Moscow residents try to comfort wounded children, their relatives

MOSCOW – Under different circumstances, 20-month-old Azamat Mukagov would be the envy of his siblings, lying in a bed strewn with toys: a soft pink seal, a red sports car, a rattle.

But his bed is in a Moscow hospital treating some of the most severely wounded children from the school hostage crisis in the southern town of Beslan. He cannot play with the toys because his hands, stained orange with iodine, are tied to the bed rails to stop him from touching his wounds.

On a bed nearby, 10-year-old Azamat Tetov’s mother, Zalina, leans close to her son’s face. She speaks to him calmly and constantly, her big, black eyes fixed on his. Azamat’s occasional answers are inaudible through a plastic oxygen mask that covers his mouth and nose.

Wednesday, five days after the school seizure ended in intense fighting and more than 300 deaths, a steady stream of Muscovites brought bags overflowing with toys, clothes, games and money to Children’s Hospital No. 9, where eight victims were receiving treatment for burns and gunshot wounds.

“We imagined ourselves in their position,” said Alyosha, a bright-eyed 12-year-old struggling outside the ward doors with three bursting bags in each hand. “We would have been upset if no one had brought us anything.”

Maria Svetosmova is one of five psychologists brought to the hospital to counsel the children and their parents.

A 12-year-old named Alan, who has burns over 60 percent of his body, recently regained consciousness.

“I spoke to him just now,” Svetosmova said. “The first thing he did when they took the bandages off was to ask for his mother. They have a culture in the Caucasus that says that a man must not cry. So he holds it in.”

At times on the verge of tears, she said the work was like nothing she’d experienced before.

“I can’t even draw a parallel. Imagine,” she said referring to Azamat Mukagov, “he doesn’t say anything, just lies there patting his toy over and over with tears streaming down his face.”