Free The Mountain and the Wall by Alisa Ganieva Page A

Shamil thought out loud.
    “Khadzhi-Davud of Miushkiur,” a man standing next to Shamil uttered proudly, glancing briefly at him, then looking back at the performers.
    The name meant nothing to Shamil, and he was about to head for a side street when one of the singers unexpectedly began speaking in Russian. From the way he spoke, Shamil realized that the man was reciting a speech that he had memorized and rehearsed many times.
    “Thanks to our dear singer Yarakhmed. As you have correctly assumed, he was singing about our very own Khadzhi-Davud. And Khadzhi-Davud is the great hero of the Lezgian people!” roared the speaker, now throwing a quick glance down at some notes. “At the beginning of the eighteenth century he united all of Lezgistan and led our ancestors against the Persian garrisons! He traveled to Kaitag and Kazikumukh and persuaded their rulers to help in the war with the Iranian Shiites! From Derbent to Shemakha everything was in flames! They locked Khadzh-Davud up in prison, but he escaped and led the people forward! The Lezgians drove the Persians out of their towns and fortresses, but the Persians were greater in number! Our Khadzhi-Davud turned to Peter the Great for help, but Peter wouldn’t help. Still the people loved Khadzhi-Davud and came to him from all corners of Caucasian Albania. Our men seized Shemakha, assassinated the Iranian puppet, robbed and slaughtered scores ofPersians, and took their children into captivity! Russian merchants there aided the Persians, and these merchants paid dearly. So Peter decided to take Shemakha and give assistance to the Persian shah! The Iranian rulers of Ganjaand Yerevan began to arm themselves for battle. But nothing came of it. The cowardly Persians drank and caroused all night long on the banks of the Kura, and only toward morning did they begin to prepare for a fight, and our brave Lezgians attacked them, routed them, and returned home in triumph with their booty. But they needed allies. Russia wouldn’t help the Lezgians, and Khadzhi-Davud had to turn to the Turks for aid. He said to them, ‘Help us, but let us keep our freedom!’ And he was named Khan of Shirvan and Kuba, and made his capital in Shemakha. Russia and Turkey took the adjoining lands for themselves, and left the free lands of Lezgistan in Khadzhi-Davud’s hands. But there was one serpent that wanted to destroy him. A former ally, the Kazikumukh khan, wanted to become shah in Lezgistan, so he asked the Turkish sultan to put him on the throne in the place of Khadzhi-Davud. The treacherous sultan invited Khadzhi-Davud, his family, brothers, and guests to Ganja, and when Khadzhi-Davud arrived, they arrested him and banished him to a Greek island. There our hero died, and thus did the Kazikumukh usurper begin to rule in Shemakha!”
    The speaker stopped for breath and for some reason tugged on the middle button of his half-unbuttoned shirt.
    “Now our Lezgian lands are again in the hands of an enemy. We must recall our worthy ancestor Khadzhi-Davud of Miushkiur and regain them for ourselves!”
    The listeners cheered. A brisk, dark-skinned man elbowed the speaker to one side and began barking something in Lezgian, his voice cracking. The crowd buzzed in approval.
    He then switched to Russian: “It’s because of the treacherous politics of the Azeri and Dagestani authorities! Why is nobody talking about the Lezgian question? The Azeris are, believe me, Turks who have come to our ancient Albanian lands! They mean to destroy the southern Lezgians but will not succeed! No border is eternal! Let them sit on their suitcases in fear!”
    The crowd roared. A young man standing next to Shamil cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “We’ll eviscerate them!”
    “These Azeris don’t allow the Lezgians to study the Lezgian language, they register them as Azeris, persecute and destroy them! They won’t even let them open Lezgian cafés!” The dark-skinned man slapped his thigh. “They