Bomb U.

At Chechen State University, history lessons are in the rubble. But it's the future that matters most.

GROZNY,

"There were days after we got off the bus," she says, "that we had to crawl to class because of the shooting. Many of us lost friends in the fighting."

Madina is a psychology student at Chechen State University in Grozny. She and other students here say going to school, even though surrounded by the ruins of their city, is their only chance to escape the past.

The original university in the center of the city was destroyed during the first Chechen War with Russia in 1994. Now it operates in a former school for the deaf.

Nine students, most of them studying journalism or psychology, talked with me in a cramped faculty office about the prejudice faced by Chechens, their experiences during the Chechen wars and the psychological impact of the conflict — as well as their dreams for the future.

"By going to school," Madina says, "maybe we can help to change some of the negative images people have of Chechens in Russia and elsewhere."

"What kind of negative images?" I ask.

"They think we're all criminals, that we're all bad people," says Rustam Maftaev, a 27-year-old journalism student.

"A lot of people also associate Chechens with terrorism," I say. "Is that something you feel you've been labeled with as well?"

"Yes, there's that too," says Hassan Mantaev, also a 27-year-old journalism student. "But it's mostly that we're associated with criminal activity, that we're always thinking bad thoughts and have bad intentions. And the crimes that aren't solved, they also blame on us — but that's mostly because of the way the Russian press portrays us."

"What about your experiences during the actual fighting? Tell me about your most difficult days," I say.

"When the bombing began we would go down into our cellar and wait," says 19-year-old Madina Yakovova, a journalism major. "I was only 7 years old at the time and it was so loud. It was very frightening. My parents were so worried about our safety that they moved us several different times. I went to seven different schools and eventually graduated from a school in Siberia."

"We also went into our cellar during the bombing," says Rustam, "but when a bomb exploded nearby, my father was hit with 22 pieces of shrapnel. He lived, but is invalid to this day. He has to walk with a cane."

"It was such a shock when the war first started, but I got tired of being scared and it turned into complete indifference," says psychology major Zina Dunoeva. "Even the death didn't scare me anymore. I didn't like to sit in the cellar during the bombing because I couldn't breathe. It was damp and full of mosquitoes. I was going to keep a diary and write down everything that was happening to me, but I finally decided not to because the war was so dirty. I decided to close that book and not look back anymore, and only look ahead."

"I don't like to remember the past either," says psychology major Mariam Achmatova, 24. "Each day I try to find new ways to forget about it. For me, going to school, focusing on education and learning is the most effective way to do it."

"After an artillery attack on one of the neighborhoods I saw the bodies of 18 people there that had been killed," says 18-year-old journalism student Hasmajomed Ismaelov.

"Did that give you nightmares?" I ask.

"No, I didn't have any nightmares," he says. "We got used to this environment. We stopped going into the cellars. We just stopped being afraid."

"Raise your hands," I ask them, "if you're still living in a house that was damaged by the bombing."

They all raise their hands.

"I'm living in an apartment building in which the 4th and 5th floors stairs have been destroyed," says Taisa Magomadova, a 30-year-old journalism student. "And when it's raining or snowing, the water seeps in and floods all of the lower apartment buildings and we have to place buckets and basins everywhere to catch it."

"We were refugees living in Russia during the bombing, but our home was completely destroyed," says 24-year-old psychology major Amina Lamnokaeva. "We just finished rebuilding it last summer, but there are many houses on our streets that are still in ruins and owners haven't returned."

"What do you feel like," I ask, "when your home has been destroyed by bombing?"

"When I first saw my house after returning to Grozny," says Rustam, "it was just awful. It was like someone closed to you being killed. This was the house where I grew up and all my memories were there."

"Did you lose all your photographs as well?" I ask.

"No, we at least had taken those with us," he says. "But all our furniture, all of our personal things were destroyed."

"You've all told me," I say, "about the prejudice you experience as Chechens, your lives during the war, the stress of your environment. But what do you want for yourselves, from your education and your future?"

Mariam's response is perhaps most telling: "First, I need to help myself get over my own stress and then to use my education to help others."

"As a future psychologist," says Madina Amaeva, "I want to help people get rid of their post-traumatic stress (PTSD) — especially children since they were born during the war and saw nothing else in their lives — to broaden their minds."

"How does PTSD manifest itself in the children here?" I ask.

"The children here are more nervous, more agitated, aggressive," she says. "They lose their tempers easily and they still play only war games. They can hurt another child without understanding the hurt and pain."

"As a psychologist I want to help people who are exasperated by this conflict," Zina adds.

The journalism students in the room speak up.

"As a journalist I want to bring out the truth not just in Chechnya, but all over the world," Rustam says.

"I want to be a journalist with the same intentions," Hassan agrees, "but I want to tell the rest of the world much more about Chechnya."

Amina adds, "I want to be a television newscaster. I don't want to just read the news but investigate it, because freedom of the press seems to have some limits here."

"I don't want anyone to have the kind of experiences we've had — ever again," Madina Yakovova says simply. "My hope is that the next generation will read about this war only in the history books, because there will be no evidence left of it in real life."

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