We don’t mean anyone any harm, we were born with Ossetians, we were raised with Ossetians, we said. It was exactly so, we got along great before that.
Suddenly, just as the truck was taking a sharp turn, there was gunfire. People didn’t even have time to scream let alone escape.
I replay this often, that she calls her son and someone picks up the phone there and tells her he is dead.
This distinction between Ossetian and Georgian didn't exist before, then what happened, I don’t know
Georgian police were already in Tskhinvali, separately Georgian and Ossetian nationalist leaders were agitating people.
It’s a cursed affair to fight over land. Because that’s not what our end is, we won’t leave this earth with more than two meters anyway.
The first time I was ever afraid was when I was 5 years old. It was the 23rd of November, 1989.
War started for me when Zviad came to power. Many here swore that war was out of the question, Soviet Union would never allow that.
Our village was burned the first time on the 12th of May in 1992. We were making Chacha in the yard.
Now my heart aches when my husband tells the story, I yell at him. Don’t remind me of that time, I tell him. What’s it all for?
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