"(Reuters) - Two female suicide bombers killed at least 38 people on packed Moscow metro trains on Monday, stirring fears of a broader campaign in Russia's heartland by Islamists from the North Caucasus."
My Story
"When you have reached your target area, and you're absolutely certain you'll have maximum damage impact, you press the button on the top of the detonator, like this."
Salyna looked on as the commander held a long tube like wire, with a small lipstick size item attached at the end. And at the very tip of the silver colored cyllinder was a small white button, not unlike the doorbell to her house, before it was destroyed during the recent fighting in Ingushetia. She wondered if that pearcl white button was in fact the one from her demolished house. She still remembered the day the Russian Security forces arrived in her community and ordered everyone out of their houses. Somewhere, far away, some Russian colonel had died in fighting against the insurgents, and now as retribution, their houses would be leveled by bulldozers.
Salyna remembered feeling terrible for her neighbors, but secretly she knew this was a price for her to pay. Her husband Doku was in fact one of the resistance leaders, though she hadn't seen him in three years. They had barely married, and he had inherited the house from his parents who had died in the fighting and brought her to live there. But right after the honeymoon off he had gone, and she had only seen him briefly once or twice in the past few years. But, she had a nice home to maintain, to keep up for him until the day the resistance was victorious, and he returned to his bride. But that day never came. Instead the Russians came, and tore their house down.
She had moved in with her sister in the neighboring town. The resistance was strong there, and with the valleys much narrower, the Russians feared going in as RPG rockets would rain down on their convoys. But Salyna's town had been in a valley plain. And now it was back to being just a valley.
The commander first handed the detonator to Marta. "Here, it's not armed, but it is hooked up to a light. Get a feel for how far you'll have to squeeze it to get it to go off."
Marta happily squeezed the button, flickering the bright light on the backpack on and off. "Boom boom boom! Die you heathen Russkie bastards, die!" she shouted and laughed.
Marta was much more enthusiastic about this mission. Her husband too had been a commander, and he likewise had been killed by Russian assasins recently. And she also had suffered losing her home to bulldozers in the exact same village. Salyna didn't like Marta much. She remembered going to school with her in their small schoolhouse in their village. She remembered as young girls being taken to a river for swimming classes. It was only women, so they were told to disrobe. Young girls before puberty were allowed to disrobe. And Marta had made fun of Salyna for not having breasts. Until then, Salyna had not even know what a breast was. But she was ashamed, though she didn't quite know at the time why she should be. But all of the other girls had buds or even fairly large sized breasts.
When Marta explained that a breast was the same as a cow's udder, Salyna was surprised. Then she realized that yes, her mother had given milk to her younger brother, though it was through the folds of her black robes. Salyna had never seen her mother's breasts. And this now brought back memories of her brother Tomas. She missed him. He had been drafted into the Russian Army against his will. He had died at "training camp." Word was that it was a hazing ritual that had gone wrong.
And now Marta had lost everything. Her husband, her brother, her house. And then they had come to her and told her she must volunteer for this suicide mission. To avenge the honor of her husband.
She had barely known him. They had made love only three times, but she never got pregnant. If she had children she would have been exempt, she supposed. But with tiny breasts, she probably couldn't have fed her children anyway. With no house, they would have been refugees like all the other villages in the valley.
She didn't want to volunteer, but they insisted. Even her mother and father insisted. It didn't sound much like volunteering. But when the Imam visited and said it was her holy duty, and everyone kept at it for days and days, she finally relented.
Marta on the other hand was thrilled at the prospect. Marta claimed her life had been destroyed and she had no interest living as some reclusive widow. She wanted to go to heaven in a blaze of glory and take out a few dozen Russians. Let them know her pain.
Salyna did not want to feel pain. She just wanted to wander down to the stream where she picked wildflowers and lay on the long grass and looked at the sky and let her imagination describe the clouds passing by.
"Salyna?"
Salyna was startled back to reality. "Yes?" Then she realized Marta was handing her the detonator to try. "Oh, thank-you."
She took it and held it in her palm.
"Go ahead, try squeezing the detonator."
"I don't want to die."
"It's not armed. Stop being a baby and just squeeze it," Marta barked at her.
Salyna looked up at Marta. She held up the detonator and squeezed, like ringing the doorbell hoping to wake everyone in the house, loud enough to wake the dead in the village graveyard. Sadly, Marta did not disappear. All she got for her troubles was a small red light lighting up.
"Good," the commander said. "Now you know how hard to press it to detonate it. Remember, when you reach your target area, wait until you have the most people around you possible to unleash your fury and revenge. The subway car is better than then the platform, as the cars will contain the blast impact. On the platform, the blast will just dissipate."
"I hope I can take a hundred of the bastards with me!" shouted Marta. "While my soul rises to heaven, I'll watch theirs tumble down to hell!"
Salyna just whispered to herself one more time that she didn't want to die.
---
Underneath her coat she wore a vest of bricks. They were incredibly heavy. Each pack she was told had explosive C4 and metal bolts and rods. Salyna was not a strong girl like Marta. But Salyna kept quiet. Marta was complaining her breasts were in the way. Salyna just sighed. She couldn't even use the udder defense to recuse herself.
After the bomb vests were fitted, the commander approached with two other, older woman. "These are your handlers. Simone will go with Marta and Khaliea will go with Salyna. Your handlers will arm your devices by flipping a switch on your back under your coat. They will then give you a kiss good-bye and let you board the subway train. You go to your stop, and right before the doors open that's when you press the button, when the cars are the most packed. Everyone ready?"
"I don't want to die," Salyna said quietly. Everyone looked at her.
"There, there," Khaliea said, coming up to Salyna and taking her in her arms, putting her head on her shoulder. "Salyna, right? You must do this. For the glory of God, praised be his name, Inshallah. And for Ingushetia, so that one day we too will have our freedom. And for you husband, and your brother. It would be shameful for you to not avenge your husband. To live to be an old maid and everyone say ha, there goes the woman who would not avenge her husband. If your husband's spirit came into this room right now, don't you think he would say Salyna, avenge my death! How can you not avenge him? Do you want to be haunted by his spirit the rest of your life?"
Salyna saw Marta looking at her, as if mouthing the words, such a baby, tiny breasts. Salyna lifted her head and sighed. "Yes, I'll do it for my husband." But inside she was thinking she would really do it for her brother Tomas. He would have appreciated this.
"Good, it's time to pray," the commander said, looking at his watch. They got their prayer rugs and faced south toward Mecca. Salyna wished she could remove the bomb vest. It was very uncomfortable praying to god with these bricks wrapped around her tiny chest.
---
Khaleia went around to Salyna's back, as if straightening her coat. Salyna heard something click. The same was happening with Marta.
"Ok, you're both ready. Have a good trip. Remember, Marta, you get off at Lubyanka and pretend to transfer to the Purple line train. Then go back and board a Red line train. As the doors close, go with God. And Salyna, you just continue on to Park Kultury, where you will have your moment. May God go with both of you, for God is great, praised be his name." This she had whispered so as not to raise the suspicions of other people on the platform, though they were further away.
The train arrived and Salyna felt in her skirt pocket the detonator device. Wouldn't it be funny if she pressed it now? Oops, sorry. She smiled.
"Is everything okay Salyna?"
"Yes," she said. She wondered if God had a sense of humor.
"Don't fail us."
"I won't." She didn't want to die.
The train arrived and they both boarded. Marta selected a seat and told Salyna to sit next to her.
"It's five stops before I get off, but don't talk to me. People may recognize our southern accents and they aready don't like our tan skins. They are so pale here in Moscow. They get no sun.
Salyna sat down and just stared at the advertisements on the interior of the subway car. Cell phones and some radio station. A scantily clad woman was advertising cigarettes. Salyna actually liked her outfit, though it would be a scandal for a Muslim woman like her to wear something like that back home. But she looked so pretty.
The train left the station and rumbled away. The trip was rather unexciting, being underground you couldn't see much. The other passengers ignored them, though Salyna looked at each and every one. Excuse me sir, I am about to die. Would you like to stand next to me and die too?
"Will it hurt?" Salyna finally asked Marta.
"Will what hurt?"
"What do you think?" Salyna elbowed her. She was no longer afraid of Marta. She was about to die. What else could she be afraid of?
"No, now hush. It will be instantaneous."
Salyna thought to herself for awhile.
"I guess my head will go through the roof."
"What?"
"Well, if it's around my chest, I guess when it goes off my head will fly upward. I suppose I'll be in lots of pieces. It'll be a mess. I would hate to be the one to have to clean me up. Oh, here's a finger. Oh, here's a liver."
"Would you please stop? Do you want to give us away?"
Salyna kept thinking. So these were her last thoughts, huh?
"What does it feel like to have big breasts?" she asked Marta.
Marta just stared at her. "It's okay. They get in the way a lot. I wish I was flat chested like you. You don't know how uncomfortable this is right now. I can't wait to get it over with."
Salyna was surprised to hear this. "So you think you'll end up splashing milk over everyone?"
At this point Marta just sighed and decided to ignore Salyna.
Finally, they arrived at Lubyanka station. Marta got up.
"Remember," she whispered, the train was now packed. "I will wait 15 minutes. But if they stop the trains because of me, don't wait. Go with God." Marta leaned over and gave Salyna a kiss on the cheek, turned away, and left with the other disembarking passengers.
The train pulled away, and a young man in military uniform sat down next to her. Salyna ignored him. But the man kept looking at her.
Salyna wished Marta was still here. She needed Marta's strength.
After about 10 minutes, the young soldier addressed her.
"So where are you off to?"
Salyna shyly looked at him. "I'm getting off at Park Kultury."
"Really? So am I. Can I buy you lunch?" He really did look handsome in his uniform. She remembered when Tomas was drafted, she did she him in uniform that last day before he left the village. But she had never seen him again.
"No, I'm not hungry." Even though in fact she was starving.
"C'mon, how can you resist a dashing young soldier like me? Say, your accent is kind of funny. You're not from the Caucuses, are you?"
She just looked at him.
"I served in Chechnya, Dagostan, and Ingushetia. I'm a real war veteran. Killed many of the rebels. Well, not directly, I was in an artillery unit. But it's the same thing." He nudged closer to her. "So, how about it? Let me buy you lunch?"
Suddenly Salyna became uncomfortable. Though he was a good looking young man, courting just wasn't done like this back home. And he said he had fought against the rebels and killed them! Suddenly, she felt his hand on her thigh. Salyna got real nervous. What if it moved up to her hip?
"C'mon, a country bumpkin like you, let me show you around Moscow, show you how real Russians live. Ah, here we are, Park Kultury. Getting off?"
Salyna stood up.
"So, you coming with me for a bite to eat? I insist, you know. I'm not going to let you say no." He looked at her eyes and smiled.
Salyna fumbled for the switch in her skirt pocket. "No, I'm sorry, I really can't. I have to run. I have to... go with God." And she looked up at his puzzled face. Click.
***
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