A TV SET Ruslan Badalov, 2 Žubat 2003, The Chechen Times Probably, you have also been in the same situation: having heard an interesting story you cannot retell it. To be correct, you can retell it, but you lose the zest of the true storyteller. I will never dare to retell what my acquaintance Luiza has recently told me. She is a big, bright woman, with redness in her cheeks; she personifies health and cheerfulness (although in her 30's she suffers from different illnesses.) One cannot remain calm when she appears. People usually burst out laughing. Because of her stories, jokes, gestures and intonation. Whatever, and just try to stay indifferent. I bet no one will manage it. Although she is horizontally challenged, she is quicker than many youngsters. There is no distance for Luiza - to go somewhere and come back. Besides, she is too generous and hospitable. She is open and kind. Do you like her portrait? She is beautiful, isn't she? One day she helped me a lot. It was in April of 1995. There was no water, gas or electricity in the house. The times were terrible, similar to today's Grozny. Once a day a water-carrier came and people took it on the spot. Three days in a row, I joined up the line and returned home with empty buckets. And that time I cherished no hope to get some water. Suddenly Luiza appeared from around the corner. She greeted me and we exchanged a couple of words. A minute later she threw her bag on the snow and grabbed my buckets: - You are not going to get water at all like that! You think she joined the line? No way. But she did not go to its beginning. I stood there hoping no scandal would break out. Meanwhile Luiza joined the common line from a side. She talked to a woman, then to another, and gradually moved towards the tap. A moment later she was filling one of the two buckets, then another. It hardly took her ten minutes to leave the line with two full buckets. Kindly smiling she said goodbye and came up to me: - Let's go! She carried the buckets herself and brought them to my apartment. I had nothing to do but to grab her bag and follow her. That was she, Luiza. Below is her story, and I will try to retell as she did. Listen. December 29, 1999. The event took place in the settlement of Staryi in the Staropromyslovsky district. Federal forces entered Grozny. There still were battles in the center, and "cleaning up" operations began in our district. Soldiers arrived in our settlement. Some of them by foot, others on armor. Then entered our houses, and checked everything. They searched not only for rebels. They checked everything out. When they began taking everything valuable, I understood they had almost no interest in rebels. Mostly they were interested in tape recorders, TV sets, hats, money, tennis shoes, and carpets. For several months all of us used to live in a basement in Bolnizhnaya Street that was close to a boiler-house. All residents were ordered to leave basements - saying the war was over, and it was time to return home. They warned: if people stay in basements they would throw grenades there. We lived through terrible times. I wish you knew how terrible it was! If I knew what we were to experience, I would have left the settlement, in a hurry. The main reason was that I had a cow, a wonderful cow. I exchanged it for a TV set. During the first war I took care of it and knew it gave a lot of milk. I had four children and no revenues. When the second war began, the owners wanted to slaughter her, but I offered them a video for it. Deal! The war broke out. And the war was much more horrible than the first one. My children stayed in Shatoi, with my parents, I could not move there because of the cow. My cow, Maika (people call it "a TV set," but I think Maika sounds better) stayed in the old shed in Belinskogo Street, because I had no shed or hay. Its owners had everything - a shed and enough hay for it. No one thought another war would break out. On December 31, as usual, I fed the cow and returned home. I decided to cleanup the house: New Year holidays, and the war was over... At about 3 pm my neighbor Magomed came and said: - They took your cow away! - Why? Who took it away? - Federals took it away towards the settlement of Novyi. In my slippers and without a hat I rushed after them. My husband followed me. I saw my cow from a distance. They were pulling and Maika dug its heels in the ground. It did not want to leave. The troops tied up its horns with a rope. A kontraktnik walked in front of it and a draftee with a machine gun followed the cow. I ran towards then yelling. When I reached them, the kontraktnik threw a smoke charge and hid in a nearby forest. The soldier opened fire above my head. - Freeze, I am going to shoot you. I told my husband: - They can kill you and then explain - they killed a rebel. You should leave and I will go to them. I went to them yelling: - People, help. Dudayev tormented us, Maskhadov tormented us, Putin and Yeltsin came to take everything we have! Our dog Dolfik followed me. It aggressively growled at the soldier. And he told me: - Take the dog away! Take it away! My husband took the dog aside and left. I came up to the soldier breathing heavily. He told me: - Sit, mother, and rest. I pretended I could hardly speak Russian. - No, I am not going to sit down. I have a poor heart. I sit down and you take my cow away. It turned out that when they took the cow away the neighbor told them the owner was an ill woman. The soldier felt sorry for her and suggested to his partner: - Oleg, let's give the cow back! No, you shall take it away. She is going to feed it to the rebels. I told him: - You think I want beef? I have no one to eat beef? I have stayed in Orel for ten years and could not buy a calf. Look at its teeth, tail (the cow was very old and was going to calve shortly). The soldier asks me: - Have you been to Orel, mother? - Yes. I am from Livna, the Kursk region. I address him again: - Didn't a mother give you birth? Did they send you especially to take my cow away? Don't you have anything else to take away? He told his partner: - Let's give the cow back. And the kontraktnik replies: - No, shoot the cow. And I protected the cow and said: - I will not allow you! If you kill me - my children will become orphans, if you kill my cow - I will become an orphan! Four children will become orphans. I took up a stick and hit Maika several times. It ran away and I followed Maika. The soldier followed us begging: - Give it back, if I don't bring a cow, I will have problems. I ran away and suddenly I stumbled. The cow stopped - it was clever. I knew the soldier would not open fire; the kontraktnik might have wounded his partner or me. I fell and began yelling: - Damn cow, do not butt me? You should have butted them who dragged you away and beat you. I sat on the ground and yelled: - Help! People! Help! The kontraktnik also yelled: - Shoot them! And I told them: - Shoot! Let people know that you kill us because of a cow. You have not come for rebels; you have come to kill civilians! Russians looked down from a hill and local residents gathered beneath. They watched us. A neighbor, a Russian woman from Kooperativnaya Street, came to help me. She told me: - Luiza, I heard you yelling. My mother did not allow me out, but I could not help it and came. We herded the cow into their yard, and half an hour later I returned home with my cow. All the neighbors gathered near our house. One of the neighbors said: - What have you done! They are going to shell us today. You should have given them the cow. We wanted to tell you that, but we knew your temper and kept silence. In reply I said: - Detsa, you have three cows, go and give them one of your cows. They are over there. Thanks Allah, we were not subjected to artillery shelling that night. My cow, "a TV set" (I like calling it Maika) is still alive. I have two calves from it: Bertik and Poksha. [02.02.2003 17:19]