Biography Lyali Nasukhanova

Chelebi this section is dedicated to my compatriots, who left an indelible mark not only in the history of their people, but also in my memory. Those with whom fate brought me - my friends, my idols, my dear contemporaries. With one of them, their early death separated me, others scattered around the world a two-stage Russian-Chechen war. The share of these women, whom Rock kept tearing away from his native foci and their work, more than pain, sorrows and irreparable losses fell.

Some were subjected to violent deportation, in conscious or infant age, others were born in exile. And the happiness of the return, after the perennial, fulfilled by bitterness, wandering in a foreign land, on the treasured land of the fathers, and faith in the final triumph of justice, which will bring long -awaited stability and peace, turned out to be an illusion.

Ahead of them was awaiting horror, which had to surpass all this essay experienced before - a tribute to the memory of a glorious Chechen woman, eue of life, with a tragic beginning and a sad end. This high, slender, sports, self -confident tenth -grader of the Almaty school in white -farted uniform, always surrounded by a peer company, I admired with the envy of an inconspicuous child who dreamed of becoming an adult as soon as possible.

Mom Lyali Yoy was called Ama was an intelligent woman-servant, whom I remember always perfectly dressed in strict ladies' suits. Her behavior was distinguished by a preventive attitude to her compatriots. It is customary for Chechens to pay for a ticket not only for themselves, but also for their friends who found themselves with them in the same public transport. She paid for all Chechens without exception.

After the period of returning to my homeland, which was stretching for the years, I again saw by that time the known not only in the Chechen-Ingush Republic, but also beyond its borders, the pilot, the idol of my childhood-Lyalya Nasukhanov. In Grozny, she lived, along with her mother, on Lenin Street, who formed before the October Revolution of the Nobility.

At that time, it was an ordinary street with one -story buildings, with the exception of two palaces located at the very beginning and belonged to the Chechen magnates in the pre -revolutionary period. One of them posted several editions of the republican newspapers, including the Grozny Worker, a book publishing house and several more organizations. This multi -storey architectural structure was demolished when the planned development of the center of the capital of the republic and Lenin Street was expanded to the dimensions of Near five -story buildings in Grozny.

And the majestic palace of Abubakar Mirzoev withstood the test of time. It housed dozens of institutions and organizations, such as: the Ministry of Forestry of the Chia SSR; Pharmaceutical Directorate of the Republic; Department of Public Education of the Grozny District; Party district committee and district district committee of the same area and several more organizations.

And on the ground floor, as well as during the life of his former owner, the largest grocery in the formidable gastron was located, called by the people not otherwise than a “Chechen store”. This is a grandiose structure expropriated by the Bolsheviks in G. was an evening. The gate of a low fence was unlocked. I found Lyalya sitting on a small green lawn in the courtyard of my house.

She sewed her wedding dress - she was going to marry her colleague, a pilot Aslan Bitarov. She accepted me cordially, answered questions with pleasure, despite the fact that in front of her is an amateurish yunskor. She recalled her childhood and youth, dreams, from time to time making a reservation: "This is not for printing." I reviewed all her photos, among which there were also pictures of school years, where she was so close and recognizable.

One, in UNTS and Pilot form, she gave me. In an interview, often interrupted by funny stories “not for printing”, I re -opened the idol of my childhood for myself. So, thanks to, first of all, to professionalism masterfully directing me Tamara Aliyeva, with whom we prepared questions in advance, a sketch was born that marked my debut in the profession. In the course of that of our old meeting, not a word was said about the difficulties of mastering her chosen non -General business, nor about the painful thirteen -year separation from the Fatherland.

By the end of our conversation, my mother returned from the work of Lyalin and, reproaching her daughter for not accepting the guest properly, called us into the house. I heard that was not allowed then only years later. About the brutal memory of everything already understanding a five -year -old child who suffered no less than adults, about despair and impotence in the face of atrocities committed against her people and much more.

About how all her life she was relentlessly persecuted by the stigma of the “deported”. Having successfully graduated from the Military Aviation School, Lyalya became a master of higher aerobatics, asce. She was a pilot-instructor, the commander of the jet fighter “MiG”. Numerous publications of those years noted that “before her, not a single woman in the USSR was awarded such a position on jet aircraft and she dreamed of space.And then an insurmountable obstacle stood the notorious “fifth count” of a passport, which showed a “Chechen”.

Repeated attempts of the numerous friends-cosmonauts, among whom were the Hero of the Soviet Union V. Beregovo, were unsuccessful. Andriyan Nikolaev and Valentin Tereshkova, who recognized her in one interview, who “flew around the clock, spoke with special warmth with special warmth, who“ flew around the clock.

She trained more than a man more. She overcame many difficulties in the way to the cherished goal, but the most difficult it was to achieve public recognition. My situation was also complicated by the fact that I was from special settlers, that is, second -class people, which we reminded us at every step, received another higher education - a historian. It had an outstanding natural mind, independent character and huge potential of a public and statesman with global thinking.

She was a leader in nature leading. This woman could rule the state, but never abandoned more modest positions-the 3rd co-consumer of the CPSU RK, then the head of the trade unions of cultural workers, with inexhaustible enthusiasm for any new business. But her assets were also in her assets, which were not part of her direct duties. Those who could not achieve justice on the sidelines of power went to her.

And Lyalya has always intervened and achieved the resolution of the problem when it concerned women. Lyaly's mother was a man of strict rules, but his father, Andarbek Dauovich Shamilev, was known as a merrycock. I met him years later, having arrived at the Committee on Television and Radio Broadcasting, where he held the post of deputy. He lived then with a new family - a wife, a soloist of the radio and television, Zhansari Shamileva, and the daughter of Ira, whom Lalya accepted without hesitation.

I was in close relations with them and is dedicated to all home stories. I will give here one of them, which I loved more than others. This incident happened to the future father Lyali at the very beginning of his journalistic career on the republican radio when he was not yet married. That day was extremely sultry. By announcing the beginning of a minute solo concert of the popular artist of folk music Baudi Suleimanov, he put the blind, by the way, the musician in front of the microphone and went to steal time in the saving coolness of the summer cafe located nearby.

And there, carried away by a conversation with friends, by the friends from the regulars, I simply completely forgot about the “victim” abandoned by him on the altar of art! And the harmonist, dousing the seventh later and losing his last strength, played and played. The situation of the unfortunate was aggravated by the invasion of a sow that lived nearby, accompanied by his numerous offspring, the benefit of a compassionate andarbek, on this extremely stuffy day, took care of leaving the doors of a one -story building open, where a broadcasting studio was located.

The piglets immediately began to energetically demolish under the feet of Baudi. The listeners probably appreciated a certain avant -garde raid, which was marked by this recocal, thanks to the pig’s squeal, which every now and then joined the sounds of tender melodies that sounded on the air whenever Evrter's martyr tried to throw out stagnant youth. The unique color added a periodic grunt of their parent.

When A. Shamilev, finally recalling three hours later, about the concert he announced, rushed to save his hostage, an avalanche of anger of such incredible power fell upon him, which he, well, could not have imagined this man so mild. Baudi rushed behind him a small patch with a naked knife in his hand, sensitively catching the smallest movements of Andarbek by ear, but since the vision nevertheless was an incomparable advantage, the musician invited the enemy to honestly sacrifice justice, voluntarily striving himself onto the blade.

Praise to the Almighty, Andarbek did not succumb to persuasion, because he was to become the father of Lyali Nasukhanova! The wife of Andarbek Zhansari did not dull in the Lala Soul. Ira, a talented television director, was very proud of her star sister. Lyalya became a mentor and support for her. And becoming aunt, Ira was very attached to the Lyalin children, especially to his niece Larida.

Both Lyalya and Larida were nearby when, in the prime of life, summer Ira overtook a heavy ailment, and the struggle for her life began. She was identified in the Moscow clinic, and Lyalya made all possible efforts to save her sister. This early death was a terrible shock for Lyali. Yes, life, it seems, was a success, and she could consider herself happy, if she had not been part of her people.

A new wave of genocide against him found her by surprise. And just like many years ago, she could not change anything. The bright and alluring native Chechen sky again dragged on the thunderclouds of the unnecessary treacherous war, plunging tons of bombs and erupting missile strikes. And who knows, perhaps among Russian killer pilots were those in whom she put the soul, teaching them to fly skill, Lyalya.

So the star of the brave Chechen woman rolled up, who experienced all the burdens of belonging to the “sword nation”, but not bowing his proud head. The exhausted evil, exhausted in front of the all -consuming evil, again tearing it away from her native hearth, forcing to save himself and his family with flight under continuous fire. Death overtook Lyalya Nasukhanov in exile, in the small Ossetian village, in the midst of the Second Russian-Chechen war.

She was worthy of better care, surrounded by numerous friends and relatives, in a rest in peace and with well -deserved honors. And she had to survive this, the last, blow, which probably accelerated her departure at 61. But while her people are alive, the memory of his daughter, the first soared under the clouds.