KP
special correspondent Darya Aslamova is sure only force can tear the
small proud Abkhazia Republic from Russia
It was Aug.
14, 1992. I woke up at 06:00 in the morning at Stalin's old dacha. The
Georgian Army was everywhere. Soldiers were sleeping side-by-side.
Tropical birds sang in the nearby garden. I had just sat down on the
windowsill under the sun to do my eyebrows when I saw Georgian Defense
Minister Kitovani waddling to the sea in a wet towel.
"War in a resort town?" I thought. "What
nonsense!"
"How many hours until the war?" I shouted
to him. "Will I have time to get to Sukhum?"
"You've got two hours," he answered.
I remember walking with my friend to
Sukhum. We bought the only remaining cucumber at an empty city market
and a bottle of Soviet champagne. I remember the pained face of Sergey
Bagapsh, who is today's Abkhazian president. He must have sat alone in
the huge empty building housing the Cabinet of Ministers waiting for the
world to end.
I remember how the first bursts of machine
gun fire forced us into the home of a stranger — a woman named Emma who
was shaken with fear. We sat on the floor drinking champagne and eating
the cucumber as all hell broke loose around us.
I remember how the Georgian Army raked the
sweet resort town with fire.
Drunk soldiers smashed storefront windows
and robbed the goods. One soldier even handed me a bottle of fake French
perfume.
"Here!" he said. "Take this. I won't worry
over it!"
On that violent August day, all seemed
lost for Abkhazia.
"The Abkhazia campaign is over," Kitovani
said victoriously before his flight to Tbilisi.
But the war had only just begun.
I remember carpets of bright mandarins
spread over the snow in Abkhazia's bullet ridden gardens in March 1993.
No one would harvest them. Picking a mandarin might mean catching a
stray bullet in the head.
If as a foreigner I remember the war just
just like yesterday, how vividly do the Abkhazians recall those heavy
days? I laughed with them at the irony when Georgian President Mikhail
Saakashvilli made his fiery appeal to the Abkhazian people: "Brothers
and sisters...!"
Georgia once again hurled the whip down
upon Abkhazia this resort season, testing the Abkhazians with sabre
-rattling in the Kodor Gorge, secret attempts at negotiations, spy
planes flying overhead, proposals for a broader autonomy, provocations
on election day on the Abkhazian-Georgian border and U.S. mediators
visiting Sukhum. But all this ballyhoo just worsens the cold war between
Georgia and Abkhazia.
As we drove into Sukhum, we were greeted
by a poster reading: "Glory to a victorious nation! 1992-1998."
Is the young unrecognized nation preparing
for another war?
Everyone is armed
I voted by the highway near Gagra and
quickly became irritated. I stood beneath the sweltering sun for 40
minutes waiting for a car to pull over and give me a ride. "I guess no
one wants to earn anything?" I thought perturbed. Finally, a young man
stopped in an old foreign car.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To Sukhum," I said.
"Get in," he said.
"How much for the ride?" I asked.
"That's a bit unnecessary," he said. "Do I
look like a cabbie or something? We give good people free rides here.
This isn't Moscow."
My benefactor's name was Timur. He was a
usual member of Abkhazia's post-war generation. His basement at home
stored a Kalashnikov, two pistols, "Mukha" grenade launchers and a
bulletproof vest.
"It's like Israel here," he said. "We're
all in the 'Reserve.' If the homeland calls, I'll fall into line and
obey my commandeer. It's easiest this way. There's no need to feed a
professional army. The army feeds itself. By the way, our guys serve two
years not like in Russia."
"We have a law on circulating arms, but it
doesn't work," said Ruslan Kishmariya, presidential representative in
the Gal region. "And thank God. The people are too afraid to register
their weapons. What if they suddenly came and took them away? We'd have
to face the Georgians without any weapons like during the last war."
"You want to know how prepared Abkhazia is
for war?" asked Deputy Defense Minister Gary Kupalba. "We have tanks and
artillery. They're all Soviet trophy arms. Before the war, when the
Soviet Union was divided up, Georgia received a whole slew of arms from
the South Caucasus Military District. We ended up with a large portion
of them. When the Georgians exited Abkhazia, they left everything here
without even exploding it. There were over 200 tanks from Ochamchira to
the border. We took everything. It was much cheaper than buying the
equipment new."
"During the military operation, I was
first deputy defense minister," said Foreign Minister Sergey Shamba. "When
the UN troops came to Abkhazia, I rode around with them so they could
see the arms the Georgians had abandoned. They spoke to each other in
English thinking I didn't understand: 'How could the war have been lost
with such artillery? Hundreds of guns and tanks.' Well we took
everything."
"Is your home also stocked with weapons?"
I asked.
"My home," he said. "No, that's nonsense.
I have a machine gun and pistols. But my grandchildren are growing up
and I'm thinking about how to get rid of the weapons. My son who went to
the front at age 16 is far better prepared. I remember going to see
Dudaev in Chechnya during the war to beg him for planes. He had two
aerodromes fully loaded. He had anything you could ever want —
everything that had been stored in the North Caucasus Military District.
They took 47,000 machine guns and we were left with the shells. But
Dudaev didn't give us any planes. He said: 'You kiss Russia's ass and
you're still asking us to give you planes?!' Our relationship ended
there. But today Abkhazia is poles apart. This isn't 1992 when we didn't
have an army or weapons. We've tasted victory. We have a budget and arms
expenditures. Russia's support is also increasing. We're going to talk
with Georgia differently now."
"After the collapse of the Soviet Union,
you could buy anything and everything from countries party to the Warsaw
Pact," Kupalba said. "They were selling weapons for the price of metal.
A tank went for $1,000 per ton. So for $10,000 you could buy a tank.
Today a Lada sells for $12,000. If we didn't buy the arms back then,
we'd have nothing now. Today we have our own aviation — Czech training
planes analogous to the Su-25. It's easy to mount ammunition on them. We
also have MiG-24 military helicopters. How many? Well we shouldn't talk
in numbers. But the Georgians don't have it as easy as you think. The
U.S. didn't give them anything free besides 'Iroquois' helicopters that
were used in Vietnam. Ukraine sold 40 T-62 tanks to Georgia, but gave
them old broken equipment on the sly. There's a lot of corruption in
Georgia's higher echelons which is why contracts are signed for
purchasing old weapons. So we're no less armed than the Georgians."
"And how many people are you prepared to
call to arms?" I asked.
"Within 24 hours 25,000 men. And up to
60,000 in a week. The Kuban Cossacks have promised an additional 5,000
men. Entire battalions fought with us. Three hundred Cossacks were
killed in the war and 7-8,000 men from all over the former Soviet Union
volunteered to fight. If Georgia attacks, our diaspora will also be
activated (4 million Abkhazians live in 50 countries worldwide)."
Storm clouds along the border
The road to the Georgian border is covered
in potholes. Our car bounces so much I start to hiccup.
"You don't mind we're driving in the
opposite lane?" I asked Kishmariya.
"How else can we pass?" he said surprised.
Several UN jeeps drove passed us loudly.
"Ahа, there goes the 'tourists,'"
Kishmariya said, laughing angrily. "They drive back and forth all day
long, spying and not doing a single thing. And fairytale wages! Six
years ago, the Georgian 'Zviadists' took a Slovak peacekeeper hostage.
He sat in the mountains, drank Cha-Cha, ate well and played cards the
whole time. His wife later came to see him. She begged the Zviadists to
keep him captive longer. The UN was paying the hostage $15,000 per day!
Of course, they let the Slovak go and the Zviadists released a tape of
the negotiations with his wife. I can't stand these guys. They come from
Sri Lanka or Pakistan to teach me how to live in my land?! Go take care
of your own country first! Recently a delegation from the EU parliament
came to see me at my office. They said: 'We thank your separatist state
for allocating two hours for negotiations.' 'What kind of state?' I
asked. 'Separatist,' they said. 'Aha, so it's like that!' I said. And
within 8 minutes they were gone."
The Gal region is a territory housing a
large population of Megrelians. After the war, nearly 50,000 Georgian
refugees returned to Gal.
"The Georgians were shouting to the
international community: 'What a disgrace! 200,000 refugees!'"
Kishmariya said. "But the Georgians aren't saying a word about the fact
that they're starting to go home."
The Megrelians are a distinct people with
their own language and traditions. But the Georgians don't consider them
to be an independent nation.
"They're only Megrelians until the age of
16," he said. "But as soon as they get their passport they're
Georgians."
The closer to the border, the more women
in black. The Megrelians have a genuine cult venerating the dead.
Mourning over a great uncle lasts decades. And one mourning merges with
the next and eventually there is no reason to take off the black
clothing.
Nabakevi village. The Russian peacekeeping
station sits proudly below the banner, "Russia." It was here that
strange, scandalous events occurred on the day of the Georgian elections.
Georgia accused Abkhazians of committing an act of terror — blowing up a
bus to scare the Georgian population in Abkhazia and prevent them from
voting.
Abkhazian Major Bubnov examined me
suspiciously."Do you have permission for an interview?" he asked.
"Where from!" I said with a smile. "At
least just tell me what happened. Where were the shootings?"
"On that day we heard sounds of fighting
close by," Bubnov said. "There were shots. And then a shell flew toward
us. Luckily no one was injured."
"I know. I was there!" said a Megrelian
farmer riding by on his wagon. "I went to Georgia for the elections. I
had already voted and as I headed back they started shooting. Bullets
were flying all over. It's not clear who took the shots. I jumped in a
ditch and laid there. Then I walked home crossing the border by foot."
"We're tired of these provacations,"
Abkhazian President Sergey Bagapsh told KP. "The situation on election
day was a genuine spectacle. Shots were fired into an empty bus. The bus
caught fire. And cameras and fire engines appeared."
"Any act of terror without victims is
suspicious," Kishmariya said. "In whose interest would this be? Only
Georgia's. And Georgia once again is accusing Abkhazia of terrorism. Why
would the Abkhazians shoot an empty bus?"
"Well who shot down the Georgian drones?"
I changed the topic.
A sly look came over Kishmariya's face. "The
Abkhazian forces. Do you have reason to doubt that?" he said. (And I
remembered how I had asked a Russian military expert: "Maybe we shot
down the drones?" "Of course we did!" he said surprised. "Who else?"
"A Georgian journalist called me that day
and asked: 'Mr. Kishmariya! How did the Abkhazians shoot down the
Georgian drone? With what'" he said. "'With special equipment called a 'Boomerang,'
I answered. 'What's that?' she asked. 'A unique nonexpendable weapon,' I
said. 'You throw it and it comes back.' You won't believe me, but the
Georgians published that!"
Dead fighting a war of the living
All Abkhazia is wandering from funerals to
weddings. Or as they say in Abkhazia, "weddings-shmeddings" and "funerals-shmunerals."
Good and bad celebratory tables. Life is always either one of the two.
"The Abkhazian people have a special idea
of death," my friend Nadir said. "In Abkhazian, the word 'died'
translates literally as 'changed worlds.' We are all riding one train.
Only the dead have reached their final destination and we are still on
route. The deceased are waiting for us and plead us. If we want their
support THERE, then we must justify their expectations here."
Abkhazians prepare for death in a humdrum,
theatrical manner.
"What do you think, when will Aunt Anelya
die? Tuesday or Wednesday?" one Abkhazian said to another as we sat
there drinking coffee.
"Wednesday. You'll see. But no earlier
than Uncle Anzor," the other said.
My cup was shaking in my hands.
"How can you talk about death like that?"
I asked.
"Death is a part of life. What are you
afraid of? People attend funerals with no less pleasure than weddings!"
I heard in answer.
Man is flesh and God is flesh. All these
Othellos, Desdemonas, Hamlets (even Hitlers, Studebakers... Abkhazians
love exuberant unusual names.) want the dead to appear to be living.
"So I arrive at D.'s funeral and he's
laying there before the crowd. In one hand he has a lit cigarette and in
the other an open book," my acquaintance Zaur told me. "Every 15 minutes
his relatives gave him a new cigarette. The ventilator was working to
turn the pages for him. Gives you goosebumps. And what about the ones
who made mausoleums in their yards? Their son died in an automobile
accident as a young man. And so his parents embalmed him and brought the
mummy breakfast, lunch and dinner for 40 years."
I was covered in a thin cold sweat. "Be
quiet! You're not normal!"
"Ahh, you don't get it! All our policies
revolve around the dead!" Nadir explained. "We believe that if we don't
fulfil their last will, they will get us from the other world. You think
3,000 of our young men died just like that for nothing? Their last will
was Abkhazia's independence. There cannot be any negotiations. No state
will hold ground if it goes against their will! In Abkhazia there are
regions where the dead are buried at home. Go ahead and try to sell or
take away these homes. The families living there would die for them."
Old and New Rules
"Each May Georgia kicks the resort season
off with a new threat of war. But this year is special," said State
Deputy and Hero of Abkhazia Batal Kobakhiya. "After Kosovo's recognition,
the rules have changed. The tender for recognizing Abkhazia's
independence has been declared and powerful players are participating —
Russia and the U.S. The West is rebuking us saying that we are Russia's
satellite state. But we don't deny this. When we were forced into a
corner, Russia opened its window to us. Should we have refused such aid
only for Georgia's sake? Today, after removing economic sanctions,
Russia has already opened a window. Now it might open the door. But
Russia is very scrupulous. It wants to honor international regulations
so no one can say Russia is conducting itself in the Caucasus like a
bull in a china shop."
"After Kosovo, Georgian authorities
attempted to use scare tactics by openly threatening Abkhazia with
force," said Foreign Minister Sergey Shamba. "Burdzhanidze's statement
can still been seen on the Web that Georgia will fight Russia if
Abkhazia's independence is recognized. They thought they'd scare us, but
their comments had the reverse effect. Russia's leaders slammed their
fists on the table and they sent more troops to Abkhazia. Saakashvilli
was singing a whole other tune when he spoke in Batumi May 8. He said
that the Georgian Army isn't capable of fighting, NATO wouldn't help,
Russia is our closest ally... That's the audience. Russia only needs to
slam its fist."
"After the war, Georgia signed an
agreement which it currently disputes. The Georgians were weak and
afraid we'd take Tbilisi," Shamba continued. "Why did Shevardnadze say:
'Standing on my knees, I'm asking that we be taken into the CIS'?
Because he needed strength to stop us. And then Moscow sent its Marines
to Poti to stop our attack on Tbilisi. And now the Georgians have a
revanchist air about them. They sent troops to the Korosk Gorge, built a
patriotic camp along our borders, spent millions of dollars on arms.
Listen, why do they need so many weapons? What's happening with Georgia
is a natural process. Human history is a constant shifting of borders.
We witnessed the fall of the Russian Empire. And Georgia's current form
was artificially created by Stalin."
After Kosovo's independence was recognized,
highbrow officials such as Deputy Aid to the U.S. Secretary of State
Matthew Bryza and the U.S. ambassador to Georgia visited Sukhum.
"They came to feel us out and see what
we're made of," said Presidential Advisor Nadir Bitiev. "For them we're
the same old FSB agents, only darker and we speak Russian with a strange
accent."
"At a closed meeting 1.5 years ago, the
Georgians told Bryza that peaceful means weren't solving the Abkhazia
question and only military force would work," said Deputy Defense
Minister Gary Kupalba. "Bryza said: 'If the situation is solved quickly,
within 2-3 days, the international community won't have the time to come
to their senses. But if the ordeal lasts several weeks, we won't support
you.' And so Georgia was brushed off by the U.S. The Abkhazia issue
cannot be solved in three days."
"The U.S. declared its interest in the
South Caucasus and is inching toward the North Caucasus," he continued.
"Russia also wants to have influence in the South Caucasus and prevent
Georgia from joining NATO. Georgia has unanimously left its sphere of
influence and Russia must reconcile with this fact. So Russia needs to
use what it has — little Abkhazia. If Russia loses Abkhazia, then
tomorrow NATO will be just outside Sochi. The West has hinted that if
the mediators change, Russian forces leave Abkhazia and NATO
peacekeepers arrive they'd examine our membership in various
international organizations."
"I met with the messengers Matthew Bryza
and the U.S. ambassador," said Bagapsh. "We are ready to proceed with
negotiations with Georgia under one condition — that Georgian forces are
withdrawn from the Kodor Gorge. Abkhazia's status is not under
consideration. We will never again be a part of Georgia. And the Kodor
Gorge belongs to Abkhazia. Georgians are increasing their forces, but
they shouldn't be disillusioned into thinking we're sitting here idly.
"When Saakashvilli said that the drones
flied, fly and will fly above Abkhazia," Bagapsh continued, "we answered:
'We shot the drone down and we will continue to do so.' I requested the
contingent of the Russian Army to increase their troops. It was our
initiative. Abkhazia is home to many Russian citizens. In terms of the
Russian passports. In 1998, I met with Shevardnadze and spoke about this
issue. Let's solve the problem about UN documents for Abkhazians. He
wasn't interested. So I told him in four years 90 percent of Abkhazians
would have Russian passports. Shevardnadze didn't believe me. But we
started this procedure and we've been successful. The West speculates
that Russia wants to annex Abkhazia. But this is absurd. Under law
Russia cannot attach another nation to itself. Putin and I spoke about
this. It is in Russia's interest to have an independent friendly state
and free economic zone on its border. Abkhazia can become an original
duty-free. Every large state rests near a smaller state. It is normal.
If the U.S. has a remote zone of interest such as Georgia or the Kyrgyz
Republic, why can't Russia can't observe its interests on its own border?!
We are a buffer between possible NATO bases in Georgia and Russia.
"In Georgia," Bagapsh said, "my photograph
is hanging at shooting ranges instead of a target. This isn't a joke,
it's an ideology. Believe you me, politicians talk elegantly about war
until they start firing. Everything is NATO in Georgia right now — jeeps,
food, uniforms. But when they start carrying coffins it won't matter
what uniforms the dead are wearing — NATO or not. All men die the same
regardless of uniform."
06.11.2008 Komsomolskaya Pravda
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