The Pankisi Valley is located in northeastern part of the capital Tbilisi and has a 65-kilometer-long border with Chechnya. Around 12,000 Chechens who were forced to leave their country due to the war are living in this region. 

On the occasion of the Eid al-Adha, we travelled to Pankisi. We sacrificed the donated animals there, visited the orphans of the courageous sons and daughters of the Caucasia who do not fear anyone other than Allah and took new clothes and allowances to the orphans.

Most of the orphans in Pankisi live with their grandparents. Some of them lost their fathers, some of them have their mothers missing in Russian prisons and some of them lost both their parents.

There are missing ones in every family. It is so sad to have a relative who has gone missing. Everyone expects them to show up one day, but they rarely do so. I just remember Aynuddin who became a martyr in a plane crash in Afghanistan last May. Russians abducted his father when he was at a very young age. They waited him to return for years but he never did so. There was also no news from him.

Holding my hand, a woman tells something with a tearful voice. Having wrinkled face, this woman is the grandmother of three orphans. She tries hard not to cry. She does her best to hold back her tears. She looks at me in such a way that it can only be the look of a person in the mirror knowing that he/she contracted a fatal disease.

The heart of this woman who is perhaps in the last phase of her life, finds some consolation over seeing that there are at least some people who will take care of her three grandchildren after her death. When we are leaving, she can no longer control her feelings. She holds my hand, embraces me and kisses me on my neck. I also fail to take my emotions under control and burst into tears.

Then, we move to another house. It gets dark. We aim to reach as many orphans as possible on that day. Entering the door of house, we are welcomed by an old woman again. Then, we see the old, sick man lying in a bed. This man is one who raised heroes with no fears. His physical appearance makes me think he suffers from a fatal disease. Perhaps, he will pass away soon, leaving the little orphan girl alone with her grandmother. After celebrating their Eid and giving the orphan girl allowance, we head to the house of the next orphan.

We are now in the house of Ahmet who has been with us all through the day. Do you wonder who Ahmet is? He is a very smart boy who learned to speak Turkish only through watching Turkish cartoon films. He has never been in Turkey. When I ask him where his father is, he says he does not know. His father was abducted by Russians and nobody knows anything about his whereabouts or whether he is alive. I just can’t speak. A big silence spreads the entire room. The children change but the pictures remain almost the same. Ahmet is very happy about our visit to his home. He just tries to be a good host, serving us fruits, nuts and cakes.

There was a sorrowful smile, tears or a deep silence in the eyes of children we saw. Although I did not understand the language they speak, they spoke the same language with their attitudes. Although they sometimes seemed very joyful and unconcerned, there was a wound in their hearts that never healed. We could perhaps alleviate their financial problems to a certain extent but cannot change the fact that of their being deprived of the compassion of father and a mother who caress their head and take care of them. Each of them is like doors of mercy for us.