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2022-01-10 08:10:22+00:00

Moldova - “Hands up! Yesterday would have shot your car here! ”: Photo video

Moldova (bbabo.net), - All these days of the Kazakh revolt, which I lived in Alma-Ata, one picture never left my head. The very first evening full of animal beauty. Turned out traffic lights, pavements dismantled into cobblestones, a flaming car against the background of the mayor's office, which is also on fire.

The sooty rioters sing a hymn, waving at everything that cuts and maims. Sapper shovels, chains, even a crowbar. The demonstrators seized the mayor's office and did not bother with the organization of the new government. They simply set it on fire and stood in a crowd in the square, wondering if that burning car would blow up or not.

At this point, it is very good to talk to them about politics.

- Why do you need all this? - I ask the less aggressive one.

There are usually three theses.

First: we live in poverty.

Second: the government is cut off from the people.

Third: to give power to the young.

- Are you against the young in power? they ask me sternly.

- Yes, I'm only for, - I answer.

And then, unexpectedly, military trucks rushed into the square at a terrible speed. Everyone scattered, but the trucks just rushed and disappeared over the horizon.

The rioters howled with delight and again went to admire the city hall burning ...

"WHAT'S THERE?"

After all this terrible freemen with looting, pogroms and even - a nightmare! - by cutting off the heads of the police, it's time for sweeps.

The decision to get out of Almaty at all costs came in the morning, when, as usual, I was walking along Nazarbayev Avenue, towards the "execution room" of the central square. Glass of broken shop windows and plates with the name of "the first president of independent Kazakhstan" crunched underfoot. Kazakh patrols swept by. They peered predatory into the empty streets and drove past me slowly, thoughtfully: take - not take?

As usual, I regretted leaving. But it turns out that daily fear invigorates, like a liter mug of coffee. Here you get younger from him. Kohl came out - go, shoot - run.

9 am. I walked alone along the gigantic avenue of Alma-Ata ...

At the 34th house there is a bakery store. People! Auntie and two peasants carefully look inside. A mustachioed head protrudes from there: "There is no bread." I'm coming over. And we are magnetized to each other. We exchange news feverishly.

Without the Internet and telephone connection, I am the king of information on the streets. I go and tell - what is there, on the other side of the blockade. In my hotel, unlike almost all of Almaty, there is at least a working TV ...

In Alma-Ata, three questions are asked on the streets: “Where did you bring the food?”, “Where is the working ATM?” and what's there?".

“There” is where I'm going. To the burned down akimat (city hall), where the rioters were raging just two days ago.

- What is there? - I follow the tradition.

- An hour ago the man was crossing the road, - the owner's head stuck out of the bakery again. - He was told - do not go over. He is indignant. Are you crazy? Yes, they say, I have a car there. And went. Shot. In front of my eyes.

LET'S LEAVE HERE

Moving on. Ahead are machine-gun shots - they are chasing those who have not yet understood: it is impossible to go there. Alma-Ata has already figured out where the bachelors are and where they are not. During the day, they are usually only scared, but when the sun goes down, the area becomes Russian roulette. Here life is not worth even tenge (1 tenge - it costs about 17 Russian kopecks. - Ed.).

And then I see - towards, limping, Almas runs. We met yesterday, just like that, at the grocery store. Kazakhstani. Lives in Alushta. He proudly said that he had grabbed an apartment near the park where "Prisoner of the Caucasus" was filmed. He treated, said, a leg - unsuccessfully jumped with a parachute. Here, they say, the prices for treatment are 4 times lower than in Russia. Was waiting for the riots at the hotel nearby ...

- Volodya! Expensive! - he was delighted, but somehow strange - hysterically. - Let's go from here to ...

- What's happened?

- And what, b ... to do ?! - yells.

It turns out that they have a tragedy in their hotel. The hostess lies half-dead. Last night her Russian husband had a drink with a friend, and these heroes decided to go and see if the rebellious Kazakhs had calmed down.

“If they haven’t calmed down, I’ll hit them myself ...” he said and drove off in his car.

Found him in the morning. In the morgue.

- Let's go, - Almas persuaded me. - You are a journalist, you have a certificate, maybe we will break through.

“Don't be dramatic,” I say. - Observe the curfew, you will be safe ...

And I myself think: on the one hand, of course, it is interesting to watch to what stage of sterility the security forces will reach, looking for more and more bandits in the city. People are already wondering: where do they get them? The center of real resistance on Tashkent Street was destroyed the day before yesterday. The rest fled ... But the arrest of the head of the KNB (the Kazakh analogue of the FSB. - Ed.) Massimov and the president's sanction to destroy "bandit formations" seem to have inspired the local security officials. Shooting, explosions everywhere. A rude male voice entered the TV: "Don't go to the windows, an anti-terrorist operation is underway."

That is, there will still be corpses on the streets. Regular.But, on the other hand, I have been without communication for two days. A kilometer of video, photos has accumulated ... I can not transfer anything to Moscow. What is "Komsomolskaya Pravda" good for me as a silent witness of putting things in order in Kazakh?

- Let's go, - I say to Almas. - If you are so eager to return to your Alushta. Do you have money?

- Not.

- Fine. And I have not. What we are going to do?

MILLION TENGE ON THE MAP. A PUSH?

Finding cash in Alma-Ata is a little easier than the Internet. The latter is absent at all, and they say there is tenge in ATMs ... But where - no one knows for sure.

For a long time, the authorities did not risk bringing in money, but in the morning the collection vehicles entered the city in a powerful column. This means that money will be "thrown away" somewhere.

Almas and I rushed about Alma-Ata (fortunately, there was a luxury - a taxi!). The city is disfigured. The impression that all shopping centers and shops with frivolous glass showcases have been ransacked. Now they are boarded up with plywood, planks, they are hung with rags ... Those with sliding shutters and grilles survived. Around the wrecked or burned cars, buses, trucks, as if a fiery tornado swept through the streets. Surviving cars with unscrewed license plates. The rioters began to change them three days ago, realizing that soon they would turn from predators into victims.

We were desperate. There are huge queues all around. At gas stations they stood for gasoline, in grocery stores - for bread and milk, potentially rich, but in reality beggars people crowded at ATMs. Having defended an hour or two, it was possible to withdraw only 10 thousand tenge (about $ 20), after which the card is blocked for an hour. He miraculously called his Alma-Ata friend and asked to borrow at least $ 10.

- Volodya, - almost cries, - I have only 8 left to live on. There is a million tenge on the card, but what's the point ?!

I'm going to the hotel. I am gathering Kazakh friends, hotel staff, with whom I managed to make friends during night shifts in anti-pogrom defense.

- Guys, - I say, - save. It takes $ 100 to get to the Kyrgyz border. I'll get out, I'll send. I swear.

The people whistled. We looked at each other. And they went to their rooms. They come back - some with 5 thousand tenge, some with 10, some with 20. Collected. Brotherly.

We say goodbye.

Do not start, I say, Kazakhs, more of this. Well his ...

- Well this is Alma-Ata, - one of them frowns. - What are you, 1986 forgot? (The riots after the replacement of the popular among the people first secretary of the republic Kazakh Kunayev with the Russian Kolbin. - Auth.) At that time, too, an alien OMON came to us - an Armenian one.

“I remember, but you weren’t in the world yet,” I laugh.

- So my uncle served two months, - grins. - And a month ago, on the anniversary of these events, the state awarded him a prize - 30 thousand tenge.

“DRIVING THE PEOPLE IN DEBTS”

To be in time before dark, we rush to the taxi drivers. We hire a smiling Kazakh Azat, who promises us an easy way, they say, he drove yesterday: 2.5 hours - and we are in Bishkek. Umar, a young man with a Kyrgyz passport, joins us. We drive through the blackened city, carefully bypassing the skeletons of burned-out trucks.

And again I notice that my Kazakh friend and driver Kairat are looking at this strangely. Without much drama, like a wildfire.

- Just think, five stores were opened, - the lame parachutist Almas grumbled from behind (he already felt safe, smoked beer and loudly dreamed of his Crimea). - Because of this nonsense, now there is no life.

- Maybe 500? - the driver laughed.

- You all laugh, - I am angry. - Look at the city! Destroyed to hell. And for what? Where did these 10,000 terrorists come from? Just don’t talk about low wages again. According to this logic, half of Russia should walk with a pitchfork.

“Don't go, because you don't have a Caspian bank,” they tell me.

Again this "Caspian" ... I noticed when you talk about money in Kazakhstan, this word immediately flashes. Usually it sounds like this: "Do you not have the" Caspian "application?"

“A handy thing,” Azat says. - This is both a bank and a store. Imagine that a "buy" button appears in the Sberbank application. You press - and you have everything in front of your eyes: cars, telephones, televisions, everything - right down to your cowards. And all on credit. Approval - 1 minute. You receive the barcode, go to the store and pick it up.

- Convenient, - I agree. - And what have the protests?

- And because a Kazakh without show-off is a bespontovy Kazakh, - reports Almas. - Well, who can resist taking so easy a car or the latest iPhone? Last year I came to my family and bought.jpgts through the "Caspian". Now I pay 10 thousand every month.

- 10 thousand! the driver snorted. - People get 100 thousand, and they pay - 150. How? Are spinning. We are all in slavery at the "Caspian" at 20% per annum. Therefore, in the first place, ATMs and branches of this bank were destroyed. I don’t make excuses for these idiots, but I can understand.

- Yes, what are the excuses? A marauder is a marauder, - I grimace.

- I agree, - Kairat nodded. - Only the Nazarbayevskys own the bank. And the people say this: first they robbed the country, and then drove them into debt. They sit in the Canary Islands and cut interest on the phone from the people. Is this better than your looting? How do you call it?

“I'm afraid this is capitalism,” I sigh.Then they hit me on the hands: "Put the camera down!" Post ahead. Two machine guns on trucks. Sniper on the bridge. Armored personnel carrier. Hundreds of special forces.

- Machine guns again! - howled Almas. - When will it end!

"HANDS UP!"

The first post slipped easily. The military was not interested in bags. They looked into the eyes and into the passports.

An hour later - the second post ... Approaching, we smell unkind: on the side of the road there are dozens of people with their hands up. Opposite - submachine gunners. Snipers are on the hillock. Fortunately, the examining riot policeman turned out to be a fellow villager of Kairat. Let's go further. And Kairat is thinking.

“It's strange,” he says. - Yesterday I was driving, in the same place at the same time there were terrorists ...

“Or maybe it's a show,” the parachutist relaxed again. - Maybe these are the disguised soldiers for YouTube?

We laugh. We are approaching the third post. The spotlights are dazzling. We return the documents. And suddenly...

- Get out of the car. Quickly. Hands up!

Climbing out. The submachine gunner, a young Kazakh boy, points a submachine gun at me.

- Fuck! - I say, and for the first time in my life I raise my hands.

They put us in a line.

- Shaw, you say ?! - I whisper angrily to the instantly sober Almas. - What the hell did you get me to do on the avenue?

- Quickly! - the commando shouted at us. - What is your connection? Do you know him (pokes at me, referring to the driver)?

- P-p-first time ... - the driver shivers.

- And you him? - before our very eyes the soldier goes berserk and pokes at the parachutist ...

- What are you? Not...

- Why are you breaking through to the border ?! he yells. And it becomes clear that he already knows the answer. Unpleasant for us.

Then, carefully pushing back the muzzle of the riot policeman, I say, I’m a journalist for Komsomolskaya Pravda.

At that moment, the riot police were digging into our cell phones, and, to my horror, I see that I gave them the wrong phone.

Not specially prepared empty, but real - full of filming. The most innocent of which is a reportage from the devastated palace of Nazarbayev. The officer turned his head, puzzled, trying to figure out what it was. Fortunately, I didn't understand. And returned the jewel.

“Understand, these are the times,” he sighed. - Yesterday, on a call, we shot the car. Here at this place. We need to clean this rotten nest. Fortunately, the president gave us such a command ...

We drove in hysterical silence.

- B ... how good it is that you are a journalist, - said the men in chorus.

And I thought: now this officer will regret that he blurted out about the car that had been shot "on call". Will call too. To the next post. And we will go according to the statistics of the "neutralized".

But at the last border post we were met by a good-natured Kazakh. He declared:

- I know you. I saw it on TV.

Which is unlikely. But I didn't mind.

And when it seemed we were on target, tragedy struck.

BUD IS OBSERVED

- The border is closed for a Kazakh passport, friend, - said the good-natured riot policeman to the unfortunate Almas. - Drive back.

The parachutist was shocked and crushed.

We shook hands. The iron gates slammed behind me, Almas remained in his homeland, and I imagined with horror how this poor fellow would move on his way back, through all the posts and interrogations of the machine gunners, without my cover.

All the way Almas dreamed that as soon as he arrived in Crimea, he would immediately apply for Russian citizenship under the accelerated program for immigrants. That he will bring his children to Alushta and his Russian ex-wife, who before these events stubbornly refused to leave Kazakhstan. Now she already wants to leave. As well as thousands of Russians, who will probably also run away from here as soon as the ban is lifted ...

What, it turns out, this happiness - to leave the country where everything is confused - now a riot, now a sweep! At the border crossing, the passengers of the plane to Moscow, which did not have time to take off on the day of the seizure of the Alma-Ata airport by the rioters, are sleeping while standing. Exhausted women with children, they, like me, only have to take a step ...

They put a stamp on us. We are three steps away from the coveted Kyrgyzstan. But between her and us - a special booth!

- Oh shit! - the intelligent ladies groaned. But they were taken in turn to the office. The special officer silently took the phone, looked at the photos - he deleted unnecessary ones.

It seems that the cunning Kazakh special services see the fight against terrorism this way, I realized. And he handed the serviceman an empty phone ...

P. S.

"The rich are fleeing from the revolution"

On the other side, of course, I was met by taxi drivers.

“He has one backpack,” someone whispered, looking at me in disappointment.

“The money has run out in Kazakhstan, it seems,” the other chuckled.

They laugh.

- What are you about? - I am alarmed.

“The rich have been running here from the revolution for five days now,” they say. - We were understood. One was carrying 7 sports bags with him. Three - dollars, two - tenge, two - rubles ... I didn't agree with the border guards, you fool, they took him. And those who agreed on how many of these bags were dragged here!

And shake their heads. It's a pity, they say, the Kazakhs. And Kazakhstan is a pity.