Tweet
FEAR AND UNCERTAINTY REIGN IN KONDOPOGA
By Carl Schreck - Staff Writer
The Moscow Times
Thursday, September 14, 2006. Issue 3497. Page 1.
Margarita Slezova, mother of one of the men killed in the Kondopoga
brawl, motioning toward a recent photograph of her son, Grigory Slezov,
who was 27.
KONDOPOGA, Karelia -- In the aftermath of the ethnic explosion here
that left two men dead, destroyed numerous businesses and kiosks,
and forced hundreds to flee, Russians across the country are asking
the same question: Could it happen here?
Aside from its picturesque setting on Lake Onego, Kondopoga -- with
its Soviet-era streets names, Lenin statue and World War II memorial --
differs little from thousands of towns struggling to stay afloat.
There's the paper mill, employing one out of five of Kondopoga's
roughly 38,000 residents. There are the same crumbling apartment
blocs and storefronts that can be seen everywhere in Russia.
And, like numerous towns in post-communist Russia, there's the local
outdoor market, which is dominated by dark-skinned natives from the
Caucasus, much to the dismay of ethnic Russians.
The white people in Kondopoga say "hot-blooded" Azeris, Chechens and
others don't respect local mores and accuse them of flaunting their
wealth and paying off the police so they can sell illegal drugs.
That the recent ethnic riots were sparked by a fight at an Azeri-run
restaurant, Chaika, in which natives of the Caucasus purportedly
killed two ethnic Russians has only reinforced that sentiment.
"The only things Chechens understand is force," said Sergei, 46, a
retired Army officer whose sons served in the North Caucasus. "Everyone
gets into fights, but here we do it with our fists. They showed up
with weapons and the intent to kill."
Natives of the Caucasus, many of whom fled north after the outbreak
of the first Chechen war in 1994, counter that the ethnic Russians
are too drunk or not enterprising enough to start their own businesses.
"If we are paying off the police, it certainly didn't do us much good,"
said Hamzat Magamadov, a Chechen.
"When the pogrom started, we had to hide our children, who were
trembling with fear. The police did nothing."
Officials from Kondopoga to the republic of Karelia's capital of
Petrozavodsk to Moscow blame the riots on everything from alcohol to
police ineptitude to mafia turf wars to political opportunists trying
to stoke racial fires for their own ends.
But Kondopoga residents -- ethnic Russians and Caucasus natives alike
-- say government authorities are unwilling to face an ugly truth:
Ethnic tensions have been brewing here for years, they say, and all
it took for widespread turmoil to break out was the Aug. 29 bar fight.
"This was just the last straw," said Margarita Slezova, whose son,
Grigory Slezov, 27, was killed in the fight at Chaika, once one of
Kondopoga's few watering holes. As she spoke, Slezova, dressed in
black, tended to a small shrine for her son in her apartment.
Her son, she said, had stopped by the restaurant and bar for a drink
with friends to celebrate the new apartment he had moved into with
his common-law wife, Kristina, who is due to give birth to their
child in November.
"I can't say for sure what happened," Slezova said, "but when things
turned violent, he apparently defended himself."
Carl Schreck / MT Flowers and broken glass adorning the veranda
outside Chaika restaurant.
Prosecutors and witnesses say a group of ethnic Russians had been
drinking at Chaika and began arguing with the Azeri bartender. The
argument led to a fight, and soon the bartender was getting pummeled
by the group of ethnic Russians. The bartender escaped, returning later
with a group of Chechens bearing knives, baseball bats and iron rods. A
brawl ensued, spilling onto the cement veranda outside. Along with
Slezov, Sergei Usin, 32, lost his life. Several others were injured.
In the days following the brawl, mobs armed with Molotov cocktails
torched Caucasian-owned businesses, including Chaika, and rampaged
through the outdoor marketplace, smashing dozens of kiosks that remain
unrepaired. Most of the Chechens living in Kondopoga fled. Forty-nine
Chechens are at a summer camp outside Petrozavodsk under police
protection. Four Chechen men, meanwhile, have been charged with
murdering Slezov and Usin. A Chechen, a Dagestani and an ethnic
Russian have been charged with hooliganism.
There have been numerous attempts to make sense of the chaos and
violence, and the loss and confusion and uncertainty about what
looms ahead.
State Duma Speaker Boris Gryzlov recently called the violence a
"criminal showdown" and a "provocation of interethnic violence,"
Interfax reported.
Alexander Belov, head of the ultranationalist Movement Against Illegal
Immigration, or DPNI, turned up in Kondopoga soon after the riots
to address a crowd of 2,000 angry white people. He called for the
expulsion of natives of the Caucasus lacking residence permits.
Everyone blames the police. "The only people the police are protecting
right now are themselves," said Yury Zakharnyov, a friend of Usin's
who is a turbine operator at the paper mill. A police officer speaking
at a recent town meeting was shouted down by the 300 residents in
attendance.
What's clear is the devastation and recrimination, and the lingering
fear that, in a way, nothing has changed.
"Look at those empty stands," said Artur Galstyan, an Armenian shoe
trader at the Kondopoga market, pointing to a dozen kiosks. "Those
were empty before the pogrom. Nobody was stopping the Russians from
selling anything there. But all they do is drink."
Galstyan said he wasn't afraid of being attacked; Armenians, after all,
like Russians, are Christian.
But he conceded that locals had trouble distinguishing between
different peoples. "Azeri, Chechen, Armenian -- it's all the same to
them," he said.
Like Galstyan, a beefy 37-year-old, not all natives of the Caucasus
have left town. And a modicum of normalcy has returned. Police were
on constant patrol.
But an uneasy current persists. "No to Gooks!" is scrawled on a
kiosk hawking honey; on Proletarskaya Ulitsa, Kondopoga's main drag,
windows had been smashed in and building facades charred.
An odor redolent of a steaming landfill emanated from Chaika. Broken
glass, stray clothing, a one-legged table and random blocks of wood
and concrete were strewn on the veranda. Passersby don't seem terribly
fazed by the rubble, but people have laid flowers in front of the
restaurant in memory of Slezov and Usin.
No one appeared to have been lulled into thinking the violence was
over for good, especially if the Chechens who fled the town return. "I
don't think things will remain calm," Slezova said.
Alexander Brod, head of the Moscow Bureau of Human Rights, said that
ethnic violence similar to the riots in Kondopoga had broken out in
several Russian regions in recent years and that a Kondopoga-like
scenario could happen anywhere.
"With such a high level of xenophobia," he said, "such conflicts
could emerge across the country."
The natives of the Caucasus who once lived in Kondopoga seemed aware
of that much. Satsyta Visayeva, who came to the town 12 years ago with
her husband, said she didn't know where the family would go after
they left the summer camp, which is outside Petrozavodsk. There is
talk of some of the self-exiled Chechens seeking political asylum in
Finland or elsewhere in Scandinavia.
"Maybe they can come back eventually," Slezova added, her crisp speech
suddenly breaking into a sob. "But only later. The city needs time
to calm down."
Staff Writer Anatoly Medetsky contributed to this report from Moscow.
By Carl Schreck - Staff Writer
The Moscow Times
Thursday, September 14, 2006. Issue 3497. Page 1.
Margarita Slezova, mother of one of the men killed in the Kondopoga
brawl, motioning toward a recent photograph of her son, Grigory Slezov,
who was 27.
KONDOPOGA, Karelia -- In the aftermath of the ethnic explosion here
that left two men dead, destroyed numerous businesses and kiosks,
and forced hundreds to flee, Russians across the country are asking
the same question: Could it happen here?
Aside from its picturesque setting on Lake Onego, Kondopoga -- with
its Soviet-era streets names, Lenin statue and World War II memorial --
differs little from thousands of towns struggling to stay afloat.
There's the paper mill, employing one out of five of Kondopoga's
roughly 38,000 residents. There are the same crumbling apartment
blocs and storefronts that can be seen everywhere in Russia.
And, like numerous towns in post-communist Russia, there's the local
outdoor market, which is dominated by dark-skinned natives from the
Caucasus, much to the dismay of ethnic Russians.
The white people in Kondopoga say "hot-blooded" Azeris, Chechens and
others don't respect local mores and accuse them of flaunting their
wealth and paying off the police so they can sell illegal drugs.
That the recent ethnic riots were sparked by a fight at an Azeri-run
restaurant, Chaika, in which natives of the Caucasus purportedly
killed two ethnic Russians has only reinforced that sentiment.
"The only things Chechens understand is force," said Sergei, 46, a
retired Army officer whose sons served in the North Caucasus. "Everyone
gets into fights, but here we do it with our fists. They showed up
with weapons and the intent to kill."
Natives of the Caucasus, many of whom fled north after the outbreak
of the first Chechen war in 1994, counter that the ethnic Russians
are too drunk or not enterprising enough to start their own businesses.
"If we are paying off the police, it certainly didn't do us much good,"
said Hamzat Magamadov, a Chechen.
"When the pogrom started, we had to hide our children, who were
trembling with fear. The police did nothing."
Officials from Kondopoga to the republic of Karelia's capital of
Petrozavodsk to Moscow blame the riots on everything from alcohol to
police ineptitude to mafia turf wars to political opportunists trying
to stoke racial fires for their own ends.
But Kondopoga residents -- ethnic Russians and Caucasus natives alike
-- say government authorities are unwilling to face an ugly truth:
Ethnic tensions have been brewing here for years, they say, and all
it took for widespread turmoil to break out was the Aug. 29 bar fight.
"This was just the last straw," said Margarita Slezova, whose son,
Grigory Slezov, 27, was killed in the fight at Chaika, once one of
Kondopoga's few watering holes. As she spoke, Slezova, dressed in
black, tended to a small shrine for her son in her apartment.
Her son, she said, had stopped by the restaurant and bar for a drink
with friends to celebrate the new apartment he had moved into with
his common-law wife, Kristina, who is due to give birth to their
child in November.
"I can't say for sure what happened," Slezova said, "but when things
turned violent, he apparently defended himself."
Carl Schreck / MT Flowers and broken glass adorning the veranda
outside Chaika restaurant.
Prosecutors and witnesses say a group of ethnic Russians had been
drinking at Chaika and began arguing with the Azeri bartender. The
argument led to a fight, and soon the bartender was getting pummeled
by the group of ethnic Russians. The bartender escaped, returning later
with a group of Chechens bearing knives, baseball bats and iron rods. A
brawl ensued, spilling onto the cement veranda outside. Along with
Slezov, Sergei Usin, 32, lost his life. Several others were injured.
In the days following the brawl, mobs armed with Molotov cocktails
torched Caucasian-owned businesses, including Chaika, and rampaged
through the outdoor marketplace, smashing dozens of kiosks that remain
unrepaired. Most of the Chechens living in Kondopoga fled. Forty-nine
Chechens are at a summer camp outside Petrozavodsk under police
protection. Four Chechen men, meanwhile, have been charged with
murdering Slezov and Usin. A Chechen, a Dagestani and an ethnic
Russian have been charged with hooliganism.
There have been numerous attempts to make sense of the chaos and
violence, and the loss and confusion and uncertainty about what
looms ahead.
State Duma Speaker Boris Gryzlov recently called the violence a
"criminal showdown" and a "provocation of interethnic violence,"
Interfax reported.
Alexander Belov, head of the ultranationalist Movement Against Illegal
Immigration, or DPNI, turned up in Kondopoga soon after the riots
to address a crowd of 2,000 angry white people. He called for the
expulsion of natives of the Caucasus lacking residence permits.
Everyone blames the police. "The only people the police are protecting
right now are themselves," said Yury Zakharnyov, a friend of Usin's
who is a turbine operator at the paper mill. A police officer speaking
at a recent town meeting was shouted down by the 300 residents in
attendance.
What's clear is the devastation and recrimination, and the lingering
fear that, in a way, nothing has changed.
"Look at those empty stands," said Artur Galstyan, an Armenian shoe
trader at the Kondopoga market, pointing to a dozen kiosks. "Those
were empty before the pogrom. Nobody was stopping the Russians from
selling anything there. But all they do is drink."
Galstyan said he wasn't afraid of being attacked; Armenians, after all,
like Russians, are Christian.
But he conceded that locals had trouble distinguishing between
different peoples. "Azeri, Chechen, Armenian -- it's all the same to
them," he said.
Like Galstyan, a beefy 37-year-old, not all natives of the Caucasus
have left town. And a modicum of normalcy has returned. Police were
on constant patrol.
But an uneasy current persists. "No to Gooks!" is scrawled on a
kiosk hawking honey; on Proletarskaya Ulitsa, Kondopoga's main drag,
windows had been smashed in and building facades charred.
An odor redolent of a steaming landfill emanated from Chaika. Broken
glass, stray clothing, a one-legged table and random blocks of wood
and concrete were strewn on the veranda. Passersby don't seem terribly
fazed by the rubble, but people have laid flowers in front of the
restaurant in memory of Slezov and Usin.
No one appeared to have been lulled into thinking the violence was
over for good, especially if the Chechens who fled the town return. "I
don't think things will remain calm," Slezova said.
Alexander Brod, head of the Moscow Bureau of Human Rights, said that
ethnic violence similar to the riots in Kondopoga had broken out in
several Russian regions in recent years and that a Kondopoga-like
scenario could happen anywhere.
"With such a high level of xenophobia," he said, "such conflicts
could emerge across the country."
The natives of the Caucasus who once lived in Kondopoga seemed aware
of that much. Satsyta Visayeva, who came to the town 12 years ago with
her husband, said she didn't know where the family would go after
they left the summer camp, which is outside Petrozavodsk. There is
talk of some of the self-exiled Chechens seeking political asylum in
Finland or elsewhere in Scandinavia.
"Maybe they can come back eventually," Slezova added, her crisp speech
suddenly breaking into a sob. "But only later. The city needs time
to calm down."
Staff Writer Anatoly Medetsky contributed to this report from Moscow.