by Chi Zijian
We knew what this signified.
But the tragic fate of Nidu the Shaman and Nihau made us unwilling to witness the birth of a new Shaman. Tatiana took the Spirit Robe, Spirit Skirt and Spirit Headdress left by Nihau and donated them to the Folk Museum in Jiliu Township, and we kept just the Spirit Drum. We wanted to isolate Maksym from that mysterious and gloomy ambience.
And, day by day, he did become more normal. Except during spells of drought when he occasionally behaved a bit oddly, he was an ordinary person.
From the moment it came into being, Jiliu Township was never fully occupied. People treated it like a rest stop where they could take a break, and it became shabbier by the day.
I am truly worried that the place Tatiana and the others are bound for – Busu – will turn into another rest stop.
Sakhar is behind bars now. The year before last, he recruited a few unemployed ex-convicts, and they entered the mountains to cut down trees inside a government-protected wildwood. They planned to smuggle the logs out and sell them on the black market for big money. But before the timber had even left the mountains, they were stopped at a checkpoint and their trucks were seized. Sakhar got three years in prison.
Despite Tatiana’s strict supervision of Soma, she often ran off to other campgrounds for romantic liaisons. She said it was too lonely in the mountains, and only those things that occur between a man and a woman brought her a moment of joy.
Every time Soma left the mountains it was for an abortion. Tatiana was worried sick about the matter of her daughter’s marriage. Whenever she introduced her daughter to a prospective spouse, the response was contemptuous. ‘Soma? She goes out with everybody. How could she be somebody’s wife?’
Later on, three scavengers in rags – the sort that couldn’t eat their fill or take a wife – arrived in Jiliu Township. But they’d heard that the local Evenki girls had trouble getting married off – and since the girls benefited from a government living allowance, the scroungers had decided to drop in and take a look!
This was no less of a shock to Tatiana than the death of her daughter Irina. ‘Eni, these scavengers want to collect our maidens like pieces of trash! We’ve got to leave this damn place!’
Tatiana started agitating for the construction of a new settlement for the Evenki. She complained that Jiliu Township was too isolated, transport was inconvenient and medical treatment wasn’t guaranteed. Our children weren’t being educated at a senior level, and they’d have trouble getting jobs later. Our people were facing a future in which we were moving backwards rather than progressing.
She joined forces with several urireng and presented the Jiliu Township government with a petition calling for the Evenki to relocate to a permanent settlement outside the mountains. It was this petition that brought about the large-scale relocation to Busu.
There are fewer than two hundred Evenki living in the mountains now, and only six or seven hundred reindeer. Apart from me, everyone in our urireng voted in favour of resettling in Busu. When he heard I had voted against the move, the newly appointed Jiliu Township Party Secretary came into the mountains specifically to carry out the task of persuading me.
Secretary Gu said that if we left the mountains with our reindeer, it would also be a way of protecting the forest. Roaming reindeer damaged the vegetation and disturbed the balance of the ecosystem. And anyway, wild animals are protected now so hunting is prohibited.
Only a people that is willing to lay down its hunting rifles, he added, is a truly civilised people with a promising future.
I really wanted to tell him that our reindeer have always kissed the forest. Compared to the loggers who number in the tens of thousands, we and our animals are just a handful of dragonflies skimming the water’s surface. If the river that is this forest has been polluted, how could it be due to the passage of a few dragonflies?
But I didn’t say any of that to him. I sang a song for him, one that Nihau once sang, a Spirit Song for a Bear Burial passed down in our clan:
O, Bear Grandmother
You have fallen down.
Sleep sweetly!
Feasting on your flesh
Are those black, black ravens.
Reverently, we place your eyes in the trees
As if hanging Spirit Lamps!
I’ve remained behind and An’tsaur has too, and that will do. I had hoped Shiban might stay, for he loves to munch on bark and he hasn’t completed his Evenki script. But he’s a filial boy, and wherever Vladimir goes, he goes. I reckon Vladimir’s days are numbered. His tongue is twisted and his speech indistinct. If Vladimir passes away, then Shiban will return for certain.
We don’t need to leave a trail of tree markers any more when we relocate. There are more and more paved roads in the mountains now. When there were none, we’d lose our way; there are many roads now, but we still lose our way because we don’t know which road to choose.
When the moving van drove into the campground at dawn this morning, I could see that the expressions of those who were leaving were not entirely happy. Their eyes also revealed a bleak, confused look.
Especially the white fawn that was born when Irina left us. No matter what was said it wouldn’t board the truck. But Shiban can’t live without it. Shiban shook the pair of reindeer bells around its neck. Mukulén, he said, get on the truck quickly. If you don’t like Busu and can’t bear being fenced in, we’ll come back! Only then did Mukulén obey.
I’ve spent the whole day telling my tale, and I’m tired. I didn’t tell you my name because I don’t want to leave my name behind. I’ve already instructed An’tsaur: when Até leaves, don’t bury her in the ground. Bury her in a tree, in the wind. It’s a pity that nowadays finding four suitably spaced trees isn’t so easy.
I don’t actually know how things ended for some people. The woman who abandoned her daughter Lyusya and her husband Puffball, for instance, or Washia, or Nihau’s daughter Berna who vanished mysteriously after her mother’s burial. My tale must come to an end, but not everyone gets an epilogue.
An’tsaur comes in and adds a few pieces of kindling to the fire. This fire given me by Mother is aged now, but its face is still animated and youthful.
I step out of my shirangju.
The moist air filled with the delicate fragrances of plants makes me sneeze, a refreshing sneeze that sweeps away my fatigue.
The moon has risen, but it’s not round. A quarter moon of flawless white jade. It bends over gently like a fawn lapping water. Beneath the moon extends the road that leads out of the mountains. I look at that road full of sadness. Suddenly, a fuzzy grey-white shadow appears at the far end of the road. I can hear the faint ring of a reindeer bell as the shadow proceeds towards our campground.
Até, Mukulén has come home! shouts An’tsaur.
I don’t dare believe my eyes, even though the jingle is increasingly distinct.
I lift my head and gaze at the moon, and it looks like a snow-white fawn running towards us. When I look again at the fawn that is nearer and nearer to us, it feels as if the pale-white crescent has fallen to the ground. I’m crying, because I can no longer distinguish between heaven and earth.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Epub ISBN: 9781448137589
Version 1.0
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Published by Harvill Secker 2013
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Copyright © Chi Zijian 2013
English translation copyright © Bruce Humes 2013
Chi Zijian has asserted her right under the Copyright, De
signs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
First published in Great Britain in 2013 by
HARVILL SECKER
Random House · 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road · London SW1V 2SA
www.vintage-books.co.uk
Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm
The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9781846554810
This publication was assisted by a grant from China Book International
www.vintage-books.co.uk