GROZNY, Russia - After nightfall, when gunfire crackles and mortar shells streak over the ruins of Grozny, Rukiyat Aziyeva huddles with her two daughters in her half-ruined apartment block, grieving for Ruslan, her teen-age son.

After fleeing the war, she returned to Chechnya's capital a year ago because the authorities said it was safe and she wanted the 11th- grader to get an education. One day six months ago, Ruslan went to the central market to buy a pair of jeans. She hasn't seen him since.

"Witnesses said the military was rounding people up, not even checking their documents, and my son was among them. They beat them with boots and rifle butts, loaded them into a truck and took them away,'' Aziyeva said. "Since that day I've been looking for him, asking everywhere I could - all in vain,'' she said, her pale face shadowed with grief.

Thousands of Russian troops have occupied Grozny for more than a year, but they have not brought peace. Russians and Chechen guerrillas kill each other almost every day. People are gunned down at home by night and on the streets by day. Students are held up by armed gangs on the day they get their small government stipends.

"I've been living with constant fear,'' said Zinaida Visaitova, a 62-year-old woman who used to work at Grozny's university. "I am even afraid to go to the market to buy food. Someone is killed there every day.''

Last month, the pro-Russian local government moved its offices back to Grozny from the second largest city, Gudermes, in hopes of convincing civilians that the war was winding down and they could leave crowded refugee camps. Just two weeks after inaugurating its new Grozny headquarters, the government gave up and fled back to Gudermes.

Some people have come back with the warm weather, but they complain that the authorities have failed to guarantee even the basic necessities.

"It has already been more than a year that Grozny has been considered freed,'' said Visaitova, "but we still don't have either water or electricity. We just got gas.''

Panicky troops and jumpy rebels answer perceived threats with gunfire. Four civilians were wounded near the university on a recent weekend after Chechen police fired in the air to celebrate a wedding and Russian troops responded with high-caliber guns.

Chechens and Russian soldiers run rampant day and night, looting whatever they can. Even government offices are targeted: Soldiers recently broke down the doors of an administration building and hauled off computers.

Chechnya is full of soldiers, "Yet nowhere else in the world is the crime rate this high,'' Visaitova said.

Russian troops returned to Chechnya in 1999 after a humiliating withdrawal that ended the 1994-96 war. Advancing behind a curtain of artillery fire and bombs, they recaptured Grozny in February 2000. But the rebels are back, sneaking through the shattered buildings and streets to unleash daily ambushes and seed the city with mines.

People are also killed by armed men of uncertain identity and allegiance. The killings are never solved, and no one expects investigations to bring results.

The city's prewar population was about 500,000. Some 200,000 are registered with city authorities, according to the mayor's office - up from as few as 15,000 at the height of the fighting. Some 150,000 people from Chechnya are living in refugee camps just beyond the region's borders.

Aziyeva, a divorced mother of four, returned because she was fed up with the squalid, mud-soaked camp at Sleptsovskaya in neighboring Ingushetia. It was a bitter homecoming. "I paid a lot for my return,'' Aziyeva said. "I lost my only son.''

Ruslan's disappearance was hardly unusual. Civilian detentions are common. The lucky ones return with stories of being beaten. Others are found dead.

In February, authorities announced the discovery of dozens of bodies scattered in a cluster of summer cottages outside Grozny, some with their hands tied behind their backs. Human rights groups accuse Russian forces of executing them.

"My son was a peaceful guy,'' Aziyeva said. "He was very good and tender toward his sisters.'' She also blames herself. "I wanted them to continue their studies, to receive an education,'' she said of her children. "In my time I couldn't get schooling and all my life I had to work hard, dirty jobs - as a laborer, a cleaning lady, at a construction site, and now at the market.''

A few times a week she ventures out of her nearly empty eight-story apartment building to go to the market, where she sells snacks bought from wholesalers - chocolate, cookies, instant noodles.

"It's scary in the daytime, not to speak about the nights,'' Aziyeva said. "When it gets dark, we lock up and wonder when it will all end.''

Weapons, foreign currency and drugs also are on sale at the market. A matchbox of hashish costs 200 rubles ($7), heroin is $50 a gram. Russian troops, wearing body armor and holding automatic rifles at the ready, frequently sweep the market for suspected rebels - and hit up traders for merchandise.

Zoya, a former high school science teacher who said she was too frightened to give her surname, also now makes her living at the market. She fears that any day a Russian customer will be kidnapped or killed and she will be caught in the cross fire. "I buy the things I am selling with my own money and often I have to run away, leaving the goods behind and losing everything,'' she said.

Last month, three women were shot to death at the market, and a top prosecutor arrived to investigate. On his way back to the police station, he was gunned down, too.

Zulay Magaziyeva, The Associated Press
http://www.ichkeria.org/a/2001/5/com1505-en92654.html