Walk out of the Caucasus - A Historian's View of Russia 1

Author: Wen Yi
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: The Beslan hostage crisis once shocked the world. The author begins by visiting the small town of Beslan, then travels to Vladikavkaz, the capital of North Ossetia Republic, the border between North Ossetia and Ingushetia Republic, the northern border of Kabardino-Balkaria Republic and its capital Nalchik, the capital of Russia, Moscow, and so on, and turns his observations into words. When I stepped out of the aircraft and onto the land of Beslan, the dazzling sunlight and the deep blue sky looked down on the earth from the boundless sky, the lush green trees and the beauty of the leaves extending into the distance filled me with admiration, and a warm, relaxed, leisurely feeling flowed through my body. At that moment, I forgot that this was the land where a terror act, unprecedented in the history of Russia and the world, had taken place a month ago, with hundreds of children and mothers held hostage. A month ago, on October 1st, during the Beslan hostage crisis, I participated as a guest in a three-day live broadcast on Phoenix TV about this event. When I saw the horrifying scenes on the screen, my heart tightened with each passing moment. I really wanted to fly to that land at that moment to personally experience the pain, sorrow, and hatred of its people. Why? I couldn’t quite explain it myself. Perhaps it’s because I am a researcher of Russia, and I have a deeper understanding and more expectations for this country and its people, which has led to more emotional attachments. Therefore, as soon as I arrived in Moscow, I decided to go to Beslan. My friends in Moscow said, "Don’t go, it’s too unsafe there." Various rumors and speculations left me confused: what if terrorists fired missiles at the plane? What if I encountered terrorists on the road? What if I had no transportation? What about the border checks? It seemed that the people of Moscow were truly panicked, as they had never experienced such terror and unease before, despite the fact that they were thousands of miles away from Beslan. In their eyes, Beslan had truly become a hell on earth. However, fate still brought me to Beslan. Of course, for the safety of others, I didn’t mention my plan to visit Beslan to my family or friends beforehand. On this day, the atmosphere at the Moscow airport was tense, with many customs officers added and inspections particularly strict. When passing through, you had to take off everything except your underwear, and even your shoes were taken off for inspection. The large brush-like scanning devices scanned your body from top to bottom. Later, while reading the newspaper on the plane, I learned that customs had implemented new inspection procedures starting from October 1st. It was truly lucky that I happened to catch the first train! The plane was full, and the passengers were all quiet, with no one showing signs of particular unease. This was completely different from the atmosphere I felt in Moscow. Yes, since I had decided to fly to Beslan, there was no need to hesitate. Only one female passenger in the front few rows caught my attention. She had dark skin and black hair, tied in two long braids that fell over her shoulders. She wore all black clothing and a traditional large floral headscarf, making her quite striking. Perhaps due to the Beslan incident, no matter how I looked at her, she seemed like those "human bombs" in the news photos. Of course, not. No Russian glanced at her, and she was calmly reading the newspaper.
The Beslan airport was calm and peaceful. There were no special inspections, no customs officers on high alert, and no soldiers with assault rifles patrolling, staring intently at people. At the exit of the airport, there were many drivers waiting, and as soon as passengers came out, they would approach to offer their services. After the Beslan tragedy, reporters from all over the world flocked to this small city, which had been almost isolated from the world for centuries. Taxis became the most fashionable and bustling industry in the city, with drivers earning more in a day than they had in the past few months. These drivers also became very informed, knowing almost everything that had happened in Beslan and recognizing almost everyone in the city. They seemed to have a thorough understanding of the foreign journalists who had come to the small town. They would tell you, "Stay at the 'Vladikavkaz Hotel'! All the journalists are staying there!" If you asked, they would open up, and sometimes they would even start talking on their own, clearly becoming the spokesperson for Beslan.
The driver, Hassan, had soft, shiny white hair and a rosy complexion, and was polite and refined, unlike the rough-looking drivers waiting to pick up passengers. However, he was just as hospitable and talkative as they were. He looked into the distance as he drove his "Ford" minivan at high speed, saying, "Do you know what? In August, I had a bad feeling. I always thought something big was going to happen, that some disaster was going to strike! Why? Listen, in August, we usually don’t have heavy rain, but this year, it rained nonstop, even torrential rain, with no end in sight—it was really strange! After the rain, it started to blow hard. The wind was so strong that it knocked down the crops, and almost all the corn in the fields was destroyed! The factories that processed corn all shut down, and the chimneys stopped smoking. And there was more—freshly smelling water flowed out of the mountains, red like blood." I interjected, "Did you see it with your own eyes?" He quickly replied, "No, I didn’t! I heard about it. But one evening in August, when I was driving through the fields, I saw a terrible sight—black, red, and white spots flickering everywhere, like demons blinking their eyes. I thought, 'It’s over, it’s over, some great disaster is coming.' Since then, I kept seeing these colors flickering like ghostly lights in my dreams." Suddenly, a scene made up of black, red, and white appeared by the roadside, and for a moment, it made me tremble all over. I quickly said to Hassan, "Look, quickly!" Hassan didn’t even look, just said, "Great disaster! Great disaster! God save us!" Was this really a manifestation of Hassan’s dream? Hassan’s pious demeanor affected me, and I asked him to stop the car. My heart tightened as I walked toward the land covered in black, red, and white. Hassan, however, crouched in the driver’s seat, staring blankly at the scene that had already appeared in his dreams.
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