The Outcast Presidents

by Sultan Kamysbayev

  After the video address is finished, I ask Abzal, “What measures have been done so far, Minister of Defense?”

  “All of the police troops have been mobilized, Mr. President.”

  I stand up and address everyone around the table, “It is not enough. We must deploy Hovlyk Asker troops to quash the rebellion.”

  One military commander disagrees, “Sir, with all due respect, we do not need to use the Hovlyk Asker. This is a minor operation. My soldiers can handle such a minor operation!”

  Abzal shouts at him, “Too much? This ‘minor riot’ could destroy Dalabistan just when we have started to rebuild it from the Babayev regime! Have the past thirty-four years not been too much for you?”

  I absolutely agree with Abzal and continue, “I agree with General Kylyshbayev. I order the Ministry of Defense to deploy units of the Armed Forces, the Hovlyk Asker, and the Dalabistani KGB from the capital Volkan and from the nearby city of Kishi Bak to Kuldar. The Armed Forces of Dalabistan and the Hovlyk Asker troops are assigned to neutralize all of the militants. The KGB units are responsible for mining intelligence information about the future plans of the counter-revolutionary elements.”

  “Roger that, Commander-in-Chief!” salutes Abzal. Then I face Major Oliver Evans and tell him, “Major Evans, you and your forces from the Karajasyl military base are assigned to supervise and assist the deployed Dalabistani government forces against the pro-Babayev rebels. Everyone, I grant you all permission to use any means necessary to stop these militants and destroy their strongholds. It is a necessary act of violence to preserve our country.”

  Major Evans asks me, “Mr. Karabars, but how are you going to explain your actions to the Western governments that you are trying to negotiate with?”

  “Major Evans, you know that your government and your country’s Army have committed mass atrocities in Iraq, Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Libya. But nobody of these human rights sissies and foreign governments gave a shit about your army and your army’s actions, no matter how horrible they were. Everyone was blind to waterboarding, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo Bay, and other enhanced interrogation techniques. Why? Because they were committed by the American military. This is why you and your army must participate in this operation should we need serious backups.”

  The military commanders applaud. Major Evans is convinced that this operation would serve the interests of the United States in Dalabistan. Because Major Evans has some autonomy to make his own orders as the leader of Karajasyl military base, he can order his troops to do this operation to help me. I would let the Americans to gain some influence in the region, as long as they would not try to fully control me. Major Evans salutes me and is walking away, “I am leaving with my men then to Kuldar and will keep you updated.”

  “Good luck, Major Evans. Abzal, get up your troops and send them to Kuldar immediately. Here I will oversee this Operation Spring Cleaning.”

  “Roger that, President Karabars!” salutes Abzal. He and all of the military commanders leave the Oval Room. Good. I turn on the monitors in the Oval Room and watch the orders being immediately followed. The commanders’ body cameras show the troops flying away on helicopters, with rifles ready to make their assaults.

  Chapter 19: The Scorched Earth

  Half an hour later, I witness a different scene. Many buildings are burning with fire. Helicopters are flying above with the United States’ stars and stripes ensigns. Firing squads exterminate the Babayev’s remaining vermin. The men in tracksuits are on the ground, without their weapons. Hovlyk Asker troops proudly marching across the former no man’s land. Tanks and armored vehicles roll across the dusty streets of Kuldar. Assault rifles firing at many houses. Abzal returns to the Oval Room and laughs, “An hour ago they were shouting ‘Glory to the Great Khan Anar Babayev!’ Now they are begging for our mercy!”

  I look at the screen, and this is indeed happening. Counter-revolutionaries in black tracksuits are bowing on their knees, with tears in their eyes, claiming their innocence. Yet my soldiers in khaki uniforms and black balaclavas grab their assault rifles and shoot the rioters in their heads. That is the only way I will stop this Babayev plague from infecting Dalabistan with this terminal illness.

  One of the military commanders reports, “Supreme Commander-in-Chief, as of now we have neutralized seven militants and captured twenty militants in the wooden huts. We continue to raid for the remaining members of the insurgency.”

  I order, “Raid the areas for remaining survivors and capture them.”

  “Roger that.”

  Then Major Evans’s voice comes from his radio, “Mr. President and Minister of Defense, my unit has made airstrikes at quadrants Alpha, Delta, Kilo, and Mike. Quadrants are being cleansed by the Hovlyk Asker troops.”

  “Thanks for reporting, Major Evans.” Soon I see all of the militants being shown on my screens. Amidst hundreds of corpses, the remaining Karakoldar servants of the Babayev royals surrender to the new regime. The rebellion is easily quashed. The Second Dalabistani Republic has been saved from the mob’s threats to restore the previous tyrannical regime.

  Chapter 20: The Verdict

  I am invited to watch a public trial session of former government officials in the Supreme Court building. It’s late June and I cannot believe how fast the time has flown by. I remember the Revolution as if it was almost yesterday, and now, one month later, the Chief Judge Dmitriy Volkov is about to address the condemned.

  Anar Babayev himself sits in the dock, with other corrupt individuals present as well. Adilet and Fatima Bakytbai look like an elderly couple with narrow eyes and large wrinkles, except for the fact that they used to control most of Dalabistan’s businesses only a few months ago. Burak Serikbayev, the former Prime Minister, seems to desperately search for a superior’s ass to lick just to save his soul. Talgat Abdullin needs his servants to defend his mustache against me, but they are already in prison as well. Mahambet Makhmudov, Grigory Petrov, Mansur Karimbek, and Ali Zhangirbek are the weakest among the most powerful individuals of Dalabistan.

  Instead of having a fancy arrogant snout, Anar Babayev has a mournful and remorseful look today. Without his identification tag sewn on his jail robe saying, “Anar Babayev: On trial for genocide, murder, illegal jailing, and other serious crimes,” I would have easily mistaken him for a brother, a friend, or a husband of a random martyr killed during the Revolution.

  The other people on trial are confused. They did not expect that this would happen, that their regime that fed them to power and obnoxious luxury has collapsed and won’t help them anymore. Now the people that used to be their inferiors are… suing them for their crimes! This would have never happened in Babayev-regime days when inequality based on tribe origin was present and courts conducted by the Elite Tribe Judges against Defendants were considered just!

  Chief Judge Volkov stands up, fixes his short gray hair, and says with his loud, deep voice, “All rise, the Supreme Court of the Republic of Dalabistan is now in session.” Anar Babayev sits in his cage and interrupts the Judge, “I only recognize the legitimate government of Dalabistan! You are submitting to the insurgents! I do not recognize this court.”

  Prosecutor Aman Tulebayev barks at Anar, “In the same way he refused to hold a dialogue with the people, now he also refuses to speak with us. Anar Babayev always claimed to act and speak on behalf of the people, yet he and his father and his regime only oppressed the people all the time. Today we have to announce and pass the final verdict on the defendants.”

  The audience interrupts the prosecutor with their happy whistles. “We never forgive you for what you have done!” Then Aman Tulebayev continues, “Anar Babayev —”

  “How come I am guilty suddenly?” Anar Babayev stands up to shout at the prosecutor again. A sheep doesn’t seem to accept his fate of not wearing his wolfskin anymore.

  “… Talgat Abdullin, Burak Serikbayev, Adilet Bakytbai, Fatima Bakytbai, and others who have committed the f
ollowing offenses—”

  “I would like to know which script your sponsors from the West wrote for you! How much did they pay you to destroy our country?” Anar just can’t get enough of his disbelief.

  “… crimes against the people. They have carried out acts that are incompatible with human dignity, the value of human lives, transparent government, and mandates that we gave them as people of Dalabistan. They acted in a despotic and criminal way—”

  “Europe’s pets, Alisher’s putschists, and this junta are the ones acting despotically and criminally, not me! I only defended my country’s interests, and only I am able to—”

  “… they destroyed the people whose leaders they have claimed to be—”

  “… defend Dalabistan from riots triggered by enemies abroad! Stop prostituting yourselves for your bloody dollars! Come to your senses!”

  “Because of the crimes they committed against the people, I plead, on behalf of the victims and martyrs of the Babayevs regime, for the mandatory death sentence for all of the defendants in consideration today. All of the suspects are charged for the following charges. Genocide, in accordance with Article 168 of the penal code. Armed attack on the people and mass murder of innocent people at peacetime. The destruction of buildings and state institutions undermining the national economy. Large scale corruption and theft of government resources. Political persecutions. Large-scale theft of government resources. Unlawful sale of Dalab land and resources to foreigners. Countless abuses of power. Illegal and extrajudicial tortures. Fostering severe social inequality and sowing discord. Extrajudicial and unsubstantiated deprivation of liberty of the dissidents.”

  When the Prosecutor Tulebayev finishes speaking, many mothers of victims invited here start to shout, “Burn in hell, Anar, cooperator of Satan himself! May you get the severest punishment possible!”

  Anar Babayev picks a small pebble from the floor in his cage and, aiming at us, throws it while screaming, “The charges are incorrect, and I will not answer a single question here. I will not sign anything, traitors. Who the fuck are you to sue an Atasty, an Elite Tribesman?”

  The hall mostly cracks with laughter. It is clear that he is not going to come out dry from the waters of his crimes. “Anar became the trash of the society! Bury them in a landfill!”

  Prosecutor Tulebayev, nevertheless, starts to interrogate Anar, “Who gave out the order to shoot innocent protesters and workers in Munai on October 12, 2003, for instance?”

  “I will not testify for crimes I have not committed,” Anar speaks softly.

  Prosecutor starts to raise his tone, “Who ordered the shooting of the crowd in the capital on May 20, 2014? Tell us!”

  “I will not answer any question. Not a single shot was fired at the Dalab Eli square by the security forces. Not a single shot. No civilian was shot. The police, the Hovlyk Asker, and the Armed Forces of Dalabistan did not make a single shot. It was the protesters who acted violently to usurp power. It was these looters, a tyrannous minority, the unemployed lumpenproletariat, and criminals who made thousands of policemen and soldiers become martyrs,” replies Anar Babayev.

  “By now, there have been at least ten thousand casualties among civilians, twenty thousand more wounded among civilians, not the police.”

  “And this is what you call a genocide? Death of a few thousand criminal cockroaches? Oh, come on, who cares about these entitled bitches, criminals, whores, and eaters of Western grants to rape Dalabistan anyways?” boasts Anar as he sits down on the dock and shows his middle fingers to the prosecutor.

  The crowd, the prosecutor, and I all boo Anar Babayev. Even Elena attends this trial. She is on the other side of the giant courtroom, holding a photo of her with her slaughtered sister. She is wearing a black dress with long sleeves, her eyes shedding tears as she looks at the Chief Judge. Her face is full of sorrow. I cannot see joy anymore from Elena. She is clearly mourning her sister. I wonder if she blames it on Anar Babayev or on me. Her heart is clearly tearing in pieces.

  For so many times in my senior year in high school, I have seriously considered ending our connection friendship for good. I have tried to kill that romantic part of myself because there was no use for it at the moment. In a few years, I was able to achieve just that. I had some nice affairs and flings. I went after countless women without emotionally connecting with them, just getting physical pleasure. Eventually, I have succeeded in moving on from Elena, removing myself from that one-sided friendship, and preserving my self-worth.

  Or did I? Despite that, as I see her mournful face, I want to hug her and to soothe her soul’s wounds the same way she soothed my soul’s wounds. Perhaps I never moved on from her at all, even after all these years. Maybe indeed she cares about me right now, just like she did in the past, which is why she maybe decided to come to this court session?

  Yet I cannot permit myself to walk to the other side of the courtroom and stare into her emerald eyes. What would she think of me? Would she react with her joy of reuniting with me and peacefully sharing her pain with a trusted companion? Would she want to butcher me and desire my death to compensate for her sister’s martyrdom?

  The Second President continues, “I am now talking to you as simple citizens, and I hope that you will tell the truth. I hope that you do not also work for the foreigners, for the putschists Alisher Karabars and Aibek Ospanov, and for the destruction of Dalabistan—”

  Suddenly, Elena, who is on the other side of the room, interrupts Anar, “You are no longer the president. You are no longer Commander-in-Chief!”

  “I am the Second President of the people, I am the Great Khan of All Dalabs, the successor to the throne from the Founder of the Republic, the Greatest Khan Volkan Babayev. You and Alisher’s putschists from the West are all crooked traitors who sold their country for bloody dollars!”

  The prosecutor loses his temper and roars in anger, “Let us now talk about your bank accounts in Switzerland and Panama, Mr. Babayev. What about the accounts?”

  “It is a lie! My family never had offshore accounts! What else do you want to charge me with? Killing Trayvon Martin, raping Monica Lewinsky, and other monkeys in the jungle?”

  “What about the Panama Papers and other investigations that leaked everything about you, your family, and your inner circle’s embezzlement of Dalabistani’s capital for your private gains? Our investigative committee found at least one billion US dollars in one of your bank accounts registered on the Cayman Islands.”

  “We didn’t have a single bank account in the offshores. Fake news! Fake news! Nobody out of our government workers has opened an account there, only in Dalabistan and our ally countries—Russia, China, and Kazakhstan. This just shows again how false the charges are. What defamation, what provocations! This was a coup d’état and a triumph of injustice and extremism.”

  Prosecutor remarks, “Please, make a note: Anar Babayev refuses to cooperate with the court-appointed counsel for the defense. Esteemed Chief Judge, we find all of the defendants guilty of having committed criminal actions according to the following articles of the penal code: Articles 78, 154, 167, 184, 196, 210, and 257. The charges are the following: corruption, the genocide of the Dalabistanis, political persecutions, large-scale theft of government resources, countless abuses of power, illegal mass murder for purpose of intimidation and terrorization of the people, illegal and extrajudicial tortures, fostering severe social inequality and sowing discord, and extrajudicial and unsubstantiated deprivation of liberty of the dissidents. Because of these heinous crimes, I call for the mandatory death sentence and for the confiscation of the entire property of the defendants for the benefit of our people.”

  Many of the men and women dressed in long traditional Dalab dresses applaud with joy. A tall, muscular man with a long beard yells, “Takbir!”

  A group of university students, similar to the ones I saw, repeatedly chants along while raising their fists, “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!” One of the girls
later screams from the depth of her lungs, “Martyrs do not die!” Maybe she is the one who was friends with Elena’s martyred sister.

  The tall man, criminal defense lawyer Oraz Rakhimbekov, starts to speak, “Even though he, like his despotic father, Volkan Babayev, has committed insane acts, we want to defend him and other defendants. We want a legal trial. Only a president who is still confirmed in his position can demand to speak at the Parliament. If the president no longer has this office, he or she cannot demand anything at all. Then he or she is treated like a regular citizen. Since the old government has been overthrown, the monarchy has been dissolved, and Babayev has lost his functions and powers, he no longer has the right to be treated as the President or as the Khan. Please note that here it has been stated that all legal regulations have been observed and that this is a legal trial. Therefore, it is a mistake for the defendants to refuse to cooperate with us. This is a legal trial, and I honor this fact by defending my clients.”

  Anar throws a tiny pebble from his shoe at Oraz Rakhimbekov, “Stop fucking around, another paid agent of the Jews and the West!” The audience cannot take Anar seriously. They laugh out loud instead of any condemnation.

  The Prosecutor comes out with the last speech, “It is very difficult for us to act, to pass a verdict on people who even now do not want to admit to the criminal offenses that they have committed during more than the last thirty-four years. They not only deprived the people of prosperity, justice, equality, and resources; they also tyrannized the souls of the Dalabistani people. They not only killed children, young people, and adults in Munai, Volkan, Alakala, and other places; they all have allowed the Hovlyk Asker troops to wear military uniforms and to shoot in the air to create tension on our streets and to instill terror in Dalabistanis’ hearts. They wanted to separate the army and the government from the people, as well as the so-called Three Elite Tribes from the so-called Fourteen Commoners Tribes. It would be incomprehensible for the Dalabistani people to have to go on suffering this great misery and not to have it ended by sentencing the Babayevs and their co-oppressors to death. The crimes against the people grew year by year. They were never really interested in the people.”