By Tara Bahrampour
Washington Post Foreign Service
Wednesday, October 1, 2008; A14
SUKHUMI, Georgia, Sept. 30 -- Fifteen years ago this week, flames shot
out the windows of the parliament building and the final battle of a
separatist war raged over this seaside city. When it was over, the
Georgian army had retreated and several hundred thousand ethnic
Georgians had fled. Since then, the inhabitants of this 3,300-square-
mile spit of subtropical coastline and snowcapped mountains have
considered Sept. 30 their independence day.
On Tuesday, for the first time, they weren't the only ones to think
so.
After war broke out between Russia and Georgia in August, Russia
recognized the independence of the breakaway Georgian regions of
Abkhazia and South Ossetia. The move, seconded by Nicaragua, set off
international criticism but delighted the Abkhaz, who argue that they
have long functioned as a separate state with their own government and
army, albeit with borders secured by Russian peacekeepers.
"This is a special parade, a unique parade," said Timur Nadaraia, 39,
a former commander in the 1992-93 war who watched tanks and personnel
carriers rumble by as spectators waved Abkhazian flags. "This is the
year that our independence was recognized by Russia and
Nicaragua. . . . We've achieved our goal."
This summer's international standoff over Georgia's disputed regions
has yet to be resolved. A cease-fire agreement in which Russia
promised to pull its troops back to their positions before Aug. 7,
when war started in South Ossetia, has been complicated by Moscow's
recognition of the breakaway states. An area of Abkhazia previously
under Georgian control will not be returned to Georgia, Abkhaz
officials say.
They also say they will not admit European Union monitors who,
according to the agreement, must be allowed in all of Georgian
territory. "They won't be here," said Sergei Shamba, foreign affairs
minister, in an interview Monday. "We categorically refuse the
observers on our territory. They're not needed here."
He added that Abkhazia would consider allowing Russian military bases
on its territory, in exchange for "the promise that there will no
longer be war here."
Many here insist that they have achieved genuine independence and that
this tiny state will not be folded into the Russian Federation, as
some predict.
"It will never happen," said Hamida Shamba, 20, an economics student
at Abkhazia State University who posed for pictures draped in the
Abkhaz flag -- green and white stripes and a red box depicting a hand
and seven stars. "We haven't even considered that thought."
Zarime Bariamov, who was selling rosaries at an outdoor market, was
less categorical. "Now, you look at the street and you see what's
going on and you can see that we're going to be subordinate to
Russia," she said. "We want that. It'll be calmer then."
Shamba, the foreign minister, noted that Russia is a major investor
here; Abkhazia uses the Russian ruble and has no plans to issue its
own currency, he said.
On the streets this week, red-white-and-blue Russian flags hung
alongside Abkhaz ones, and celebrators toasted their giant neighbor as
a friend and savior. Russian President Dmitry Medvedev's statement of
recognition was reprinted in newspapers and Moscow's mayor, Yuri
Luzhkov, was a prominent speaker at an official ceremony Monday.
Other guests included representatives from Russian regions such as
Daghestan and Kursk and from other disputed post-Soviet territories
such as South Ossetia, Nagorno-Karabakh and Transdniester, some
wearing tall fleece hats with their business suits.
Also present was a delegation from the German-Abkhazian Association, a
private German organization that seeks to promote interest in
Abkhazia. "It's the Cote d'Azur of . . . the Soviet Union," said
Philipp Ingel, a member from Berlin who said the group was looking
into rehabilitating a castle here that was once owned by German
aristocrats.
The capital of Abkhazia is an eerily empty city, lined with stately,
peeling, Czarist-era villas and lush foliage. The Black Sea laps at
its expansive bays, and huge eucalyptus trees perfume the air. Russian
is the main language, although Abkhazian is also widely spoken.
People in Georgia actively mourn the loss of this beloved vacation
spot, and some -- including many in government -- still talk of
"when," not "if" they get Abkhazia back. Georgian President Mikheil
Saakashvili has made reintegrating the territories one of the
keystones of his rule.
But it is hard to find anyone here who believes Georgia has the right
to claim Abkhazia. They cite history stretching from the 10th century
to the Soviet era to support the idea of Abkhazia as a country. While
many say they lived peacefully alongside their Georgian neighbors
until the 1992-93 war, they also say they cannot forgive the Georgians
for the deaths and injuries it caused.
This summer's war in South Ossetia brought back memories of that war.
Tanya Abgadzhaba, 41, of Gudauta, said she was worried that young
people such as her two sons, who are 18, and 20, would be called to
fight. "It was like living on a volcano," she said of the constant
fear that war would reignite with Georgia. Since the Russian
recognition, she said, "I feel more secure."
Besides showcasing the Abkhaz army, Tuesday's parade included a
brigade of Cossacks with large moustaches, red capes and ceremonial
daggers who said they had fought with the Russian army last month in
Georgia. When the parade ended, they gathered under some trees, passed
around sausages and plastic cups of vodka, and pontificated on what it
means to be Cossack.
"Cossacks don't fight with anybody, they defend people," said Sergei
Zaoruliko, 48. "We're always going to defend our way of life, our
children, our traditions, our songs."
Defend them from whom? "From NATO," said Roma Kavalyov, 38.
Inside the former parliament building, a burned-out 12-story edifice
that stood as the backdrop for the parade, Ainar Gamisonia, 16, stood
at a hole where a window had been, and smoked a cigarette. Born during
the war, he said he didn't know much about what happened in the
building, but when war started in South Ossetia this summer, he was
ready to go to the Georgian front.
"With my classmates and my older brother, we got together to go there,
to Gali, to help our elders, whatever was needed," he said. "Our
fathers, our grandfathers, our ancestors taught us how to use guns."
"We don't want to leave our borders," he said. "We just didn't want
them to come in."