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panimoonchild · 7 months ago

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Suvğa tayanma, rusqa inanma (don't lean on water, don't rely on a Russian)

On the 80th Anniversary of the Genocide of the Crimean Tatars, I want to share both contemporary stories of continued tribute to Russian crimes from political prisoner pow and the family's memories of Crimean Tatars who chose to serve in the Armed Forces.

As part of the Letters to a Free Crimea initiative, @ DariiaAstafieva read a letter from Halyna Dovhopola, a native of Crimea and a pensioner who was illegally detained by Russia in November 2019 and accused of alleged "high treason."

— On March 24, they tried to break three middle fingers on my right hand. I have strong bones and have never had any fractures, but the swelling, bruising, and wild pain ensured that I would be in pain for two weeks. It was the day of the first trial verdict. Whether it was a coincidence or it was planned, on that day the convoys treated me worse than the Gestapo: they threw me in and out of the car, shouted, and cursed. In addition to three swollen fingers, I had crimson bruises on both hands, and I was laughing in their faces - 12 years in prison! For six months I tried not to imagine my abandoned house and yard. I would start thinking about my children and grandchildren, and after a few minutes, I would order myself not to touch the bare wires. It worked. It was only when I didn't hear from my son for a long time that I panicked and worked myself up. I lived mostly with the thought that one day I would return to Kyiv and that my Facebook friends would be happy to see me and write nice messages. And I would be happy for each of them, I would joke and laugh, and everyone would be surprised by me.

To mark the 80th anniversary of the deportation of the Crimean Tatar people, Isa Akayev, commander of the Crimea special forces, tells the story of his family's deportation and his motivation to resist the occupiers with arms.

Read the first story from the special project "Qarşılıq / Resistance" in the thread. I was born in Uzbekistan. In deportation.

I spent my childhood in the area where Russians deported not only Crimean Tatars, but also Koreans, Germans, Poles, Czechs, and dekulakized Ukrainians. Growing up, I saw with my own eyes what Russia was doing to other people. My grandmother always told me that we must return to Crimea because it is our home.

"If we do not return there, we will simply disappear. Remember that a people without land dissolves. The strength of the people comes from the land," my grandmother told me. Although I was born and raised in exile, I always remembered where my real home was and where I came from. I remember that before the deportation, my father's family lived in the village of Mamashay, which the Russians renamed Orlovka. I knew that my mother was a purebred Nogai and that her family came from the village of Akshaykh, although the Russians called it Razdolnoye. I would like Crimea to become the way my ancestors knew it. I want the Crimean Tatar language to be heard there and our culture to flourish. I want to do everything in my power to make Crimea a center of development, not decline, as the Russians have made it. Because we grew out of this land. We are children of this land.

And that is why we will definitely liberate Crimea from the occupiers. That is why we will definitely return home.

This is what I am fighting for.

On the 80th anniversary of the deportation of the Crimean Tatar people, a soldier of the 24th Brigade with the call sign "Turk" tells the story of his family, which was criminally deported by the Soviet authorities in 1944. "There are five children in our family, and my brother and I have three older sisters. My father always wanted a son, but he got two at once. Me and my brother.

And if not for the Russians, we would not have been the only twins in our family. Our grandmother was pregnant when the Russians broke into the young couple's house and forced them to pack their belongings in a hurry. Like everyone else, they were given little time to grab at least the most necessities. Some food, documents, and a Koran. When we were young, my grandmother told us about all the horrors they had to endure. My grandmother's first husband did not survive the journey. Shortly after arriving at the deportation center, her brother died due to the terrible conditions of detention, and my grandmother learned that she was carrying twins under her heart. She also lost them. My brother and I were born half a century after these events, but we have not forgotten the crimes committed by the Russians against our people and our family. And we will never forget. I will not forget my grandmother's eyes when she talked about the house stolen by the Russians, and about the children she lost. I will not forget those long hours of waiting for the evacuation of my severely wounded brother, who was bleeding in my arms. I will not forget and I will continue to fight. Because I have only one path.

And this is the way to the liberated Crimea, to the liberated home."

On the 80th anniversary of the deportation of the Crimean Tatar people, a serviceman of the 112th separate motorized rifle brigade "Tataryn" @ ant_etkenmen tells the story of his family's deportation in 1944 and his motivation to fight for the liberation of Crimea. "The most important lesson I learned from my grandmother is that you shouldn't trust Russians. Never.

She always repeated an old Crimean Tatar proverb: "suvğa tayanma, rusqa inanma (don't lean on water, don't rely on a Russian)". Bita said that shortly before the deportation, which was later organized by the Soviet authorities, freight cars were brought to the station in Karasubazar, where our family lived at the time, which was in poor condition and needed repair. The authorities rounded up able-bodied Crimean Tatars to fix the cars. It was allegedly done for the needs of the army. But within a day and a half, the same railroad cars that the Crimean Tatars were repairing became graves for many of them. Since childhood, I have been taught to study the history of my people, and that is how I learned that the 1944 deportation was not the only one, but only "one of the" ones. Moreover, my father always emphasized that one should also study the history of one's enemy because this is the only way to defeat them. So I also studied the history of Russia. Every year, my parents took me with them to rallies dedicated to the events of May 18, the date of the deportation of the Crimean Tatar people, so that I would never forget what our people went through. And the older I got, the more my parents and I discussed each rally in detail. But my grandmother's stories about the deportation were usually short - she would start crying, and because of her tears, she could not continue every time. I learned from my father that my grandmother was deported to the Urals, and from there they eventually managed to move to Uzbekistan (this was allowed for families of professional workers). And later, more than half a century later, Bita was able to return to Crimea from the places of deportation. When I was a kid, I was surprised that Bita, when talking about the deportation, started crying almost immediately, and when she mentioned the war, she held on a little longer and managed to tell more.

Now I realize that she met and experienced the war and the German occupation at home."

On the 80th anniversary of the deportation of the Crimean Tatar people, Asan Isenadzhiev @ dr_livese tells the story of his family, who were criminally deported by the Soviet authorities in 1944. "My grandfather told a story about the deportation that I remember very well. While they were being forced into a freight train, a little girl fell out of the carriage. The Russians set dogs on her.

No one chased the dogs away… This all happened in front of my grandfather, who was still a child. I also had to see similar events live. With a difference of 78 years. Again on May 18. And again because of the Russians. The captivity in Taganrog was hell. And there I often thought about our history. My family had gone through many trials. I remembered what my grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great-grandparents had gone through, and I told myself that I had to be worthy of it. My great-grandfather went through the Second World War, reached Cologne, was wounded, returned to the war, and then there was deportation… But despite everything, they survived.

So I had to go through all the trials and survive. Despite everything, my family returned to their native Crimea.

Similarly, one day I want to walk the streets of Bakhchisarai again, see the Dzhur-Dzhur waterfall, and the Angarsk Pass, and climb Demerdzhi. I want to feel at home again."

To mark the 80th anniversary of the deportation of the Crimean Tatar people, a veteran of the 24th Brigade with the call sign "Lancer" tells the story of his family, which was criminally deported by the Soviet authorities in 1944. I was born in deportation, but I don't remember anything from there. For me, Uzbekistan is just an entry in my birth certificate, my home has always been Crimea. When my brother and I were two years old, our family - parents, grandmother, and five children - returned from the places of deportation. My parents tried very hard to provide us with a happy childhood, despite the lack of money, the difficulties, and the need to build a house and our entire life from scratch. We were on our land. We were at home.

In 2014, our sense of home was taken away from us again. My father foresaw this because he warned us that we could not trust the Russians, absolutely all russians.

I didn't understand much as a kid, but I felt the silent contempt with which the Russians generously "bestowed" on us.

They always behaved as if we, the Crimean Tatars, were strangers in Crimea, and they, on the contrary, were the masters. And even so, I still could not fully believe that Russia would encroach on the territory of Ukraine, and would allow itself to break into someone else's home like that.

But they did. And after 2014, I learned my father's lesson forever - you can't trust Russians. That's why my brother and I did not hesitate to take up arms when the Russians started a full-scale war against Ukraine. Because there was no other way. We had to defend our homeland, we had to liberate our native Crimea. With the same thoughts, I went on one of the combat missions during the counteroffensive in the Kherson region. Then a tank drove at us. Two of my comrades were killed immediately, and two more did not wait for evacuation. My arm was almost torn off. My brother was next to me, and it gave me confidence and peace of mind. "I will make it. I will make it," I kept repeating these words to myself for seven long hours while waiting for the evacuation.

And I did. I made it."