OUT OF JAIL, STILL IMPRISONED

Ali and Asya Bairactarov, both in their early 80s live high in the mountains. It has rained every day this past week - and every night. So the MSF Toyota vehicle got stuck in the deep muddy ruts on a very steep, not-meant-for-man-made-vehicles road as we were approaching their house. Donkeys would be better, cows would be better, goats would be better. An elephant would be best.
Ali comes to the gate to greet us - he is huff-puffing and audibly wheezing. But with a smile on his face he welcomes us into his palace - chickens squawking, dogs barking, a one room-with-a-porch shack with a wood burning combination heat and cook stove, 200 or more years old I guess. I see an after-though electric wire loosely attached to the wall leading to a single bulb in the middle of the room. The sun is out, no need for a light. It is dark in the little room none-the-less.
We extend greetings, I now am accomplished in introducing myself, and saying a few words of conversation in Russian. If the persons speak Abkhaz, I don’t even try. It is the silliest language you have ever heard. Slooshes, and choschloshes, gutteral utterances that sound like a bad cough combined with an apple stuck in the back of your throat.
Anyway, exam time. Asya is first. She has had a stroke, and currently has a large pleural effusion - based on exam. No breath sounds in the entire L lower lobe. She has apparently has an effusion in the past. But she is too sick to transport now, nor does she want to be transported. So, we acknowledge, yep, it is there, and treat what is bothering her. The pain in her hand. She is happy. Ali’s asthma is worse. He wheezes a lot, and struggles to get a deep breath. We have inhalers that help. He also has diarrhea and so we treat that. He too is happy.
I ask for a photo. They sit next to each other, a kind, loving glance between the two. She takes off 2 layers (there are ALWAYS many, many layers). I stopped her when she arrived at the orange polka dotted dress and said, that is nice and colorful. She smiled and stopped taking off layers. Ali had on a dirty grey shirt, he puts on a dirty gray sweater to be presentable. Neither bothers with their hair.
As we were packing up ready to depart, I see a little book in the window. It is a math book, for a school child. Ali says that it is his grandson’s book. I also see a twig, with leaves on it. I have seen this same twig in numerous homes. I ask what it is. Ali smiles and says, it is to “encourage” our grandson. He shows me that the leaves, that are fuzzy and a bit sticky also have a sting to them. Like stinging nettle. He smiles, it helps our grandson when he needs “encouragement”. We all laugh.
Olga told me after we left Ali and Asya’s home their son died in the war. Their daughter died in a car accident 3 years ago. They have no other family but the grandson. They must stay alive for him.
I say to Olga, “they are such a sweet couple.”
She smiles, and says, “Ali and Asya met while they were serving time in prison”.
They served their prison sentence, they are serving a different sentence now. They are imprisoned in time’s-running-out-jail. No means to make money, both too sick to survive for long, and a mandate to stay alive, to keep going, to survive, to be able to care for their one-and-only-grandson.
We will return again next month. God bless Ali and Asya.