Now many Chechen officials are agitating that peace will come when the Chechens are trusted. But the problem is not whether to trust the Chechens - the Russian people have always been very trusting - but how they will use this trust. Those who, by the will of fate, regularly communicated with “hot Chechen guys” not at the official level, but at the everyday level, know: these guys are not simple! They can assure you of the most friendly disposition and call you “brother,” but at the same time they hold a knife in their bosom and wait for you to turn your back to them.

It is also amazing that until now almost no one has spoken honestly about how young and zealous Chechen guys back in Soviet times, before all the latest wars for which they now blame Russia, treated Russians, or, more correctly, did not their own, not Chechen women, when they happened to “get hold of” them. You can’t offend your own people, because you can answer for it with your life, but it’s easy to offend strangers.

I came across a letter written 15 years ago by a girl who faced similar treatment. Then she tried to publish this letter in the Moscow press, but she was refused by all the editorial offices to which she applied, arguing that the publication of such a letter could offend the national feelings of the Chechens.

Only now, when the press became less afraid of “offending national feelings,” did it become possible to publish this cry from the heart. Here he is.

“I am a native Muscovite. I study at one of the Moscow universities. A year and a half ago, a story happened to me that only now I can tell without hysterics. And I think I should tell it.

My friend, who studied at Moscow State University. Lomonosov, invited me to visit her dormitory, where she lives (it’s called DAS - the house of graduate students and interns). I've been there before. Usually it was not difficult to get to the hostel, but this time the guard categorically did not want to let me through, demanding that I leave the document. I gave her my student card and went up to my friend’s room – I’ll call her Nadya. Then we went with her to the dorm cafe on the first floor, where we ordered coffee and a couple of sandwiches.

Some time later, one of Nadya’s old acquaintances of Caucasian appearance sat down with us. Nadya introduced me to him, and he invited us to move from the cafe to his room - to chat in a relaxed atmosphere, watch videos, drink some wine.

I immediately refused, explaining that it was not too early, and it would soon be time to go home. To which Ruslan - so screwed the guy - objected: why go home if you can stay overnight here, in your friend’s room? Like, real life in a dorm begins at night; Isn’t a Moscow girl interested in learning how nonresident students live? After all, this is its own very original little world...

I was really interested. Which is what I told him. He added that it was still impossible to stay, because the guard took the student’s card and sternly warned me that I had to pick it up before 11 pm, otherwise she would hand it over somewhere.

What problems? - said Ruslan. – I’ll buy your student card in no time!

And left. While he was gone, I expressed my concerns to my friend: is it dangerous to go into the room of an unfamiliar Caucasian man? But Nadya reassured me, saying that Ruslan is a Chechen only from his father, whom he doesn’t even remember, lives with his mother, and in general he is also a Muscovite.

Why then does he live in a dormitory? – I was surprised.

Yes, he quarreled with his mother and decided to settle here,” Nadya explained to me. – I made an agreement with the local administration. – And then she added: “It’s easy here.” In the dormitories of Moscow State University, Chechens are generally given the green light, even if they are not students at all. Simply because the main boss of all university dormitories is a Chechen, and they have their own clan laws...

Then Ruslan returned and brought my student ID. And we, having bought food at the cafe, went to visit him (if you can call visiting a dorm room that way). The decisive argument in favor of this visit for me was, perhaps, that the guy looked attractive and not arrogant. Naturally, communication was supposed to be exclusively platonic.

On the way, we called my mother from a payphone, and Nadya assured her that everything would be fine, not to worry. Mom, reluctantly, allowed me to stay.

Having sat us down in his room, Ruslan ran out for champagne and put on some kind of video - not pornography, but a normal movie, some kind of American action movie. He said that later we would go to another room to visit his friends from the course, where there was supposed to be a large, cheerful group of guys and girls. I was a home girl, I rarely managed to find myself in a “big noisy company,” so this prospect fascinated me.

When it was already closer to midnight, there was a knock on the door. Ruslan opened without question, and three young men entered the room. A tense situation immediately arose.

These are the local Chechens,” Nadya told me in a whisper. – He and Ruslan have some common affairs.

However, those who entered sat down in a comfortable manner and were in no hurry to talk about business. But they began to cast unambiguous glances at my friend and me. I felt uneasy, and I turned to Ruslan:

You know, we should probably go. You are probably having some serious conversation here. All in all, thanks for the evening.

Ruslan wanted to answer something, but then the smallest of those who came (although by age he, apparently, was the eldest) loudly interrupted him:

Come on, girls, what serious conversations can there be when you are here! We'll just join your company - sit, have a drink, talk about life.

It's really time for the girls. “They were already getting ready to leave,” Ruslan objected somehow not very confidently.

“Come on, let them sit with us for a little while, we won’t hurt them,” the little one said friendly.

One of the guests called Ruslan into the corridor to talk, and the little one continued to have a friendly conversation with us. After some time, the “guest” returned with two more friends, the owner was not with them. Nadya and I tried to leave again, although by this time it became obvious that we would not be able to do it so easily...

Then the little one closed the front door, put the keys in his pocket and simply said:

Let's go to the bathroom, girl. And I don’t advise you to resist, otherwise I’ll quickly damage your face.”

I was scared and panicked about what to do. And he continued:

Well, you fool, are you hard of hearing? I can even correct your hearing! For example, I’ll cut off an ear.

He pulled a knife out of his pocket and pressed the button. The blade popped out with a metallic sound. He played with the knife for a minute and put it back in his pocket, saying:

Well, shall we go?

No matter how disgusting I was, I decided that I would rather endure a few minutes of sex than have to suffer for the rest of my life with a disfigured face. And went to the bathroom.

There I made a last attempt to awaken humanity in this aggressive creature, even whose name was unknown to me, convincing him to let me and Nadezhda go.

Better occupy your mouth with something else,” he interrupted me and unbuttoned his trousers.

Having received satisfaction, the sexual aggressor seemed to become a little better. At least his expression became softer.

Don't you want to join your girlfriend? - he asked.

In what sense? – I asked.

The fact is that she will be fucked all night by four insatiable stallions. But I'm better, right? Well, am I better? - he insisted.

What, do I have a choice? – I asked doomedly.

You're right, you have no choice. You will come with me to my home. Unless, of course, you want it to be really bad for you and your girlfriend.

Naturally, I didn't want to. She left the bathroom and, trying not to look in the direction of the bed on which something disgusting was happening, went to the front door.

“Close behind us,” my guard gave instructions to his people as he left.

At the exit from the hostel, seeing the watchman and the phone next to her, I decided to take advantage of what seemed to me to be a chance for salvation.

I need to call home! – I said loudly, rushing to the phone.

But before she even had time to grab the phone, she felt a strong blow to the back of her head and fell onto the concrete floor.

Completely stupefied by drugs. She doesn't even have a home. A homeless woman and a prostitute,” I heard the voice of my tormentor.

Where are you taking her? – the watchwoman timidly asked.

To the police. She tried to clean out my room and harassed my friends. Get up bitch, let's go! Fast!

He grabbed me by the collar and, jerking me off the floor, tore my jacket.

“You should take it easy,” the watchwoman stammered. - Why is it so?

I glanced at my grandmother, full of prayer, when the little animal was already dragging me out into the street.

What, you idiot, don’t you want to live? Better not rock the boat! – he commented on my attempt at liberation.

And then I thought: it’s better to just endure this horror. Unless, of course, I end up being stabbed anyway.

The animal hailed a taxi, whispered to the driver the destination, pushed me into the back seat, climbed in next to me, and we drove off.

“Rest, darling, you’re tired,” he said in a sugary voice, grabbing my head and pushing my face into his lap.

So I lay there, not seeing the way. And he - and this was a completely unbearable mockery - stroked my hair all the way. If I tried to raise my head, he dug his finger into my neck somewhere in the area of ​​the solar artery.

The house we stayed at was very ordinary. There was no number on the apartment door.

Having opened the door with his key, he pushed me into the hallway and then entered himself, loudly informing someone:

Who wants a woman? Welcome guests!

My brothers live here. Be kind to them.

There were seven “brothers”. And compared to them, the one who brought me here seemed like a dwarf. Or, rather, a jackal, ingratiating himself with the tigers in a desire to please them. These were huge men with muscular figures and with the kind of faces that professional killers probably have when they are not working. They sat on the beds, of which there were five in the room, watched TV and drank wine. And I also felt some kind of sweetish smell unknown to me at that time. Looking at this “meeting”, through the throes of a headache, I realized that I was very, very, very unlucky.

At first glance at me, exhausted, they apparently all decided that I was an ordinary cheap prostitute. They greeted me, so to speak, kindly: they sat me down in a chair, offered me a drink and smoked weed. When I refused, one of the “tigers”, looking at me incredulously, asked the “jackal”:

Where did you get it?

“In the hostel,” he answered cheerfully.

“I’m a Muscovite, I have a dad and a mom,” I couldn’t stand it, desperately looking for protection.

The “Jackal” immediately began fussily explaining something to his “brothers” in a language I did not understand. “Tiger” also spoke Chechen, but it was clear from his voice and facial expression that he was unhappy. Then the others joined them, and their conversation turned into an argument. And I could only look at them and silently pray to God that this argument would end successfully for me.

When the bickering was over, several “tigers” began to go to bed, and one of them, the youngest, took me to another room. There were only two beds in this small room. He pulled the mattresses off them onto the floor, placed them along with their linen on the floor, invited me to sit down, sat down next to me and began to talk to me in an insinuating voice. I answered mechanically, but I was thinking about something completely different - my head was completely occupied with fear.

Finally, he ordered me to undress - and another nightmare session began. No, he didn’t mock me openly and even gave me some freedom of action, but that didn’t make me feel any better. My whole body ached, my head was pounding and I really wanted to sleep. I realized that if they started kicking me now, it wouldn’t change much for me. I really wanted to lose consciousness - at least for a while, and I also regretted that I had not smoked what they offered there. Because the most terrible thing was how my clear consciousness perceived every detail absolutely clearly. And time went by so slowly!

When the “tiger” relieved himself several times, he left and I began to get dressed. But then a “jackal” jumped into the room, grabbed my clothes and, shouting for good measure, ran out the door. And immediately the next contender for my body appeared.

This is, of course, a good proverb: “If you are being raped, relax and try to have fun.” I forced myself to relax, as much as possible in such a situation when you are shaking with fear, but with pleasure things were very bad. Worse than bad.

After the second “tiger” the “jackal” came running again. This time he began to undress himself, and I completely lost heart. I think I would have preferred to be raped by one of the other Tigers. At least they didn’t mock me so maliciously, on the sly - they didn’t pull my hair, didn’t try to break my fingers, didn’t pinch me until I had cramps all over my body. “The Jackal” did all this, and with great pleasure. But he brought with him a cigarette filled with “weed” and demanded that I smoke with him. This time I didn’t refuse, but it was useless.

But as a result, I didn’t feel any confusion in my head; I just felt even more nauseous. And with an equally clear head, I endured the third and most painful session of using my body. And only when the little mongrel got tired of abusing the helpless victim, he left me alone, even allowed me to dress lightly and sent me to the kitchen to wash the dishes, promising to break my hands if I broke something.

In the kitchen sat the largest of the local “brothers” - a red-haired Chechen, so lazy and sedate. While I washed the dishes with trembling hands, he talked to me and even offered me a little condolences. He said that I really found myself in a “not very pleasant” situation. But when the sink and furniture around were cleared of numerous plates and cups, he invited me to go back to that small room from which I had left an hour ago.

Listen,” I turned to him, again trying to ease my fate. - You are such a respectable man. Are you really going to take advantage of the woman that your... subordinates just had?

I didn't mean to. But now, looking at you, I wanted to,” he answered and added affectionately: “Our baby completely intimidated you, didn’t he?” Well, it's okay, relax. I won't torture you like he did.

Oh, what a kind uncle!

I was already ready for the fact that after all this entertainment they would simply kill me. But they let me go. And the “baby” took me in a taxi, again pressing my head against his knees, and dropped me off near the hostel.

I went to a friend’s house to first somehow get myself in order, and then return home to my parents. Nadya lay in her room, even more tormented than me, with a broken face. Later it turned out that her rapists, in addition to a lifelong aversion to men, also “gifted” her with venous diseases, including clap, trichomoniasis and pubic lice.

After this, Nadya could no longer stay in the hostel. Unlike the Chechens who raped her, they still lived there happily and, until she left, terrorized her: meeting her somewhere in the hall, they called her a prostitute and “contagious.” Apparently, they decided among themselves that it was she who infected them. This way, naturally, it was more convenient for them - they didn’t have to look for the culprit among their own. Only Ruslan, who provoked this story, apologized to Nadya and conveyed the apology to me through her, but this did not make it any easier.

Nadezhda took her documents from the university and left for her hometown. There she had an abortion and was treated for a long time...

And it turns out that I got away with only fear. Which I now have, apparently, for the rest of my life. When I see a man of Caucasian appearance, I start to pound. It especially hurts when I see Chechens - I can distinguish them from other Caucasians, as they say, with the naked eye. But it would be better - armed..."

Probably, this letter could not be commented on, but after the ellipsis I want to put a full stop. Although I'm not sure that it will be possible to install it.

Has the situation changed since the time mentioned in the letter? Don't know. There is information that “hot Chechen guys” are still not averse to “profiting” from Russian girls. Moreover, now they have an excuse: they say, if Russian men are at war with us, we have the right to treat their women the way in the times of the barbarians we treated the women of our enemies - as powerless prey.

And here the question is this: will people, who believe that everyone is obliged to them and everyone is guilty before them, stop raping our women if this war suddenly ends? Or will they continue to do this with great passion, and we will remain silent so as not to offend their “national feelings”?

Hello, dear readers) I would like to tell you my story and ask for advice...
My lover and I are from the Caucasus, but we met outside of it. I am Dagestani, he is Chechen. Almost immediately after my birth, my mother and I flew to the city of N, since my father had already settled here. Here I went to kindergarten, then to school... In the 7th grade I went to Caucasian dances, that’s where I first heard about him) They responded positively) Then he interested me, but I quickly forgot about it. Due to personal circumstances, I stopped attending the circle, minded my own business, and, in general, lived my own life. About a year later, he was repeatedly added to my social network, I had a desire to add him, but my pride did not allow me, because in principle I did not add guys and believed that dating on social networks. Networking is not for me. So time passed... I went to college... my close friend began a relationship with a friend of my loved one, so we began to communicate... Communication took place at a distance, but at some point in communication (via correspondence) we began to realize that we have a lot in common. We became good friends (or rather, he was a friend to me, and he really liked me and was counting on a great relationship). This period of time was very difficult for me, a lot of problems and worries piled up, I was worried a lot... he was the only person who fully and completely delved into these problems, I did not receive such support as from him, even from close friends. He evoked very tender and reverent feelings in me, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself) a month later he told me about his feelings and his desire to be together... to which I refused... I refused him several times, he didn’t retreated... In general, soon we began a relationship... I was incredibly happy that I didn’t even believe it...)) His actions spoke for themselves, that I could not doubt his seriousness, loyalty and love . He is my first boyfriend and my first love)
We have been together for a year and a half... dreaming about a wedding... about children)) But, unfortunately, all this joy is overshadowed by the attitude of my parents towards our union... Of course, his parents were not initially happy that their son he will marry only a Dagestani woman, they wanted their own, but have long come to terms with his choice)) His mother knows everything about me, she is a very good woman and is already waiting for me in her house)... But my father is categorical... he doesn’t want anything to hear about him... he wants me to marry only a guy of my nation, he says that there are so few of us... He is also concerned that I will be a weak-willed bird in a Chechen house and the attitude towards me will not be the best , afraid of losing me... My aunts and sister tried to convince my father and mother, but alas...
My loved one tried to talk to my father, but my dad didn’t even want to listen... Then he told me that if everything continued the same way, he would steal me away. I find it interesting to hear stories about thefts, but I wouldn’t want to find myself in such a situation myself. I have a negative attitude towards this, especially since this is a shame for our family... I want to get married the way it should be... I want everything to be right... My dad is very kind and good, so I should leave with I will never be able to do it. My father doesn't deserve this. But the person you love doesn’t even think about retreating...even breaking up with him...it’s useless...
At the moment, everything is fine with me... and the relationship with my parents is wonderful and my beloved is nearby, but what will happen in the future worries me very much... especially since he intends to get married in a year or two... Now he is 21, and I'm not 18 yet.
Since childhood, I have dreamed of beautiful love, a kind, brave knight capable of action. The dream has come true... I can’t believe it, will I really have to choose?... I don’t know what to do and how to act correctly... Those who have encountered or are familiar with similar situations, please write. I will be very glad to see your advice =)

Dear women and girls!
Read this sad but very true story. Well, think about the fact that when general Islamization comes (and it most likely will come, since all “progressive humanity” is fighting for it, including those who call themselves feminists) - you and your heirs will all be in exactly this position . Alas, in the harems of the Arabian emirs there is not enough room for the entire female population, and even there everything is much worse than those who try to get there hope.
By the way, almost no one knows that these people also once professed Christianity (partly Catholicism, partly Orthodoxy). But.. I chose a more “advanced faith”. And the ruins of Christian churches are still there in the mountains. During the Chechen campaigns, Russian soldiers set up toilets in them *.

Well... happy belated Valentine's Day to you all! So far, no one has been punished for mentioning it.

PS.: I didn’t waste time editing the text of an illiterate Russian magazine that doesn’t even know the difference between the words “genie” and “genie,” because it won’t be possible to eliminate illiteracy alone if the trend from above is the opposite. So read it as it is written.

• Yulia Vishnevetskaya

In December 2010, after Kesira was once again beaten by her husband, her relatives brought her to the mullah - many Chechens believe that if there is discord in the family, the genie that has possessed the woman is to blame. While the mullah read the verses expelling the genie, Kesira remembered all the insults and bullying she had to go through and began to cry. Mulla said that there was no gin in it, but just in case, he recommended treatment with honey and cumin oil. Soon Kesira found out that she was pregnant. The child was already born in Moscow, where human rights activists transported her. Here, while her case was being considered by international organizations, she managed to tell me her story

— My father had seven children from his first marriage: five sons and two daughters. The first wife died, they divorced the second. My father married for the third time, to my mother, and she gave birth to me, my sister Louise and my younger brother Abu. My half-siblings didn't like me because I looked a lot like my mother. And they constantly showed that they didn’t love her.

When the second war began, my father took us to Ingushetia to see his friend. My parents left and the four of us were left: me, Louise, Abu and Usman, my half-brother. Before this, Usman lived in Kurgan - it seems he worked as a tram driver. He didn’t have his own apartment, he lived first with one woman, then with another - that’s how he walked there for ten years. He had a daughter, born in 90, her passport says: died.

My brother mocked us and forced us to wash his clothes in cold water outside every day. My sister was thirteen years old, and I was fourteen. Because of this, I got sick, the doctors said that I almost had tuberculosis.

And all this time - the end of October, November, the beginning of December - he checked me: my reaction, my behavior, that I was such a silent person, not a chatterbox. He didn’t mock his sister like that: Louise had character, she was a fighter, she could shut anyone up. She scolded me: why you are silent and endure all the time, I must say to my face, you cannot allow yourself to be mocked like that.

The six of us lived with our parents in a small room. When my parents went home - it was in December - the three of us slept in one bed, I lay down between my younger brother and sister. And Usman slept separately, and when everyone fell asleep, he pulled me and said: “Get up.” There was some kind of mattress on the floor, I lay down on it, and he harassed me. I lay there and cried, trembling all over - I couldn’t do anything.

At the beginning of January, the Ingush with whom we lived asked us to move out, and we went to a tent camp. My older sister lived there with her family: five children, husband, in-laws. They had a separate tent, 40-person or 20-person, I don’t remember.

One day, Usman told his sister that we would go to our previous apartment to get some jars, take compote and butter. I refused, but my sister said: today you will go, tomorrow Louise, the day after tomorrow Abu. We went in the evening, it was almost night. Usman told me to take some things from the room, followed me, and locked the door. I thought that he would harass me again, as before, and I thought I’d endure it, and then I’d leave with my father and try to forget it like a nightmare. I cried a lot and pushed him. And he hit me and raped me.

I was very small, so thin, and he was such a big guy, almost two meters tall. I tried to break free, but it didn’t work: he was holding me by the throat. I didn’t scream because I was more afraid not for my honor, but for the honor of my father, what people would say about him.

I told him: “You are my brother. What are you doing? You're spoiling me. Think about honor." And he made such big eyes and said: be silent. He just didn't want to hear that I was his sister because they all hated my mother.

For three months - January, February, March - I lived like hell with this “brother”. He often told his older sister that he needed to go to his uncle and take me with him. My uncle and his family lived on a farm; he had many cows and sheep. The farm was nearby - it was obvious. And there was such a long hole along the road, and we had to go down there. Every time he raped me there, in that pit. He knew that I wouldn't tell anyone anything. And only once did we end up with my uncle. I remember eating semolina porridge from them. Just one time.

Then I didn’t understand that this was a criminal offense. I don't even know if he used protection. He told me to close my eyes. I closed it and cried.

I didn't tell anyone about this, not even my father. Then he had his first attack - a head tumor: he lost his memory, lay there and did not remember anything. Because of this, I couldn’t tell him, I thought he would have a heart attack and die because of me. And she didn’t tell her mother either: her blood pressure was very high - 200-something.

My aunt, my mother’s cousin, came to visit us once. She is a smart person, she notices everything - she noticed my frightened look, and asks: “Did this brother harass you?” I cried: “What are you saying? No one was harassing you, what are you talking about?” And she ran out of the kitchen. I was afraid. But the older sister didn’t care. When her daughters said that he was beating me and that my nose was bleeding, she said: “Be quiet, don’t tell him anything.”

At the end of March, my father came to our tent city. I got down on my knees, asked him to take me, and cried a lot. And on the morning of April 3, he told everyone that he would pick me up and we would go home. And Usman shouted at his father, saying: “Let her stay here.” My father yelled at him, took me by the hand, and we left the tent. Brother is behind us.

Then my father and I got on the bus - me at the window, my father next to me. And Usman knocked on the window and pointed with his finger: come out. The father said, “Go find out what he wants.” I went out, and he said to me: “If you say a word to your father, I will first kill your mother, then you.” I said nothing and went to the bus.

When we arrived, my mother gave us cherry compote and said that she would go feed the cattle and that I should pour some compote for my father and myself. She came out, I opened the jar, and my father suddenly jumped up and shouted: “Head! Head!" He ran out into the yard, sat down, then returned to the kitchen and lay down on the sofa. I sat and cried. The father asks: “Why are you crying”? Everything is fine, I say, everything is fine, I’m just crying with joy that I’m back home.

Then he asked: “Did Usman beat you?” I'm silent. “I’ll find out anyway. Better tell me." I sat down next to him and said: “Not everyone. He beat me." The father began to cry and let’s scold him. He says: “Know two things in this life. First: if, with Allah’s permission, I recover, no one will touch you three again. And second: if I don’t recover and die, know that the three of you also died.”

In the spring, my father was taken to Kurgan for treatment, where he underwent three operations, and six months later he died.

When everyone left after the funeral, the four of us were again left with Usman. And he raped me again, the last time. That day I couldn’t stand it and shouted: “I’ll tell everyone!” And he took me by the throat, pressed me against the wall and said: “If you tell anyone, I will kill your mother, and then you.” And I said, “No, no, I won’t tell anyone.” He knew my weak point.

Soon our son-in-law arrived and said that the administration had a list of those who were wanted, and Usman was on this list. It turns out that he did something in Kurgan and fled to Chechnya. His son-in-law took him with him to Ingushetia. The next day, the military came, Russians and Chechens together, looking for him. Mother came out and said that he had not been here for a long time. I ran to the door to say where he was, but I thought about my mother, cried and remained silent: my relatives would blame her.

After that, I lived either with my grandmother or in my parents’ house. A school was opened in the village. I passed the exams, received a certificate and applied to the university in Grozny. I called my other brother, Suleiman, the eldest, in Kurgan. She said that I want to study. And he: “If you do, I’ll break your legs.” I cried and begged him to let me study. Their hearts are simply iron, simply iron! “No,” he says, “I won’t let you go to Grozny to study.” Like, everyone is partying there, a guy can do whatever he wants to a girl.

The mother immediately understood: “Doesn’t let go?” And she went to my cousin. He was the eldest in our family, his father and ours were siblings. And he said: “If they themselves did not study, why don’t they allow others to study? I'll talk to him. She can learn." I called Suleiman and scolded him. Then Suleiman told me: “If you do something illegal, we will kill you right away.” I say: “You will not be put to shame because of me.”

I didn’t have any connections, so I had to pay a thousand dollars—my grandparents gave it to me: those who didn’t pay were immediately given bad marks for the entrance exams. I entered history.

And in my fifth year I was kidnapped. I knew this guy for about six months. He worked in the police, in the traffic police. I rode home on the student bus. These buses stood in the center. There are summer cafes nearby - my friends and I often sat there, and he came in with a friend and noticed me. He said that he had divorced his wife - he was 26 at the time - and wanted to marry me. And I answered that I came to study, not to get married. He said: “Okay, everything will be fine. I’ll take you to school.” I refused him. And after that he and his friends stole me.

I remember it was Wednesday, I had an exam that day. I was at my aunt's. I left her house and walked along the path. They drove up, threw me into the car and took me to his friend’s house. After that, a friend, his sister and uncle went to my relatives and said: “We have your daughter.” Louise and my aunt arrived and asked if I agreed to live with him. I said that I agreed, and after that they did everything - they performed the rituals as expected.

And this is the ending:

— Does what happened to you often happen to other Chechen girls?

- Well, yes, many people think: since a woman has disgraced her family, that’s it, she should die. There was such a case five years ago. There is a field near our village, and a shepherd with a dog found a murdered girl there. Her mother looked for her everywhere, but couldn’t find her. They say she was a very beautiful girl, she wore a headscarf, everything was long—she was so modest. From our village, one of the secret police officers and his friend told her that they would kidnap her in marriage. But in fact they grabbed her, threw her into a car and raped her. And then they returned it to their parents. The girl's mother asked these guys not to tell anyone. But her brothers somehow found out, hired a killer, and he killed this girl. Both the brother and the killer were later imprisoned. But nothing was done about the rapists.

And in 2009, it seems, they found many dead girls in the field - as many as twenty, in my opinion. They were so beautiful there - in general. Shot in the head. I saw the photo on the phone. They announced that they were walking, and they were killed by Wahhabis. But it turned out that some bosses paid money to parents to go out with their daughters, and then they were afraid that this would be revealed, and they killed the girls. And they blamed it on the Wahhabis. That's the kind of violence there. Everyone thinks we have a Muslim republic. No, ordinary.

*Note. Apparently we are talking about a temple

Not long ago, a message appeared in the media that in the Caucasus, the “Alternative” social movement managed to rescue two girls from slavery. Without wanting it, the girls became prostitutes in the Dagestan sauna and remained there as slaves for almost a month. By a lucky coincidence, they found out about them and brought them home. As it turned out, the girlfriends at whom fate laughed so cruelly are our fellow countrymen. “Salary from 29,000, housing provided” They are afraid to say an extra word, and every time they hear the word “prostitutes” they hide their eyes. They are afraid that this story will become known to the public, friends, and loved ones. And they want one thing more than anything else - for all this to turn out to be a bad dream. 19-year-old Katya Kolesova and 21-year-old Yulya Kalinina ( the names and surnames of the victims have been changed) have been friends for a long time. They were born in the same village in the Nizhny Novgorod region and studied there. Of course, they dreamed of material well-being - after all, there is no big income in the countryside... That is why the girlfriends decided to try their luck and earn more money during the summer holidays. College students are not hired for permanent jobs, but Yulia and Katya heard that in the capital you can get a temporary job with a good salary. - We nurtured this idea for a long time until we saw an advertisement on a pole: McDonald's invites young girls to work in Moscow. Salary from 29,000 rubles, housing provided” and a telephone number, recalls Katya. Naturally, when such advertisements appear on poles, it is clear to everyone around what kind of work the girls are being offered. Katya and Yulia, not to say that they were naive and stupid, always tried to avoid such things. But here, after all, we were talking about a well-known chain of fast food restaurants, so the girls didn’t even think about any indecent subtext. - We called, a man answered the phone and said that the sooner we can arrive, the better. He is waiting for us in Moscow. The girls' parents supported it - in Nizhny it is difficult for students to find such a salary, and they promised housing. We packed our simple suitcases and went to the capital, dreaming that they would earn money, see the city and return to study as serious, wealthy girls. Instead of Sochi they were taken to Dagestan- We arrived in Moscow, a big city, where life does not stand still for a second. Compared to it, even our Nizhny seems small and quiet. We were a little scared of the scale, but decided not to retreat,” the girls say. In the capital, they met two men who immediately upset Katya and Yulia. - They said that now all the places at McDonald's are occupied, because there is a very high turnover. But, if we have a desire, then we can go to Sochi and work there. Imagining how nice it would be in the main resort of Russia in the summer, the girls agreed without hesitation. After all, palm trees, the sea - what else can you dream of in the midst of the holidays? Jumping with unexpected happiness, Katya and Yulia gave their passports to process tickets and contracts for work, and in the evening they boarded a small bus that took them south. - We have never been to Sochi, so we just enjoyed the road. I wanted to quickly get into this atmosphere where everyone was relaxing and enjoying the sea. None of the girls’ work bothered them – they would still have free time to stroll along the streets of Sochi. But Katya and Yulia were not able to look at the palm trees and how Sochi was preparing for the 2014 Winter Olympics - instead of the resort city, they were brought to Makhachkala. - We realized that we were being taken somewhere in the wrong place, too late. The phone stopped working, the man behind the wheel did not answer any questions. And then we crossed the border and our passports were carefully checked. It became clear that we were in a terrible situation. It was in Makhachkala that the girls were threatened: if you try to escape or call for help, you will be killed immediately. Therefore, in silent horror, barely holding back tears, Katya and Yulia reached their destination. It turned out to be one of the Dagestan saunas... After the rape I had to agree to work as a prostitute- They paid money for you, so until you work, you won’t go anywhere! - a man of Caucasian appearance shouted at the girls. “And if you work well, I’ll let you send money home and help your parents.” - What needs to be done? – Katya and Yulia asked. - You’re funny, this is a sauna, men need to be pleased! After these words, the girlfriends began to go hysterical. They screamed, cried, refused, but three more healthy men entered the room and severely beat the unfortunate Nizhny Novgorod. - They didn’t hit me in the face so that there would be no bruises. In general, they tried to hit him in such a way that it would be as little noticeable as possible,” her friends recall with horror. They survived the first day and did not give up. And on the second day the girls were simply raped. It was pointless to break free - there were strangers all around, no documents, phones were taken away, there was nowhere to wait for help. “If you try to escape, we will first kill you, and then your family,” the men intimidated Katya and Yulia. This was the most terrible decision in their entire short lives - the girls had to accept the conditions of the “owners” in order to stay alive and only then decide how to get out. And it is unknown what would have happened next if not for the “Alternative” social movement, which has been dealing with the problem of Russian slaves in the Caucasus for quite some time. The saviors came to the sauna disguised as clients“Our informants told us that two Russian girls are being kept in one of the Dagestan saunas,” Oleg Melnikov, head of the “Alternative” public movement, tells Komsomolskaya Pravda. – Katya and Yulia asked their clients for help or at least a phone to call home. But, it is clear that no one wanted to get involved with this - everyone there knows that criminal authorities are involved in this kind of business and it is simply dangerous to help Russian girls. In addition, other girls who came there voluntarily worked in this sauna. While Oleg and his comrades were watching the sauna, they found out that the girl could “serve” up to ten people in a day. “They were fed, given water, bought linen, some antiseptics, but they were never given any money. So there was no talk of leaving,” says Oleg. The saviors came to this sauna disguised as clients. “The girls, when we told them that we had come to rescue them, at first they didn’t believe it, because they already lived without hope of their liberation. But then, when they realized that these were friends, they were incredibly happy. We went there for several days before we were allowed to take the girls with us to the hotel. I even had to leave a deposit - about thirty thousand rubles. Already at the hotel, we very quickly filled out the documents and took the girls out of Dagestan. The guys accompanied their girlfriends to Nizhny, where their parents already met them on the platform. With flowers, gratitude and tears... “It’s difficult for parents to accept this situation, but they behaved well.” One of the girls is now working with a psychologist, the other seems to be coping on her own,” says Oleg. BDI! Looking for a job in Moscow? You are at risk! It’s hard for the sweet village simpletons to believe that this whole nightmare happened to them. But now they are more afraid of the possibility of publicity that they had to work as prostitutes for a whole month. It became scary to trust people, scary to think about relationships with men. “The main risk group is those who are looking for work in Moscow,” says Oleg Melnikov. - They need to find out as much information as possible about their employer and agree with him in advance on working conditions. Even if you are called to work in well-known restaurants, be sure to call the central office and find out whether they advertised in a regional or some other newspaper, and whether such a person works for them as a recruiting agent. If you have been invited to go to work in Chechnya or Dagestan, you definitely shouldn’t go. We must remember that unemployment there is more than 50 percent; there are enough workers. If you are taken there, it will obviously be as a cheap, or even free, labor force.