By | Rachel Brooks
October 28, 2020
A woman screams in despair. A father is on his knees. The darkness of the scene stands out harshly against the color of it. A little flag of the Republic of Azerbaijan is draped over a tiny grave, wreathed in flowers, alarming red in the gray blur of the scene.
This is the funeral of Aysu Iskenderova. The funeral of a child slain in the shelling of Barda.
As for the father, he was driving the tractor on the day it happened, making a life for his family.
“I saw the smoke. I immediately drove the tractor and came home,” he told Haber Global news. They asked him how old she was.
“I don’t know, I am out of my mind.”
They asked him if she’d been playing outside. He remembers glimpses of her. She was going into the second-grade.
He tosses his head in horror at the words coming from his mouth. The smoke rose from his house. The child was found in her yard. He does recall how he found her. How her entrails had scattered about her. The father recalls how he gathered her, piece by piece. Then, they come and take her.
The father never says her name.
The funeral was held today. In the midst of a Barda that was still on fire, where shelling pelted the sky. Under an arch of fire, she lies, little Aysu Iskenderova.
She is not the only one. The city was under the persistent pelting of Smerch missiles as Tuesday gave way to Wednesday. The child lay dead there at her father’s knees, under the little flag, while the world moved on. Besides her, a toddler had been killed. Little hands poked out from under tarps as the whole city of Barda, together but alone, gathered up their dead loved ones.
At the time of this report, the OCHR had not yet responded to Republic Underground’s request for comment regarding the rights of children shelled in Barda.