The Mountain and the Wall

by Alisa Ganieva

  “What is going on, Al-Jabbar?” she would ask her husband. “Filth everywhere, there’s no running water or electricity, and they’re out persecuting perfectly innocent people.”

  “Innocent?” snapped Al-Jabbar. “Those so-called innocent people tormented my brother and drove him into the woods with their slander and denunciation, and they were about to drive me out there too! Those people reject the teachings of Allah, Madina! They are ignorant and deaf and do not follow the holy sharia law. They paid the kafir state for electricity, gas, and water, and the kafir state used that tax money to destroy us…”

  But Al-Jabbar’s voice wavered. People didn’t take him seriously when he spoke at dzhamaat assemblies and excluded him from important work assignments.

  “Your husband,” the black widows and Salafi wives said to Madina, “hasn’t killed a single murtad! He never lived in the forest! Just giving food to a brother mujahid is hardly some major act of heroism.”

  “But he follows Islam,” Madina said, trying to defend him.

  “Follows Islam!” snorted the women, “Some hero you’ve found! Does he teach others? It’s not enough to live a righteous life—the earth must be purged of the unrighteous.”

  Madina sulked and stroked her belly; she hadn’t yet begun to show.

  The people of the Emirate grew restless. They fled south in convoys, hauling their earthly goods to the other side of the Samur. There they encountered columns of the newly founded Belokano-Dzharsk dzhamaat, whose members dreamed about joining the Emirate, heading north.

  Madina heard stories. There was a woman in Izberbash who murdered an emissary who wouldn’t let her get behind the wheel. A vintner from Derbent with the strange name of Peak had tracked down the men who had destroyed his cognac distillery and had mowed them down with a machine gun. In many regions the local people had disbanded the sharia courts.

  “Still,” said the women, “there are a lot of people around who support the strictest Islam. And what was it like before? It was all about money—give money. Give money here, give money there, bribe your way into the university, pay off your teachers and your kids’ teachers. Now everyone will live honestly…”

  But people still grumbled, even in the dzhamaats, which were bursting at the seams with new recruits.

  “Half of our leaders spit on Islam, all they care about is making money!” whispered the young mujahideen, flashing their fanatical eyes.

  And indeed, many of those who had taken over the converted government building had moved into confiscated government villas, taken former debauchees as their wives, sometimes several at a time, and under the banner of tawhid had taken up racketeering and banditry. When any of their confederates objected they answered, “Have you heard our emir’s instructions? We are to free ourselves of romantics and idealists, of the people who went off into the woods to fight for justice. We must struggle not for some abstract justice, but for faith in the Prophet, salallakhu alaikha vassalam!”

  This intimidated many former gazavat warriors. A few of them, after some hesitation, ran off and joined the burgeoning Nakshiband opposition. And one morning a group of armed young men attacked some mujahideen who were holding a meeting in a former school, and in the ensuing scuffle killed one of the naibs—a deputy of the chief emir.

  Madina and her girlfriends were approaching the madrasa, when Zariat, wearing a black niqab, ran out and shouted, “The Sufi polytheists are attacking our men at the gas station! It’s a total bloodbath!”

  “Al…Al-Jabbar,” Madina was shaking, close to tears.

  “Say a sabur, sister, your husband isn’t there right now, he’s at the seashore. Some guys came up from the sea and just started shooting.”

  “What, they came by sea? Who is it?” Madina was gasping for air.

  The rest of the Muslim women ran up to them, waving their arms.

  “It’s the damned dzhakhils, on account of the wine! They’re coming from Kizlyar, not the sea!”

  “Astauperulla, sister! What wine are you talking about?”

  “Our brothers destroyed the Kizlyar wine cellars, and the dzhakhils got all worked up. They said there were rare vintages there.”

  “Auzubillah, may Allah save us from those ignorant murtads!” wailed Zariat.

  Madina turned and ran, she had no idea where.

  2

  She ran toward the sea, past people covered with dust and tormented by fear and uncertainty. She ran past silent clusters of terrified girls dragging barrels of water.

  “Munafiqs! Hypocrites! They put on the hijab to keep from being murdered, while living in nifaq! They enter Islam from one side, and come out the other!” she muttered, watching the girls: anything but think about her husband.

  “Hey, stop! Where do you think you’re going?” an armed man shouted to her from around the corner.

  “To join the battle!” Madina flew past, amazing the timid onlookers.

  She rounded the corner and there was Shamil. He was walking along, taking big strides, a heavy rucksack bouncing against his back. Madina remembered the games they used to play as children in Ebekh; she recalled their dance at a wedding in Kaspiisk, his confession of love, their courtship, and she recalled the all-encompassing loathing, the scorn, even, that she had come to feel for this rudderless hypocrite.

  “Go on, keep walking,” she whispered, “Just keep on walking with that rucksack of yours. If I had married you I would have turned you over to the shaitan! Al-Jabbar is handsomer, stronger, smarter, better, closer to Allah.”

  She stopped to catch her breath, but Shamil had vanished. He hadn’t seen her.

  Shamil was on his way to the house where Asya was living. They would load up their things and join an armed convoy heading for his home village.

  “I should have gotten another weapon. Here I am like some fool with my rubber-bullet gun…”

  For the first time in many days he felt at ease and even happy. The obsession with Otsok that had taken root in his head was gone, and instead something tender, something gauzy and chartreuse, had taken its place.

  “Asya,” he said to himself quietly, and before he could even be surprised at himself for saying her name, something buzzed in the sky overhead, then it hummed, then it growled, then it roared.

  The shadow of the thing in the sky sped along the ground and across the building façades, and the roar became a deafening howl. Then within the howl there arose another sound, something excruciating, piercing, and thin. At that moment there was a tremendous explosion behind the nearest houses, and everything was engulfed in hot smoke. Shamil fell to the rumbling earth, clutching at his aching ears. People came running out of the smoke, covered with blood, their mouths distorted with panic.

  Shamil tossed away his rucksack and rushed into the smoke toward the wounded people. The street itself was maimed, strewn with fragments of glass and cement dust. Shamil coughed. “Where are they?” he repeated to himself, over and over. His people were waiting there, with Asya. But the buildings were unrecognizable, their shredded, shattered contents jutting into the scorching, smoky air. On the ground, people writhed in agony, dying.

  There came another roar, something exploded and thundered, now from some other direction. Shamil braced himself against a wall that had been left standing. Behind it, in what had been a private home, weak groans could be heard. The world wavered and floated before his eyes. With a mighty effort he pushed away from the wall and staggered on in the direction of the house, which was gradually becoming engulfed in smoke. On both sides the buildings stood with their roofs turned inside out, their paneless windows gaping.

  “Vai alla, vai alla!”

  Shamil wanted to add his voice to the chorus of howls, but he restrained himself and pressed on, flexing his limbs as he went, bumping into bewildered, panicked people, all of them rushing somewhere. On he went, on and on and on, and he lost all sense of time and no longer understood what was going on around him.

  On the corner of some endless street he came
upon a demolished antique shop. Out of the remains of its ruined wall bulged a chaos of antique kettles, wooden chests, and engraved bronze plates that had tumbled down from the walls.

  “They’re bombing the port!” shouted a man, his face stained with ash and blood. “The docks, the warehouses!”

  Shots whooped from the sea. A mujahid draped in a black flag with a white horizontal saber on it had climbed up onto the roof of one of the surviving houses with his automatic weapon and had begun strafing the street. Everyone lurched and fled, Shamil among them. The shattered streets belched up cursing people, and a terrible, thundering crash was heard. A dog tore past, leaping across the splayed metal fittings and the fragments of adobe bricks.

  “Where’s their house?” Shamil asked and asked, and no longer understood what he was asking.

  Cement dust rose in a column above the street, blinding him; there was a buzzing in his ears. Up ahead a man was running, showing the rubber soles of his shoes. Shamil ran after him, slipping on plastic bags scattered on the ground. Rounding the turn, he saw several more people running. On a rooftop someone was shouting hoarsely, “Tokhta! Tokhta!” Behind them something heavy lumbered across the roof, sending tiles crashing to the ground, but the people ran on, seeking shelter from whatever it was making that terrible roar. Shamil rounded one last corner, then heard nothing more…

  EPILOGUE

  Laughing, Anvar ascended the stone steps and, springing up onto the flat roof, sat down next to the women to watch the dancing. Above the newlyweds hung an aurochs head, adorned with colorful ribbons, and wedding silver jingled on the bride’s forehead, the back and crown of her head, her neck, temples, chest, belly, and the hem of her dress.

  A man wearing a goat-head mask poured wine out of wineskins into goblets made of animal horns, and teased and joked with the people dancing. Between the zurna players and the drummers a bright-eyed girl stood tapping a tambourine. She sang about eternal snowcapped mountain peaks and spring thaws, about lovesickness and mourning doves, about unfaithful lovers, and about death, which did not exist.

  They danced: Kerim and Zumrud, Dibir and Madina, Makhmud Tagirovich and Khandulai, Yusup and Abida, Otsok and Marian, Maga and Khorol-En. The women and children clapped from the rooftops, and the young people went around with wooden trays serving khinkal and hot meat.

  Shamil took his place in the groom’s seat. He could hardly recognize Asya’s features in the face that the timid bride was trying to conceal from him, or his near and distant cousins in the merrymakers who had organized “wolves’ games,” competitions with people dressed in wolf costumes, to entertain the villagers.

  The ornamentally carved window shutters had been flung open; they looked out onto the square, onto the faces of the people celebrating there, some of whom Shamil barely recognized. Among them one profile stood out, a man of fifty wearing a bright homespun shirt belted with a silver sash. The man watched the celebration with a sly smile.

  “Khalilbek! Khalilbek!” someone called out, and the profile disappeared.

  The goat-masked man rushed past, sprinkling Shamil and Asya with oat flour.

  “May you have as many children as there are specks of powder in this flour!”

  “May you have as much wealth as there are fibers in this burka!”

  “May your faces be as festive as this Mountain of Celebrations!”

  The dancers reveled, and the songs echoed to the snow-covered mountaintops that surrounded them. And the sky came down, touching the towers and the ancient houses, and the village was filled with light.

  GLOSSARY OF WORDS, PHRASES, PLACES, & PEOPLE

  A

  Abdal (ARABIC) Literally “slave of God.” Among the Avars it means “fool.”

  Abrek (GENERAL CAUCASIAN TERM) A person who has gone into the mountains, where he lives beyond the reach of the authorities as an outlaw and a partisan. Originally a man from the Caucasian mountains, exiled from his community for a crime, usually murder.

  Adats – The traditional common laws that governed the free mountain communities.

  Ai-ui (AVAR) Pandemonium.

  Akhvakh and Chamalal – Two of the indigenous ethnicities of Dagestan.

  Alhamdulillah (ARABIC) Praise Allah.

  Aqeedah (ARABIC) The Islamic creed.

  Aria-urai (AVAR) Hullaballoo.

  As-Salaf-As-Salih (ARABIC) Righteous ancestors.

  Astauperulla (ARABIC) Lord forgive.

  Auzubillah (ARABIC) I turn to Allah for protection.

  Avrat (ARABIC) Parts of the body that must be concealed from outsiders.

  Ayat (ARABIC) A sign; a portent; a miracle. Each verse of the Koran.

  Azhdakha (TURKIC) An evil monster.

  Aziz yoldashlar (KUMYK) Dear comrades.

  B

  Barakat (ARABIC) Blessings.

  Barkala (ARABIC) Thank you.

  Bashlyk (TURKIC) A peaked cloth cowl with long ends that are wrapped around the neck, worn over headgear in inclement weather for protection against cold, rain and sun.

  Bay’ah (ARABIC) An oath of allegiance.

  Bida (ARABIC) A new practice bordering on heresy.

  Bismillah (ARABIC) Shortened form of Bismillah-ir-Rahman-ir-Rahim: “In the name of Allah, the Merciful and Charitable.”

  Buruti (AVAR) Jug.

  Buza (TURKIC) A fermented drink made from barley, oats, millet, or corn.

  C

  Ch’a (AVAR) Stop, wait.

  Ch’anda (AVAR) Nonsense, foolishness.

  Chanka (AVAR) A social class in Dagestan. Descendants from marriages between members of feudal households and local free Dagestanis.

  Chchit (AVAR) Shoo! Scat!

  Chokhto (AVAR) A headdress for Dagestani women. Nowadays only worn rarely, and only by old women in the mountain regions.

  Chudu (AVAR) A Dagestani national dish, pancakes with various kinds of fillings.

  Chukha (TURKIC) A shirt worn by mountain dwellers.

  Chungur (DARGIN) A stringed, plucked musical instrument.

  D

  Derkhab (DARGIN) To your health.

  Din (ARABIC) Faith, religion.

  Dzhakhils (ARABIC) Crude people, savages, ignoramuses; apostates from the Muslim faith.

  Dzhigit (TURKIC) In Central Asia and in the Caucasus: a horseman distinguished for bravery, endurance, hardiness, and expertise with horses and weaponry.

  Dzhamaat (ARABIC) A group of comrades. The term has come to refer to militant Salafi groups active in the Northern Caucasus.

  Dzhizia (ARABIC) An annual per capita tax levied in Islamic states on free adult male non-Muslims (with the exception of monks).

  Dzhurab – A thick, knitted sock worn by the peoples of the Caucasus and Southwest and Central Asia.

  F

  Fatimids (ARABIC) A dynasty of Arabic khalifs (909–1171) who traced their origin to Fatima, the daughter of Muhammad.

  Fitna (ARABIC) Chaos, discord.

  G

  Gada (LEZGIAN) Guy, man.

  Gazavat (ARABIC) Among Muslims, the term for holy war with nonbelievers.

  Godekan (DAGESTANI) A gathering place for men in Dagestani mountain settlements; originally serving as a local representative assembly.

  Golden Bridge – A bridge over the river Samur on the Azerbaijan border. Called the “Golden Bridge” because of the huge amounts of bribes taken by border guards and customs officials.

  H

  Hadith (ARABIC) Accounts of the words and deeds of the Prophet Muhammad, as they pertain to religious and legal aspects of Islamic life.

  Haram (ARABIC) Acts that are forbidden in sharia.

  Hijab (ARABIC) In Islam any garment that covers avrat, that is, for women, the whole body except the hands and the face; for men, everything between the navel and the knees.

  I

  Iakh’namus (AVAR) A sense of shame, conscience.

  Iblis (ARABIC) Evil spirit, demon.

  Iman (ARABIC) Faith in the tenets of Islam.

  Inshalla (ARABIC) God
willing.

  K

  Kafir (ARABIC) An unbeliever, an infidel, one who rejects or does not believe in God.

  K’akh’ba (AVAR) Slut, bitch.

  Khabary (ARABIC) Rumors, stories.

  Khakims (ARABIC) People in charge; rulers.

  Khanafites (ARABIC) Followers of one of the legal religious schools of Islam, disciples of the theologian Abu Khanifa.

  Khapur-chapur (AVAR) Nonsense, absurdity.

  Khinkal (AVAR) Dumplings: lumps of boiled dough served with pieces of boiled meat or sausage, broth, and various gravies.

  Koisu (TURKIC) Literally “sheep’s water.” The name of several rivers in the mountainous part of Dagestan.

  Kufr (ARABIC) Unbelief, the lack of a moral core, a spiritual vacuum.

  Kufr keepers (SLAVIC) Kufrokhranitel, a pejorative term used by Salafis to refer to policemen.

  Kunak (TURKIC) In Caucasian mountain communities, a person bound by mutual obligations of hospitality. The institution of kunaks

  is similar to that of xenia (hospitality) among the ancient Greeks.

  Kurze (TURKIC) A kind of dumpling.

  Kutan (TURKIC) A populated area that falls under a regional mountain administration, but is located on a plain designated for livestock, in an area used for winter pasturing.

  L

  Le – A word used in Dagestan when addressing men.

  M

  Madzhlis (ARABIC) In Islamic states, a sort of parliament; in Dagestan, however, the word is used as a catchall term for religious gatherings, and is sometimes applied ironically, referring to any sort of gathering at all.

  Magarych (SLAVIC) A celebration following the successful transaction of a business deal, thrown by whichever party profited.

  Mashalla (ARABIC) According to Allah’s will.

  Masliat (ARABIC) Reconciliation.

  Mavlid (ARABIC) The holiday in honor of the prophet’s birthday. In Dagestan it also refers to any important event in the lives of the faithful.