Once in Talish

We got to Talish at about 3 pm on April 3.

The village looked deserted. The peaceful population, as we were assured, have been evacuated.

Hungry animals were wandering in the streets. Dogs were barking of hunger, owners didn’t even manage to unleash them. It was raining cats and dogs. Raindrops were watering the objective. We joined the two policemen, who were inspecting the village.

Thundering of artilleries were heard from time to time. Positions of the adversary were so close, that it’s already hard to understand, who whom was shooting. We were wandering about the village taking photos of the ruins. The policemen were entering the houses, searching for weapons and documentation there. My colleague Hakob Poghosyan was sure—there were killed peaceful civilians in one of the houses.

Finally, he found that house, which was too close to the border. He took photos of inanimate bodies defamed by Azeri troops. (Later on, the photos have been submitted to the UNO, as evidence to barbarism of Azeri militants).

At about 5pm military operations were intensified. Manvel Minasyan, head of criminal investigation of Martakert, offered to leave the village for a while, and he himself moved to the police UAZ near the Administration. Together with Andrey Avanesyan, head of the district, we ran, hoping to leave the village under bombardment as soon as possible. We agreed to meet Manvel in the end of the village, he promised to drive his car there.

We unexpectedly appeared on the crossroad. We didn’t know where to escape. Andrey started to call his colleagues, to clarify the route. Connection was awful. Suddenly, I saw a cow down the street. I ran to take a cadre before leaving the village. I was shooting the cow, when suddenly gates opened and a smiling villager was shaped before me. I was astonished–not a single inhabitant shouldn’t be there. I don’t know why, I asked for a cup of tea from the old man.

He smiled in response, “What tea you’re speaking about, my wife will lay the table at the moment to have a drink.”

I burst into convulsive laughter from the serenity radiating from him, “You’re not alone here? And your wife is with you?”

The old man calmed me down, “Not only my wife, by my neighbors as well.”

I ran towards Andrey, and called him. We entered the house, five Talish inhabitants were sitting in the room. Women were in slippers and with summer clothes on. I understood, I should forget about quick departure from the village. On the one hand, I was surprised by the policeman—he was so calmly convincing the civilians to quickly have warm clothes on and leave the house. One of the women said she needed to gather her belongings. Andrey accompanied him. While gathering their belongings, women were urging me and my friend to eat something. I lost my control there. Shells were exploding all around, and they were thinking of treating us. I started to shout at the women, saying it’s not time for drinking vodka, we need to leave. Hakob Poghosyan took me to the corner of the room and asked me to calm down, “What has happened, happened, speak calmly to them. If they panic, we won’t leave the village at all.”

Suddenly sound of the UAZ was heard outside. Manvel drove it next to the house. I have never been that happy before, than seeing the worn-out UAZ of the police. We immediately started to seek for Andrey. Fortunately, we found both him and the woman from Talish.

Manvel was so rushing with his UAZ, that I didn’t know what to be afraid of more—from exploding shells or the perspective, that the car may roll into the depth.

We’re lucky enough.

People from Talish were taken to Martakert police department.

Two days were left to the ceasefire.

Photos by German Avagyan

By German Avagyan