Life Amid the Ruins

Art, philosophy and hope survive in a bombed-out building in Chechnya.

GROZNY,

Chechnya - It's a frigid February day in Grozny, but Ramzan Izhaev is dressed only in a T-shirt and cotton trousers. His cozy apartment is toasty, warmed by a gas stove, the walls covered by artwork that he and his wife, Zareta, created.

He sits in front of a wooden easel, painting the ruins of medieval war towers that dot the rocky landscapes of the Caucasus Mountains, while soft sunlight, diffused by white lace curtains covering a large window, fills the space.

But outside his window the ruins are not so picturesque. For as far as the eye can see in nearly every direction, there are bombed out and crumbling homes, apartment buildings and businesses. The scene is a grim product of devastating Russian aerial carpet bombing campaigns against the city in 1994 and again in 1999.

"Most people would say that it's difficult to live in such a place," says Ramzan, "that it at times can be very empty. But you must have something to fill it with."

The stated purpose of the bombing was to kill or flush out Islamic separatists who were using Grozny as a base for terrorist operations. But here and elsewhere around the world the Russian response was criticized as heavy-handed and punitive.

Grozny, once a thriving industrial center of 600,000 people, has seen its population reduced by half. Most of those who remain live in structures that would be condemned by almost any standard of structural soundness and safety.

Ramzan, Zareta and their five-year-old daughter Maria live in one such building, along with a handful of other residents in the Leninski District of Grozny.

In a city riddled with holes, bomb gaps, missing walls and collapsing roofs, their building is one of the better ones, although there are only two habitable apartments. One is occupied by Ramzan's family, the other by his parents.

On the fourth floor of the building they have carved out a space that is artistic, comfortable — and free. But they're not squatters. Friends of Ramzan had owned the apartment prior to the fighting. They left and decided not to return.

Because Ramzan and Zareta's apartment was completely destroyed by the bombing and Zareta was pregnant with Maria, the friends offered them the place.

"It was November when we saw it," Zareta says. "It was dusty and cold with the wind blowing through all the cracks in the walls, and one of the rooms was completely destroyed by a bomb."

They decided to live with Ramzan's parents a few floors below, but the one-room space became too crowded for four adults and a new baby. The young family moved upstairs in the spring and began repairing the apartment, walling off the bombed-out room.

"I want to say I had my doubts about it, but doubts are the reality of a peaceful place," says Zareta. "They can't exist here." She recalls the "beautiful things" — furniture and art — that used to surround her. "I had to forget about all those things when we moved here. I even had to learn a new vocabulary for a life comprised of doing things to survive."

"When we moved into the building in 2000, there were still six dead bodies in the basement..."— Mausheva Elena

Like thousands of others living in Grozny today, they pirate gas and electric lines to provide heat and power for their apartment.

To help deal with such destruction, the International Rescue Committee (IRC), one of the few international aid organizations working in the area, even runs a program called "One Warm Room."

The program attempts to do exactly as the name implies: find apartments with at least one room intact, and help a family rebuild the room as a suitable living space.  

The major drawback, according to Ramzan and Zareta (who were not part of the IRC program), is the lack of running water.

"We need 60 to 70 liters of water every day for cooking, washing and so on," says Zareta. That means five or six trips up and down four flights of stairs to a well in the courtyard.

"It's good fitness," she says, laughing and patting her thighs.

There are also some other "positive" unintended consequences. Ramzan and Zareta used to own a shish kebab and shawarma restaurant in central Grozny, which left them little time to spend on their art. The restaurant was destroyed by the bombing. Now both are painting full time and spending more time together raising Maria.

In another building in the same block, Mausheva Elena and her mother, Chenileva Nikonovna, live in an apartment in much worse condition. While Chenileva gazes out the window with her white cat, Mausheva points to a portion of the building right next to her apartment that was destroyed by a massive Russian bomb. The entire center structure gave way to the explosion, collapsing into itself, forming a horseshoe indentation.

"When we moved into the building in 2000, there were still six dead bodies in the basement," says Mausheva. "Finally someone called the security forces and they sent some people in to retrieve them and take them away."

Mausheva is already at retirement age, but continues to work in a medical clinic to support herself and her mother. She says that life is difficult here, especially with no running water. And since they don't own the apartment they could be evicted at any time.

Despite the miserable conditions, she says she hasn't lost hope.

While we're talking, another resident, Dorijova Raya, is coming home from work. A tall redhead with a long black leather jacket and a broad smile, she is philosophical about living in the midst of the ruins.

"It's better to live in your own tent than someone else's palace," she says.

Dorijova says she's been reading Chinese philosophy, as well as Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. The two authors' themes — that true character is revealed in troubled times — have some resonance here.

"But I would leave here in a second," Dorijova says, before going inside. "I would gladly go anywhere away from here."

"No," Mausheva responds. "We have to stay. We need to rebuild our homes."

That is the major dilemma for Ramzan and Zareta as well. They are happy to have a place to live, but they worry about Maria growing up surrounded by destruction.

"When I fall asleep every night," says Zareta, "I wonder what I can do to make her life better. Each day I get a little closer to the realization that we have to leave this place."

Zareta says the five-year-old already is noticing the difference between Grozny and places like Moscow and St. Petersburg, where the family sometimes travels to sell their art.

She says that when they take walks Maria asks questions about the destruction, wondering why the kindergarten was bombed.

"Already she sees the world in contrasts. She wonders why some places are beautiful and some places are not," Zareta says.

"It's difficult," Ramzan agrees, "but it's good that she has had part of her childhood here. I want her to know who she is, to have a connection to her past. I've seen Chechen children who have grown up in Moscow and they've been completely assimilated. They don't have any connection to their roots."

But already both parents say they've seen the impact of Grozny's destruction on their child — that she is more introspective, different from other children.

And the stress of Grozny's battles hasn't left them unscarred either — physically or mentally. While taking refuge from the fighting in his home village, Ramzan was wounded and nearly killed by bomb shrapnel that penetrated his legs and chest, collapsing one lung. Zareta, staying with her brother in Moscow at the time, saw the pictures of her wounded husband on television.

"I was worried that he may have lost his legs," she says, "and when I called him on the telephone at the hospital, I asked fearfully, 'Do you need your shoes?'"

Ramzan says he also sometimes dreams about the carnage that surrounds him. He remembers a large aquarium he had in his apartment before it was bombed and how the heat of the explosion melted the glass, fusing it with the blood of the fish.

Regardless of what he sees at night, as well as what surrounds him during the day, Ramzan says his family will have a good future and that Grozny is and always will be a part of it — wherever they may live.

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