Letter from South Ossetia: Land and Vengance

In Tskhinvali Ossetian paramilitaries tell a story of revenge as Russians flags fly from Government buildings.

By Ben Judah in Tbilisi

Standing besides an Orthodox priest, the South Ossetian President Eduard Kokoity asks for a minute of silence, “to remember those that died in this bloodthirsty attack by a criminal Georgian regime against our people.” He is addressing a forlorn crowd of roughly a thousand in the capital of the breakaway enclave, Tskhinvali last Thursday. Along Stalin Street the crowd is waving Russian flags and trying to host some kind of victory celebration. Their faces are worn. Nobody cheers and slowly people start to drift away. President Kokoity continues his speech, “We are going to be an independent state inside Russia – it’s so logical.” Then he suddenly switches from Russian and makes some closing remarks in Ossetian - and then the people cheer.

Down Stalin Street the damage becomes more and more extensive as you approach the edge of town. Alexander Machevsky, an advisor to the Russian President and senior spokesman for the Russian authorities points into the wreckage. “As we can see there has been extensive indiscriminate shelling of civilian targets in Tskhinvali. Serious violations have been committed here by the Georgian side.” Several streets are completely devastated. Compared to the Georgian town of Gori, where most of the Western media has been reporting from - the damage is simply on a different scale. In Gori only a few apartment blocks a strategic targets have been shattered, however in Tskhinvali whole districts came under direct assault. This sight goes a long in explaining the ferocity with which Ossetian troops retaliated against Georgian villages in the surrounding valleys.

Russian authorities estimate that over 2,000 people were killed during the conflict. Yet accusations that the figures have been inflated appear to be justified. Russian Authorities repeatedly refused to show ISN Security Watch and other members of the Western Media in Tskhinvali evidence for the claim at the cemetery. However speaking to Russian officers and Ossetian civilians suggested that the inflated figures came more from the initial confusion brought by the shelling than any deliberate plan.

Inside a half-ruined house that was make-shift and made up of wood and tin-roofing to begin with, the middle-aged Fatima Tatdaeva and her two boys are living without a roof over their head. “It was terrifying when the Georgians came. We hid for days in the shelter. We lost family members and when we came out we found we had lost our roof too. They are evil people to have done this – done this to simple people like us.” Her neighbour, the elderly Gayuz Kozayev has a huge, if healing cut, along his skull. “That happened to my head – but look what they did to my house.” It simply isn’t there anymore. The fruit he had been storing for the summer is rotting in jars. Burnt children toys sit atop a broken mess of every imaginable personal belonging, from plates to documents lay in a glass and rubble heap. “I never want to see a Georgian again.”

Land and Vengeance

Along the road to the Khetagurovo village several Georgian burnt out tanks are stark reminders of just how intense the fighting during in the first few days of the war. Standing in front of the heavily damaged cemetery and war-memorial to lives lost in the Second World War, Russian Colonel Igor Konashenko explains what he insists happened here. “The Georgians attacked the village, it had previously been at peace. They arrived and we have reports from the locals that hostages have been taken and not returned. Several people where shot dead. Including an old woman.” The villagers can confirm the his statement by listing the names of the disappeared and taking me to the shallow grave of the dead grandmother.

A few metres away the post-office has been completely ransacked and the safe blown open, possibly by looters. The office is full of Soviet era pension booklets and postcards that were for some reason being stored there. Sitting in the corner of this evocative ruin of the USSR and old man drinking Kvass mistakes me for a Russian. “To the great Russian people. We’d be chased from here without you. I salute you!”

Outside a group of Ossetian paramilitaries share their feelings with me. They ask not be named. “They came to this village and did this damage. They shelled our city. And we took revenge – blood for blood.” Along the main street of Khetagurovo the interpretations of the war arguing that it is either a proxy conflict or a direct clash between Russia and Georgia seem more than inadequate. For the South Ossetian people in the wreckage it was a question of vengeance and part of a long and vicious feud over villages, hills and fields.