Shaggy clouds are floating, swirling, sinking lower and lower in autumn sky. Ferocious northern wind is tearing shabby, all patched and with holes clothes and chilling to the bone.
Yesterday we spent the night at Tokan. Among the three or four yards this one was the most prosperous. The owner, unlike the others, did not mind to be called a rich man, because two cash cows are a wealth here. He’s got a felt yurt, however, all in tatters, and the black smoke walks there. Yesterday the host with mock exasperation said, poking stinking smoldering dung beneath the hearth:
“Barekelde-ay, as lack we have no meat for guests.”
So we decided to go early in the morning. Tokan smeared crank and rickety wheels, swhich were somehow knocked together out of forty pieces of the cart, and began to harness gray bobtailed horse. And then Aidarbek came in horny coat and crumpled tymak-treukha, shifted to the back of the head.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to take guests to bai Saken.”
“Barekelde-ay, and I wanted to take a cart, take a trip to the market, to sell meat.”
Apparently, we were supposed to apologize for the fact that gathered to use the only Arba around the aul. In order to comfort Aidarbek, we tried to start a conversation with him.
“It should be good income from the sale of the meat?”
“Oh, dear, what sort of income?! Who thinks of wealth now! Just to not abyss of hunger.”
Tokan’s wife is a tall, skinny, black woman. It seems that couple quarreled before our arrival. The wife was beating, tearing down evil, grubby three-year kiddy, and Tokan, without saying a word, was comforting weeping children, hiding him in coat hem. When Aidarbek came, she was also in the yard, and apparently did not want to miss for a chance to stab her husband in public.
“Other husbands thinking about business, looking for benefits”, she said. “And my bungler needed a rank. I'll see how he sing when he lose his goats and gray horse.”
Tokan obviously did not like that they were talking about his poverty in front of strangers. Tying ribbons of treukha, he angrily looked askance at his wife.
Soon we went away. The shaggy spotted dog was running behind us . It was still far to noon. The sun was shining gently occasionally through dense clouds. We drove through the aul, which was located along the river. The smoke streamed from some yurts. Bareheaded, barefoot, emaciated people in the icy wind sculpted clay hut.
The stones risers got darken and stucked ramshackle wooden wall were on the outskirts . At first glance, it was clear that this was a graveyard. A winding road brought us here. Tokan urged on bobtail horse less frequently, and he stopped at all near the graveyard.
He climbed down from the cart and looked at us:
“Are not you going to pray?”
“We are frozen”, we answered, “Let’s go!”
He was surprised.
“We will stand a little.”
He got down on his knees and began to mutter a memorial prayer "aguza bismild". His voice was hoarse and nasally. After reading the sura from the Koran, he climbed on the wagon and began to fidget, constantly glancing at us, wanting apparently to say something.
“Is that a graveyard of your aul?”
“Yes it is.”
“Whose is this fresh grave?”
“Оh! An honorable man lies here!”, Tokan said cryptically and turned sideways to us. This long aul along the shore is called Alshan. And our aul is called Kospak. Alshan and Kospak are blood brothers of the same age, children of the same father. Their mother, worthy Kunetay, told us: “When I was pregnant with Alshan, I’ve suddenly got unusually prettier, blossomed, become a good, flexible, were constantly listening to the advices of my husband. It seemed, the son would be a wise ruler, respected by all, and the wealth will not leave his descendants to the seventh generation.” So it happened. Alshan grew and no one could compare with him in everything. And the white bone and black, all turned to him for advice. So my father told us. In the aul, which we are now driving through, twelve families of his descendants live. The others are distant relatives. Until now, the descendants of Alshan are in glory and reverence. Every one of them is nimble and tenacious dzhigits. They are complacent and generous to friends and acquaintances. Ouali especially stood out among them. We saw a fresh grave, it was his grave. He died a month and a half ago. For six years he was a volost chief... Then the troubles came, but he continued to be in honor. Until the death, he did not lose the power from his hands...
He called me last year, before the election. “We all have”, he said, “one ancestor. If we would be amicable and united, no enemy so simply will overcome us. Here again, elections came. If I want to become aulnay, no one will slap me on the hands. But we are not particularly pleasant for the new government. Now they are trying to do much good for poor people. Well, you are one of them. It is better to choose you than a stranger. It is easier to talk and consult with you. I will support you, be aulnay”. It was not accepted to oppose the venerable man, and I said nothing across to him. Now he's dead. There is none among the relatives to whom it was possible to entrust the management of people. What's the use of the rank aulnay, if you cannot rely on anyone? Really, my attempts are futile...
Tokan bitterly sigh. It seemed, he remembered the past, the time spent with his benefactor Ouali. Tokan was fifty, but felt that his soul was young, and in his breast smoldered unfulfilled dreams. It must have been in his mind he saw himself as a defender of a kind, reliable support of the younger generation, benevolent ruler, and a faithful follower of the rich kinsman, who were highly esteemed by his descendants. So, I understood, he carefully portrayed himself as a volost chief, tight belly rich man, he was sat lounging, importantly coughing and spitting grunted to all sides.
We rode on the coast of the Tobol River and arrived to the aul of Bai Saken by a dinner. When wooden houses with high roofs appears, Tokan said:
“Here is one of the aul, which skeleton is not staggered. The number of livestock and people are growing and multiplying...”
1924
