Chechnya. Part II

September 29, 2007

Grozny

There are no mountains between the Dagestani border and the city entrance — scorched steppe all around. The entrance to Grozny is newfangled and characterless, something in between the Emirates and the likes of Sharm el- Sheikh. There’s no checkpoint (although there is one on the other side of the city).

Unbelievably straight, shipshape houses line the wide avenues. This is a rare sight even in Moscow — all of the window frames are identical, the inset balconies don’t all have mismatching glazing.

There are monuments adorning all the squares. For instance: revolution-era bayonets with portraits of the father, the son and the holy spirit on each of the three sides. Further up — a kitchen clock. Above it — the earth, complete with chalices, which catch the wind and send the earth spinning.

If you do happen to see graffiti it will be the official kind, depicting the 100 days of creation (this refers to the first one hundred days of Kadyrov junior’s presidency).

Outcomes: 100 days of creation

Hindi rusi bhai bhai — Indians and Russians are brothers.

Grozny traffic light.

This is Minute square, the subject of extensive media coverage. It’s not clear what all the fuss is about — just your run-of-the-mill asphalt-paved section.

By the way, “Megafon-Kavkaz” is the number one mobile phone operator in Chechnya. That’s why you don’t pronounce the “8 928” prefix. People say: “My number is — Megafon-123-45- 67” instead. And another thing, in the Caucasus mobile phones are not only used to make calls, but also to watch and share videos. Anything and everything is filmed on mobile phones and come evening, it’s in everybody’s pocket.

— Hey, do you want a video of an insurgent holding a cut off head with a cigarette hanging out of its mouth? Turn your Bluetooth on, — the driver sends over the file.

Not all of the city’s destroyed buildings have been reconstructed yet. Just like in the DPRK, they put fences up around them so that they’re not visible from the road.

You can drive through the city centre without suspecting that shots were once fired around here.

Having said that, a round of assault rifle fire sounded that very second.

— Probably a wedding nearby, — the driver offered.

Business as usual in this Caucasus republic.

Chechen lotto. Grand prize

Tranquil courtyards.

There are orders to rebuild everything. However, so far they haven’t found any 1960s-style shop windowpanes. Moreover, it’s unclear what should be put on display — the building became residential a long time ago.

Bra-ta-ta-tat!

The residents of this building are competing for excellent sanitary conditions in the courtyard and the designation of Exemplary Building

Bam!

Bam! Bam!

Let one loose on those Czech guys, Vasilievich!

Psshhew... wham!

Ka-ka-ka-pow! Tzing-tzing!

Ka-boom!

Here we are in reconstructed Grozny. After all, it’s just a matter of the equipment you’re using— turning the camera to the right or to the left just a little.

They avoid showing post-apocalyptic landscapes on the news. Such as the checkpoint at the entrance to the city, erected on the spot of the former Grozny passenger car plant, a building with cosmonauts on its side and arrow slits in the perimeter window apertures, now sealed with cement.

Unofficial life runs its course in the neighbourhoods of the Leninsky district.

Children unable to speak Russian roam here.

Any and all buildings are used as housing, as long as they have a floor, a ceiling, and at least a couple of walls.

Then they paint the outside white, to create the illusion of life at peace.

Technically, they’re living life at peace right now. There are hardly any new residential buildings, old ones are being reconstructed instead. The process is reminiscent of putting mortuary makeup on a car crash corpse. In one part the partitions remain broken, in another insulated window units are have already been installed.

It’s much more reassuring if you have a camera with you. That way everyone assumes you are from yet another design studio — taking pictures with a view to doing reconstruction work. Some ask what organisation you work for. Others just let you get on with the job.

Hot bread

This old woman called Dasha was five years old when Stalin deported the Chechens. Then her family came back and she spent her whole life in Grozny. She stayed in this neighbourhood throughout both Chechen wars. She starved. She spent the winter in the basement together with the other old folks. She was once escorted to be executed by firing squad. She told us about the corpses strewn anywhere, the dogs eating what was left of them. She is a Russian citizen, like all Chechens. Things have looked up since then. She lives in a half-destroyed nine-storey building. Her daughter-in-law is washing the rug using washing powder. She says that even the Germans didn’t do the kinds of things that Russian soldiers did here.

I understand why they’ve kept the well- kempt house award winner sign on that house, despite the bullet holes. For the same reason they’ve kept the “during an artillery bombardment, this side of the street is more dangerous” signs in St Petersburg.

— You’d better not walk around here on your own, — Dasha advises me as we say our goodbyes.

The driver brings me back and refuses to accept any money as a matter of principle. I’m his guest — he’s given me lavash and my phone is filled with video clips.

Glitz and glamour are gradually advancing on Grozny.

Glamour

* * *

I went back to Moscow wearing a “Grozny” T-shirt. At the market they also sold T-shirts saying “Kadyrov’s special forces” and other such witticisms.

It turns out that there’s no such thing as unofficial taxis at “Vnukovo” airport. No one calls out “Taxi, low fares”. You have to exit the building and queue to get your cab, as if you were in Germany or something.