Number 5, Spring 1997

CCCRTE

by Roswitha Jarman

Chechnya's declaration of secession in 1991 set in motion unrest in its neighbouring states and led to the Russian onslaught on Chechnya in December 1994. Ingushetia to the west of it, which in June 92 separated from Chechnya to stay within the Russian Federation, experienced its own short war with North Ossetia in the autumn of 1992 over the Prigorodnie District, an area of about 65 square kilometres to the east of Vladikavkaz, the capital of North Ossetia. For decades Ossetians and Ingush lived side by side in the villages of the Prigorodnie District. In the war of the autumn of 1992, 65 000 Ingush were forced to leave. Most of them still live in primitive conditions in Ingushetia. The Prigorodnie District and parts of Vladikavkaz are disputed territories, claimed by both Ingushetia and North Ossetia. Stalin gave this area to North Ossetia in 1944 after deporting all the Ingush -- together with other minorities -- to Kazakhstan for allegedly collaborating with the Germans.

North Ossetia is burdened with refugees. Most of the South Ossetian refugees who came there at the time of the conflict with Georgia in 1990-91 have stayed on. Many live now in the disputed territory of the Prigorodnie District. In the streets of Vladikavkaz are also scores of beggars from Tadjikistan and Uzbekistan. Pressure is put on North Ossetia from the Russian Government to speed up the return of the Ingush displaced in 1992 from the Prigorodnie District. Few Ingush have actually returned. Added to this is the declining economic situation and a constantly rising crime rate.

In North Ossetia hostility towards the Ingush continues to be openly expressed. However, I also heard some voices who recommended the return of the Ingush for the benefit of the economy.

The Prigorodnie District is mainly occupied by Ossetians. Some 3,000 Ingush (only about 5%) have returned to live in some villages like Chermen; in others there are restricted areas in which Ingush live in temporary prefabricated shelters. It is possible to take a bus from Vladikavkaz to all the villages of the Prigorodnie District, since most who live there are Ossetians. From Ingushetia, however, it is only possible to go to the northern part of Chermen by a regular bus. Chermen is one of the few villages that is inhabited by both Ingush and Ossetians, but there is little contact between the two communities. The Ingush I talked with in Chermen live with uncertainty and fear.

Other villages in the district can only be reached from Ingushetia under military escort. In Kurtat and Dongaron some Ingush have been returned to live in their temporary housing in reserved and guarded areas, with no free access to their own property. In some areas where the Ingush have started to rebuild their homes these have been destroyed over night or building material has been stolen. Violence and shooting has occurred because of the lack of effective policing.

The Displaced Ingush

The Ingush want to return to the Prigorodnie District where they had their homes and burial grounds for generations. Most of the refugees from the Prigorodnie District have been moved with their temporary shelters to the edges of Ingushetia. The largest such camp is in Maisky, a small town in the district belonging to Northern Ossetia, but inhabited by Ingush and Russians. The inhabitants of Maisky live in a kind of no-man's land -- neither North Ossetia nor Ingushetia feel financial responsibility. Schools, hospitals and other parts of the infrastructure receive only erratic funding.

I visited displaced Ingush in Ingushetia and in the Prigorodnie District and saw in what terrible condition and fear some of them live. In Kurtat and Dongaron the refugees live like prisoners. In Kurtat they have on one side the Russian soldiers and on the other across a lane live Ossetians. There is regular shooting from the Ossetian side. A few days before my visit two people had been killed and two injured. There are no cars and no medical or other facilities. When I asked the Russian soldiers standing guard if they could not ensure safety for the Ingush they shrugged their shoulders and said, "How can we? We are here on this side, the Ossetians are on the other side, the Ingush are between us. How can we protect them?''

One woman dressed in a skimpy nylon jacket, bony and shivering with cold, grabbed me by the arm and said, "I want you to see the house I built with my seven children". To help me understand why she herself built it she added, "My husband is an invalid". The Russian soldiers sitting on a tank had to give us permissions to leave the compound. We went the 200 metres to the flattened place of overgrown ruins where her house had stood more than four years ago. Now she had nothing, not even free access to the ground.

The Ossetians fear the return of the Ingush because they know that they took possession of a piece of land at the time of the Ingush deportations in 1944 that does not rightly belong to them.

In Maisky I spoke with a dignified old man. He showed me the temporary shelter he had organised for himself and his family. His wife was in hospital. The only furniture was a handmade bed and table. He told me how he had found wood and carried it in darkness to his cabin in order to build a bed. He felt too ashamed to carry the wood in daylight. He asked me for medicine for his wife, which of course I did not have. In private, I gave him some money for medicine, which he refused to take. When I slipped it into his pocket he began to cry. He said he felt ashamed to take money the money and to cry in front of a woman. I put my hand on his back and cried with him.

People like this Ingush are examples of dignity and self-respect that have not been destroyed, even though the humiliations they have gone through in their lifetime are beyond my imagination. He belongs to the generation that was deported in 1944 and that had to start an new life from nothing in the muddy fields of Kazakhstan. He does not understand why his home and land are taken away from him again and why now he has had to live like a beggar for more than four years.

When I shared some of what I had seen in the Prigorodnie District with people in North Ossetia they were shocked at first, but soon sought to exonerate themselves by saying that the Ingush had brought these terrible things on themselves. They retreated into enemy stereotyping and fear of Islam.

Unsubstantiated concepts of the other abound and people feel perplexed and unable to see or want to see a way out. Half-truths are nurtured to disguise feelings of guilt and as a diversion from taking responsibility for change. The Ossetians also fear that the Ingush may take revenge. Knowing a situation well over a prolonged period of time and listening to many experiences makes it possible to ask challenging questions and bring in factual information which can help to disarm stereotypes.

Visually, Ingushetia seems to be thriving. Every time I go there I see much change. A new capital and airport are being built, a large new housing estate of cottages for government employees is completed. Ingushetia has special economic status and is benefiting from its oil resources.

In both Ingushetia and Chechnya I see the need of people to throw off the many years of being under the dictatorship of Moscow and of now wanting to establish their own identity. They are a proud people with great dignity who over many years have been humiliated and continue to be humiliated by Moscow by being labelled "blacks", "Mafioso" and "bandits".

'Victors' amidst the rubble

Chechnya has had its elections and people seem to accept the results. Posters of opposition leaders are freely displayed. Young men still like to wear their combat gear and many carry weapons. My driver had a gun by his side, I made it clear that I did not want to be defended by it and he laughed and said it is only symbolic.

Most of Grozny is rubble out of which skeletal buildings rise. The destruction looks grim and the mind cannot cope with taking it in or visualising when or how it might change. Some small repairs are being done and people eagerly search these out as signs of hope. But people walk with a self-assured gait, their dignity intact. They have defeated the Russians.

Many try to make a living by selling things in the market, but they say, they sit the whole day with their goods and often do not sell a thing. Nobody will forecast how the newly elected government is going to manage the country. People who are lucky to have paid work may not get their salary because, as yet, the government has no money.

In early March of this year the weather was dry and mainly sunny. It felt like spring coming and this put a smile on people's faces, although there is desperate hunger and poverty for many. All those whose flats were looted or destroyed have to buy all their possessions from scratch. Beds, bedding, fridges, washing machines and odd bits of furniture are stacked on the sidewalks. Most of the goods are brought in from Turkey.

We travelled to Shatoiy, a village that once was a thriving mountain resort. The beautiful, but, in places, treacherous, winding road was littered with military debris. We drove through one completely destroyed village. People live there people live there in prefabricated cabins. The

land mines that were planted freely by both sides now imprison small communities. Walking about freely will not be possible for years to come. Shatoiy is a sad ruin in a beautiful mountain landscape.

How can we support people in this time of pain and change? People appreciate links with the outside. They long for signs of being heard and understood. People need to tell their story to someone who does not have labels for them. This helps them to make sense of their experience, to find strength to deal with it and see the options they now have.

I have been asked by the Dutch Chechen Relief Committee to help set up centres of rehabilitation for children. This involves the training of ordinary people who themselves have had traumatic experiences to work with children and their trauma. The emphasis is on healing within the communities and with their support. We coordinate this work with other groups with similar goals. It was encouraging to visit centres in Grozny and villages and to observe the groups of children at work. Children love the atmosphere of fun, it is a highlight in their lives and has healing and relaxing powers. Some children are able to tell their horrific stories in a matter of fact way without emotion -- others keep silent. It is as though they live in two worlds. From the vantage point of this happier world they have to make sense of the past and come to terms with the nightmares and the destroyed present.

In Samashki, the children played with small cars I had brought with me, one little boy looked up and said, "I did not know that I could play and be so happy". When they saw some wooden lorries, they immediately said, "These are like the lorries the Russians brought to put all our belongings into."

To an outsider it might seem that people have two options: to realise what has happened and scream, or to become an automaton and feel nothing. Yet most people seem to find a workable pattern between these extremes. People are not broken by what has happened. I feel privileged to be a witness to this, but at the same time I was conscious of a blanket of depression lying heavy on people and freezing their energies.

One of my ongoing concerns between North Ossetia and Ingushetia is to help transform the hostile attitude that prevents the return of the Ingush. For several years I have been working in a school in Vladikavkaz. Last autumn I saw for the second time a group of 15-16-year-olds. In our work we explored amongst others questions of power and fear. I was pleased at the frank way in which pupils shared, one pupil strongly defending that "power over another" was a good thing and that fear was essential in maintaining power. Through exercises we discovered what we wanted for ourselves and even the outspoken pupil modified his views.

Feelings of anger, rage, hurt and grief need to be expressed and heard so that they don't lead to addictive or destructive behaviour or to projections and stereotyping, which permit the continuance of the cycle of violence.

Confusion and feelings of helplessness can be overwhelming. When talking to a North Ossetian student who wanted to understand the truth about the conflict with the Ingush he said at the end of a long conversation: "I guess it is when people feel helpless that they begin to hate." I found this a very helpful insight which can lead to practical steps to break through the deadlock of prejudice and hate. If we can identify what makes us feel helpless, we can explore our options.

At a conference for young people from the Caucasus in May 96 it was moving to see Ossetians and Ingush eying and befriending each other in a very delicate way. They did not there touch on the dark shadow of the past. What both sides discovered was that the others were just as real as they. Djanetta, an Ingush student who for the first time met Ossetians, shared her feelings of surprise and wonder with me. Amiran, an Ossetian, and Tamerlan, an Ingush, entertained us at the evening party with an hilariously funny act. It is still dangerous for Ingush and Ossetians to travel freely across their border, but I believe that the small steps we take will gradually break the hostile myths that abound and may open up and prepare the way for a coming together.

In Ingushetia I support a woman my age who is concerned about the condition of the refugees and who is trying to mobilise other women to help find some solutions to the many problems facing them. She attended the Beijing women's conference and was greatly inspired by this and is now trying to empower women to become active. She keenly welcomes support and encouragement.

People hunger for affirmation that life is precious, that there is meaning and that each individual matters.

She is well aware of the danger of the hot Caucasian pride and temperament and deeply understands the need to find alternative non-violent ways. Her husband, who died not long ago, came from a family that had for generations guarded the dignity and rights of the Ingush mountain people. His grandfather was an honoured freedom fighter against the armies of the Tsar and a statue was erected in his honour. She carries on this tradition of standing up for her people with great dignity, but without violence. We shared our respect for the sanctity of life and the eternal divine spirit within all creation and felt strengthened and joyful. People hunger for affirmation that life is precious, that there is meaning and that each individual matters.

On my autumn visit I was taken high up into the mountains on a brilliant late autumn day and was overwhelmed by the splendour. I listened to a group of musicians practice haunting Ingush music. I marvelled at the dances full of energy and colour and beauty and executed to perfection. All of this spoke to me of life's energy harnessed in a breathtaking way to common celebration and joy. The peoples of the Caucasus are a wonderful people, with inspiring energy and a love of life. To be their guest is an enriching privilege.

Roswitha Jarman is an educator, trainer and facilitator

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