In the Pressklub.az project "Missing" this time we will present the story of a family living in Saatly. Mureddin Ragimov, a family member, tells:

First, let me tell you about my family. My father, Rahimov Sadri Rahim oglu, was born in 1933, and my mother, Rahimova Safiya Mulazim gizi, was born in 1936 in the village of Heveshen, Adygunsky region of Georgia. My father lost his father in World War II. Both of my parents were expelled by the Stalinist regime on November 14, 1944. Like tens of thousands of Ahiska Turks, they were forcibly evicted from their homes and deported to Central Asia in cattle cars. My parents started a family in Uzbekistan in 1958, and in 1960 they moved to Azerbaijan, to the village of Garaevkend in the Saatly region. Now this village is called Orta Mugan. We were born and raised here in Azerbaijan, there were six brothers and five sisters in our family...





 

Now let me talk about Fahlul. Born after me in 1966, my brother Fahlul, the fourth child in our family, served his military service in the Soviet Army in the Chita region and returned. Then the war began, it was August or July 1993, a summons came, we were called to the front. What can you say? Father said that we live here, this is our homeland, we were called, one of us must go. It fell to Falul, and he went…



If you want me to describe my brother... Fahlul was a very quiet and modest person. He worked as an irrigator on a collective farm. He had a one and a half year old son named Farman, and only three or four months remained before the birth of his second child ... That's it! What else can I say…

Only three months have passed since he went to war... The only thing we knew for sure was that their military unit was located in a vocational school in the Zangilan region. During this period, he did not come home and did not talk on the phone. Did he write letters...? I don't remember... It was in 1993, it's hard to remember the details... You know, it would be more correct to say that while I was looking for my family, I cursed everything in the world…

But what happened to our family? Three months later, our family decided to go to Fakhlul. We preferred to go by our car. It was difficult for my father to get behind the wheel because he suffered a heart attack. My elder brother Musaddin, born in 1963, had to drive the car. Musaddin worked as a driver on a collective farm, was married, had two sons and a daughter…



When mom and dad were getting ready to go, my 13-year-old brother, our favorite Vagif, said: “I will go with you!” The father said, "Come on, we'll go anyway and come back in our car." At that time it was relatively calm, there was no fear of either fire or bullets …



On October 23, they left the house early in the morning, around 5-6 o'clock. At 9-10 o'clock, they were already with my brother. They intended to return in the evening, but did not arrive. I applied to the regional police department... A few days passed, I again filed a statement that my family members had gone to the front and disappeared for several days... This time there was no news either.

On October 29, it was reported that the Armenians occupied Zangilan, the population was forced to leave the city and cross the Araz River to Iran. Our anxiety intensified, and I decided to follow my father... But where should I go? They went to Zangilan, and Zangilan was already occupied...

I went to Iran. I spent the night at the customs post for 3-4 days. There I saw that the Zangilans were moving in droves from Iran to Azerbaijan... Finally, I was allowed to cross to the territory of Iran. We were driving by bus to the place where the inhabitants of Zangilan had crossed the Araz when I saw our soldiers on the road. I stopped the bus and got off. I asked: “Do you serve in Zangilan?” One of them said yes... I said, "My brother also works there, maybe you saw him..." He asked his name, I said Fahlul... He replied: "Fahlul and I slept on adjacent beds. In those days, his parents and two brothers came to him, they brought food, we also ate, and then his father put money in our pockets ... Then Fakhlul received a 5-day day off from the commander. At about one in the afternoon, we sent them. So... This is where my father's story ends, and my sad story begins, where I've been looking for them day and night for years.

I learned that when my father took Fahlul with him, they were taken hostage in the village of Horadiz, Fuzuli region, along with a VAZ 2106 car with numbers 58-54 AQJ ... It turned out that the Armenians were standing on that road at that time and took hostage a lot of people... I learned about this when I met people who faced the same situation. It was said that they were taken hostage along with the cars. But there was no help from any institution, I was looking for them alone…

I haven't slept in my house for two years. My life was spent at the front, in negotiations ... I met, talked and received information from those who returned from captivity. I showed pictures of family members and asked, “Have you seen this person?” From them I found out who I could get information about the hostages from, took their phones, went to Russia, called from Dagestan …



Elmira Aghayan, deputy chief of staff of Khankendi, was one of them... "We have your people," she said. “We keep them in a private house in the Hadrut region. In the village of Edilli... There is also a red car that we took hostage, and members of your family..."



I also found the number of Albert Voskanyan, who actively participated in the exchange of prisoners and hostages, and got in touch. And he said they weren't there. “I’m not afraid of you, if they were here, I would tell on the phone” ... In other words, Albert directly said that my family is not there …

I also met Tagiyev Mammad Gachay oglu from Beylagan. They called him Mamed. Mammad directly negotiated with the Armenians on the exchange of prisoners and hostages. I was even with him once when he contacted an Armenian policeman named Abo on the radio. I heard with my own ears, Abo said: "We checked the people you mentioned, we don't have such a family"…

In short, no one, except Elmira, has confirmed that our family is being held hostage. She, too, did not finish her sentence... As soon as I received no answer from her, I immediately turned to the State Commission. They said: “No problem, we have captured Armenians, we will exchange them.”

I again went to Dagestan and called Elmira Aghayan, saying that we agreed that we would give the captured Armenian in return. But Elmira did not promise anything. After that, there was no news from her either ... She did not even say that she agreed to change it for money. I talked with her 3-4 times ... All these are the events of 1994-1995 …

I tried to use all possible and non-existent ways to find out about my family. All was in vain. To this day, no institution has knocked on my door. Neither from the Ministry of Defense, nor from the Executive Power. A representative of the newspaper "Zaman" arrived, photographed us and published an article. The film was made once. I was called to the film studio, I told in detail about the incident. It was 1996 or 1997. But I don't remember who made the film. I don't even know where this film was shown... Once, about 5-6 years ago, a woman from the Red Cross came... No one was interested in this case anymore…

While other missing civilians were given the status of martyrs, my parents and two brothers were not. Only for Fahlul I was able to get the status of a martyr... And even then with great difficulty. After the disappearance of Fahlul, his daughter was born, we named her Guler... We raised his children, married his son, married his daughter... I handed over all the photos left from the family to state bodies, certain organizations, for search... What's the point? Believe me, I asked as many times as there are hairs on my head, but I did not receive a single intelligible answer ... Until now, there is no news about the fate of my family members ...

Note: Materials of the State Commission on the Affairs of Prisoners of War, Hostages and Missing Citizens are used.

Author: Vusala Mammadova