Winter Pasture

by Li Juan

  In fact, as early as January, Kama and I had already made plans to visit neighbors in February. But why did it have to be February? Because in December and January, daylight would have flashed by so quickly that no matter how close the neighbor, we probably wouldn’t have made it there and back on the same day. And we couldn’t walk at night because there were wolves.

  I’d been looking forward to a trip for a long time. Looking forward to it and equally anxious about not having a suitable coat, one that wasn’t embarrassingly dirty! So dirty that it couldn’t be washed.… But as February approached, everyone began to worry for me. I’d decided to wear my leather jacket, which didn’t really fit but at least was clean. Their reaction was, “Koychy, you’re not going herding.” Too shabby.

  I also considered my down jacket, which was clean and simple. Everyone said, “No way, it’s too cold!”

  I asked, “Hasn’t it gotten warm already?”

  Kama said, “When we go, warm. When we come back, cold.” On our way back, the sun would have veered to the west, and the temperature would have dropped.

  Cuma announced generously, “All right, all right, I’ll lend you my mine!”

  “Koychy!” I felt sorry for myself.

  * * *

  IT WAS FINALLY the day of the excursion. First thing in the morning, Kama reminded me that I must wear my freshly washed pants!

  That day, it took her twice as long to wash her face, then another half hour putting on makeup and getting dressed.

  I insisted on wearing my somewhat presentable down jacket, in spite of everyone’s protestations. As a compromise, I wore my long down coat over it. I listened to their advice and planned to take off the outer layer and stuff it behind the saddle as soon as we arrived.

  The original plan had been to visit one of Kama’s classmates to the north, but being unable to find the horse delayed our journey. By the time we found the horse and were ready to leave, two figures on horseback appeared on the sand dune to the northeast—as they rode nearer, it turned out to be the very classmate and her mother we were planning to visit! That’s what you call a suitable day for an outing. And that’s what you call good friends too; great minds think alike.…

  So we dismounted from the saddle, took off our coats, and returned to the burrow for some serious heart-to-heart. Sister-in-law carved up a chunk of meat to cook plov for the guests.

  When we saw them off, it was already midafternoon. Before going out to herd the cows, the tablecloth was relaid for a new tea session. We had another meeting and decided that the next day, we’d visit Kama’s distant relatives in the pasture to the west. It wasn’t far, only an hour by horse.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, after herding the calves to pasture, Kama spent another good part of an hour washing her face and getting ready. This time, we managed to set out without any complications. I still stuck with my long down coat over short down jacket. The frustrating thing was, the jacket was wide whereas the coat was slim. It took some effort to get my arms into the outer sleeves and zip up the front.

  The two of us set out westward until we reached a sand ridge partitioning the desert, and there we turned and followed the sand ridge northwestward. Slowly, we reached a chasm wedged between two sand dunes where there were clearly two rows of tire prints on the ground. We turned onto the car road, ascending and descending several sand ridges before eventually veering away from the road westward.

  Whenever the road led us to the top of a dune, Kama would point to all sorts of directions, telling me who lived there, who was who, who was to whom, how far that who’s whom lived from here … she made it sound as if the place was bustling with people, but one look around—there was nothing.

  As we rode, the trail beneath the horse’s hooves became more pronounced, busy with the footprints of more and more livestock. We slowly reached the top of another dune, and this time, I saw a small black nook wedged between the sand dunes ahead—we’d arrived! The desert was yellow, the snow white, the sky blue; the whole world was pale except for that single dark patch that animals and humans had called home, like a paperweight that pressed firmly down on the rolling land. On that black dot, the distance between sky and earth was farthest.

  We slowed our pace as we drew near. All I could think about was how to escape from my dirty coat before anyone saw me … but the zipper was hard to pull! Just my luck, before we even got there, I was spotted. First, there were two kids standing outside the doorway staring at us with their mouths agape. When they finally recognized Kama, they screamed and ran toward us in joy.…

  At that point, we had reached the flat ground at the edge of the settlement where the solid hitching post was. After dismounting, I tried to nonchalantly tug at my zipper, as hard as I could, and was eventually able to free myself from that dirty and slim coat. But the kids didn’t seem to care. They stood quietly watching us hitch our horses and straightening out our clothes and hair. When we began walking toward the burrow, the kids rushed ahead of us to open the door. Noticing how slowly we were moving, they ran back to walk with us. When we were close to the burrow, they ran ahead once more to open the door. From beginning to end, nothing was said, only endless silent smiles.

  * * *

  THIS FAMILY’S BURROW was very deep, descending three steps down after entering the door, but it was very large. Once inside, there were dirt platforms on either side and behind the bed, where bedding and utensils could be stored. The stove was coated with mud. Square and spacious, one side was even made into an oven (no need to bake nan with manure charcoal). The whole place was clean, orderly, and well thought out.

  Before padding the ceiling beams with hay, a plastic sheet was used to cover the dirt roof, protecting the space from dust. In contrast, in our burrow, whenever the dog walked over the roof, ash and dust fell into everyone’s tea bowls and onto the tablecloth.

  Kama said that this was a new home that was built only ten years ago! No wonder—our burrow was built twenty years ago. Back then, these thick, wide plastic sheets were hard to come by.

  Because our burrow was so old, no one wanted to sleep under the beam at night, afraid that it might suddenly fall down.…

  This new burrow even boasted sections of redbrick floor! Around the stove, they had built a low wall of red bricks to protect against fire. It seemed the family had spared no effort building this home. Transporting the bricks into the desert alone must have been an ordeal! They obviously intended to live there for many years to come. If their flock could never come this far south again … such a laboriously built home would be abandoned in the middle of the desert, what a pity that would be.

  Though Kama had done all she could to prevent me from wearing only my down jacket for the journey, she insisted on wearing only pumps, the vanity! As a result, she was freezing the whole way, and the moment she arrived, she immediately took off her shoes and got into the bed. Hidden behind the stove, she pressed her feet firmly onto the warm red bricks as her teeth chattered. What else could she do? She only had that one pair of good shoes.…

  None of the adults were home, so the older kid ran out. A moment later, she returned with a short woman full of smiles. Kama leaped to her feet and ran to greet the woman. The two shook hands then hugged. Kama introduced her to me: “This is my sister-in-law!” Then, pointing at the two children, she said, “These are my little sisters!”

  Of the two kids, the older was eight years old but looked only six. The younger was six but looked only four. Moments later, the oldest daughter returned from herding. Kama said she was fourteen, but she looked like she was in her twenties.…

  The oldest, named Sayragül, wore an army coat, felt overboots, a bright red scarf, and a weathered face. When she stepped through the door to find a room full of guests, she looked perplexed. Kama turned to me and ordered, “You, them, take picture!” The second eldest chirped excitedly at her big sister, “Picture! Picture!” So I had no choice but to take out my camera and begin randomly snapping away.
It wasn’t until the fifth picture that the oldest girl began to hedge. She said, “Wait! Wait!” before jumping onto the bed to rummage through boxes and chests looking for something … she needed to change into prettier clothes.

  On the advice of Kama and her sisters, she selected a red wool sweater, red jacket, coffee-colored pants, and a clean pair of white leather shoes. She undid her braided pigtails and brushed her hair into a ponytail—her hair was thick and luxuriant! After washing her face, she could finally sit in front of the camera with confidence. She offered a shy smile but wasn’t sure where to put her hands and feet.

  Soon enough, the whole neighborhood arrived one after another to greet their new guests. Three families lived there, each with two or three children. There was a fifteen-year-old girl who, although a similar age to Sayragül, was much trendier and laid-back, full of confidence. Wherever she went, she carried a pink portable MP3 player with speakers the size of a Rubik’s cube, with the volume always on full. (Though this nifty little thing clearly made Kama envious, she was too proud to bring it up. It wasn’t until we were home that she gushed over how amazing it was and vowed to buy one herself in the fall. The return migration south in the fall is when the sheep are sold, so that is when the children “get paid.” Last year, Kama received five hundred yuan and bought all sorts of things in the city. She once listed off all her purchases to me and relived the happy memories of shopping.) In front of the camera, she knew how to pose. Kama told me that she was Zhada’s classmate. No wonder—the two shared so many similar attitudes.

  So many children! I tired to count how many but I couldn’t keep track … people kept going in and out, each time bringing a new child with a ruddy, tanned face that resembled the last.

  With all the people and music, the kids all started to dance. Cuma’s sister-in-law’s second daughter danced the best, energetic and graceful. Everyone clapped only for her. The six-year-old, the third daughter, was shy, retreating to the bed after only a few moments of dancing, refusing to come back no matter how much people pleaded. It wasn’t the timidity of a child but rather the bashfulness of a woman.

  Finally, I managed to count them all—seven children. Plus us adults, ten people altogether.

  * * *

  WHEN THE OLDEST DAUGHTER returned from herding, her father showed his face for a moment. After that, there was no sign of him. Kama said that he had to herd the flock for his daughter. Besides him, and an older man who joined the dancing a little later (only for a brief moment as well), there were no other men around, only women.

  Although there were three boys. Compared to the girls, they seemed more at ease, more talkative and opinionated, constantly arguing with each other quietly. And the littlest and darkest one was decidedly antisocial; whether it was dancing, drinking tea, or dressing up … everything annoyed him. But in fact, I could tell that deep down he really wanted to join in the fun.

  At the height of all the excitement, the door swung open and in came another group. A stunningly beautiful young woman with an ordinary-looking baby in her arms was followed by an older couple. The older couple joined in the dancing the moment they came in, proudly and skillfully doing the Black Horse Trot. The beautiful young mother quickly handed her baby off to Cuma’s sister-in-law and began dancing elegantly as well.

  But the exciting performance by the three did not last more than a minute. They were adults after all; showing off for too long would have been improper. As soon as the music stopped, they placed their hands on their chests to thank their audience. Having had all the fun that they intended to, the older couple quickly bid goodbye while the young mother sat down to join us for tea.

  Cuma’s sister-in-law started to boil meat for us—to prepare a delicious meal for guests from afar is a necessary part of hospitality. While waiting for the meat to cook, the neighbors invited us to their burrow, so the whole troop filed into another burrow. This was the beautiful young mother’s home, as well as the willful little boy’s.

  This child was the only spoiled kid I saw in the pastures, but also the most interesting. When everyone else sat around the tablecloth, he was the only one standing up (he was five, too young to sit at the main table), jabbing his finger at the biscuits, the candies, and the kurt. This mother gave him a little of each to make him go away. Food in hand, he sat down by himself in a corner and gobbled up everything like a little tiger! When he finished, he once again stood by the tablecloth pointing to this and that.… After three more rounds of this, his mother frowned and said gently, “Enough! That’s enough! …” Maybe she was worried that he might get an upset stomach and maybe also worried about losing face in front of guests. The child stomped his foot and roared furiously in front of all the guests. Then, his mom grabbed a few raisins and handed them to him while softly scolding, “No more!”

  After finishing his raisins, he ran to the kitchen, where there was a tin pot used to melt snow. He scooped out a ladleful of snow and water and gulped it down. After wiping his mouth, he pondered for a moment before resolutely reaching for a cloth-wrapped bundle from the cupboard. He unwrapped the cloth and took out a piece of baursak. Then he took out the big sheep bladder full of butter, scooped a big chunk of butter, and spread it generously on the baursak before fiercely biting into it as if it were his mortal enemy. After finishing the baursak, he hesitated for three seconds before scooping another finger of butter and putting it in his mouth … then he gulped some more ice water. While the rest of us, sitting before so much delicious food, ate politely and graciously. What was it like to be without restraint, to enjoy yourself that much?

  * * *

  THIS BURROW WAS a little on the small side, but it was clean and cozy. The bed platform was L-shaped, occupying the left side and back wall as you entered. The window was on the left side as well. They also had a redbrick stove wall situated in the center of the room. There was a half-embroidered felt mat on the bed. I picked it up and noticed that the needlework was beautiful and the color palate was elegant. From the looks of it, the woman of the house was quite talented.

  At the table, she took out a photo album to show us. The first few pages were filled with group photos of young girls. Remarkably, the one with loose, flowing hair was her! Where I lived, almost none of the Kazakh girls wore their hair down. They usually either braided or tied their hair into a bun at the back. Let alone the pastures, even in the countryside, wearing your hair loose would be considered audacious—even frivolous.

  But now, she’d been swept by life’s currents into the desert’s depths—married, had kids, herded sheep, milked cows. She still had her youth and looks, but she had become a most ordinary of wives, the most taciturn mothers. All her rebelliousness was there in the first few pages of that photo album.

  Leashed to a corner of her burrow was a baby winter lamb. After having eaten and drunk his fill, the son was pulling at the cord around the lamb’s neck to force it to stand up and face him. Kama said, “Li Juan! Quick! Take a photo!” His mother immediately ran to wipe his mouth and arrange his three tufts of hair, his only three tufts of hair. I said, “And the lamb!” She untied the lamb and shoved it into her son’s arms. This time, the child didn’t try to evade the camera. Arms around the lamb, even though he was still a little shy, he was no longer the wild child that he was a moment ago.

  * * *

  AFTER THAT, WE VISITED another burrow. This was the home of Zhada’s female classmate, the daughter of the older couple from earlier. She also had two younger brothers. As expected, the visit consisted of tea and photo albums. Leafing through the pages, I came across a photo that I’d taken years back! It was of the adorable Kaziyman in the summer pastures. That year, after developing the photo, I’d given her a copy. At some point, she’d regifted it to these relatives of hers, and now the same photo appeared once more before my eyes.

  After we’d drunk two bowls of tea, Cuma’s sister-in-law came to tell us that the meat was ready! Everyone stood up and crowded into her burrow. The second daughter
brought the kettle around for us to wash our hands, and the third daughter held the basin to catch the water beneath. Hands washed, we each sat down in our appropriate seats. The adults sat around one tablecloth and the children around another. It was cured meat that she boiled, and oh my, was it fragrant … but sadly, Kama had to eat like a good proper girl, which made me too embarrassed to eat as much as I wanted.

  After we ate and took turns washing our hands, the pretty young mother popped in. It turned out her family had made a pot of pilaf for us too, as a token of goodwill. So the troops relocated once more to her burrow. Halfway through the meal, Zhada’s classmate came to call: her family’s meat and potatoes were ready, fresh out of the pot! Oh my, what a feast! No wonder everyone loved visiting their neighbors.…

  * * *

  COMPARED TO OUR SETTLEMENT, these three families were noticeably more well-off and sophisticated. But their communal sheep pen was somewhat lacking—with crooked walls built to an uneven height. Two of the families served tea with very little milk, too few cows perhaps? And one only had black tea, perhaps because they had no cows. But the food that these three families offered was copious, and there was a variety of dried fruits, kurt, and all sorts of fried flour dishes.

  For some reason, Cuma’s sister-in-law’s second daughter was especially friendly with me, putting her arm through mine and following me wherever I went like a sticky honey candy. It was endearing, but I was unsure how to reciprocate her affection. As a result, even without Kama reminding me, I took as many pictures of her as I could, more than anyone else.