by Li Juan
Regretfully, we had been in such a rush leaving our burrow that I’d forgotten to bring fresh batteries, and the old ones quickly ran out. Fortunately, the others were even more keen than me for a photo shoot, so Cuma’s sister-in-law took out the batteries from the wall clock and handed them to me—they lasted for about ten photos. Then the pretty mother removed the batteries from her son’s toy machine gun, which enabled ten more snaps. Then Zhada’s classmate emptied her father’s electric razor, which allowed for ten more photos.… How were they going to live their lives once I left? The clock wouldn’t tick, the gun wouldn’t pew, and beards wouldn’t be shaved. What a shame.
When it was time to leave, everyone crowded around the horse and walked quite far to see us off. With everyone watching, I had to try to squeeze back into the slim jacket that was so dirty that it shone as if nothing was the matter. It was agonizing.
One more thing: Cuma’s sister-in-law owned a cat that climbed onto the chimney to meow when it found itself locked out. When the children heard it, they went to open the door. Clever little thing, not at all like Plum Blossom, who would have squatted outside the door until someone happened to pass by.
When we got home, I pulled up the photos of the cat to show everyone. They all said, “Sayna’s cat!” I took a closer look and they really were similar! Double eyelids and mottled noses.
When we reached the photos of everyone dancing, they all exclaimed, “So many kids!”
Cuma complained angrily, “The person in charge of the family-planning office is their relative. Have as many as they like! No fines!”
34.
New Neighbors
ONE MID-FEBRUARY MORNING, at around eleven o’clock, snow had fallen, the temperature had dropped, and having just returned from herding the calves, I noticed a caravan of camels inching across the desert to the southwest. I felt elated—the long-awaited migration had begun! The flocks were starting their journeys north! From now on, the vast open terrain north of the Heavenly Mountains would be crowded with sheep surging in like a receding flood, following the northward trajectory of the melting snow line. Before long, we would be leaving the desert too!
We stood together on the sand dune to our west and gazed at the approaching camels. Cuma said, “Seems like the snow to the south has already melted.”
He added, “Without snow, there’s no water, you have to leave.”
Except what even Cuma hadn’t foreseen was that this family wasn’t simply passing through! The caravan, after its long journey, was headed straight for our settlement. They would stay there until the day we left.
So it was that a new family joined our settlement. There was a new yurt, a young couple, a young man, two children, a cat and two dogs, a large flock of sheep, a camel team, and two cows.
* * *
THEN I SAW A FACE that I hadn’t seen since our initial southward migration—I realized it was Kulynbek’s family! His home was to the southwest, two days’ journey by horse from ours. As their relatives, Shinshybek and his family had apparently already known they were coming. By the time the camel team appeared at the edge of our pasture, they were already prepared to welcome the guests. When the camels reached us, they quickly rushed to offer welcome and to announce that food was ready. While the two families warmly reconnected, their dogs engaged in battle.
As soon as they arrived, a three- or four-year-old dark-skinned child ran to one of the camels when he was lowered to the ground. He pointed to a bag on the camel and begged for one of the adults to take it down. Kulynbek untied the bag and dropped it on the ground. The child unzipped it and started rummaging around inside until he found his tiny jacket and black cotton shoes. He found himself a nook sheltered from the wind and set about changing all by himself (he was wearing a heavy set of “armor,” which was not conducive to mobility). Having made himself comfortable, the child happily ran inside Sayna’s burrow to eat. He didn’t trouble the adults at all!
Besides, the adults were too busy to attend to the little guy anyway. The horses had all caught up and the sheep hovered nearby. Faced with unexpected guests, Cuma was a bit surprised and annoyed, but he ran over to help unload the camels all the same. Zhada contributed his muscles just like any other grown-up. Sister-in-law and I helped carry luggage and clear out space.
Then, amid the hustle and bustle, there was suddenly the sound of a child crying. I looked over and saw that on the hump of a still fully loaded camel, in the middle of a mountain of household objects, was a little head! The kid had been securely fastened in the middle of the luggage. Around him were piles of bedding and over him was a thick felt mat, all wrapping him up in layers.… The goal of safety was certainly met but other than turning his head, the child was completely immobile. Just imagine, having set off at five in the morning, the child’s arms and legs must have fallen asleep by now! The matron of the family quickly ran to untie him, removing one layer of protection after another until she could eventually lift him off the camel’s hump. The child was around two years old, still a suckling babe.
* * *
AT DINNER, CUMA EXPLAINED to me that Kulynbek’s family pasture was on flat terrain. Because of the unusually warm weather recently, all the snow had already melted. They were suffering from drought. They had no choice but to move early. However, it would still be a while before it was time for the flocks to move north en masse, as the pastures to the north were still covered in a thick layer of snow. So, for the time being, the sheep had nowhere to go. Shinshybek decided to host them on his land. He probably assumed that since he had already paid the rent, half the pasture belonged to him, and so he did not check with Cuma beforehand. Cuma was not happy, but he was too polite to say anything. When he greeted the new guests, he played with the children as he always did, invited everyone over for food, and helped the family with their work. Only when there were no outsiders around did he complain. He said, given the year’s abundance of grass, making room for one more family wouldn’t be a big loss. But this was a big decision. Not even talking to him about it was disrespectful.
But the family sure was unlucky—forced to leave because of lack of snow. Of course, as soon as they had set out, it began to snow.… Moving in the middle of a snowstorm must’ve been difficult, especially for the children.
This family of five, old and young, was each darker than the next! So dark that you could barely make out their nose or eyes; I couldn’t wrap my head around it. They were all herders, so why wasn’t Cuma’s family that dark? And Shinshybek’s family was all quite fair. Then I thought, of course! There was a water shortage where they lived! But what did a lack of water have to do with dark skin? As if they never washed their faces … how silly of me.
* * *
THAT FIRST NIGHT, the whole family squeezed into Sayna’s burrow and made do for the night. Early next morning, after moving the sheep to pasture, everyone pitched in to erect a yurt. The men discussed among themselves before finally deciding to place the yurt in the clearing west of the sheep pen and east of Shinshybek’s burrow. Although the ground there had a slight grade to it, there was no better spot.
I was worried. Staying in a yurt in such cold weather! Wouldn’t they freeze to death? What about the children …?
However, once the yurt was set up, it only took a short stay inside before I realized how hot and muggy it was in there! Turns out that between the latticework frame, ribs, and felt cover, they had added a layer of plastic.
The space inside was tiny, as it was built with one fewer lattice frame than usual. They stretched the lattice frames wide, which made the ceiling very low. This way, just one small steel stove was enough to heat the whole room.
They laid the syrmak directly onto the manure ground, on top of which they would eat and sleep. They kept only the bare minimum of items inside, as they didn’t plan on staying for very long.
To show thanks, as soon as the yurt was up, the new family boiled meat and invited everyone over. It was already late so I didn’t join them. I
laid out my bedding and curled up for an early sleep. The next morning, Cuma startled me: “Why didn’t you go? They were angry! Said you don’t respect them. They saved you a big chunk of meat, white and fatty, they will be here any minute! They are going to watch you eat every last bit of it!”
With the addition of only one family, our neighborhood became five times more lively! The two newly arrived men, plus Shinshybek, Kurmash, and Rahmethan, as well as the two “foreign Kazakhs” staying at Shinshybek’s, and Zhada and Cuma, added up to nine men in total! All day long the lot of them gathered in our burrow playing cards, gambling with one yuan at a time. They were always smoking, filling the room with a murky miasma and covering the bed in ash. And they took up so much room that Sister-in-law and I had nowhere to set the tablecloth for tea. Why didn’t they go to Shinshybek’s burrow? Because there was a baby over there. At least they were a considerate bunch.
* * *
IN ADDITION TO THE PEOPLE, the dogs also became livelier. The new neighbors had two dogs, one half grown and the other a two-month-old puppy, both plump and puffy. Most of the time, they were cute and well-behaved. Whenever their human mother appeared, they both leaped up and down, yapped, and scurried around her feet, gazing up lovingly, but one glimpse of Panda Dog and they entered battle mode without hesitation.
As soon as their caravan came to a stop, the two dogs swiftly assessed the terrain and decided to occupy the roof of Shinshybek’s burrow (how remarkable, it was their first time there and they already knew that the roof was their “radiant flooring”). From this stronghold, they began to wage their long war against Panda Dog.
With foreign dogs invading, Panda Dog naturally felt that the full power of justice was on her side and immediately set to defending the homeland. As for her opponents, wherever their master went, that’s where home was, so of course they didn’t think they were in the wrong. Consequently, morale was high on both sides.
Though the neighbor’s dogs were smaller, their greater number gave them twice the barking power. As a result, in terms of intimidation, the two sides were evenly matched.
So, day and night, they barked, they argued, they chomped.… Sister-in-law began to anxiously mutter, “Allah, Allah!”
What was there to fight over anyway? Neither side had any food.
I don’t need to reiterate how the food given to Panda Dog wasn’t enough to get stuck in her teeth. And I never once saw the new family feed their dogs! The little pup was always pathetically licking the sheep’s bowl—they tied a winter lamb to the yurt and placed a bowl in front of it. The bowl was always empty, yet the puppy still returned time and again with renewed hope to double-check, licking the empty bowl until its bottom shined. Meanwhile, the lamb lay against the yurt, peering at the dog with a scornful look that seemed to say, “Even if there was food, it wouldn’t be your turn.”
That puppy reminded me of the saying: newborn puppies aren’t afraid of big dogs. Despite its diminutive stature, when it was hungry enough, it could easily chase Panda Dog in circles!
The new neighbor’s cat was very courteous toward our cats though, and even shook their hands when they met.
And as for the horses, the moment they arrived, they had gone off somewhere without a trace.
* * *
PERHAPS BECAUSE THEY WERE only staying for a short time, the neighbor’s flock never mixed with ours. At night, they stayed by themselves in the clearing east of the sheep pen. In the morning, the flocks set out at staggered times and were led in different directions as much as possible.
For some reason, the new neighbors’ flock didn’t look right. There was something off about them, something out of place. But what exactly? After further observation, I realized that their legs were too skinny! Just look, these stout bodies supported by four spindly twigs, no wonder it didn’t look right … but then when I saw our sheep, I found that their legs were just as skinny! Yet for some reason, our sheep looked just right.
Once they had everything in order, the first thing our new arrivals did was to place a dummy on the slope where the sheep slept. We already had a scare-wolf on top of the sand dune though.
* * *
EVEN THOUGH THERE WERE only two new kids, the moment I stepped outside, it felt like there were kids everywhere! Lined up, starting from Zhada, they formed five levels. They were always running back and forth with a flag, playing ambush in two teams. Then, in two new teams, they furiously dug traps in the sand. After digging a trap, they covered it with grass and broken plastic bags before covering it up with sand and going out to lure the other team to fall in. More often than not, the ones who fell in the pit had even more fun than the ones who dug it.
The older of the two was named Atakan. At first, I thought he was at most four years old, but when I asked, I was told he was five!
Though in general, most herder children are quite androgynous up until seven or eight years of age, Atakan wasn’t one of them. He was obviously a boy. Everything about him screamed masculinity—he was brave to the point of reckless. He got to know everyone even before his parents, and soon enough was zipping in and out of both our burrows without any regard for boundaries. Grown-ups talked to him as if he were an adult, with serious words and sophisticated logic. He was able to carry a conversation for a long time, never shying away from talking back or even the occasional “koychy.”
His little brother was more timid, hiding from strangers for the first three days. I usually saw him alone on the sand riding a broom and cracking a whip, stumbling as he ran, with the look of a galloping warrior on his face.
Whenever his mother called round at our burrow, she brought the youngest son. The little guy sat next to the bed with snot hanging from his nose and mouth slightly agape, ever so still and expressionless. It wasn’t until Plum Blossom appeared that his eyes lit up. He grabbed the cat and hugged him tight and squeezed his neck, forcing kisses upon him. He wanted to clean the cat’s ears and even generously shared a piece of kurt that the grown-ups had given him. On account of the kurt, Plum Blossom gave in. After that, the cat would take a bite and the boy would take a bite. Everyone loved to eat kurt and they didn’t mind each other’s saliva.
The boy’s mother was much less interesting, sitting at the tablecloth rigidly. While speaking quickly to Sister-in-law about this and that, she unwrapped and ate one candy after another like she had never tasted a candy in her life. The wrappers piled up in front of her.
* * *
THE CHILDREN WERE HAVING a blast! I couldn’t help feeling envious. Rahmethan asked Atakan to collect snow with him and then tied two poles under his armpits. Seeing my bewilderment, he explained, “Camel!” I was delighted! Before loading up camels for a move, people would also tie poles to on the sides of the camel’s belly and use those poles as support for loading up all luggage.
Atakan was more than happy to play the role of a camel, and was just as obedient. He even wore a rein around his neck and dutifully followed Rahmethan’s lead. They climbed over a sand dune and stopped where the snow had accumulated on the other side. Rahmethan said, “Chök!” (the command to make a camel sit), and without hesitation, Atakan knelt like a camel. Rahmethan untied the “rein” and kicked the “camel’s” backside to signal that it was free to wander, so off the “camel” went to find a sandy spot to lie down and roll about in (this was camel behavior, so in character!). On the backside of the dune, Rahmethan started to collect snow. After filling one large and one small sack, he called “mao mao” (the standard way of calling for a camel!). Hearing the noise, little “camel” rushed over to let Rahmethan tie one sack onto the poles under his armpits. Once secured, Rahmethan reattached one end of the “camel’s” reins and tied the other end to his own waist; then slinging his own sack over his shoulder, he began leading the “camel” back. Who would have guessed that only a dozen steps in, the “camel” couldn’t take it anymore—the snow sack was too heavy! The little guy was only five after all.… As a failed camel, he felt rather embarrassed
, admitting sheepishly, “I can’t do it.” Rahmethan had no choice but to untie the sack and empty just under half the contents into his own. He then retied the lighter sack over the young boy’s shoulder and the two got back on track. This time the little guy had no complaints. One in front of the other, attached by a rein, they carefully descended the dune and carried on homeward.
At the time, I was out gathering snow as well and saw the whole show from beginning to end. Only after returning home did I step in to unbind the little boy, and I took the sack from him while I was at it—still hefty, at least two kilos!
When the little brother saw his older brother playing a role, he was overjoyed. He led his brother the camel around the camp triumphantly. At midday tea, when the adults removed the “camel’s” poles, the little one bawled furiously.
Yup, this was a game of labor. After that will come a life of labor.
Helping our new neighbors erect their yurt. This was our busiest day since we had arrived at the winter pasture, yet from a distance, it looked so very quiet.
35.
The Way Home
AT THE END OF FEBRUARY, as the new school term was beginning, Zhada, Rahmethan and Nurgün, were set to leave the winter burrow. After discussing it with Cuma, it was decided that I should go with them.
This year, the weather warmed earlier than usual. The snow would likely be gone by early March, and without snow, there was no way to sustain life. Therefore, this year, the whole herding community would migrate half a month early. Our family only had three riding horses, just enough for Cuma and his family. At that point, I didn’t want to be jogging behind the camels, right?