In the Shade of Sidrat. Maryam Nashkhoeva
war, caught under fire when he was returning home from work.
In the dim light of a kerosene lamp, their faces looked dark and gloomy, their eyes tired, and only the children’s big eyes were shining like beacons of endless hope. Everyone remained still, as if frozen in space.
– Meet our brother Adam, he needs to rest, – said Akhmed, following him into the basement.
Adam was silent. At that very moment, when he looked at these people, tears filled his eyes. In each of them, he saw the people he had shared the bomb shelter with for a month. Then he slowly took a stool and sat down lowering his gaze to the floor. The terrible events of the day flashed before his eyes. He raised his head and looked carefully at everyone sitting in the basement. His heart was breaking with pain, at that moment he wanted to be in the damp earth with his parents.
– Adam, you are now also a member of our little international family, – Akhmed said with a smile, trying to cheer him up.
– He has lost his family today; you will understand his grief. We are all created by the Almighty, and to Him we return! – he added calmly.
Everyone looked at him with great sympathy, no one asked any questions, and the children were also silent, as if understanding the vast universal pain of a man who had suddenly lost the most precious thing in his life. A silence, not typical of wartime, prevailed. Everyone was exhausted and trying to rest, even for a short while. Adam dozed off, sitting on the stool, he didn’t want to eat or drink… the only thing he wanted was to close his eyes and never open them again, so as not to see this cruel and unfair world. This way passed his first night without his father and mother.
It was already dawn when Adam woke up and decided to go out to visit his parents’ graves. He quietly climbed up the stairs, lifted the heavy trapdoor of the basement, and walked quickly to the neighboring house. It snowed for the first time that night. The street was unusually quiet. November turned out to be cold this time, and the white snow covered everything around with its white blanket, as if trying to hide cruel human crimes. Adam immediately headed to the backyard. After a while, he heard some noise in the yard and quickly returned. There he noticed Akhmed collecting snow in two small iron buckets.
– Good morning, Adam! I hope you’ve had some rest, if it can be called so. We’ve run out of water supplies, but luckily it snowed. We will melt it and drink this water. We used to collect rainwater, but now we have to collect snow. I guess, you’re used to such harsh conditions, as you also lived in a bomb shelter for some time? – Akhmed said, smiling. But Adam did not answer, he just sadly shook his head in response.
– Well, it’s good that you are not a white-collar worker. A real man! Take one bucket, let’s collect some more while it’s clean, and then go back home, – Akhmed told him, then they returned to the basement together.
Descending, they plunged into inky darkness. Daylight couldn’t reach the basement, only a kerosene lamp illuminated the small room. In the “little house”, everyone was busy with their own business. Markha tried to feed everyone with the last supplies of food offering a luxurious breakfast of biscuits and canned food accompanied with the rainwater leftover. The elder children were playing a city name game, Vera was reading her favorite book “Jane Eyre”, taken as the only valuable thing when they ran away during another bombing.
Alla and Sonya were melting the snow brought by Akhmed. Everyone was in warm clothes round the clock, as it was very damp and cold in the basement. They lit a small fire from makeshift materials: frames of broken wooden windows, sticks, newspapers, magazines, apart from books – they were strictly forbidden. The library was off-limits. Adam remained silent. The women tried to talk to him, but in vain.
– Akhmed, he talked to you, didn’t he? The boy isn’t dumb? – worried Markha asked.
– No, not at all, what are you saying? We talked yesterday. Apparently, his parents’ death affected him. It’s great he survived, he was born lucky, he didn’t even get a scratch after all that bombing. Don’t disturb him now, when he recovers from the stress a little, he’ll start talking, – Akhmed replied.
– He’s sitting on that stool again, staring at one point. I feel so sorry for him. Try talking to him, ask him to eat something. He might get sick, – Markha said.
– He’ll be fine. He’s young, his whole life ahead of him, – Akhmed replied, doing his best to look on the bright side of things.
– What life? We don’t know if we’ll be alive tomorrow, – Markha said sadly, waving her hand.
– Let’s not be pessimistic! Hope always saves a person in any situation. Our people survived in exile, and now everything will be fine. Let’s hope for the Almighty! I don’t want to hear such words from you again! – Akhmed replied.
– As you say, captain! – Markha said.
After a while, everyone gathered around a small table with food: pieces of crackers, two cans of preserved food, melted snow for drinking – that’s all that was left for the past couple of months. First, the children ate, and then the adults, if there was anything left. But despite such terrible conditions – hunger and cold – the children did not get sick. When there were no strong bombings, local markets worked, brave and courageous women went out before dawn to earn money to feed their families.
Thus, one day passed after another within the four damp walls of the “little house”. The children were very afraid of planes and loud explosions, but the adults did not show any sign of being scared. There were times when each of them just wanted to cry out loud, to sit outside where nobody could hear, and scream at the top of their lungs! About their pain, their losses, their shattered lives, the ones who had passed away, and the unheard-cruelty of people. Over that month, everyone became so close as if they had known each other for their whole lives, they shared their experiences, cried and laughed together, and even shared their last piece of bread.
War always reveals the true face of a person: real people become even more compassionate, kind, and responsive, while beasts become more savage, losing their humanity. Some people are nobler in times of war, while others are turned inside out, revealing the worst in them.
December passed by in an agonizing anticipation of the war’s end, taking many lives forever. New Year’s Eve of 2000 arrived to let the mankind into a new era of the 21st century. In all cities, people were preparing to celebrate the New Year, setting tables, rejoicing, laughing, and making wishes. But in Chechnya, they dreamed only of a peaceful sky above their heads and salvation from this real hell.
There was no news of a ceasefire or the end of the military actions. The old radio receiver had long since stopped working, and people were left with only foolish hopes of salvation. Despite the hopelessness and helplessness of the situation, New Year’s Eve remained a magical holiday for children, the time t of miracles. So, that day, Akhmed decided not to deprive the children of a little joy and to create a real fairy tale for them.
– War is war, but our children should have a Christmas tree! – he said with a smile and went out in search of any kind of tree early in the morning. Markha tried to dissuade him, but to no avail. After a couple of hours, he returned like a real Santa Claus, with a red hat on his head that he made from some fabric found in the house, a small artificial tree, and a couple of toys.
– Uncle Akhmed, are we celebrating the New Year – little Alexandra asked, surprised.
– Of course, my dear! We will have the most beautiful tree in the universe! Can you help me decorate it? – Akhmed hugged the girl and answered.
– Of course, I’ll give you a hand! I always helped my dad decorate the tree! But he’s far away in heaven now, but I think he can see us and be happy for us, – she replied sadly.
– Of course, he sees us! That’s why we will decorate our tree all together and have a wonderful New