Russian Federation: John Varoli goes to Beslan
By John Varoli Before the terrorists took their hostages on September 1, even an experienced geographer would have had trouble finding Beslan, a town of 30,000 on the north edge of the soaring Caucasus Mountains that form Russia’s southern border from the Caspian Sea to the Black Sea. Few Russians had heard of Beslan, named after the last name of a prominent local 19th century landowner, and they might only have known because of its vodka distillery --- had they read the fine print on some of Russia’s popular brands of vodka. Following the tragedy, only a few days were necessary before the very mention of the word, `Beslan’, sank deep into the global collective consciousness, becoming synonymous with unthinkable terror and the massacre of children. Today, the very mention of `Beslan’ conjures the darkest sentiments about human cruelty. The 20th century has no shortage of barbarous crimes – the Holocaust and the civil war in Rwanda, to name just two. Compared to those vast atrocities, Beslan might appear just a footnote. Yet Beslan was so terrifying because modern telecommunications technology brought the siege and murder live into our living rooms. When we saw fleeing children being shot, or the bloodied survivors carried to safety, we felt their pain as if it was our own. And Beslan struck us so deeply because it was the first major terrorist act directed primarily at children. And so people across the globe began to wonder and to fear --- is a `Beslan’ possible in our community? Will such butchery multiply across the globe like a deadly virus? On the second day of the Beslan siege, an editor from a major American magazine asked me to go and cover it. The next morning I was interviewing the Director of the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg when his assistant interrupted and told us to turn on the TV as School Number One was stormed by special forces. We sat in icy silence as the tragedy unfolded. War zones are not my specialty, but the threat of a sniper’s bullet worried me less than the difficulty in interviewing relatives of dead and dying children. I had covered such intense pain once before, when the Russian submarine Kursk sank in 2000, and I never wanted to repeat the experience. So what do you ask a mother who has just lost her child at the hands of terrorists? “Excuse me, how do you feel after losing your child?’’ As a former relief worker with homeless children in Moscow, as well a parent with a nine-year old son studying in a Russian school, the cry of Beslan hit me hard. The last thing on the minds of parents would be finding words to describe their anguish to a journalist. I refused the magazine assignment. But I had a lingering feeling that circumstances would force me to face Beslan. A call from UNICEF Unexpectedly at the end of February, UNICEF phoned me in St. Petersburg with the idea of writing a series of portraits about the children of Beslan, and their ongoing treatment and rehabilitation six months after the tragedy. Instinctively, my internal defence mechanism kicked in and I wanted to say, No. Once again, I imagined the parents’ pain and grief, and the children’s psychological scars. I wondered if I could handle interviewing them.Then I stopped myself and thought carefully about the situation. I realized that the horror unleashed that September day not only shattered the lives of the people of Beslan, it terrorized all of us around the globe. We could no longer send our children to school and feel sure they were safe. Whether we realise it or not, the scars of Beslan run deep. In a sense, we are all Children of Beslan. The five days my photographer and I recently spent in Beslan and the Ossetian capital, Vladikavkaz, confirmed that no one remained unscathed by the bullets and bombs. Besides the ongoing medical problems faced by many former hostages, the deep psychological wounds afflict not only them and their loved ones, but also an entire community. The intensity of suffering and anguish may differ, and sometimes surprisingly so. We heard of cases where former hostages dealt with the situation better than local children who only saw it on TV. Some children have sunk into a deep gloom; others have become more aggressive, and a few former hostages have even laughed it off, swearing that they remember nothing. I want to thank the children and parents of Beslan for their kindness and wonderful hospitality, but most of all for their psychological rehabilitation of this author. After five days hearing their testimonies and visiting the site of the massacre, I have finally exorcised the demons of Beslan from my life. It doesn’t mean I will forget the event, but from now on I shall remember Beslan not as a place of terror, but as a city of courageous and extraordinary people who want to build a better future. Click on the right-hand menu for John's stories from Beslan John Varoli, an American, has lived in Russia since 1992. He worked with street children in Moscow for nearly four years before becoming a writer and journalist in 1997. Now based in St. Petersburg, he writes for Bloomberg News, the New York Times, the International Herald Tribune, the Art Newspaper, and many other publications.For more information: Anna Chernyakhovskaya, Communication Officer, UNICEF Russian Federation: (7 095) 933 88 22/18
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