by Li Juan
Before long, Cuma was bequeathed the nickname too. Early in the morning, Sister-in-law began to coo in a honeyed tone, “Karlygash? Hey! Karlygash! Wake up, look, Sister is already up!”
Cuma, went along with the joke. When Sister-in-law said, “Karlygash, dance!” he retracted his neck and arms and rocked back and forth.
When Sister-in-law said, “Karlygash, where’s Sister?” he held his finger under his chin and shyly pointed toward me.
I wondered if Sayna, next door, knew about the “Karlygash” joke and what she thought about it.
* * *
COMPARED TO SAYNA, Sister-in-law was much sloppier looking. Sometimes Sister-in-law’s headscarf was crooked, revealing a mess of hair beneath it. The two braids that had been likely braided years ago had loosened into two big cakes. Sayna’s headscarf was always impeccably wrapped over her smoothly combed braids. Of course, Sister-in-law was also much busier than Sayna, especially once Kama left, spinning around all day like a top.
Normally, after the dough is kneaded, it must sit for a while. As she waited, she spent the time spinning thread. As a result, it wasn’t unusual to find yarn in a bite of nan (once I even found a ball of newspaper). After having grilled one side of the nan, it was time to turn it over. In the time it took for the second side to cook, Sister-in-law could embroider a two-inch-long yellow ram horn. Halfway through laundry, while waiting for the water to heat (in a large tin pot outside the burrow), Sister-in-law could zip back inside to start boiling tea while tracing a pattern onto a piece of felt. Every fragment of every moment was made use of; even when she went to the neighbors’ for tea and a chat, she never forgot to take her spindle or half-finished embroidery with her. After doing some work on the cattle burrow, she brainstormed as she rested—what else is there to do, all the yarn is spun, the freshly dyed felt is still drying, Li Juan has already collected two sacks of snow … another moment of contemplation before she sat up, ripped open two old pillows, and took out the stuffing—just wash the pillowcases then!
Cuma was often very childish and insensitive to Sister-in-law’s needs. When dinner was just about out of the pot, he would run next door to chat. We waited and waited but he still wouldn’t return, and we couldn’t very well go there and get him. In the end, Sister-in-law had no choice but to send me over with a half bowl of fried flat noodles for him to share with the neighbors. Yet in this case, Cuma ended up throwing a tantrum, complaining about how he’d herded the sheep all day long, but when he got home, the food wasn’t ready, he had to wait! So in protest, he went to scrounge food from the neighbors … but Sister-in-law had been working hard all day too. There was a sudden snow in the evening, so we had to clear the pen as quickly as we could before the sheep returned. It took a long time, and when we were done we were exhausted. Besides, didn’t the neighbors make dinner later than us?
The couple sometimes quarreled. Cuma was always heated, using his loud voice and quick tongue to gain the upper hand. But Sister-in-law wasn’t so easily perturbed. With soft words and a soft tone, she reasoned calmly, which in the end won her ultimate victory. When this kind of a victory presented itself, it always seemed like a win-win. Cuma’s temper would cool, having nothing more to say. To me it was all very fascinating.…
Aside from the occasional fights, the two would also give each other the cold shoulder from time to time. Neither spoke, neither knew why, and neither knew how to end it. All evening, Cuma would ramble on at me about nothing in particular while Sister-in-law spun all the yarn in one sitting. The most unfortunate in these situations was the kitten, receiving a whack from whomever he passed, a truly confounding situation for the poor thing.
Next morning, at tea, the cold war persisted. After emptying his bowl, Cuma held it out for a refill. Sister-in-law didn’t reach for it, so Cuma could only put it down on the dinner cloth. Sister-in-law took the bowl, refilled it, then placed it back on the dinner cloth, ignoring Cuma’s outstretched hand.
Cuma was the first to lose his cool. He thought for a moment before suddenly shaking off his old jacket, jumping out of his seat to snatch the bag of clean clothes hanging on the wall, and pulling out that most precious item of his. Sister-in-law took the bait and also leaped to her feet and grabbed the jacket from him. Cuma clung firmly to the other end. The two tugged back and forth before suddenly, one let out a pffft and the two of them began chortling in concert. At that point, whether or not Cuma changed his clothes no longer mattered. The couple returned to the seating area and continued with tea, talking about one thing after another. My, they’d gone a long time without talking!
After a long, demanding day of work, the couple returned to the burrow. They stood there, exhausted, unsure of what to do next. Cuma wrapped his arms around Sister-in-law, hoping to give her a big surprise. Sister-in-law, in a rare moment of playfulness, wrapped her arms around him, giving him a big surprise instead. Then the two stood there in front of the stove, wrapped in each other’s embrace, showing more loving affection than one could bear. I pulled out my camera and they immediately let go.
* * *
SISTER-IN-LAW WAS BORN into a farming family and spent her youth in Ciakutu, nearly twenty-four miles from Akehara. Once, I asked, “Ciakutu is so far from Akehara, how the heck did you meet?” That instantly made Cuma a chatterbox, going on and on. Apparently, when Cuma was a young lad, he had his sights set high, meeting all sorts of girls, none of whom could impress him. When he finally found one he liked, the parents couldn’t come to an agreement, so before you knew it he had become an old bachelor. It wasn’t until one fall, at a toy (feast) in Ciakutu, that he met Sister-in-law, after which he found himself going to Ciakutu every couple of days.… He giggled, “I looked left, looked right, and this gal was the best of the bunch! Slim, tall, pale …” One thing led to another and she was his, which still made him beam with pride. Sister-in-law was sitting off to one side nursing her bowl of tea. It wasn’t clear if she had understood the story as she sat completely still.
Clearly, Cuma was satisfied with his marriage, admitting, “If life was bad, we’d be divorced already!” Next, he began to list all the couples in the village who divorced as soon as they married, as well as couples who were married for years before divorcing. “Ay, people nowadays, more temperamental than ever!” With that, he laid his head on Sister-in-law’s bosom and pretended to sob. “A good old woman, gave me four babies, the old woman … waa waa …” Sister-in-law stroked his head while continuing to sip her tea, unperturbed.
Near the end of my time with the family, I picked a softly lit evening to take a proper portrait of the couple. When he saw the photo, Cuma commented in a serious voice, “I’m clearly over here, why is your Sister-in-law’s head leaning that way? Maybe she doesn’t like me anymore.…”
Sister-in-law heading out to look for snow. She walked farther and farther into the distance.
13.
The Neighbors
THE NEIGHBORS WEREN’T a tall family, though their horses were extra tall. Especially the white one—even a big fella like Cuma had trouble getting on. A little embarrassed, he offered an explanation: his clothes were too thick!
Compared to our family, the neighbors were clearly wealthier. They had more of everything: altogether more than two hundred goats and sheep, we only had about a hundred; twelve camels, big and small, we only had three; ten horses, we only had six … only our cattle outnumbered theirs, but their dairy production was far higher than ours.
Wealth allowed the neighboring couple an easygoing, self-assured, and dignified comportment. Yet, their day-to-day work was just as grueling as ours. When the lady of the house, Sayna, carried snow home, she was so squashed by the load that she was nearly invisible; we would only see a large sack slowly floating across the wilderness—why did she insist on carrying so much snow all at once? But of course, she had a baby that needed to be washed frequently, so their need for water was naturally great.
The man of the house, Shinshybek, was short and slim
, with a dark face and bright eyes. He walked with a pair of chunky felt overboots, a pair of thick corduroy pants, and wore gloves wherever he went. One sign of his refinement was the “Red Snow Lotus” cigarettes he smoked for two yuan a pack, while Cuma only smoked “Mohe” rolling tobacco. Sitting together talking, each man smoked his own cigarettes, never offering any to the other.
No one spoiled seven-month-old Karlygash like her father, Shinshybek. As soon as he got home, regardless of how cold he was, he would jump onto the bed, hold his child in his arms, and plant endless kisses on her. When her face was thoroughly kissed, he would kiss her little butt; after kissing her fingers, he’d move on to her feet, which made the little one giggle to no end. Relaxing after bowls of tea, he’d lift her up to ride on his shoulders, letting her squeeze and pinch his nose, eyes, and mouth, before gradually drifting off to sleep.
Karlygash was an extraordinarily beautiful baby girl; just think, the breathtaking thing that is life! For Shinshybek and Sayna, a drab old pair, to possess such a shiny, delicate little beauty! The sight of the three cuddled together could only be called hope.
* * *
KARLYGASH WAS A TRULY charming child, not only pretty and healthy, but also quick to smile and to take to strangers. Whenever she heard anyone sing, she’d rock her head and swing her limbs. Even when Cuma was drunk and acting senselessly, he couldn’t resist cuddling her, kissing her, and lovingly whispering to her, “Bad girl, naughty! Bad girl, naughty …” He was so taken by her cuteness that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Strangely, even when it was a drunk in his element asking to hold their child, the parents still let him.…
Although she only had two teeth, Karlygash nevertheless managed to chew up all my books and notepads. A mere month later, she grew three more upper teeth, big and white, that could chomp even harder. When given a foot-long leg bone of a cow, she hugged it tight and chewed it fiercely.
As Karlygash’s only plaything, Shinshybek’s big leopard cat spent all day snuggling up against her, allowing her to tug its ears and nip its cheeks, its careworn face never flinching. Moreover, because it was Karlygash’s only toy, before the little girl learned to say “ma” or “ba,” she had already learned to meow. All day long, the big leopard cat would meow at her and she would meow back like it was some sort of productive exchange.
And why was Karlygash so happy all the time? She smiled at everyone she saw, and kept on smiling. Come to think of it, after spending most of the day strapped to her cradle in an upright position, swaddled head-to-toe with three layers on the inside and three layers on the outside, wrapped tighter than a zongzi, was it any wonder that as soon as she was freed, she’d celebrate as much as possible? I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be strapped in all night, unable to roll over! No wonder the little gal bawled in despair whenever she was getting strapped in again. But if you played with her when she cried, she’d instantly be gurgling with laughter again, having already forgotten the tragic moment.
* * *
AT THE END OF JANUARY, the drought passed. Collecting snow was no longer so tiring, which took the pressure off for the other household chores, so I began spending two hours a day helping Sayna sew and embroider syrmak. It made Sayna very happy. As thanks, she gave our family half a bowl of milk every day so that we could drink our tea with milk.
At first, seeing that her family had a single cow, I assumed there wouldn’t be enough milk. After all, there were two men in the household, and men drink a lot of tea! Not to mention, they had a baby who needed pure milk to drink. But on the contrary, the tea in her household always contained more milk than ours, and they could still spare some for us every day. As it turned out, their cow was highly productive. Our two cows combined couldn’t produce half a bowl of milk, while her one cow could fill half a bucket (an iron bucket with a seven-inch diameter)!
Why were our cows such a disgrace? Cuma said it was because his family had spent the summer herding other people’s cattle, so for half the year, they had milked the other people’s cows for all they were worth. Cuma’s cows were therefore free to nurse their own calves, which allowed the calves to grow bigger and stronger. But without regular hand milking to stimulate them, the cow’s dairy production gradually dropped. Hearing this, I couldn’t help but think of my own two cows back home who were in someone else’s care. Especially my poor little calf, only eight months old …
Cuma also said that the neighbors spared no expense, feeding their dairy cow nutrition boosts in the form of corn. While our cows went hunting all around the burrows every evening for dried dung to snack on, theirs didn’t go anywhere; they just stuck close to the burrow door and waited.
* * *
SAYNA WAS SHORT AND ALWAYS wore a smile on her face. She was even-tempered, astute, and somewhat reticent. She was always spinning yarn, embroidering, and cleaning. Besides milking the cow, carrying snow, or collecting manure, we rarely saw her outside.
When it came to cleaning the sheep pen, herding livestock, and other forms of collective labor, she rarely participated, at most lending a hand to tie up a camel or two in the evening when everyone else was too busy. We all understood that this was because she had a child to look after.
The men spent most of their time outside herding sheep, looking for camels, and working on the cattle burrow and sheep pen. When Sayna and I sewed together, it was usually only the two of us. Her Mandarin wasn’t even as good as Sister-in-law’s, but she was happy to chat with me all the same. When I understood what she was saying, I tried my best to reply. When I didn’t, I laughed and bumbled through. When she saw me laugh, she laughed back. Seeing that her laugh was heartier, I could only offer an even heartier laugh. When she saw that I was laughing even heartier, then … then the two of us kept laughing harder and harder until there was no way to put a stop to it. How exhausting.
But most of the time we concentrated on our own tasks without communication of any kind. Sometimes, as she embroidered, she’d start to sing. Soft and sweet, her voice was like a young girl’s. I listened intently, not daring to look up, afraid that I’d interrupt the beautiful, delicate tune.
Once, when we all went to the neighbors’ to drink tea, Cuma revealed that Sayna was the daughter of a blacksmith. Don’t let her thin, short frame fool you, there was no smith work that was beyond her! He reminded me to pay special attention to her tin spoons and milk ladles. I studied them in my hand. They weren’t exactly exquisite, but they were clearly thoughtfully crafted, with rings of decorative patterns modestly embellishing their surface.
Sayna was quite particular about the way she brewed tea, always adding pepper and cloves (our family only made this kind of tea on the coldest days), plenty of milk, and just the right amount of saltiness. Their nan was always fresh, unlike ours, which were rock-hard and turning sour. Her spreads always included kurt, raisins, and sometimes even a bowl of dried apricot soup at the center. In the bowl was a spoon, which everyone shared to drink the dried apricot soup.
* * *
THE NEIGHBORS’ WINDOW FACED southwest; the afternoon sun cast a small square of light onto the bed platform. I spent almost every minute of every afternoon throughout January and February in this warm little square quietly working my needle, bit by bit expanding the colors and lines on the felt. When the patch of sunlight shifted, I shifted with it. By the time I reached the edge of the bed, I’d call it a day. The burrows were too dark; it was only possible to work properly where there was sunlight.
Beneath the window was a low platform made of manure bricks, covered with a green rug. On top of the platform was a tall stack of blankets draped with a shimmering muslin cloth. The big leopard cat often perched on top of the blankets, and through the hazy plastic sheet, stared entranced at the blurry sky outside. When the silhouette of a bird flitted across the sky, its body would recoil, ready to pounce.
Whenever livestock passed by, the roof shook and a tiny waterfall of sand cascaded in through the cracks around the window. If Karly
gash was awake, she’d turn to stare at the stream of sand, mesmerized, enchanted, wanting time and again to climb up for a closer inspection. But for her, that was practically the edge of the universe.
Otherwise, she spent her time softly babbling to herself or tugging on the cat, trying to get it to stand up. The somnolent cat, like an empty, deflated hide, let the baby do as she pleased with it.
When we embroidered, we sat facing each other. Silently, we let our needles and threads fly. When Sayna felt tired, she put down her needle and picked up her little girl for a cuddle. Although Sayna appeared older than she was, she remained attractive, with a slender face, high cheekbones, rosy cheeks, big beautiful eyes, and a prominent chin. Her husband had handsome features too. The baby didn’t look like either of them in particular. Hers was the unmarred beauty of a new life. Her curved profile was as refined and stylized as that of a cartoon character’s. Kama explained that Karlygash means “swallow,” as in the bird.
When Shinshybek and young Kurmash were in the burrow, the space remained just as quiet. Shinshybek was always sleeping, and Kurmash was always playing with his phone. Sayna sewed for a while, then did housework for a while. Karlygash played and slept, slept and ate, then ate and played again. Only the music from Kurmash’s phone never ceased to sound from a corner on the left side of the burrow somewhere. That was where the standoffish young man spent every moment inside, never venturing to the world to the right side of the bed. To the right was the kitchen stove, Karlygash’s cradle, the bag of yarn, and the pot of snow. That was the husband and wife’s territory.
Three weeks after we reached this place in the wilderness, Kurmash left. There was no sign of him for half a month. The neighboring family became smaller, their day-to-day life busier, more demanding. Whenever Sayna had any small tasks like skeining yarn, she’d bring it to our burrow and ask me for help. And she often asked me to go over to babysit.