24 August 2,000
Everything donated by our readers has now reached its destination. Several tons of clothes, food and medicine are today in Grozny in the almost completely devastated district where the old people's home stands.
"Now we'll survive the winter," says Sister Zinaida Tavgireeva. "We'll have the best dinners in Grozny."
"Could I take this coat right now?" asks Leonarda Zemchonok, her eyes twinkling. A tiny old woman in a threadbare dress, she has deftly plucked a gay red-patterned dressing-gown from one of the bags. What can I say? Yes you may? No you can't?
Most of the old people simply cannot believe their eyes as the soldiers carefully unload these unheard-of treasures from the army truck and APC. Ordinary people, just like them, had put together tons of donations – not the State which was directly responsible for their well-being and would have demanded several formal applications before sending a single dress.
On 18 August, about to leave Grozny for Gudermes, I call to say goodbye. Looking better and happier, the old women come out in their new clothes to meet me: they are about to enjoy their first lavish dinner: "Your rice and raisins, cooked in your oil." We embrace.
But I must mention some strange things as well.
*
The military base at Khankala is only half an hour away from Grozny. The trip from Moscow to Khankala takes time and required several hours of loading and unloading. Yet thanks to local attitudes it was much harder to transport our cargo on this last leg of the journey.
From our very first appeal to help the old people in Grozny we were supported by Anatoly Kvashnin, head of the General Staff, his deputy Valery Manilov, and the deputy minister of defence Vitaly Azarov. Thanks to their efforts our humanitarian cargo reached a military aerodrome in an air-force plane and helicopter. Major Gennady Dzyuba of the Ministry of Defence's press service was ordered to accompany our cargo to its destination.
Alas, the further we got from Moscow and from senior officials the more the emphasis shifted. Major Dzyuba did not have the faintest desire to go to Grozny. Every half-hour he did not fail to remind us, "Soldiers shouldn't risk their lives for your rice, let alone for you." Mockingly, he gave us a lecture on the "tasks of the counter-terrorist operation" which, he said, had nothing to do with the old people's home.
Finally he declared that my newspaper had only undertaken this operation, thereby burdening an officer "from the central apparatus" such as himself with our "foolishness", in order to boost its sales. It was a cheap and outrageous accusation and there was nothing to do but publicly call Major Dzyuba a "swine".
He hastily began preparations to fly back to Moscow and denounce us. He left for the capital without even entering the old people's home, thereby disobeying a direct order. "You won't forget me! I'll see you lose your accreditation here!"
Are we afraid of losing the right to work in Chechnya? Most certainly, because we know there are too many people there who need our help and can place no trust in the likes of Major Dzyuba.
So who did deliver our consignment? Officers and soldiers who had not received any orders to do so. They were moved by the plight of these lonely old people and saw that the inaction and insolence of the major threatened to wreck the efforts of hundreds of normal people. Many officers in Khankala and Grozny came up and offered their help. They had had no instructions from the General Staff, but simply learned what the problem was. While Dzyuba intrigued against us, they got on with the job. "What are your names?" I asked. "Tell me, and I'll publicly thank you in our newspaper." "We don't need any thanks," they replied.
In particular we have to thank Nikolai Ivanovich, military commandant of the district where the home is located, who became the guardian angel of our operation. He uttered no grand phrases about the "tasks of the counter-terrorist operation", but quietly and steadily worked beyond the call of duty. His military trucks and APC went to Khankala and brought back the supplies for the old people. His soldiers put their weapons aside and, under the command of Captain Dmitry Kharin, shifted tons of humanitarian aid without breaking for a cigarette or needing any encouragement.
As we left, the home's deputy director, Satsit Alieva, said with tears in her eyes: "Tell everyone who did this to help us that they will certainly go to heaven."
You think she's exaggerating? Not at all. It's just that no one brings anything to this home – apart from promises. Hunger, sickness and impoverishment reign here. The readers of Novaya gazeta are the only ones to provide these old people, abandoned by the State, with the bare minimum essential for their survival. If not me, then who? That's exactly the situation here.
GROZNY-MOSCOW
POSTSCRIPT
What brilliant mind decided to shift these lonely old people back to Grozny, you may ask, when even army officers avoid going there? Well, it was the idea of Nikolai Koshman, the former deputy premier and plenipotentiary representative of the Russian Federation government in Chechnya.
When his own position as Moscow's chief deputy in the republic was weakening he decided to engage in some PR. To show the decision-makers in the capital that, under his wise leadership, civilian life in Grozny was "getting back to normal" he sent an emissary to Ingushetia: Magomed Vakhaev, the head of his administration's social welfare department. Vakhaev assured the elderly that ideal conditions had now been created for them in Grozny, and deceived them into returning. They fell victims to a cheap trick in Koshman's struggle to retain power. Koshman was replaced nevertheless and everyone completely forgot about these starving old men and women.