obtain oil and natural gas, send to 120 countries of the world the products of the largest at one time plant “Red Hammer”, to refuel air-liners high-quality kerosene and fly to the different corners of the world.

Mourning lost avaricious tears, we buried them in polybags, often in nameless graves. It seemed to even, that justice had triumphed and faceless woman with the frightful name Violent Death, abandoned our land. Our land buzzed and howled, calling to think again. A period between two war companies became a test in the serious overvalue of values. People lost control above reality. Vagueness of the future of scarecrow. Many abandoned a historical motherland, naively supposing that strange land will fondle, will give forces and possibility to outlive heavy years.

The monstrous wing of Death covered my country with horror of the second war.

People had a so-called biological fear of death. The pictures of death and destructions filled their memory. Fear before pain and wound did the black business.

Time came, when living envied dead. Survivor in frightful superhuman terms blamed itself for that did not drive them to die. In spite of the bodily condition, each them can declare bravely, that perished on this war. And this sense of guilt before lost provoked the attacks of self-destroyed behavior.

The city of my love, where I tried to return, is filled with people having the dulled emotions. Gladness and heartfelt getting up are inaccessible them. Really will they never learn to love? Really will not they be able to work out the near and friendly relationships? Why do they demonstrate a mistrust to itself similar and to the surrounding world? Why do not they see beauty of nightly sky and flight of eagle?

Why so much people, persons interested to carry arm or weapons, but incapable to talk about war?

I try to understand people, returning from wars : broken partly, becoming enraged and silly.

If the broken partly experience permanent fear, inferiority and mental instability, that conduces to their cruelty, alcoholism and drug addiction, then becoming enraged, which in times of battle actions produced in itself a hyperaggressiveness. dangerous not only for surrounding but also on them own. And so-called silly, accomplish infantile acts and underestimate the real threat for the life.

Permanent physical tension which people were in did not allow to be weakened them and rest. They constantly felt a danger and showed supervigilance which conduces to psychical disorder.

Grief and loss of relatives, stress, arising up for the direct participants of fight, it is impossible to compare to anything. Seeing death of comrades in arms, they had a necessity to kill.

Frightens plenty of people, being in the half asleep state. Probably they are tormented by not only nightly nightmares but also insomnias. Fear before sleep and horrors of dreams conduces to regular not to get enough sleep, which in the total is outpoured in a brain-fag, negative attitude toward life. Depression increases only.

An enhanceable aggressiveness frightens. I do not talk about physical, though such not rareness. Verbal aggression is at every step. It seems that people unlearned to retreat, cry a peccavi, be sorry, to smooth out the misses a smile. I paid attention to attacks of fury even on the least prank of children.

Practically all grumble about violation of memory and attracting attention, especially in a stress situation.

In spite of limitation on sale of alcohol, there are people practicing upon alcoholic and by drugs. But it also is the display of post-military syndrome.

Absence of work, accommodation, domestic problems do not give a confidence in a morrow.

Women, as well as men, lost interest to the social role. Not apt at a social contact and adaptation, self-isolated from society. And it all conduces to destruction of institute of family. Enormous amount of broad patterns and unequal short-term matches. They do not need durable close family relations.

People unlearned to flexibility in the decision of vital problems and grasp at a weapon and in direct and in portable Increasing amount of mortal diseases (heart attacks, strokes, cardiovascular diseases, abortions), psychical disorders. And war children? Child’s psyche is quite weak. Their illnesses flow longer and worse. War children grew for today. They are the future of the country. Now it is time them to enter into marriage, to make children.

And they hurry to live. For them it is the deficit of time, acceleration of rate of actions, Wish to vent on somebody malice for that was to get to know beauties of life on war.

Those young people who fill up the rows of “forest brothers” today, undoubtedly, are in depression. They were captured by ideas about suicide. It is here necessary to talk not only about suicide but also subconscious planning of such actions which can result in death. Death is not such frightening for them, as life which is very sickly. Being in despair, after that verge, when all further existence seems gloomy darkness, they choose a path war is an obvious way to death.

They feel like an unjustified risk, aim to participate in alarming “experiences”.

Among them there are suffering the “syndrome of notcomingback” and it is impossible to return to peaceful life. Their psyche is so adapted to the battle actions, that in peaceful life already not able to exist and will aim at any cost to return again on war. It is people with the global changes of psyche.

Permanent search of answer for a question, why so all happened, why your native perished is not an exit from a stress state.

People need social support and defense.

Beautiful forfeits the facades of building are wrapped in which will not be able to cure soul-wounded people.

And if camel milk will begin to flow even from gold petcocks, but Allah will not take pity above people, a city so will remain a black point on the map of the world.

P.S. And in those days I walked around the city which is not present on Earth. .you want – believe, want- no.

October 2010

Zura Itsmeolord

TagsGroznyZura Itsmiolord
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1 comment

  1. Sebastian 14 December, 2010 at 20:22

    Zura, you write beautifully. I am a journalist who has spent a lot of time in Chechnya. I’d love to get in contact with you. Please mail me if you can.

    Editor’s Note: Mr Smith, we shared your e-mail address with Mrs Itsmeolord.

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