Yes, I, Shamil Arsenovich Chigoev, am turning 95. Even I can hardly believe it. I was born on September 15, 1930. The fact that I’ve reached this age is nothing extraordinary in itself. What truly matters are the historical events my life has spanned across the Russian Empire and beyond.

I’ve already written in detail about the circumstances of my life and won’t repeat myself here. Instead, I wish to reflect on the problems arising from relations between people of different ethnicities – and whether it’s ever reasonable to create such divisions that breed hatred.

My life journey has been complex, partly because I belong to a small nation (Ossetian) yet have always lived among larger ethnic groups. Personally, I never experienced oppression or humiliation for my ethnicity. That’s simply how my life unfolded.

I was born in an Ossetian village where my mother left me until age three. Thereafter, I grew up in Tbilisi as an ordinary local boy, never feeling any distinction in how I was treated as an Ossetian compared to Georgian boys. My native language became Georgian. I graduated high school with honors and earned a red diploma from the History Department – all in Georgian. I was raised on Georgian culture: its literature, poetry, and folk music. The Georgian people shaped me. My closest friends were Georgian schoolmates, and my one great love – whom I met in 1947 and married in 1952 – was Georgian: Macharashvili. She stood by me through my military service from private to colonel, bore me four daughters, and tragically passed in 2020. Her devotion was unwavering, even during my most challenging postings – though she wasn’t permitted to join my life-threatening assignment in Cuba due to our children.

Ours was a mixed Ossetian-Georgian marriage, common in those days across Georgia and Ossetia.

I lived 61 years under Soviet rule, serving 30 years in the army across seven republics: Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Kapustin Yar, Cuba, the Far North, Ulan-Ude, Krasnoyarsk, and near Moscow. Never did I witness ethnic hostility – save for subdued anti-Armenian sentiment in Azerbaijan (where Armenians russified their surnames). The Soviet system suppressed nationalism rigorously.

No one could have imagined such a vast, powerful nation collapsing so swiftly. But the true tragedy wasn’t the dissolution itself – it was the transformation of a “brotherly union” into boundless mutual hatred among Soviet peoples. This phenomenon remains beyond my comprehension.

To be Continued…