Without further delay, he sent his oldest son in search for a cure to his sufferings. Dutifully, the eldest traveled far and wide, for both a long time and a short time, until he came to what seemed to him to be one of the famed ends of the world where the snow was red. ‘What a wonder! Such a sight I certainly have not seen before,’ he thought.

Excited, he ran back home as quickly as he could with the red snow in his hand, hoping that this would cure the old suffering man.

As soon as he arrived, his father eagerly asked, ‘Have you brought me a cure for my sufferings?’ He felt like death was all around him.

‘Yes father, yes father! I have brought you what eyes have never seen before, red snow.’ The old man’s son answered.

Needless to say the old man was quite upset with his eldest son. He then sent his second son in search of a cure for his ailments. Well the second son traveled far and wide for both a long time and a short time, traveling past the place where the red snow fell. He traveled quite a ways before he came to what he thought was most certainly one of the ends of the world. It was a wondrous place, where the grass grew white. With the white grass in his hand he ran home as fast as he could, thinking the whole time that this white grass that had never been seen by anyone would most certainly cure his old and ailing father.

As soon as he arrived his father asked him, ‘What have you brought me for a cure for my sufferings?’

His son answered that he had brought white grass that had never been seen by anyone ever before. The old man was again upset and there was nothing left to be done but call for his youngest son.

The youngest son prepared himself for three days and three nights. His father made him jump with his horse over a stonewall just to see if he was big enough to set out on his own. He jumped easily over the stonewall three times. Then his father wished him a safe journey but forbade him to stop and pick anything up on the way or he would fall into the hands of misfortune.

The day came and the day went and by night the youngest son came to the place with red snow and then went on. He came to the place where the white grass grew and went on. He was riding along on his white horse when he saw a golden feather. He stopped his horse and picked up the golden feather. The horse said to him, ‘you have broken your promise to your father. He distinctly forbade you to pick up anything along the way.’

However the young lad took the golden feather, hid it and rode on farther. ‘He couldn’t have meant anything as beautiful as this!’

The youth had traveled far and wide for a long time and for a short time when he came upon a golden ball of thread. He stopped the horse and picked up the golden ball of thread. The horse again said to him, ‘you have again broken your promise to your father. He said, don’t you remember, that you were to pick nothing up along the way. This golden ball of thread is only going to bring you misfortune.’

However the young lad took the ball of thread. ‘What? Have you lost your mind? How could something as beautiful as this cause me misfortune?’

By sunset the youngest son had reached a strange and unknown land. Soon enough he saw a shepherd herding his cows. The young man asked, ‘Who lives in this strange and unknown land with the reputation of being a virtuous man and kind to guests?’

The shepherd pointed to a very high tower off in the distance. He said that there, there is said to be a prince who lives with respectable people and loves guests. The youngest son went to this prince. After heavy questioning at the gates he was allowed to stay and he with the entire household went off to pray together.

When the youngest son was bending down to do his prostrations, the golden feather fell out of his bosom. The prince picked it up and begged the young man to find the bird to which this feather belonged. If not the prince said he would die. The young man said that he would have to consult with his horse otherwise he would not be able to give an answer. The son went to his horse and told it of the prince’s request.

‘Well lets go and see what will come of all this,’ the horse said. ‘Have the king prepare a light and tasty meal for our trip. Lets say a kilo of cornmeal and a pitcher of Karaki.’

The prince had everything prepared and the next day the young son set off in search of the little bird.

He traveled far and wide, for a long time and a short time. Then he came to one of the ends of the world. The horse stopped high up in the mountains and said to the young son, ‘If you throw your sight about a bit, you’ll see a monster arising in the heavens. You see, doesn’t that look like his tall fur cap?’

‘Yes, I see.’

‘That’s the bird of which the prince was talking about. I will try to lead her this way and you better get in the mood to play a little game on her. She will ask you from which village you are from and you must answer that you are from the village where Timour lives. Then she will ask you how Timour is feeling these days. Then you must answer that Timour has hurt his back and his eyesight has gotten really bad. If the bird asks about Timour’s horse answer that if her master is infirm, the horse can go to hell and not getting any older is put out to pasture, high and dry. It’s better not to ask her anything about that though. The bird will then come down from the high mountain and start to bath in the river, to clean its plumage. That is when you must pour the sticky Karaki into the river and throw the cornmeal all about you.’

The young son did everything he was told. The bird started to bath in the river and then came closer to the youth to get a better look at him. The young son jumped on her and grabbed a hold of her. She wiggled in his hands but he didn’t let her go. ‘Is that you Timour?’ she trembled.

The young son answered, ‘I am Timour’s third son.’

‘Oh, I see. I must do my evening prayers and I must clean my plumage, please let me go,’ the bird started to beg.

The young son let her go. The little golden bird bathed herself and then rested herself on the young son’s shoulder. So with the bird on his shoulder and the sun sitting, the young man returned to the strange and unknown land where the prince lived.

A small time later when the young son was doing his prayers, the golden ball of thread fell out of his bosom. The prince took hold of the golden ball of thread and said, ‘I will die, if the girl who wound up this sweet golden ball of thread is not brought to me.’

The young son consulted with his horse. The horse told him to have the prince prepare a light and tasty meal for the trip.

The next day the young son set off with his horse in search of the girl. He traveled far and wide, for a long time and for a short time. Soon enough he was at another one of the ends of the world. His horse then said to him, ‘you see those tall mountains, and do you see the tower among them which has no entrance and no exit? Well at the top of that tower sits the girl who wound up the golden ball of thread. We’ll have the ball seemingly unravel all by itself, although you secretly are behind everything. She will ask you how Timour is feeling and you must answer that Timour has hurt his back and that his eyesight has gotten bad. If the girl asks about Timour’s horse, answer that if its master is infirm, the horse can go to hell and not getting any older is put out to pasture, high and dry. For her though, it will be a great joy. The girl will say that she is scared to come out of the tower because of Timour and that is why she is staying there and getting old. She will also say that she plays on the harmonica and will do so on the lower balcony if you are a good rider and will circle around the tower a few times on your horse. You must answer that you are in a hurry but in order to calm her heart you will ride around. We will ride around three times and on the forth I will jump up and get my hooves onto the balcony and if I don’t gallop then you can tear off my front legs! Then you grab her.

Timour’s son rode to the girl. She asked him, ‘Where are you from?’

He answered, ‘I am from the same village as Timour.’ He was though admittedly a little nervous to be talking to such a pretty girl. The girl asked about Timour and the young man said, ‘Timour is having a hard time these days. He has hurt his back and his eyesight is failing him. He fears that the legions of death are all around him.’

‘What about his horse?’ the girl asked.

‘When its master is infirm, the horse can go to hell and not getting any older is put out to pasture, high and dry.’ The girl was glad to hear this.

The girl went down to the lowest balcony and started to play her harmonica. She asked him to circle around the tower with his horse a couple of times. The young man and his horse rode around the tower three times and on the fourth round the horse galloped up and jumped landing his front hooves on the balcony. The youngest son grabbed the girl. She started to beat him with her hands but the young man held onto her with a tight grip even though his nose stung and his eyes curled.

‘Are you Timour?’ the girl asked.

‘I am not Timour. I am his third son,’ the young man answered.

‘I gave an oath that I would marry the one who took me away from that balcony,’ the girl said.

The youth held onto the girl and rode back to the prince. The prince went up to the girl and she said coolly to him, ‘Unless you cleanse yourself with the milk of a sea mare, then you have no right to touch me.’ She was firm on this point and everyone at court knew it not least of all, the prince.

The prince ordered everyone under his power to go out and find this special milk. His people however couldn’t find this milk and said to the prince that the one who brought the golden bird and the girl may be able to find and bring this milk from a sea mare. The prince pleaded with the youngest son of Timour to help him find this milk. The youth said that he would have to consult with his horse first.

‘Well, this was what I was afraid of all along,’ the horse sighed. ‘Have the prince kill three of his horses. From their hides make pieces of bright clothing and also have him give us some glue.’

They traveled far and wide, for a long time and for a short time before coming to the coast of the sea. The horse told the youth to dig two holes big enough for them to hide in. The youngest son put glue on the bright clothing and wrapped them around the horse. After this was done the horse kicked his hooves in the water, neighed and hid in one of the holes.

Not soon afterwards, a sea stallion jumped out of the sea, neighed and rushed about the coast and then again back he went into the sea. ‘Bloody fools, I thought they were all dead,’ was all that could be heard of him.

The horse asked the youth, ‘What was the stallion like when he jumped out of the sea and what was he like when he went back in again?’

‘When he jumped out of the sea, there was a lasso with three knots around his neck. When he went back into the sea one of the knots had come undone.’

Again the horse went to the water and kicked his hooves in the sea, neighed and jumped back into the hole to hide. As before, the stallion jumped out of the sea, rushed about the coast and not finding anything, went back into the sea again. ‘Bloody fools, I thought that they were all dead.’

The horse asked the youth, ‘What was the stallion like when he came out of the water and what was he like when he went back into the sea again?’

The youth answered, ‘When he jumped out of the water, two of the knots had come undone and when he went back into the sea only one knot was left.’

The horse went into the sea for a third time and kicked up the water with his hooves and then quickly jumped back into the hole to hide. The stallion again jumped out of the sea, rushed about the coast without any knots in the lasso around his neck and then sank back into the sea.

The next time the horse splashed in the sea with his hooves and stood his ground in the water. The stallion again jumped out of the water and started to fight with the youth’s horse. The stallion ripped apart the horse’s bright clothes. The horse however ripped apart the stallion at his turn and in this way the horse defeated the stallion.

‘I have the power of this big earth and of this sea so please let me do all that you order,’ the stallion begged.

‘Drive out all the sea mares and the sea stallions otherwise I will pour all the water out of this sea.’

The stallion drove all the sea mares and all the sea stallions from the sea; the youth straddled his horse and arrived back at the prince with all the sea mares.

They boiled a large pot of the sea mares’ milk. The prince suggested that the youth should cleanse himself first and then the prince would. The youth said that he would have to consult with his horse first. The horse said, ‘Say to the prince that if your horse is close to the pot, then you will cleanse yourself.’

The youth said all this to the prince. The prince ordered that the horse be brought in and placed next to the boiling pot of milk. The youth started to get into the pot and with one breathe the horse cooled the milk in the pot. The prince saw all this and ordered that the youth’s horse be placed next to the pot while he cleansed himself too. As he was getting into the pot the horse in one breath of hot air killed the prince.

Well with nothing more to talk about, the youngest son of Timour prepared to go home. He took with him the girl, the golden bird sat on his shoulder and the stallion herded all the sea mares. On the way though the son had lost a lot of weight. The girl asked, ‘You have a golden bird, which no one had ever seen before, An entire herd of sea mares and me to boot, so why have you lost weight? There is nothing to worry about.’

‘I was sent away from home to look for a cure to my father’s ailments. I didn’t find not one single cure and so now I am losing weight as a result.’

The golden bird, which sat on his shoulder said, ‘If you take one of my little golden feathers from my wing and run it lightly over your father then he will become younger than you.’

With nothing more to talk about, they arrived home. They arrived just in time as the old man was fighting death off with his bare hands. The youngest son took a feather from the right wing of the little golden bird and ran it softly over his father’s eyes and back. The father quickly became younger than his youngest son. He turned over and saw the bird which he couldn’t understand, a girl which he could never have had before and a herd of sea mares that he could only dream about. He said to his youngest son, ‘You have far surpassed me in everything that I have done. You have done more than I and without any energy being spent it seems.’

The son smiled and thought nothing of it. The youth gave the girl to his father.

Seven days and seven nights they celebrated the wedding. They had prepared such tasty food that it is a shame that my teeth couldn’t taste it. They had prepared such wine that my lips never got wet.

I was there and gave them each a whack and returned home. If you don’t believe me, then go away.

*This Chechen tale was translated from Russian version into English by Troy Morash, a Canadian story writer. Thanks him for shared his translation with us.

On war

— Üš mülaš bu, Dada, cu surta thexh berš? (Уьш муьлаш бу, Дада, цу сурта тIехь берш?)
— Horš masso a vayn gergara naх bu-q… (ХIорш массо а вайн гергара нах бу-кх…)
— Noхçiçöxh jaš bu üš? (Нохчичоьхь Iаш бу уьш?)
— Ha’… (ХIаъ…)
— Cigaxh thom bu, Dada? (Цигахь тIом бу, Дада?)
— Thom bu… (ТIом бу…)
— Mila vu noхçašca thom beš verg, Dada? (Мила ву нохчашца тIом беш верг, Дада?)
— Rußland.

-Grandfather, who are the people in the photo?
-They are all of our relatives
-Do they live in Chechnya?
-Yes…
-Is there a war, grandfather?
-War…
-Who is fighting with Chechens, grandfather?
-Russia!

— Oghaz baхnera üš noхçašna, Dada? (ОгIаз бахнера уьш нохчашна, Дада?)
— Baхnera… (Бахнера…)
— İ ċenoš cara doхiyna? (И цIенош цара дохийна?)
— Doхiyna… (Дохийна…)
— Dad, ċenošna hunda baхna üš öghaz, ċenoša hun dinera carna? (Дад, цIеношна хIунда бахна уьш оьгIаз, цIеноша хIун динера царна?)
— Humma a ca dinera-q… Šayna gondaxh derg hallak dan ben — qi humma a ca хäa carna… (ХIумма а ца динера-кх… Шайна гондахь дерг хIаллак дан бен — кхи хIумма а ца хаьа царна…)

-Are they angry at Chechens, grandfather?
-Yes…
-Were these houses destroyed by them?
-Yes…
-Grandfather, why are they angry at these houses, why did they do this?
-Yes, nothing was done to anger them… They have done nothing else, except destroy everything around them…

— Delana ca хäa cara i diniyla? (Делана ца хаьа цара и динийла?)
— Cunna ca хuuš humma a dac! (Цунна ца хууш хIумма а дац!)
— Thakqa Dela öghaz hunda ca vödu carna, Dada? (ТIаккха Дела оьгIаз хIунда ца воьду царна, Дада?)
— Sobar dokqa du cünan… (Собар доккха ду цуьнан…)

-Does Allah know what they have done?
-There is nothing that Allah doesn’t know!
-Then why didn’t Allah get angry at them, grandfather?
-His patience is limitless…

— Dada, cu Russlandexh jaš vuoniš bu duqa ya dikaniš? (Дада, цу Russlandехь Iаш вуониш бу дукха я диканиш?)
— Dikaniš alsam хila a tarlo… (Диканиш алсам хила а тарло…)
— Thakqa ocu dikaçara cu vuoçärga hunda boytu Noхçiyçoxh i thom? (ТIаккха оцу дикачара цу вуочаьрга хIунда бойту Нохчийчохь и тIом?)

-Grandfather, and in Russia, which one is more common: bad or good?
-Probably, good is more common…
-So why does this good allow the bad to fight in Chechnya?

Funeral (Tezet)

— Xho ċa ve’na, Dada? (Хьо цIа веъна, Дада?)
— Ve’na, san berza khorni. (Веъна, сан берза кIорни.)
— Dad, xho ma duqa jiyra ċa ca voghuš. Stengaxh vara xho qo de dokquš? (Дад, хьо ма дукха Iийра цIа ца вогIуш. Стенгахь вара хьо кхо де доккхуш?)
— So qeçu ghala vaхnera… (Со кхечу гIала вахнера…)
— Mülхaçu ghala? (Муьлхачу гIала?)
— Gamburge. (Гамбурге.)
— Hun dan vaхnera xho ciga, Dada? (ХIун дан вахнера хьо цига, Дада?)
— Tezet dara cigaxh. (Тезет дара цигахь.)
— “Tezet” boхurg hun du, Dada? (“Тезет” бохург хIун ду, Дада?)
— Noхçaš, cxha’ velça, Tezet hottado kertaxh. (Нохчаш, цхьаъ велча, Тезет хIоттадо кертахь.)
— Hunda? (ХIунда?)
— …Cu Tezeta bäхkinçu naхa kadam bo ocu vellaçunna. (…Цу Тезета баьхкинчу наха кадам бо оцу веллачунна.)
— Muхa bo cara i kadam, Dada? (Муха бо цара и кадам, Дада?)
— Cara olu: “Dala geçdoyla, Dala yalsamanexh vovšeх tuхiyla vay masso a!” (Цара олу: “Дала гечдойла, Дала ялсаманехь вовшех тухийла вай массо а!”)
— “Geçdoyla” boхurg hun du, Dada? (“Гечдойла” бохург хIун ду, Дада?)
— …Ocu vellaçungara dälla dolu vuoçu humanna, cunna öghazlo ma yelaxh, Dela, boхurg… (…Оцу веллачунгара даьлла долу вуочу хIуманна, цунна оьгIазло ма елахь, Дела, бохург…)

-Did you get back, grandfather?
-Yes, my cub.
-Grandfather, you were away for a long time. Where have you been these past three days?
-I went to another city.
-Which city?
-Hamburg.
-Why did you go there, grandfather?
-There was a funeral (tezet)
-What is tezet, grandfather?
-When someone dies, Chechens hold funeral in the courtyard.
-Why?
-For those who come to the funeral to express their condolences
-How do they express it, grandfather?
-They say, “Dala gech doyla, Dala yalsamanex vovshex tuxiyla vay masso a!” (May Allah have mercy upon her, may Allah gather all of us in paradise!)
-”May Allah have mercy” what does it mean, grandfather?
-It means don’t be angry, she is sorry for her bad deeds.

— Mila vara i vellarg, Dad? (Мила вара и велларг, Дад?)
— Bozhika nana… (Божика нана…)
— Comgaš yara Bozhika nana? (Цомгаш яра Божика нана?)
— Yacara… (Яцара…)
— Thakqa i hunda yella, Dada? (ТIаккха и хIунда елла, Дада?)
— Šena yillina хan çeq yalla dela yella-q… (Шена йиллина хан чекх ялла дела елла-кх…)

-And who was dead, grandfather?
-Bozhik’s mother
-Was Bozhik’s mother sick, grandfather?
-No…
-Then why did she die?
-Because her intended life was over…

— Qhena yara iza? (Къена яра иза?)
— Qi qhena a yacara… (Кхи къена а яцара…)
— Mass šo dara cünan, Dada? (Масс шо дара цуьнан, Дада?)
— Döaztqhe di’… (Доьазткъе диъ…)
— Nemcoyn mattaxh mel хülu i? (Немцойн маттахь мел хуьлу и?)
— Vierundachtzig. (Vierundachtzig.)
— Thakqa, xha döaztqhe di’ šo käaçça xho a liyra vu, Dada? (ТIаккха, хьа доьазткъе диъ шо каьачча хьо а лийра ву, Дада?)
— …İ хuuš Dela ben vac… (…И хууш Дела бен вац…)

-Was she old?
-Not so old…
-How old was she, grandfather?
-Eighty-four…
-How much is that in the German language?
-Vierundachtzig.
-And when you turn 84, will you die too, grandfather?
-…Only Allah knows…

— Dad, axh so hunda ca vigara xhayca, xho Bozhik volçu vödaš? (Дад, ахь со хIунда ца вигара хьайца, хьо Божик волчу воьдаш?)
— Cqhadelaxh, xho vizhna vara so novqhavoluš. Šozlagha delaxh — xho sanna volun kegiyraçera mettig yac Tezet. (Цкъаделахь, хьо вижна вара со новкъаволуш. ШозлагIа делахь — хьо санна волун кегийрачера меттиг яц Тезет.)
— Suna a li’anera xhöca Tezeta van, Bozhike kadam ban… (Суна а лиъанера хьоьца Тезета ван, Божике кадам бан…)
— Muхa ban vollara xho cünga kadam? (Муха бан воллара хьо цуьнга кадам?)
— Asa cünga eradara: “Bozhik, Dala geçdoyla, Dala yalsamanexh vovšeх tuхiyla vay masso a!” (Аса цуьнга эрадара: “Божик, Дала гечдойла, Дала ялсаманехь вовшех тухийла вай массо а!”)
— İza-m xhöga zje töхna a alalur du, xhuna ištta laaxh. Tuхiy axh? (Иза-м хьоьга зIе тоьхна а алалур ду, хьуна иштта лаахь. Тухий ахь?)
— Tuхa. (Туха.)
— Ha, hara yu xhuna, djatoхa… (ХIа, хIара ю хьуна, дIатоха…)
— …Dada, so Bozhike vist хilla välça — “yalsamana” stenaх olu düycur duy axh suna? (…Дада, со Божике вист хилла ваьлча — “ялсамана” стенах олу дуьйцур дуй ахь суна?)
— Düycur du… (Дуьйцур ду…)

-Grandfather, why didn’t you take me with you, when you were going to Bozhik?
-First of all, when I left, you were sleeping. Secondly, a funeral is not a place for kids.
-I would like to express my condolences for Bozhik also…
-How would you do it?
-I would have said: “May Allah have mercy on her, may Allah gather all of us in paradise!)
-If you want, there is a telephone and you can do it. Will you call?
-Yes, I will call him.
-…Grandfather, when I finish my talk with Bozhik, could you tell me what it is like in paradise?
-I will tell you…

Flag

— Dad, cara hun do massara a? (Дад, цара хIун до массара а?)
— Xhan? (Хьан?)
— Nemcoša. “Tu-tu-tu” boхuš i šayn mašenaš hunda yekayo cara? (Немцоша. “Ту-ту-ту” бохуш и шайн машенаш хIунда екайо цара?)
— Samuqhadälla, хazaхetaš. (Самукъадаьлла, хазахеташ.)
— Hun хazdellla carna, Dada? (ХIун хазделла царна, Дада?)
— Šäšša tolam bäkqina… (Шаьшша толам баьккхина…)
— Thakqa i bayraqaš a samuqhadälla öхkina cara šayn mašenaš the? (ТIаккха и байракхаш а самукъадаьлла оьхкина цара шайн машенаш тIе?)
— Öхkina… (Оьхкина…)
— Dada, vayn mašenthexh hunda yac noхçiyn bayraq, — noхçašna bürkanaх lovza ca хäa? (Дада, вайн машентIехь хIунда яц нохчийн байракх, — нохчашна буьрканах ловза ца хаьа?)
— Noхçašna šaderrig a dan хäa!.. (Нохчашна шадерриг а дан хаьа!..)
— Thakqa üš hunda ca lovzu bürkanaх, Deutschland sanna, — suna noхçaškxha хila ma läara? (ТIаккха уьш хIунда ца ловзу буьрканах, Deutschland санна, — суна нохчашкхьа хила ма лаьара ?)
— Yiš yac cera… Šayna çöxh jan ċenoš dan dezaš bu üš… (Йиш яц цера… Шайна чоьхь Iан цIенош дан дезаш бу уьш…)
— Rußland-c doхiyna dolu ċenoššiy? (Rußland-c дохийна долу цIеношший?)
— Ha’… (ХIаъ…)

-Grandfather, what are they all doing?
-Who?
-Germans. They make noise with their cars “Tu-tu-tu”.
-Cheer, pleasure.
-What do they enjoy, grandfather?
-Their victory…
-And they fastened the flags to their cars, because they are happy?
-Yes…
-Grandfather, why you don’t have Chechen flag on your car, do Chechens not know how to play football?
-Chechens can do everything!
-Then why don’t they play football as in Deutschland (Germany)? I would like to root for Chechens.
-They will.. When they re-build their houses…
-The houses which were destroyed by Russians?
-Yes…

— Dada, ċenoš dina bövlaça lovzur buy noхçiy masso a sanna? (Дада, цIенош дина боьвлача ловзур буй нохчий массо а санна?)
— Dala muqhalaxh! (Дала мукъалахь!)
— Dad, suna cqhaçunna Deutschland-egaxha хilla läa, megar duy? (Дад, суна цкъачунна Deutschland-егахьа хила лаьа, мегар дуй?)
— Megar du, хila, xhayna laaxh… (Мегар ду, хила, хьайна лаахь…)

-Grandfather, when they finish building their houses, will they play like everyone else?
-InsaAllah (If Allah pleases)!
-Grandfather, I want to cheer for Deutschland. Is it possible?
-You can, if you want…

I do not know how to laugh as loudly as before. Remember how I was catching snowflakes Waltzing widely outstretched long fingers?
Sorry, that half-close lids slightly faded from the melancholy eyes. Do you remember their sky blue, and I came to you with a gray, like rock.

Come dance with you.
I want to declare a white dance.
The first step, and we return to the distant past close.
Oh, those fountain water drops !

Remember …

Do you remember the taste of water from the fountain, on the waterfront Sunja, opposite the Hotel “Chaika”?
Do you remember how I managed to cross the new bridge, when the mischievous cloud overstrained and poured rain all over my back?
And those tame squirrels that lived in the city center?
Do you remember the intoxicating smell of roses, which stood above the square?
A Blossoming lilacs along the alleys of Pervomayskaya?
Winking sun, silver horn of half-Moon, which could reach. A moiré cape short summer nights, embroidered with gold? A web white frost, lost a sloppy winter?
Oh, and one day when I slipped and fell straight to a blue spruce?

Many years passed, I’ve never seen such a beautiful spruce.

Do you remember how we ran with a lectures, pre-translated arrowsof wall clock clocks for a quarter of an hour ahead and sat in a cinema “Rodina”, the fifteenth time watching the film “Abba”?
Oh, and poplar fluff that climbed into his mouth and ears?

As we sat in the ice-cream, noisy, drank “Tarragon” emerald green, eating ice cream with grated chocolate, a free translation of Shakespeare, Chaucer and read aloud in chorus sang:

-Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.

And we sang just as good as “Beatles” did. Did’nt we?

And the nightingale’s warble interspersed with the tram bell. Magic singing cicadas, a myriad of fireflies in the meadow, embroidered with golden buttercups and wild daisies, suns. Jolly frog orchestra and falling stars.

Then we were happy.

You know, do not even have time to appreciate what is there.

It seemed that the world is woven from threads of kindness, tenderness and affection. Intoxicating taste of fresh milk and fresh cream trickles pretty bored. Chocolate “Seventh Heaven”, a milkshake and lemonade “Duchess.”

One fine morning, all gone. There was some anxiety and a feeling that you fly down the mountain. Wheel of life began to turn at a breakneck pace. “Snickers”, “Mars”, hot dogs, a Turkish biscuit, which was consumed as a sheet of paper, leather, fur, enabling powerful cars. Silk, crystal and Bohemian glass. Flea markets, which drove around the Great Caucasus. Arms Market, gunpowder and stray bullets.

Do you remember the huge brown eyes and his seven-year Edik’s frozen smile?

He did not even understand why they killed him. Today, when, his killer is dead, I tell you that his thirty years old uncle bought a Kalashnikov rifle and decided to check whether the fall in stray dogs. Lucky dog. but Edick was not. His schoolbag was left standing on the windowsill. His mom quietly gone mad after learning that her husband agreed to take his brother’s car backed into the sign of silence and the disclosure of child murder by negligence.

I know it hurt you when I recall the roar of tanks, the noise of gunfire and the roar of the bombers.

Quiet weeping of grannies, babies’ cry, lump in throat men madly love their families, but forced to go to war. Woman, biting her lips, which can not afford to stop their husbands. It iIs not accepted in our society to show the purity of their relationship. And to show our weakness in public.

Do you remember my friend Asherah? On the day when we were bombed, her nineteen-daughter was there with his mother. Student of one of Moscow institutes for mom came into town, which already lay in ruins. I walked out of the basement and saw Medinat keeps bleeding mortally wounded mother. Quietly weeps tears of blood, stroking a single wrinkle on the white mother’s face, saying:

- Mommy, how did it happen that I have not had time to see that your wrinkles? It appeared in the day when you let me in a strange city? And maybe that day when I said that I fell in love and I have a suggestion? And maybe that day when my father got married, dreaming about his son? And maybe that day when we lost connection between because of this war? Mom, darling, you’re so beautiful. I put on your head a green ribbon. Just you wait for me. Be sure to wait.

I barely touched her shoulder when she was not looking at me and asked:

- Correct mom legs. They are somehow ugly lies. Pull the skirt of her dress and cover the knee.

When I returned with my neighbor, we found killed Medinat. Some sniper made another notch on his gun-cannon of killings. My gun is a pen and notebook. And I was taught the methods of teaching foreign languages. Medinat dreamied to treat children. Asherah baked the most delicious cakes and tarts. A sniper learned how to shoot. Perhaps he, too, was a diligent student.

I know, dear, you’ve seen thousands of deaths. You saw the children, whose eyes saw dying parents. You have seen hundreds of mothers who have nothing to feed their hungry children. Tens of thousands of maimed, disfigured by two world wars. Heard the earth was humming, calling heaven to witness. Saw the sun and moon, mourning saints and sinners, whose corpse was eaten dog.

Do you remember those mad people who were dragging carts refrigerators, televisions, old carpets and broken lockers?

Tracer bullets whistle, blast waves, covering the ruins of the once buried in the greenery of the city. Checkpoints. Dirty Math. Shouting. Shots. Arrests. Fear of an impending night, when you knock drunk armed, masked men. Well, if you take away the last penny. And when they require you to plead guilty in the desire to live? How to explain that you are at home? How to explain that you are not afraid of death?

This toothless old nag did not look into us by age, sex, religion, language and health. She took very strong, newborn, sick, deaf and dumb. Why she left the octogenarian Idris? Looked to him by a stray bullet, broke the right forearm, tore off his left ear, has deprived the right foot, fell from a heart attack, double-trodden microstroke, took his grandchildren and his only son, and left to sit on the bench of the destroyed house. Blinded by salty tears Ramin, a trembling hand gives him a cane and helps to get up. He makes a few steps and waiting for his old, help him make a few more steps before the war killed the garden, which he gave sixty years of his life.

And remember …

Remember …

Stage, museums and exhibitions. Colored singing fountains, a merry-go-round, a swimming pool and a park of Culture. Sun-smelling peaches, poured juice grapes, carved maple outfits and large kernels and astringent berries of dogwood medlar. Turn sour and bright stars of late flowers, heads bowed under the weight of the first snow.

Thread memory I associate the fragments of his and your life.

Believe me, during those years, having lived away from you, I have suffered. Not for one second you will not forget. Very rarely in their anxiety dreams flitted swallow, trying to come back to you.

Praying for you, asking God to tighten your wounds.

I know that you’re a hero. A real hero, wait in a brutal war, started mad. Some you killed, while others loved. A third pulled with you all the juices.

My hero, I have returned to you. And before I leave, I want to drop to your lips, chest to cuddle and whisper:

- And how much I love you, my dear, darling!

Let’s dance, my Solzha-ghala- Hero City!

Zura Itsmeolord

Fifty of sixy years ago it was stil common for older people in Europe and North America to inculcate their children and grandchildren with proverbs and sayings that were pithy and apt – to instruct, to admonish, to encourage, but especially to emphasize morals. In countries where the English language predominates, there is now almost a taboo against repeating anything. As a result, many of our proverbs – mean to be repeated- which helped put difficult social, ethnical and spiritual problems into perspective, have almost disappeared from everyday speech. This has not been the case in Chechnya, where the horrors of war and deportation have given hard-won traditional wisdom an ever greater value.

The Chechens have had to battle a living out of a difficult geography, and they have been forced to fight a long and ugly wars against endless incursions into their land. In spite of this, or maybe because of it,

Chechen proverbs and tales teach a child to respect all living beings and nature. There is nothing unimportant in life: As the saying goes, “If you leave a peg in the ground, you’ll have a headache, if you kill a frog, a cow will die, if you catch a butterfly, your sister will lose her joy of heart” (L.Usmanov, 1999a)

If “Discerning people must Exchange maxims”, as proposed by a poet in the Exeter Book (Anglo-Saxon Poetry, London: J.M. Dent, 1995, p.346), perhaps discerning nations should as well. It may be hoped that the wisdom contained in the proverbs of the Chechens spreads beyond the bookshelves of scholars and libraries to return to the world they emerged from, and the role they were intended for, amongst those struggling to live with a modium of decency in the everyday world.

To end with a simple truism – It is hard to be a Chechen. From this hardness springs to good sense that follows.

JonArno Lawson

Customs and traditions:

Vokkaço boxurg dinam doxkovälla vac.
Воккачо бохург динам дохковаьлла вац.
He who obeys the elder will not regret it.

Vokkaxaç’nga lacadöghnarg – or çu vözhna.
Воккахачьнга лацадоьгlнарг – ор чу воьжна.
He who didn’t listen to the elder fell in the pit.

Dottaghço bеllaçu dinna baga ma xhеzha.
Доттагlчо беллачу динна бага ма хьежа.
Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Khaldmarzaš a da yuuš, vaxna xhaša.
Кlалдмарзаш а да юуш, вахна хьаша.
Waiting for the cow to calve, the guest went away empty-handed [literally: without having the beestings]

Noxçi xila xala du.
Нохчи хила хала ду.
It is hard to be a Chechen.

Xhaša-da ca lorurg Dalla a lorur vac.
Хьаша-да ца лорург Далла а лорур вац.
God is mean to inhospitable people.

Personal qualities, demenaur and beauty:

Bеdеrе ma xhazha, stagе xhazha.
Бедере ма хьажа, стаге хьажа.
Don’t scrutinize the clothes, observe the man.

Von qhig von jäxa.
Вон къиг вон lаьха.
A bad cow sounds bad.

Von xila atta du, dika xila xala du.
Вон хила атта ду, дика хила хала ду.
It is easy to be bad, but very hard to be good.

Doš – doš dacaxä, duy – duy a bac.
Дош – дош дацахаь, дуй – дуй а бац.
If a word, not a word, then an oath, not an oath.

Duqalеr – dеti, jadjar – dеši.
Дукхалер – дети, lадlар – деши.
Silence is golden.

Qhünna qhu vеvza.
Къуьнна къу вевза.
It takes a thief to know a thief. Birds of a feather flock together.

Loxa stag dеgala xülu.
Лоха стаг дегала хуьлу.
A short man is touchy. He that has a great nose thinks everybody is speaking of it.

Stеgan kuc a, siy a diyrig thеyüyxina bеdar yu.
Стеган куц а, сий а дийриг тlеюьйхина бедар ю.
Demeanour, honour and toil make the man.

Xaza yoj tiša koç yüyxiça a xaza yu.
Хаза йоl тиша коч юьйхича а хаза ю.
A beautiful girl is beautiful even in old clothes.

Xazalla – sarralc, dikalla – vallalc.
Хазалла – сарралц, дикалла – валлалц.
Beauty lasts till the evening, good manners till death.

Çoa düyxinço so a ca yügu, ghovtal yüyxinçünga so a ca yödu.
Чоа дуьйхинчо со а ца юьгу, гlовтал юьйхинчуьнга со а ца йоьду.
If I have a cherkesska on, I wouldn’t have a care (in the world), but if I am wearing beshmet, I wouldn’t go out.

Humility, conceit, bad luck and malice:

Das xastiyna govr xhalxa ca yälla.
Дас хастийна говр хьалха ца яьлла.
The horse that had been praised to the skies was left behind.

Dеqhazçunna gönan mäghig a yälla.
Декъазчунна гоьнан маьгlиг а яьлла.
An unfortunate man would be drowned in a tea-cup.

Mеl mеkara cxhogal a guro läcna.
Мел мекара цхьогал а гуро лаьцна.
The most cunning fox had fallen in the trap.

Uggar xazçu stagana -cüna- m vorta yеxa yara, älla.
Уггар хазчу стагана -цуьна- м ворта еха яра, аьлла.
Even about the handsome man they said he had a long neck.

Xho cxhogal dеlaxh a, cxhogalan ċoga-m so a du xhuna.
Хьо цхьогал делахь а, цхьогалан цlога-м со а ду хьуна.
If you are a fox, then I am a fox’s tail. I am more cunning than you.

Hor xinbеdo a šеn jam xеstabo.
Хlор хинбедо а шен lам хестабо.
Every sandpiper praises his own bog. Every cook praises his own broth.

Bravery, rashness, prudence and cowardice:

Ätto bolçoxh lata, ätto bocçoxh vada.
Аьтто болчохь лата, аьтто боцчохь вада.
When you can, strike, when you can’t, run.

Barzax qäruš ša vеlaxh, xhünax ma gho.
Барзах кхаьруш ша велахь, хьуьнах ма гlо.
He who is afraid of wolves must not go in the wood.

Bеgaš – dеvnan yüxhigaš.
Бегаш – девнан юьхьигаш.
A joke is the beginning of a quarrel.

Ghaz thäxha xhadça, bеqa a ca vöxna.
Гlаз тlаьхьа хьадча, бекха а ца воьхна.
(Ironic) And Bek did not panic when goose ran after him!

Dikanig hun du älça, pxhagalo zhop dеlla: ša zhjälеna galе šеna zhjäla gar du, älla.
Диканиг хlун ду аьлча, пхьагало жоп делла: ша жlаьлена гале шена жlаьла гар ду, аьлла.
When asked, “What is good?”, the hare replied: “To see dog before it sees me.”

İrçu türna a öšu dika da.
Ирчу туьрна а оьшу дика да.
A cutting sword needs sharp wit to wield it.

Kotam a xilla vеxaçul, njäna a xilla vеlça tölu.
Котам а хилла вехачул, нlаьна а хилла велча тоьлу.
Rather than live like a chicken, it is better to die a cock.

Qеra ma qеra, xhayn bеxk bacaxh.
Кхера ма кхера, хьайн бехк бацахь.
Don’t be afraid if you are innocent. A clear conscience laughs at false accusations.

Quzza yuеta, ck’a djaxadaе.
Кхузза юета, цкьа дlахадае.
Measure thrice and cut one.

Noxçiyn vordana xi’ça, noxçiyi illi ala; ghumkiyn vodana xi’ça, ghumiyi illi ala.
Нохчийн вордана хиъча, нохчийи илли ала; гlумкийн водана хиъча, гlумийи илли ала.
When you ride in a Chechen cart, sing a Chechen song; when you ride a Kumyk cart, sing a Kumyk song. Do in Rome as the Romans do.

Oyla yocuš lеttarg ka docuš vеlla.
Ойла йоцуш леттарг ка доцуш велла.
Don’t enter rashly into a futile fight. Look before you leap.

Six a ma lo, vic a ma lo.
Сих а ма ло, виц а ма ло.
Don’t rush, and don’t doze off.

Sixalla -sonalla, sobar- qеtam.
Сихалла -соналла, собар- кхетам.
Rashness is folly, patience is a talent.

Turpalxouun nana ca yölxu.
Турпалхоуун нана ца йоьлху.
The mother of the hero doesn’t cry. Safe bind, safe find. Caution is the parent of safety.

Tür-tölan çov yörzuš yu, mеttan çov yörzuš yac.
Туьр-тоьлан чов йоьрзуш ю, меттан чов йоьрзуш яц.
A sabre/gun wound would heal but that ıf the tongue festers forever. Maany words cut more than swords.

Thäxhеnе ladiyghinçux qhonax ca xilla.
Тlаьхьене ладийгlинчух къонах ца хилла.
He who thinks about consequences cannot be brave.

Xi çu ma vala, nеka xuuš vacaxh.
Хи чу ма вала, нека хууш вацахь.
Don’t go into river, if you can’t swim.

Xhallxa xhazhaza kog ma bakqa, thеxha xhazhaza doš ma ala.
Хьаллха хьажаза ког ма баккха, тlехьа хьажаза дош ма ала.
Take no steps before you look in front of you, utter no word before you look behind you.

Çoxh mayralla – araxh stеšxalla.
Чохь майралла – арахь стешхалла.
Bravery at home, cowardice outside. Brave before a lamb, but a lamb before the brave.

Šеn kеthеxh njäna a xülu mayra.
Шен кетlехь нlаьна а хуьлу майра.
A cock is valiant on his own dunghill. Every dog is valiant at his own door.

Šina baldal aradallalc xhan lay du doš, aradеli – xho cünan lay vu.
Шина балдал арадаллалц хьан лай ду дош, арадели – хьо цуьнан лай ву.
Until a word escapes from your lips, it is your slave; once it escapes, you become its slave.

Yässa huma çhogha yеka.
Яьсса хlума чlогlа ека.
Empty vessels make the loudest sound.

Jäxça – barzo bö, ca jäxça – jüno bö.
lаьхча – барзо боь, ца lаьхча – lуьно боь.
If you bleat, the wolf will carry you away; if you keep quiet, the shepherd will cut your throat. Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

Work, utilitarism, mutual benefit and sloth:

Äxxka malo – jay xalo.
Аьххка мало – lай хало.
Idleness in summer, torment in winter. They must hunger in winter that will not work in summer.

Äxkеnan cxhana diyio jänan butt qobu.
Аьхкенан цхьана дийио lаьнан бутт кхобу.
A summer’s day labour provides for a whole month of winter.

Bolx bar – cxha qhinxhеgam, ca bar – ši qhinxhеgam.
Болх бар – цхьа къинхьегам, ца бар – ши къинхьегам.
To work is only one hardship, not to work is two.

Vorda yöxça – dеçig, stu bеlça – zhizhig.
Ворда йоьхча – дечиг, сту белча – жижиг.
If the wagon breaks – wood, if the bull dies – meat.

Dan dеzarg qanеnga dеxkinarg dеzaçux xhöguš växna.
Дан дезарг кханенга дехкинарг дезачух хьоьгуш ваьхна.
Never put off till tomorrow what may be done today.

Küygo küg dülu.
Куьйго куьг дуьлу.
One hand washes another. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.

Oxuš ällarg oruš kariyna.
Охуш аьлларг оруш карийна.
One must reap as one has sown.

Stu oza ca xilça, ċa dеrstana xir dac.
Сту оза ца хилча, цlа дерстана хир дац.
If the ox doesn’t become emaciated, the family won’t become fat.

Xazçu bjästеnal yüzna güyrе tölu.
Хазчу бlаьстенал юьзна гуьйре тоьлу.
A replenishing autumn is beter than a beautiful spring.

Xalonax ma qеra, attanig ma lеxa.
Халонах ма кхера, аттаниг ма леха.
Don’t be afraid of asperity, and don’t look for the easy way out.

Knowledge, common-sense, wise men and fools:

Buhanna diynaxh sa cagarx, malxana bеxk ia vila.
Бухlанна дийнахь са цагарх, малхана бехк иа вила.
The sun is not to be blamed if the owl doesn’t see in the daylight.

Viran ċoga läcnarg xе växhna, dinan ċoga läcnarg välla.
Виран цlога лаьцнарг хе ваьхьна, динан цlога лаьцнарг ваьлла.
He who grasps the tail of an ass will be drowned, and he who holds on the tail of a horse will come off unhurt.

Viran ša vir yuyla ca xi’na, lеrg läcnarg välla.
Виран ша вир юйла ца хиъна, лерг лаьцнарг ваьлла.
It was only when they pulled at his ear that the ass was reminded that he was an ass.

Guraxh sеl karaxh lеqh tölu.
Гурахь сел карахь лекъ тоьлу.
A quail in the hand is better than a deer autumn. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

Dеšar – sеrlo, cadеšar – boda.
Дешар – серло, цадешар – бода.
Knowledge is light, ignorance is darkness.

Diyc-diycanarš dеrrig a dac baqh xülušyu.
Дийц-дийцанарш дерриг а дац бакъ хуьлушю.
Not everything that is said is true.

Zudarša thargha bittiça, cxhogalo šеn ċoga dittina.
Зударша тlаргlа биттича, цхьогало шен цlога диттина.
Seeing the woman washing the wool, the vixen washed her tail. [Said an absurd imitation]

Körtеxh xhеk’al’ ca xilça kogaša qhaxhogu.
Коьртехь хъекьаль ца хилча когаша къахьогу.
When the head is empty, the legs must suffer.

Liyr vocuš sanna dеša, vala kiçça vaxa.
Лийр воцуш санна деша, вала кичча ваха.
Learn as if you will never perish, [and] always live as if ready to die.

Naxana däkqinçu or çu ša qеtta.
Нахана даьккхинчу ор чу ша кхетта.
He that dug a hole for others fell in it himself. He that mischief hatches, mischief catches.

Thеxh stom ca xilça, dittana ghazh ca qussu.
Тlехь стом ца хилча, диттана гlаж ца кхуссу.
If there is no fruit on the tree, don’t throw a stick into it. You can’t do the impossible. What cannot be cured must be endured.

“Xaac”, “dac” – cxha doš, “xiira”, “dayra” – yеzar doš.
“Хаац”, “дац” – цхьа дош, “хиира”, “дайра” – езар дош.
“I don’t know” make “one” word; “I know”, “I saw” lead a thousand.

Xazçu dašo jürgara läxha bäkqina.
Хазчу дашо lуьргара лаьхьа баьккхина.
A nice word enticed the snake out of its hole.

Xazçu vеdda xhеra khеl ikqina.
Хазчу ведда хьера кlел иккхина.
He escaped from the water only to throw himself under the mill. Out of the frying-pan into the fire.

Xhoqax hoz xilla bac, virboqhax din xilla bac.
Хьокхах хlоз хилла бац, вирбокъах дин хилла бац.
A stick won’t bend to form a wheel rim, nor will ass grow up to be a horse. What is bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh.

Jovdalo yäkqina šälta mayraçu staga yäkqinçul qеramе yu.
lовдало яьккхина шаьлта майрачу стага яьккхинчул кхераме ю.
A dagger drawn by the fool is more dangerous than that drawn by the brave.

Fate, outlook on life, human nature and the nature of things:

Voçu diynax dika dе xilla stagax dika stag ca xilla.
Вочу дийнах дика де хилла стагах дика стаг ца хилла.
A rainy day may turn into a fine one, but a bad man never transforms into a good person. Can the leopard change his spots?

Gaza yi’naçu körtax ċе yälla.
Газа йиъначу коьртах цlе яьлла.
He who has eaten up the goat has his head on fire. An uneasy conscience betrays itself.

Gеnara zurma xazaxеta.
Генара зурма хазахета.
The distant zurna is (more) pleasant. The grass is always greener on the other side.

Yoghuçu nabarna ghoyla xhašt yac.
Йогlучу набарна гlойла хьашт яц.
If you are sleepy, there is no need for a head for the bed.

Küpçiço pxhеghiyn tham šеna lu’uçu bullu.
Куьпчичо пхьегlийн тlам шена луъучу буллу.
The potter places the vessel handle wherever he wants.

Qhanvеllarg qhon lur vac, vеllarg dеn lur vac.
Къанвелларг къон лур вац, велларг ден лур вац.
When we grow hoary, youth is forever gone, and if we perish, we shall never arise. [Reminiscent of ‘The Song of Death’]

Qhünna qhola diça, dеla a vеlavеlla.
Къуьнна къола дича, дела а велавелла.
When they robbed the thief, even God laughed.

Lam lamanax ca qеta, adam adamax qеta.
Лам ламанах ца кхета, адам адамах кхета.
A mountain does not meet with a mountain, but man does meet with a man.

Littana thе makqal xi’ça, güyrе thеqaçaran, bilgalo yu.
Литтана тlе маккхал хиъча, гуьйре тlекхачаран, билгало ю.
The kite perched on the stok – [a sure sign that] autumn will soon be here.

Makqal thеxi’na koll a märša yac lurvöllaçu stagana.
Маккхал тlехиъна колл а маьрша яц лурвоьллачу стагана.
Even the bush on which the kite perched fears the blood enemy. Once bitten twice shy.

Nеxan vonax ca qiyrinarg šеn dikanax viylina vac.
Нехан вонах ца кхийринарг шен диканах вийлина вац.
He who knows has never dreaded evil doesn’t know whay joy is. He knows best what good is that has endured evil. Who has never tasted bitter knows not what is sweet.

Stiglaxh marxa yocuš dogha dölxur dac, kiyraxh bala bocuš bjärg bölxur bac.
Стиглахь марха йоцуш догlа доьлхур дац, кийрахь бала боцуш бlаьрг боьлхур бац.
There is no rain without clouds, and tears won’t tell up without grief in the heart.

Thäxha dika docuš, von doghur dac.
Тlаьхьа дика доцуш, вон догlур дац.
Every cloud has a silver lining.

Ċе yocuš khur xir bac.
Цlе йоцуш кlур хир бац.
There’s no smoke without fire.

Yutqha yolluçoxh xеda.
Юткъа йоллучохь хеда.
The chain is no stronger that its weakest link.

Yalaxh Hata ca yalaxha, Minga bilggal vеlla.
Ялахь Хlата ца ялахьа, Минга билггал велла.
A shot to kill is taken at Kh’ata, but it misfires; (however)Minga perishes for certain. Whatever will be, will be. There is no escaping fate.

On one’s native land, home, familial relations, friends, neighbours and ancestors:

Ala yojе, xaza nеsе.
Ала йоlе, хаза несе.
Say it to the daughter so that the daughter-in-law might hear. [North Caucasian way of dropping a hint to daughter-in-law]

Ätto mеl bu – gеrgara, ätto böxça gеnara.
Аьтто мел бу – гергара, аьтто боьхча генара.
A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Bart bocu yurt a, bart bocu dözal a hallaqilla.
Барт боцу юрт а, барт боцу доьзал а хlаллакхилла.
A village without unanimity and a family not in accord will both perish. There is strength in union.

Vaša vocu vaša – tham bocu lеça.
Ваша воцу ваша – тlам боцу леча.
A brother without a brother is like a falcon without a wing.

Voçu thäxhеno day büycu.
Вочу тlаьхьено дай буьйцу.
A bad generation praises the ancestors (instead of the descendants).

Gеnarçu yiš – vеšеl gеrgara lulaxo tölu.
Генарчу йиш – вешел гергара лулахо тоьлу.
Better a close neighbour than a distant relative.

Daymoxk – yalsamanе, nеxan moxk – zhözhaxatе.
Даймохк – ялсамане, нехан мохк – жоьжахате.
The fatherland is heaven, a foreign land is hell.

Dika lulaxo – tеšam, von lulaxo – ešna.
Дика лулахо – тешам, вон лулахо – эшна.
A good neighbour – that’s confidence; a bad neighbour – that’s deficiency.

Dikaçu khantana dottaghiy ca ešam.
Дикачу кlантана доттагlий ца эшам.
A worthy man is never short of friends.

Khanta zuda yaliyça nеnеn boyna buqh – yoj marе yaxça nisbеlla.
Кlанта зуда ялийча ненен бойна букъ – йоl маре яхча нисбелла.
The son gets married, the back of mother bends; the daughter marries, it becomes straight (again).

Nеnan öghazlo lo sanna yu, dukqa a dogha, amma sixa dеša.
Ненан оьгlазло ло санна ю, дуккха а догlа, амма сиха деша.
A mother’s anger is like snow: quick to come and quick to go.

Ċеra von daxça, arara dika ca doghu.
Цlера вон дахча, арара дика ца догlу.
If evil comes out of the house, good will not come from without. Do as you would be done by. As the call, so the echo.

Šеn ċa – ċiyn ċa, – älla bеn böxnaçu xhozano.
Шен цlа – цlийн цlа, – аьлла бен боьхначу хьозано.
“My house is a blood home,” said the sparrow about its squalid nest. [Conveys love for one’s home]

Ši mostagh cxhana txov khеl ca tarlo.
Ши мостагl цхьана тхов кlел ца тарло.
Two enemies cannot live under the same roof.

Ezar dottagh vеrg välla, ezеr stug-еtt bеrg vayna.
Эзар доттагl верг ваьлла, эзер стуг-етт берг вайна.
Having a thousand friends – you are saved; having a thousand head of cattle – you perish.

Yürtana a dеrg lovzar du.
Юьртана а дерг ловзар ду.
That which concerns the entire village is a festival. Company in distress makes trouble less.

Jazh jozhana gеna ca buzhu.
lаж lожана гена ца бужу.
An apple does not fall from the apple-tree. Like father like son.

Health, wealth and cleanliness:

Mogašalla bazaraxh yuxkuš yac.
Могашалла базарахь юхкуш яц.
Health is not sold at the bazaar.

Mrguš vеlaxh vеxaš vu.
Мргуш велахь вехаш ву.
Health is wealth.

Xox -iss djovš, säramsеq- iss darba.
Хох -исс дlовш, саьрамсекх- исс дарба.
Onion is nine poisons, garlic is nine remedies.

Ċonalla – mogašalla.
Цlоналла – могашалла.
Cleanliness is health.

Sources and References:

Aidaev, Yu.A., “Chechenskie narodnie poslovitsi i pogovorki [Chechen National Proverbs and Sayings]“, in Yu.A. Aidiev (ed.), 1996, pp.311-20
Aidaev, Yu. And Tsugaev, Kh.-M., “Noxçiyn Kicanaš [Chechen Proverbs and Sayings]“, Grozny: Chechen-Ingush Book Pres, 1976
Aidamirov, A., “Kuvshin Mudrıstei: Chechenskie poslovitsi i pogovorki [Jug of Wisdom: Chechen Proverbs and Sayings]“, http://www.daymohk.info/biblioteka/kuvshin_mudrostey/predislovie.html
Dzhambekov, Sh.A., “Kicanaš [Proverbs and Sayings]“, in Sh.A. Dzhambekov, 1991 (1990), pp.190-221
Elmurzaev, S., “Kicanaš [Proverbs and Sayings]“, in S.Elmurzaev, 1964, vol.2
Matsiev, A.G., “Noxçiyn Xalqan Kicanaš [Chechen National Proverbs and Sayings]“, Grozny: Chechen-Ingush Book Pres, 1964
Shamba, O. (compiler), Proverbs and Sayings of the Caucasian Mountain Peoples, trans. T.Rodkina, Sukhumi: Tina Ltd, 1992
A number of proverbs and sayings were also taken from A.G. Matsiev, 1961.

Taken from “The Chechens: A Handbook“, Amjad Jaimoukha

The girl glides like a white swan, gracefully bending her figure and smoothly moving her hand. The boy pursues her around the circle, either following her or blocking her way in a swift spurt. The rhythm becomes more and more expressive, their eyes are burning and the air is torn by screams: “H1ors! H1ors to1!” The boy twines around the girl like a whirligig: “Ors-toh! Toh! H1ors!”. Indeed, this dance should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know, initially all dances of the world had meaning. They were components of sacred ceremonial rites and reflections of the spiritual culture of a people. The echoes of a ritual act are clearly seen in Waynakh dances.

Finally, what does this mysterious exclamation mean: “H1ors (ors), h1ors to1 (ors-toh)”?

The legend of “The maintenance of judges of Tkhaba-Yerd temple” tells us about the fact that Waynakh dance carries the echo of some ancient mystery. Here is a fragment from this legend:

“There were two circles drawn near the Tkhaba-Yerd temple: the smaller one in the center and the bigger one from the outer side. The newlyweds were brought to dance in this strip between two circles in the presence of judges. If a dancer even slightly touched the line of one of the circles, inner or outer, then the judges exclaimed: ‘E-e, narto!’ This exclamation meant, that the dancer violated the line. The bridegroom was brought to give maintenance for three days to the judges again after a year and to dance again with his wife along this circle. This could be repeated every year, until the pair danced flawlessly…”

But what ritual sense did our ancestors put into the dance?

One can mark out the most important elements of the dance, which are connected with the sacred rites:

1. Circle (the dance is performed along the circle);

2. The presence of one pair;

3. The movement of a man behind a woman (“pursuit”), or attempt by a man to block the woman’s way;

4. The position of man’s arms: he moves his arms apart (something like cross) or bends one arm keeping his hand near his breast, and he moves the other arm apart, leading it behind a woman (something like swastika);

5. It also remained as an archaism, that a man embraces the woman’s waist by closing his fingers behind her back, but not touching her body. In later times this gesture was interpreted as a sign of daring;

6. The movement was performed in a slow tempo. According to the words of old people, earlier dances were slower. It was regarded as shame if metal pendants which decorated Caucasian belts would collide and clank during the dance. In addition, earlier dance competitions were organized by hooking a certain amount of the alchiks to the belt (alchik is beef bone used in games). The dancers were gradually hastening the tempo; the one whose alchiks collided, lost. Presently, Chechen and Ingush dances are performed in the most furious manner among all Caucasian dances, and the strict rites of the dance are not observed;

7. If a man blocks woman’s way and she cannot move, she should whirl in place;

8. A man, getting up on his tiptoes, throws up his arms maximally above his head (by the way, at the beginning of 19th century, under the charm of Caucasian dance, Paris ballet “got up on their tiptoes”);

9. It was a shame if a man touches a woman during the dance, even if they are relatives, unlike Kabardians and Adige’s in which men and women perform some dances arm in arm. (And here not only Waynakh customs are seen, where a strange man touching a woman is considered at the same level as adultery. You know, some other North Caucasian peoples had the same notions in the past);

10. The man’s exclamation (women pronounce no sounds during the dance) “hIors (ors), hIors-toI (ors-toh)”. In the same manner, by the way, the neighboring peoples exclaim during the dance (Ossetian and Dargin “arstoh”, etc.)

What ancient sacred notions of the ancestors of the Chechens could be reflected in dance?

Obviously, one should search for the answer in the solar cult existing in Waynakhs in the past. There are reasons to consider that a man and a woman imitated the movement of the Sun and the Moon. It is said in the ancient Waynakh legend (“As Sun, Moon and stars appeared”) that one skillful blacksmith sent matchmakers to the radiant girl, not suspecting that she was his sister. After her refusal, he took the golden blazing torch and came to the girl himself. “The girl saw him and took to her heels. He followed her. He ran behind her for a very long time until they both died. The sparks from the golden torch turned into stars. The radiant shining remained from the girl, the firebrand – from the young blacksmith. They turned into the Sun and Moon. And until now, the Sun cannot catch up with the Moon”.

There is also the riddle in Waynakhs: “Do you know, what it is: the sister does not meet her brother, the brother cannot catch up with his sister?” The answer is the Sun and Moon.

In Waynakh, like many other peoples, the Sun was a powerful male deity in heathen notions.

Cosmological notions of the ancestors of Chechens and Ingush are also reflected in symbolic images (pictograms) on the belt buckles of 6th – 5th centuries B.C. (for example, from the burial place of Meadow sepulcher near Muzhichi village), or at the similar pictogram at the castle stone of one of the ancient towers in the Egikal fortress.

According to R.M.Uzhakhov’s opinion, the probable decoding of such and similar pictograms is the following: the broken line is the sea (according to the traditional Waynakh notions the Sun came out from the sea in the morning and came to it in the evening, plunged into “West waters”), and “winged discs” at the sides – the Sun during sunrise and sunset. The central disc in these images has “wings”, maximally lifted up – this sign symbolizes the Sun in the zenith. (Such patterns remain at pendants, ancient carpets – “istangs”, weapon decorations, etc.).

All this things explain many elements of Waynakh dance, don’t they?

The “pursuit” of a man behind a woman along the circle is the movement of the Sun (a man) and Moon (a woman). The same explain the fact that in Waynakh choreography one pair but not a group of people were dancing.

The position of the man’s arms apart, in the form of the cross meant the Sun in sunrise and sunset. Because the cross itself (which became a Christian symbol later), comes from heathen beliefs and initially was a symbol of the Sun, it is very possible (and it is declared yet in scientific researches) that the notions about Jesus Christ (peace to him), “crucified on the cross” comes from more ancient associative signs: the Sun – cross – man; the symbols of a man inside the circle or a cross inside the circle have analogous meaning.

The position of the man’s arms, when he bends his arm, keeping his hand near his breast, corresponds to the image of the swastika, which symbolizes the Sun in its celestial movement. The swastika is one of the most widely-spread signs on ancient Waynakh architectural installations and decorative items.

Getting up on his tiptoes and throwing up his arms above his head, a man imitates the Sun in its zenith. And finally, “bravado” with embracing of woman’s waist, without touching her body, also can be easily explained: it is a symbolic imitation of a lunar eclipse (in Chechen “retention of the Moon”, “butt latsar”). The other elements of Waynakh dance also can be explained in the same “solar” way.

Obviously, the strict ceremonial rites of the dance, the character of solar mystery which it carries, began to be violated and forgotten with adoption of Islam in our land. The ritual was losing its cult content more and more and was turning into a dance. The tempo began to hasten, some elements were lost, and others were assumed. Now it will be easier to unravel the meaning of the exclamation “h1ors-to1 (ors-toh), h1ors (ors)”.

It is known that ancient Sarmats worshipped the solar deity by the name of Khors. This deity was revered also in medieval Rus. In many languages of the Iranian group, different vowels of this word meant the Sun. One can suppose that to the ancestors of Waynakhs, who were in close contact with Iranian-speaking world, this “dance” exclamation also meant the Sun as an object of sacred reverence?

…When the sounds of the inflammatory dance calmed down, we think not about mystery of celestial bodies, but about nobleness and valor, because Chechen dances with their furious rhythm and at the same time with strictness of the movement truly is the beautiful anthem of freedom!

Dalkhan Khozhaev
Chechen historian (Dala g1azot k1obal doyl tsunan! – Let Allah accept his gazavat!)

*The article was published by the “Chechenets” newspaper, №2(017), February 1998

**Text was translated by Aminat for Waynakh Online and edited by Michael Capobianco

I.Dream which I see very often

I am led to execution. I am not afraid of death. If only a fur coat is not dirty. I am keeping the edge of my mother’s coat. Cherry-coloured. Artificial beaver lamb. How many I can remember, it hung in the parents’ wardrobe. Over the wooden hangers with Jacquard bright green jacket and a gray pleated skirt from Boston. In the lower left corner of oak cabinet there were gray heeled shoes. Slightly rounded toe, and three amazing buttons that each time I stroked before wear these horribly naughty heels. And I know that there in a solid brown leather suitcase is yellow cashmere scarf, a dark green wool scarf in the color stripes and knitted gloves with embroidered silk satin Chinese characters.

It’s all my mother would give me when I grow up. The day of my decades she gave me her gold watch, which my dad bought for her when they got married. After twenty-five years I gave them to the armed men wearing masks when they broke into the house and tried to pick up my old father, because he had a stroke could not immediately answer why his daughter with the Ukrainian residence stay at his house.

- Why did you put on a coat without my permission? – Calls out my mom.

- Mom, do not scold me. I promise I did not get dirty. I’ll take it when they will shoot me.

The roar of airplanes. Tracer bullets whistle. A falling sky. And a crying mother on the ruins of our house. Before her, wrapped in a bloodstained cherry-coloured coat of artificial beaver lamb with a torn sleeve, panting sweating our Caucasian Sheepdog Dingo. Only in my dreams I am a little girl with tight braids, and I’m only 10 years old. And the footage with my mother pop up in my memory, not only in my dreams. All that I saw when I was 38. And my dream, after another ten years.

- Oh, God! Have mercy on us! I stayed in the war.

II. Sleep, after searching the house, in the basement of which I found new relatives.

-Dondo! Dondo! – I call a cat, what left the kids, and the second day does not appear in the house. A house is a basement of the former high-rises.

In a dark wet basement it is cold and quiet. I rub my eyes, not believing that there are no one else except me and the food cats. Where have the centenary grandmother Asma gone and her lame septuagenarian son Betar, who tries in vain to find a place of alive buried sons? And where are Armen and Arax? Maybe you met their mother, the beautiful Gayane on the roads of war? She went to Mozdok for survivor benefits, promising to return in two days. Gayane quietly gone mad, after she was been picked up along the road near the elevator, was taken in a dirty truck, and raped two weeks. And then barefoot with two tins of soldier’s porridge was thrown at the checkpoint on the Staropromyslovsky highway. Betar not once had seen a pregnant woman, similar to our Gayane. Only she avoids people and does not respond to her name. Happy. Gathers wildflowers and weaves garlands.

And Tamara? Her son sold the house, took his family and left, promising to neighbors that would return as soon find a new place. That address, which he left for his the mother does not exist and never was. But sixty years old woman doesn’t complain at fate, and endure all the hardships that fell to her share. Orphan’s home, where she had been brought one early summer morning, having found at the entrance of the plant, wrapped in a plaid blanket over, early – less than a happy marriage with a man who was 18 years her senior.

- Not fond of, but thanks for the bread. I put him in a wooden tub, filling it with warm water. Long labor on his back, counting the wounds from shrapnel, and then directly into the shirt itself climb in the tub and massage worship his feet. He stroked my little head, saying: “How are you going without me, Tomy?”. God spared me. A year after his death I married Mitrophan, father of Styopka. Mitrofan left to visit a brother-soldier and never returned. Sent a mean email:. “Sorry, I found my family.” I forgive him, thanking for Styopka. That Stepka left me, taking Vanka and Dasha away. Nights without sleeping, two working places, home of red brickt, butmyselfl living in the hut. Gave him education, and he brought an accursed girl. For ten years, Svetlana did not call me mom. Alwayscalled me Tamara Detdomovnoy. Childhood in an orphanage, and here I am with you, my dears. You really dig me under the lilac bush, if we all do not lay a concrete slab.

- Do not cry – cut her aunt Bell, whom everyone affectionately called Belka .- You’ve got us. All my life I could not go to bed, undressed. My father was lost in the dungeons of the NKVD, for the fact that teaching people the Word of God. In the snowy prairies of Kazakhstan, I, too, was in an orphanage, and married, the first night I learned that for my husband after walking vendetta for a crime committed by his grandfather through negligence. And not to be killed, but not given a chance to live. I calmed down, burying his son and his two kids in the early days of the war. But with Zarema live to my age – she nodded at the early widowed daughter, who lay at the wall itself, never regained consciousness after being wounded in Grozny’s central market.

- Oh, your chatterings – Kuzmich began to grumble .- All the bad, but about the past. And I have the spring crop of grapes do grafting in the garden. New julienne trying to withdraw. Yes, that’s bad luck. The third spring I can not get into your garden. They say that since the first war mined country site.

- Grandpa, and let me tell you the tale of Little Red Riding Hood – climbing to his knees, Zoska chattered.

She was found at the water tower. In the tattered jacket and rubber boots on bare feet. In the dream, she began to speak their own language:
-Anna geledzhen mi benim ichin?

- Blue-eyed tsyganochka Gypsy – Kuzmich said and gently uncovered her blanket, . Then the long arms was ground dry leaves, wrap them in a half-baked sheet of newspaper, and, clutching his kidneys, rose to leave, “a people” as he liked to say. And I did not admit that I know the Turkish language in which Zosia asked Mom, whether she will come after her.

We were there a lot. Different nationalities: Russian, Greek, and his wife Moldavian, Ukrainian, Ossetian, Armenians, Chechens, Ingush, a Pole, deaf and dumb Jew who would not agree to go to Israel, a blind Tartar with a parrot in a cage. The names of some have already forgotten. But I remember there eyes, in whichonly fear lived , shaking hands, coughing, snoring, pigeons, quiet whine instead Borzik fun barking, purring kittens and Dondo, which is placed to sleep on my shaking knees.

My sleep was filled with bright red fine sand, which turned into green balls, replaced by bright light. The basement was filled with laughter. The air smelled of lilac. And I stand, throwing up my hands, trying in vain to see the faces of the people with whom I was akin to war. Next to me there is a riddled with enamel bucket, which saved me. In the basement that I never returned. Here are today in a dream.

Ah, the smell of lilacs! Do not wake me up.

Give me those people with whom I am warming herself by the fire, hid burlap, drinking rainwater and shared churek, baked on the coals of fresh corn dough.

Oh Allah! Have mercy on us! I stayed in the war

III. In the train.

- Your documents! Have you the right to live on this earth? You have the right to remain silent! Take off everything. And the shoes too! “- Armed men in camouflage uniforms to urge on us automatons. In a pool of blood is my neighbor, Larissa. Fenya and Yazya – a sister and mother of the deceased are smiling and calling Laura to her. Frankly, I know nothing about the fate of Larissa. While Fenya and Yazya buried in our garden as early as the first war. Suddenly one of the villains grabbed me by the wrist, trying to break my mother’s watch …

- Passengers, we cross the border. Prepare your passport and luggage.

Oh Allah! Have mercy on us! I stayed in the war

IV. Dream, which I can not tell my mom.

- Mom, Mom. Darling. Do not leave me alone. No, mom did not waste. No need to turn on the lights. Mom, just do not let go my hand. Mama, I’m not going there anymore. I’ll never go to the cemetery. I just wanted to see how the coffin is lowered into the grave. And then I was frightened. It seemed to me that the dead man opened one eye and looked at the priest.

Mom, you are silent and do not listen to my excuses. And I know that got lost in the cemetery. Walk through the shadows of people trying to grab someone’s arm, he turns into a black crow. Then he flies up and sits on a high-voltage power line. Sparks fall down at me and I gadflies.

Mom! I do not see anything. But I sense the smell of fresh bread! Mom, give me one little woman. I promise not to swallow, but keep it under your tongue to satisfy his hunger.

Mom, this bread smells blood.

- It is human blood, my daughter. Zalpa was going with this loaf of bread for us. But the pilot, bombed school and decided to empty the machine-gun belts. And the eight bullets sent into the body of a young widow, would give him a hero. And maybe he’ll come home to cuddle his children, who have not seen him for several weeks. And children will wander Zalpa over the world, trying to find harmony of body and soul.

- Mom, are you hurt?

- No, daughter. It’s tears of blood. Go to sleep, it is said we grow in a dream.

- And shalll we live to see tomorrow?

- We are not so happy to die in our sleep.

- Then shall we die each day?

Oh! Allah! Have mercy on us! I stayed in the war

December 2010

Zura Itsmeolord

I will not sharpen your attention to the gaps in science – history of the Chechen people. Let me just note that it was time to write our story ourselves. Despite the Stalinist repression when they were destroyed archives and libraries (burned, removed, stolen), it should still be there and lead us to a close and distant neighbors. Literary scholars, linguists and educators will make an invaluable contribution to the rise of the national idea and will add knowledg.We find them not only in the crypts and towers, but also in the interior reservoir of language: lexical, semantic and lexicographical units of the native language, preserved in the medium Vainakh Diaspora , fiction and folklore. Only love for the Motherland and the inexplicable desire to return helps members of Vainakh diaspora not only survive but also to preserve their language, traditions and habbits.Today these nakh-people speak the language spoken by our ancestors 150 years ago.

The most urgent need to properly allocate resources and to begin work on a sensible and Chechen phrasebook. We need dictionary of scientific and technical vocabulary, terminology and liguistic ones: English-Chechen (Johanna Nichols and Arbi Vagapov released the first dictionary) and the Chechen-English and French-Chechen and even Japanese-Chechen.

Now I wonder why Britain is called Great Britain, and ours- Chechen Republic. There is an alternative. Let us be known as the Chechen Republic Nokhchicho.

Why do we seem grandchildren their grandfathers, and according to the documents listed as someone we would be convenient to write? Closer to me when I proudly call the name of his late father (May God forgive him ): Jaska Yahshaat kant (vo1a) Mohmad Amin.

I want our children to know the fairy-tale heroes, not only from the Brothers Grimm and Charles Pierrot, but from folklore. That there was no such that opening the dictionary, I find no translation for this word as “dolphin” (hordzh1al). It’s a shame, but in a single Chechen-Russian dictionary edited by T. Karasev, and AG Matsiev there is no translation.

It is the first Chechen-Russian dictionary, there are 20 thousand words (from the bottom 5000 of borrowed words from Russian), was published in 1961 in Moscow, and since then has not reprinted.After death of Matsiev, who managed to make the first half of the dictionary (the letters A-O and part P), AV Karasev continued work on the dictionary . And in 1978 the publisher Orsiyn Mott, Moscow, came out of the Chechen-Russian and Russian-Chechen dictionary (40 thousand words, of which 10,000 words trace). Further work is needed to edit the Chechen side of the dictionary, which involved senior lecturer Chechen-Ingush State University, AD Timaev and YA.U. Eshadzhiev.

It’s no secret that the Chechen researcher Arbi Vagapov boldly declares a million words in our language.

Alphabet based on Cyrillic alphabet does not convey the richness of our language, in which nearly 50 sounds. And it is also the front work for linguists.

We fall in love with alternative medicine, chasing overseas bio-additives, forgetting about the traditional folk therapy: gamma hakhar, courts Ozar, cho mettahhottayar. Front work for medical scientists.

The leading role in investigating the problem of identity has always belonged to the philosophy of life (mentality) and the religion of the community. The unity of religion Chechens have always been a serious factor in determining the binding values in life and so-called code of honor, “Nohchalla.

Chechens of old live on their land, speak their own language, trying to control their own destiny and define themselves not only to social conditions and norms of behavior, interpersonal relations. We want to be free from any political subservience and to build our own state within others’ consciousness.

Our society has always lived by the principle of democracy (the voice of the people), which differs from the modern “brutal democracy”.

Let us recall that until quite recently, each community had its own boiler, print, and led the record.

Even I heard the stories of our old folks have mentioned “the place where the buried pot”.

Today I can call the fourteenth Erakha ancestor, from which comes our family on the paternal line. (Erakha Bury Luli Eaton Eaton Gelis-G1uli-Bahmad-Olhazar-Betar Kona-Jaska-Yahshaat-Mohmad-Amin).

In the largest research libraries in Iran, Iraq, Syria, Turkey, Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan, the United Kingdom you can find lots of interesting information about our ancestors.

Send our youth to study at the best universities of the world, scientific expeditions, to the country’s densely populated by ethnic Chechens and Ingush.

In the field of education: primary school should be only in their native language with gradual introduction of Russian and one foreign language.

Institute should work the problems of language, where they will conduct scientific research and field studies conducted with the involvement of archaeologists and archivists.

Nobody can live outside society and outside of its laws, regulations, ethics and morality. Despite the unity of human morality, nations differ in their culture. A culture of any nation – it is his conscience. I again want to recall the Code of Honor “Nohchalla” – through education knight.

Modern society is not degraded, as many are trying to present it, and go on its way to perfection. In hindsight, we live in today and try to build the future. Yesterday’s events have left a heavy impression on people. A whole generation has grown up in war. Despite the lack of social protection, the people had not forgotten how to love, trust, believe. Culture of any nation was formed during thousands of years and continues to be formed, despite the pace of life. “Bread and circuses” is always required and is definitely enough.

Human values are the same for any society. But here’s the national consciousness somehow weaker or stronger.

Mankind is aware of the tragedy and cruelty, the senselessness of bloody wars with the destruction of human capital. But people have not learned to live in peace, solving their problems at the negotiating table.

The scripture of Muslims – the Koran says: “Verily, We created you male and female, made you into nations and tribes that ye may know each other [to each other worked well]. After all, the noblest of you before Allah – the most pious” (Qur’an, Sura 49, verse 13)

And to know each other we can through the study of culture of the peoples inhabiting the globe.

Nobody can live outside the processes occurring in the world. It is impossible to isolate and live only by internal problems.

The collapse of the Soviet Union bared and brought to the surface all the hidden problems. Ex-state attempted to forcibly make all the atheists, people without faith, without a face. Utopian philosophy of communism did not have under a platform and relies only on demagoguery. National identity was formed through the mass media slogans of atheists against “the opium of the people.”

We must pay tribute to our people that the Chechens are not severed the connection between generations, do not turn away from God, and do not betray their country. Without the false pacifist slogans we love, and love our people and their culture, customs and traditions.

I am not afraid to say that the ordeal that befell our nation, strengthened our iman (Arabic: belief in the correctness of the Islamic tenets).

Enemies of mankind, not just Islam, are trying to divide us on Muminov, hypocrites, infidels. And this is just the attitude of people towards Islam. Compelled by force to Islam no one can be, but hang tags, sinful.

Necessary and sufficient condition for finding a man in Islam is a testimony of faith in one God (Allah) and the prophetic mission of Muhammad.

Can confidently say that we have not accepted Islam, the threat of death and pronounced Shahada (I bear witness that there is no deity worthy of worship except God (Allah), and I testify that Muhammad – Allah’s slave and Messenger) in full consciousness.

Our national identity is closely connected with our religion. All Chechens – Muslim – Sunni. No one can to divide us on religion. Lost people will return to the bosom of their families and realize the harmfulness of the wrong way in which Satan tried to divert them.

Religious leaders should set an example to strengthen the identity of people.

People can not replace consciousness with the alien essence.

No Western or Eastern civilization – are unacceptable to us. We have our own code of honor, and that’s it. We can not be in search of something new. Thereby, we only delude ourselves. Customs and traditions, passed down our ancestors, have carefully preserved and passed on to the next generation. And do not we try to build the Third Rome.

Economic and socio-psychological factors affect the development of national consciousness. It’s no secret that identity, as a form of collectivism is in deep decline and is in critical condition. Years of war threw back to us many years ago. Rather than build a city, we tried to survive in any way. Post-war syndrome will continue for a couple of decades. We should remember the children of war who are now awakening to adulthood.

Part of the people who left their homeland, were forced to integrate into the hitherto alien to their society. Who will support their collective identity?

Intercultural equality and tolerance should be at the head of the collective consciousness in the language question. Do not forget that we live next to speakers of other languages and other cultures. National minorities are represented in our society should have equal rights and opportunities for us. No one should reduce their role in the development of society at this time.

Need to be tolerant in matters of religion: the study and propagation of religion. Emerging children’s thinking should be protected from violent forced learning of a very.It is need to give equal knowledge of world religions.

Social role of women should be seen as a source of conservation values of the Chechen society. Release women from overwork at the expense of state social grants. It is high time to revise the school system and go to a separate study in high school. Widely introduced home-based early childhood education with a grant for this purpose. Expand the network of houses of creativity and interest clubs.

Without social protection can not talk about confidence in the future.

Proper allocation of funds and the formation of the labor market must be adapted to the national economy (the mentality of the economy).

Only social justice can give us the impetus to a surge of spiritual morality and economic growth. Without the fight against corruption can not talk about social justice.

Today many talk about the mono-ethnic in our society and see it as a problem.

Tell me, when our society was not mono-ethnic? Almost all villages of our republic have been mono-ethnic, but it did not prevent us to live and make friends with neighbors. Is there not among us tapes, which came from other nations? Is there ever a people that we took for an enemy? Internationalism, the Chechens have yet to learn. Today we are trying to rise from the ashes and to declare itself as a benevolent nation.

The rise of self-consciousness of society lies in the rise of cultural values, respect the past and future, strengthening the family and self-identity.

So help us God!

Zura Itsmeolord

After an of six hours walk I went back into a yard, where I grew. I hadn’t got a desire to talk. Having a drink of cold water, I measured maintenance of glucose in my blood. Blood glucose monitoring system showed high numbers. Idly stretched for medicine and heard weeping of my nephew. Entered a house, sat down on a sofa and stroked a kid. My four-year-old nephew wiped eyes, stretched to me the thin arms and, slamming long cilia, continuing to whine, decided to liven me:

-It is talked, in America there are cities which built, but forgot to inflict on a map. And in Russia there are cities, which inflicted on a map, but forgot to build.

I sadly smiled and mentally returned on the streets of Grozny.

I grew here. Studied, lived. It seemed that I knew every tree, every building and almost all habitants of one of the most beautiful cities of North Caucasus. Groznians can be known on the breadth of smile, to kindness of the soul and naive faith in existence of justice on earth.

A city woke up under the trilling of the tram-car ringing of bells, plant honks and music from a megaphone on a central area.

The enormous heads of blossoming out roses beckoned the beauty, spitting fountains gave diamond drops to passers-by, hurrying to live another day in city of dream .

A blue celestial large tent was decorated by the rare patterns of clouds, and a gold sun gave the heat to all people of good will, to inhabiting this half-million habited city.

Outpost “Grozny” was built on effaced from the face of earth twenty chechen settlements by the Russian general – deputy Ermolov, who entered history of my people, as punish.Grozny became the mute witness of long Caucasian war, October revolution, 100-days fights, tragedy of vainakh people in February, 1944, Russian rebelling of 1958, disintegration of soviet empire, attempt of Chechens to build the state and horrors of two war companies.

Small North Caucasian republic with a population hardly more than 1 million 200 thousand persons, in which almost 80 percents of native population lived compact, declared about the desire to become independent, released Brothers-Ingushs from the part and got that, how Ukrainians talk, “маемо, що маемо(we have that we have)”. I’ll not dug into questions who, when and why assumed a bloody butchery, but I believe in justice of Judgement Day.

It does not cost also to talk about beauty of city which anymore is not present.

I know, believe, see that in place of city of my love they try to build a new city with the former name. Cartographers will not have to change the name of point on a map. And, who will bring back to life this city, who will return its soul? Is it possible?

Only The Most High knows how voraciously I looked intently into the persons of passers-by, trying to catch in them the lines of former kind beautiful Groznians alas.

Today I have to talk to you about a post-trauma stress disorder, simply speaking, to post-military depression which practically all Chechens have.

The population of republic, outliving horrors of two wars, has a certain complex of symptoms, related to remembrances about these horrific human imagination events.

Our life was clearly divided in half on “before and after”.

We got to know adversities and privations, grief and humiliations, hunger and cold. We not to get enough sleep, anxiously expecting a new, when we will be heard and will return a right to live, love, to born children, model dumplings, collect sunsmelling and succinic grapes, seat a corn and beet, obtain oil and natural gas, send to 120 countries of the world the products of the largest at one time plant “Red Hammer”, to refuel air-liners high-quality kerosene and fly to the different corners of the world.

Mourning lost avaricious tears, we buried them in polybags, often in nameless graves. It seemed to even, that justice had triumphed and faceless woman with the frightful name Violent Death, abandoned our land. Our land buzzed and howled, calling to think again. A period between two war companies became a test in the serious overvalue of values. People lost control above reality. Vagueness of the future of scarecrow. Many abandoned a historical motherland, naively supposing that strange land will fondle, will give forces and possibility to outlive heavy years.

The monstrous wing of Death covered my country with horror of the second war.

People had a so-called biological fear of death. The pictures of death and destructions filled their memory. Fear before pain and wound did the black business.

Time came, when living envied dead. Survivor in frightful superhuman terms blamed itself for that did not drive them to die. In spite of the bodily condition, each them can declare bravely, that perished on this war. And this sense of guilt before lost provoked the attacks of self-destroyed behavior.

The city of my love, where I tried to return, is filled with people having the dulled emotions. Gladness and heartfelt getting up are inaccessible them. Really will they never learn to love? Really will not they be able to work out the near and friendly relationships? Why do they demonstrate a mistrust to itself similar and to the surrounding world? Why do not they see beauty of nightly sky and flight of eagle?

Why so much people, persons interested to carry arm or weapons, but incapable to talk about war?

I try to understand people, returning from wars : broken partly, becoming enraged and silly.

If the broken partly experience permanent fear, inferiority and mental instability, that conduces to their cruelty, alcoholism and drug addiction, then becoming enraged, which in times of battle actions produced in itself a hyperaggressiveness. dangerous not only for surrounding but also on them own. And so-called silly, accomplish infantile acts and underestimate the real threat for the life.

Permanent physical tension which people were in did not allow to be weakened them and rest. They constantly felt a danger and showed supervigilance which conduces to psychical disorder.

Grief and loss of relatives, stress, arising up for the direct participants of fight, it is impossible to compare to anything. Seeing death of comrades in arms, they had a necessity to kill.

Frightens plenty of people, being in the half asleep state. Probably they are tormented by not only nightly nightmares but also insomnias. Fear before sleep and horrors of dreams conduces to regular not to get enough sleep, which in the total is outpoured in a brain-fag, negative attitude toward life. Depression increases only.

An enhanceable aggressiveness frightens. I do not talk about physical, though such not rareness. Verbal aggression is at every step. It seems that people unlearned to retreat, cry a peccavi, be sorry, to smooth out the misses a smile. I paid attention to attacks of fury even on the least prank of children.

Practically all grumble about violation of memory and attracting attention, especially in a stress situation.

In spite of limitation on sale of alcohol, there are people practicing upon alcoholic and by drugs. But it also is the display of post-military syndrome.

Absence of work, accommodation, domestic problems do not give a confidence in a morrow.

Women, as well as men, lost interest to the social role. Not apt at a social contact and adaptation, self-isolated from society. And it all conduces to destruction of institute of family. Enormous amount of broad patterns and unequal short-term matches. They do not need durable close family relations.

People unlearned to flexibility in the decision of vital problems and grasp at a weapon and in direct and in portable Increasing amount of mortal diseases (heart attacks, strokes, cardiovascular diseases, abortions), psychical disorders. And war children? Child’s psyche is quite weak. Their illnesses flow longer and worse. War children grew for today. They are the future of the country. Now it is time them to enter into marriage, to make children.

And they hurry to live. For them it is the deficit of time, acceleration of rate of actions, Wish to vent on somebody malice for that was to get to know beauties of life on war.

Those young people who fill up the rows of “forest brothers” today, undoubtedly, are in depression. They were captured by ideas about suicide. It is here necessary to talk not only about suicide but also subconscious planning of such actions which can result in death. Death is not such frightening for them, as life which is very sickly. Being in despair, after that verge, when all further existence seems gloomy darkness, they choose a path war is an obvious way to death.

They feel like an unjustified risk, aim to participate in alarming “experiences”.

Among them there are suffering the “syndrome of notcomingback” and it is impossible to return to peaceful life. Their psyche is so adapted to the battle actions, that in peaceful life already not able to exist and will aim at any cost to return again on war. It is people with the global changes of psyche.

Permanent search of answer for a question, why so all happened, why your native perished is not an exit from a stress state.

People need social support and defense.

Beautiful forfeits the facades of building are wrapped in which will not be able to cure soul-wounded people.

And if camel milk will begin to flow even from gold petcocks, but Allah will not take pity above people, a city so will remain a black point on the map of the world.

P.S. And in those days I walked around the city which is not present on Earth. .you want – believe, want- no.

October 2010

Zura Itsmeolord

One day the old man caught a cold and took to bed. Feeling that he would rise no more, he called his sons, had them sit before him and said, ‘It has come time for us to part. Don’t grieve because of me. Live amicably. And each of you remember: It’s easy to be bad, difficult to be good. And on my tomb put a big salt stone. Oh and do not forget to visit the tomb.’

Then the father died. The sons buried him with honours, got a block of salt, squared it and put it on the tomb. Every day one of the three visited their father’s tomb. Before long the brothers began to notice, that the block of salt, day by day, became ever less and less.

The eldest son suggested, ‘We must stand over father’s grave at night. Evidently, somebody relishes our salt.’ The two other brothers agreed.
The oldest brother stood guard first. He went to the grave, measured out the height of the salt block with a piece of string and tied a knot to mark the height. Then he spread out an old cloak, lay down and waited. He waited and waited, but when it grew dark he grew so tired that he fell asleep. This happened three nights in a row. On the fourth day, before returning home, the oldest brother reached for the string attached to the salt and noticed that the height of the lump of salt had dropped.

The middle brother was the next to stand guard over the salt. He went to the tomb, used a string to measure the block’s height, and tied a knot to mark it. Then he spread an old cloak out, lay down and waited. He waited and waited, and then night came. He tried hard not to fall asleep. But at midnight, he succumbed and fell fast asleep. This happened three nights in a row. On the fourth day, before going home, the middle brother, reached for the string, attached to the salt and noticed that the salt had become less.

Finally it was the little brother’s turn, the youngest of the brothers. He went to the tomb, but he didn’t measure the block out with a piece of string, instead he took a bow and chose his strongest arrow, then he laid an old cloak on the ground, sat upon it and waited. He waited and waited. Midnight had come and gone and still no one had appeared. The little brother continued to sit, with bow and arrow in his hands. Finally just when dawn broke he saw a black cloud coming from the mountain and descending onto the grave.

The little brother cried out, ‘Hey, black cloud! Whether a spirit, or a man, or a beast, stop!’

But the black cloud descended further and further to the ground. The little brother pulled back the string of his bow and fired an arrow. It shot right into the middle of the cloud. Suddenly the cloud turned into a black horse.

‘So this is who’s been coming to taste our salt! Obviously magical horses love to lick it no less than a normal horse,’ The little brother said to himself.

He rushed to the black horse and jumped on him. The horse immediately soared, and circled the sky seven times from end to end. It then returned to the earth, shook its mane, and snorted, and well pleased, said in a human voice, ‘Now then, there is nothing on me, not even a grain of sand.’

Except for me, a horseman!’ The little brother replied.

The black horse, upon rethe little brotherzing that its rider was not fearful, knew he would have to submit. ‘Now, you are my master and I am your faithful horse. Dismount; pluck some hair from my mane and my hide. When you are in need of me, rub the hair in your hands, and I will come, no matter how far away I may be,’ the black horse said.

The little brother got off the horse and tore out some hair from the horse’s mane. Then the black horse galloped away.

On the second night, The little brother sat once more on his cloak to guard the tomb. When dawn was breaking he saw a white cloud coming from the mountain.

The little brother cried out, ‘Hey, white cloud! Whether a spirit, or a man, or a beast, stop!’

The white cloud descended to the ground. The little brother pulled back the string of his bow and fired an arrow right into the middle of the cloud. Suddenly the cloud turned into a white horse. ‘This horse also wanted salt,’ thought The little brother. Without losing a moment, he rushed to the white horse and jumped on its back. The magical horse immediately soared, and circled the sky twenty-seven times from end to end. Then the horse returned to the earth, shook it’s mane, and snorted. Well pleased, it said in a human voice, ‘Now then, there is nothing on me, not even a grain of sand.’

‘Except for me, a horseman!’ The little brother replied.

The white horse, rethe little brotherzing that the rider was not timid or fearful, knew he would have to submit. ‘You are my master now and I am your faithful horse. Dismount; pluck some hair from my mane and my hide. When you are in need of me, rub the hair in your hands, and I will come, no matter how far away,’ the white horse said.

The little brother got off the horse and tore out some hair from the horse’s mane. Then the white horse galloped off. The little brother put the white hair away with the hair from the black horse.

On the third night, The little brother again sat down on his cloak to guard the tomb. When dawn was breaking he saw a red cloud coming from the mountain.

The little brother shouted, ‘Hey, red cloud! Whether you’re a spirit, a man, or a beast, stop!

The red cloud came closer to the ground. The little brother pulled back the string of the bow and shot an arrow that soared right into the middle of the cloud. All of a sudden it turned into a horse of chestnut color. ‘And you got into the habit of licking salt!’ The little brother exclaimed. He jumped onto the horse’s back and with both hands clutched its mane. The horse soared upwards and circled the sky eighty-three times from end to end. Then he dropped to the ground, shook his mane, snorted and being well-pleased, said in a human voice: ‘Now then, there is nothing on me, not even a grain of sand.’

‘Except for me, a horseman!’ The little brother replied.

The red horse, rethe little brotherzing that this rider was not timid, knew he would have to submit. ‘Now, you are my master and I am your faithful horse. Dismount; pluck some hair from my mane and my hide. When you are in need of me, rub it in your hands, and I will come, no matter how far away I may be,’ the red horse said.

The little brother got off the horse and tore some hair from its mane. Then the red horse galloped off. The little brother hid the red hair away in the same place as he had put the hair from the white and black horse. Then he went home.

He said nothing to his brothers, except that no one else would touch the salt at their father’s grave again.
Now, while The little brother had been guarding his father’s tomb, a rumour had come to their village that the prince of those parts was planning to marry off his three daughters. Everyone was welcome to try and woo them, but only he would have a daughter of the prince, who won in a competition
with other Dzhigits (horsemen).

The two older brothers decided to go and try their luck. They saddled their horses and departed. They did not take The little brother with them. ‘It’s impossible for all three of us on just two horses, everyone will laugh at us. And we don’t have a third horse. And anyway there is nothing for you to do there, you cannot compete with the best horsemen!’ they had said.

The little brother said nothing and did not protest. When the brothers were far from home, he got out the black hair and rubbed it in his hands. Immediately the black horse appeared before him.

‘I am ready to serve you, The little brother. Where will thou go?’

‘To the prince’s castle,’ The little brother uttered. ‘Only just ride on the road, there’s no need to fly across the sky.’

The black horse rushed down a narrow mountain road. They soon caught up to and left behind The little brother’s older brothers. The brothers respectfully answered to the greetings of the unfamiliar rider, and watched him as he rode away. The middle brother remarked afterwards, ‘that rider looked awfully similar to our brother The little brother!’

The little brother galloped onwards. The black horse fought against the wind, when its hooves struck the stones sparks flew. And on sharp turns The little brother had to hold on to the bit for dear life as the horse bit down on it with impatience.

And so they reached the lands of the prince. As they approached the castle, The little brother expected to see a crowd of Dzhigits. But the courtyard was empty, except for the old prince, sitting in a chair at the entrance to the castle with the sun warming his old bones. Next to him were two warrior guards with swords. The little brother greeted the prince and asked, ‘Where are the other horsemen? Or have I come too early?’

‘You’re late, horseman,’ said the prince, with a sly smile as he studied the little brother. ‘Your rivals have long been on their way: two days have passed, two nights have passed, and now, the third day is at its end.

‘Shining Prince, in which direction did they ride? Tell me with a quick glance, and I will catch up.’

The Prince shrugged his shoulders, but to answer said, ‘There is at the foot of Mount Kazbek (Bashlam) a spring. Next to it there is a large pear tree that grows, and under the tree there is a jar. In the jar there is the ring of my eldest daughter. Whoever shall be the first to ride there, take the ring and bring it back, will be the suitor of my eldest.’

The little brother spurred his magical steed. The black horse raced to that part, where for the third day the rivals had only just traveled. Now, the black horse did not take the road but flew through the air, chasing the wind. After only one hour, The little brother had caught up with all the Dzhigits. He quickly overtook them, arrived at Kazbek, found the spring with the pear tree and under the pear tree, saw the pitcher with the ring. He took the ring and turned back to the prince’s castle.

The sun was still high, when The little brother returned to the prince’s castle with the ring in his hand. The prince was surprised, but kept his word.

‘You are worthy of my eldest daughter. But I will only hold a wedding for all three daughters at once. Go home and wait. When all my daughters have suitors, I will announce it and then you may come.’

The little brother’s older brothers, who had only just arrived, saw a rider on a black horse give the old prince the ring, but did not recognize the little brother.

‘We missed the eldest daughter,’ said the middle brother. ‘We’d beter get up earlier tomorrow. Perhaps the middle daughter will get one of us.’ And so they turned their horses around and headed for home.

When they arrived they found The little brother already home, busy making repairs to the roof of their hut, as if he had never left. Upon seeing his brothers he asked, ‘Whose horse came first today? Who will be groom to the prince’s eldest daughter?’

‘Why do you want to know? You’re still young! But in truth, he was like you, but what a horse he had. A horse you’d never seen before in your life!’

At dawn the brothers again saddled their horses. And again they did not take the little brother. Just as they left the village, The little brother took out the white hair and rubbed it in his hands. Suddenly the white horse appeared before him and said, ‘Ready to serve you, The little brother. Where shall you order me to take you?’

The little brother said that he intended to compete with those Dzhigits, who today were to ask for the hand of the prince’s second daughter. ‘Let’s go to the prince’s castle,’ he ordered his horse. ‘But just take the road, don’t fly through the sky.’

The white horse darted down a narrow mountain road. He quickly caught up to and left behind The little brother’s older brothers. The brothers respectfully answered to the greetings of the unfamiliar rider, and watched him as he rode away. The middle brother remarked afterwards, ‘that rider looked awfully similar to our brother The little brother!’

The younger brother galloped forward. The white horse fought against the wind, when its hooves struck the stones sparks flew. And on sharp turns The little brother had to hold on to the bit for dear life as the horse bit down on it with impatience.

The prince’s courtyard was full of people. Dzhigits had come in large numbers, by the thousands. Each wanted to marry the prince’s young and beautiful middle daughter.

The prince declared, ‘The groom will be only that horseman, who on his horse is fastest of all to climb up that nearby mountain and bring me a feather from an eagle’s nest.’

The horsemen drew back in shame. The mountain was steep, nowhere was there a tree or a bush, not even a ledge; nowhere for a horse to trod. And the nest was on the top of the mountain, hidden behind the clouds.

The little brother also doubted whether it were possible to climb such a mountain. But the white horse reassured him, ‘I’ll break ahead of the crowd and in a flash scale the mountain. Only you grip my mane all the tighter, whip me till my side burns, and whoop louder than sixty-three Dzhigits.’

The little brother grabbed hold of the mane and pressed his legs tight against the horse. Once the sign was made, the white horse broke from the crowd. The little brother whipped the horse, until its side burned. He whooped as loudly as sixty-three Dzhigits. The horse ran up a steep rock wall. If he trod on his forelegs, a trail appeared before them, if he trod on his hind legs, he cut out a wide road.

In a flash the horse delivered his rider to the top of the mountain, where the eagle’s nest was. The little brother took the feather from the eagle’s nest, then raced back down the mountain and handed it to the prince.

The prince was surprised, but kept his word. ‘You are worthy of my second daughter. But I will hold the wedding only for all three daughters at once. Go home and wait. When all three daughters have
suitors, I will announce it and then you may come.

The elder brothers watched as the rider on the white horse give the prince the eagle’s feather, but they did not have time to see that it was the The little brother.

‘We missed the middle daughter too,’ one said to the other. ‘We must rise even earlier tomorrow. Perhaps the youngest daughter will get one of us.’ Then they rode back to their village.

The little brother was already at home and pretended never to have left. He met them with a question, ‘Which horseman won today and is engaged to the prince’s second daughter?’

The older brothers gave him yesterday’s answer, ‘Why do you want to know? You’re still young. In truth though, he was like you, but sitting on a horse that you have never seen before in your life.’

On the third day the brothers were up before sunrise. The little brother was stil sleeping. They saddled their horses and rode out of the village. As soon as the brothers were away, The little brother rubbed the red hair from the red horse, and immediately it appeared before him.

‘I am ready to serve you, The little brother. Where shall you order me to go?’

The little brother said he wanted to measure forces with those Dzhigits, who were to come today for the prince’s youngest daughter. ‘To the prince’s castle, go. But only take me by road, there is no need to fly through the sky,’ the horseman said to the chestnut horse.

They set out for the castle. The little brother overtook his older brothers, who respectfully answered the greetings of the unfamiliar rider, and watched him as he rode away. The middle brother remarked afterwards, ‘that rider looked awfully similar to our brother The little brother!’

The little brother galloped on. The red horse fought against the wind, when its hooves struck the stones sparks flew. And on sharp turns The little brother had to hold on to the bit for dear life as the horse bit down on it with impatience.

When he arrived at the prince’s castle, it was still early. But in the yard there was already a crowd of horsemen. Many had come from distant lands and spent the night there. Then The little brother’s older brothers arrived but in all the commotion they did not notice their younger brother.

Finally, the prince came out of the castle. He went to the Dzhigits and silently surveyed them. ‘I will declare the groom of my youngest daughter,’ he shouted so everyone could hear, ‘to be he, who at full gallop can get a ram from a well at a depth of sixty-three cubits.’

The opponents were embarrassed and drew back. The crowd stirred, murmuring, ‘How can anyone manage to enter a narrow well and on a horse? No, it seems that the prince has decided not to marry off his youngest daughter. It would have been better to have mentioned this straight away. Why bother to require such difficult business of the Dzhigits?

The little brother also expressed some doubt, but his red horse reassured him, ‘Ah, it’s nothing, I’ve seen worse. Do not feel sorry for my sides, hit me with the whip, and whoop in such a way so that not only people, but the trees will be knocked to the ground. And hold on with all your might.’

The little brother grabbed the horse’s mane tightly, struck his horse with his whip, and whooped with all his might so that people and trees fell to the ground.

Horse and rider galloped out of the crowd and rode like the wind to the well where the princely servants had dropped the ram. The horse with its forelegs began to dig up the ground, and with his hind legs kicked the dirt to the side. In no time at all they reached the bottom of the well. The little brother grabbed the ram by the horns and then turned to head out of the well. Just when they were at the top, the ram’s horn suddenly broke off, and it fell back to the bottom.

The prince’s youngest daughter was sitting at a window and saw everything. When The little brother dropped the ram she shouted to him, ‘Grab the ram by the wool!’

The little brother took her advice and went back into the well, reached for the wool, grabbed the ram, and rose from the well. He then threw the ram at the prince’s feet.

‘This is who deserves the hand of my most beloved daughter. Now we can prepare for the wedding. It will be in three days. Come then, successful, young man,’ said the prince.

The little brother rode on his chestnut horse, and behind him all the other horsemen followed.

When the brothers returned to their native village, they found The little brother working away in the yard as if nothing had happened. He asked again, as if he had not been anywhere and knew nothing, ‘Who won the contest today? Who was declared the suitor of the youngest daughter?’

‘And what do you want to know for? You’re still young. In truth, he was like you though, but sitting on this horse you had never seen before in your life.’

At this point, the little brother could no longer keep his silence. He got the black hair, the white hair and then the red hair; rubbed them in his hands, and immediately before them appeared all three horses: the black, the white and the red one.

The older brothers gasped with surprise.

‘What do you say now?’ The little brother said to his older brothers.

The brothers turned red and begged The little brother not to take offense at what they had done.

The little brother answered, ‘A little late to rethe little brotherze this now. Father asked us to live together in harmony. You both had forgotten his command and only cared about yourselves, only considered yourselves to be Dzhigits. But I have not forgotten our father’s words: It’s easy to be bad and difficult to be good. I have done as our father commanded us. But we are brothers, and so I’ll deal with you like brothers. Choose a horse, and when we go to the wedding, each of us will choose the girl who appeals most naturally to him and who he himself likes most.’

So they did just that.

Three days later, the prince announced that the wedding would begin. The little brother along with his brothers rode to the prince, one on the black horse, one on the white horse and one on the chestnut horse. The prince glanced at the horses and recognized the suitors. The elder brother chose the prince’s eldest daughter, the middle brother chose the middle daughter and The little brother chose the youngest daughter. She seemed to him the most beautiful and kind-hearted. The little brother had not forgotten how, with her advice, she had helped him get the ram out of the well.

The wedding lasted three days. Then the brothers prepared to go home. Then each brother and his princely wife mounted a horse, with the daughter sitting in front. The prince then gave them gifts and saw them to the road that would take them home.

Then they rode to their village: The little brother in front and on the red horse, the middle brother was behind him riding the white horse, and the eldest a little distance behind the middle brother was on the black horse. And once they were home, they began to live happily.

*The tale was translated from Russian version into English by Troy Morash, a Canadian story writer. Thanks him for shared his translation with us.

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The original version in Chechen language with Latin alphabet:

Qo vaša

Cxhana den qo khant xilla. Vexaš xiyla xan yälça, dena çhogha camgar qetta.
— So qu camgarx vala mega, to a ca luš, — älla, das, šen qö a khant, qayqina šena the a valiyna, cärga veset dina, — So velça, suna, tüxan thulgax day, çurt a dogha, naggaxh thedüyliy, koš the a hitta. Bertaxh a je, dic a ma de, von xila atta du, dika xila xala du šuna.

Ocu camgarx to ca luš, da qelxina, tqha buxavisinçu qaa khanta, šešan den veset qoçušdeš, dena tüxan thulgax dina çurt a döghna, šayn da djaverziyna.

Cxha xan yällaçu xenaxh hara qo khant, šayn den koša the exa völla. İštta horš lelaš, šešan dena döghna tüxan çurt zhimluš xilar xaadella khentašna. Vokqax volçu vašas älla zhimax volçu šina veše:
— Hara vayn den košana vay döghna çurt laxluš du, hara larda deza vay, — älla.

Cu thexh bart a xilla, xhalxarçu qaa busa vokqax volu vaša vaxana den çurt larda. Den çurtana bilgalo a yina, çurt larda xi’naçu vokqax volçu vešina, qaa a busa nab qetta, den çurt lardeš jaçu zaman çoxh. Den çurt qara yinçu bilgalonal zhimdella kariyna. Šolghaçu roghana yukqhera vaša vaxana den çurt larda. Çürtana thexh bilgalo a yina, oxhavizhna yukqhera vaša a. Cunna a, vuqu vešina sanna, nab qetta. Qoalghaçu diynaxh xhäzhça, xhalxaçul a çurt laxdella kariyna. Thäxxhara a zhimax volu vaša vaxana den çurt larda. Šena mel çhogha nab theghörtiça a, nab ca qötüytuš, çurt lardeš jaš xilla zhimax volu vaša. Büysa yuqhal thex yällaçu xenaxh, stiglara oxha a be’na, cxha järzha boda theghörtina den çürtana.

Boda dikka gera qaççalc, jadda a jiyna, khanta, vist a xilla, älla:
— Hay suna thegherta boda, xho hun yu? Sa du xho ya zhin du xho? Distxila! Boda, humma a ca oluš, qin a gerga ghertaš xilla. Khanta jad a özna, pxa töxna. Thakqa a yuxa ca boluš, khentan den çurta the qetta boda. Khant, qossavella, bodanna the xi’na. Khant šena the xi’ça, bodano vadiyna vorhe a stigalan järçaška väkqina. Cu stiglan järçaškara kerçaš, yuxa lätta bössiça, khora sanna järzha din xilla, djahoitina järzhaçu bodanax. Lätta thexh ira a höttina, lestina, begabella din:
— Hinca-x daciy suna thexh cxha a huma, — älla. Buqha thexh xi’na jaçu khanta älla:
— Qin huma-m dac xhuna thexh, so khant-m vu. järzhaçu gilano zhop della:
— Taxana-txovsa düyna xhan dolaxh bu so, xho ben qin da vocuš. Xho xolçuhöttinçu mürexh, xhayna so ma iššinexh, hara san ċoganan merz bagor axha, so theqoçur bu xhuna.

Khantana ċoganax bäkqina merz a bella, djabaxana järzha gila. Govran ċoganax bäkqina merz šen kisana a billina, šolghaçu busa a den çurt larda oxhaxi’na zhimax volu vaša. Xhalxarçu busa sanna, lerina, qunna nab theghörttinçu xenaxh, stiglara oxhaxhädda khayn ghalart. Gergga qaççalc, jadda a jiyna, khanta älla:
— Suna gerga ma gherta, asa lazor du xho, khayn ghalart.

Qin i socurg a ca xilla, jad özna, pxa töxna khanta. Šena pxa töxça a, šek ca doluš, khentan den çurtana the qetta khayn ghalart. Cunna a, qossavella thexi’na, çurt lardeš jen khant. Xhalaikqina, vorhe a stigala xhala a dälla, cigara kerçaš lätta oxhadössinçu khayçu ghalartax sira din xilla djahöttina.
— Hinca-m maja-moza a xir bacara suna thexh, — älla, lestina, begabella sira din.
— So sanna volu khant ben, qin huma dac xhuna thexh, vir-beqha, — älla, vistxilla khant.

Thakqa khayçu dino, šen ċoganax bäkqina merz a luš, khante älla:
— Hinca xhan dola beli so. Xolçuhoitina, sögara gho ešna, so xhašt ma xillinexh, hara merz bagor axha, so theqoçur bu xhuna.

Khanta, bäkqina merz kisna a böllina, sira din djabaxiytina. Yeana theqäçna qoalgha büysa a. Khant den çurt lardeš jaçu xenaxh, toxara sanna, merza nab theghörtina cunna. Ocu busa theghörtina ghalart a, khanta, thera oxha ca vussuš, karadaliyça, cunax rasxa din xilla. Co a, vuqu šina dino sanna:
— Xhan dola beli so, xho xolçuhöttiça, xhayna gho ešnaçu mettexh, hara merz bagor axh, — älla, ċoganax bäkqina merz bella. İza a, vüš sanna, bälla cxhana aghor djabaxana.

Qo dey, qo büysiy djadälça, šayn zhimax volu vaša volçu vaxana vokqax volu ši vaša, co den çurt muxa lardo xhazha. Šäš yinçu bilgalonal çurt laxdella ca kariyna qarna. Cxhana diynaxh vokqax volçu šina vešina xezna, xäxkiça, din xhalxabällaçunna šen yoj a luš, elo govraš xoxküytu, älla. İ ši’ ciga vaxa keçvelça, ša a vaiytaxhara, älla zhimax volçu vašas.
— Axh cigaxh dan humma a dac, ya xhan cigaxh ghullaxk a dac, — älla, çovxiyna xilla cara zhimax volu vaša.

Vokqax volu ši vaša šayn dex yisinçu virna xhalxay, thexhay a xi’na, vaxa novqha välla, elo govraš a xaxkiytina, govr xhalxayälla, xhünar töllaçunna, yoj luçu toyne xhazha. Vokqax volu ši vaša djavaxançul thäxha, aravällaçu zhimax volçu vašas, ša xhalxa bäkqina merz, kisnara sxha a bäkqina, bagiyna, cunax hun xülu xhazha. Merz bägna balale, beana sxhaikqina, khanta düxxhara läcna, xhargha sanna bolu järzha din. Dika, lerina keçvella, cu dina a xi’na, elan toyne vaxa djaikqina zhimax volu vaša. Vöduš, xhalxa viraxh djavaxançu šina vešina thäxha qi’ça, cärga salam a luš, carna vovzale, thex’ikqina i šen dinaxh, üš salam djaeca qüuš, ca qüuš. Šina vašas älla xilla, thäxha a xhäzhna:
— Ma vayša çovxiyna, ċaxh vitinçu vayšinnan vešex a, vayšinnax a tera vac i vaxana bere, — älla.

Urx xecna yitça, moxaca çexkalla qhüysuš, yuxaözça, stiglan järçaška xhalaghertaš, vadiyna elan yürta djaqaçiyna järzhaçu dino zhimax volu vaša. Yürta çu ma vüyllinexh, theqäçnaçu tobane, elan toy miçxha du, älla, xättiça, yürtaxoša diyca a diycina, elan ghalin ghope vaxana khant. Kethaxh lättaçu ele salam a della, khanta älla:
— Xäxkiça, govr xhalxayälla xhünar töllaçunna, elo šen yoj lo, älla, xezna voghu so.

Elo khante älla:
— Dinan bere, xho thäxhavisna. Dika doy dolu bereš govraš xaxka baxana qo dey, qo büysiy xan yu.

Thakqa vistxillaçu khanta älla:
— Siylaxh ela, xhuna hun bilgalo yan yeza din xhalxabällaçu khanta? İ bilgalo xhuna theqaço xhozhur vara so.

Elo zhop della:
— Bašloma khel qäçna, oxhadoghuš šiyla šovda du. Cu šovdan yisttexh lättaçu leqaçu qura khel, bilgalonna, yillina san yöjan khudal yu. Ocu khudal çu tesna co pjelgax yullu çhug yu, san yöjan ċe a thexh.
Xhalxa theqäçnaçu bereço cu khudal çüra pjelgax yullu çhug sxhaqaço yeza. Cünga lur yu as sayn yoj.

Elo dan dezarg šega ma-darra diyciça, šen dinan urx sxha a oziyna, khentiyn toba djayaxançu lorax šen gila a berziyna, iza urxana malbina bitina khanta. Dikka neqh binçul thäxha, xhalxa djabaxançu berešna thäxha a qi’na, üš thäxha a bütuš, xhalxavälla, lam çu a qäçna, cigaxh šovdana yistexh bolçu qura ullorçu khudal çüra elan yöjan ċe thexh yolu çhug a yaxhaš, ċexha virzina šina vešin zhimax volu vaša. Elan yöjan çhug a yaxhaš, govraš xaxka baxana bereš ċa qoçu larbeš jaš ela a, cünan toyne guldella adamaš a xilla. Khanta mavogghura elan ghopan kerta thöxula din dexha a ökqüytuš, cünan yoj yolçu kore šen gila tesna. Korax araxhözhuçu yoje ša yeana çhug qössina khanta.

Govraš xaxka baxançu naxal, qünan din xhalxa balarna, qu khante šen yoj a luš, qaa diynaxxhiy, qaa busiy lovzar dina elo. Döalghaçu diynaxh khant-yoj novqha däkqina.

Veana ċa qäçça, ša yaliyna elan yoj nacqharçu ċa çu dja a laçqhiyna, ša xhalxa çoxh visinçu ċa çu a vaxana, parghatvälla jaš xilla khant. Lovzarga vaxana ši vaša a veana ċa qäçna. Šen šina vešega xättina zhimax volçu vašas:
— Xhan yäkqi elan yoj? Xhenan govr xhalxayälla toynexh? — älla. Šina vašas älla:
— Xhox tera vacara iza. Xha’a a yäkqiça a, xhuna hun bala bu cünan? Šolghaçu diynaxh a xezna qaa vešina:
— Laxara xhala xhäzhça, boxh a ca guš, oxhaxhäzhça, bux a ca guš bolçu leqaçu berdax binçu bena çüra leçanan ši khorni yeançu khantana, elo šen yoj lo, — älla.

Ša a vaiytaxhara aša, älça, šešan zhimax volu vaša a ca voüytuš, elan yoj yakqalur yacara-texha vayšinga hinca muqhana a, älla, vokqax volu ši vaša vaxana, šayn vira a xi’na. Buxavisinçu vašas šen kisnara šolgha merz bagiyna. Duqa xan yalale, beana sxhaikqina sira din. Dika duxar the a düyxina, lerina keç a vella, šen dinaxh araikqina zhimax volu vaša. Novqha djavöduš, šen šina vešina thex’ikqina hara. Djadella salam djaeca üš ca qüuš, sxhadella zhop xaza hara ca qüüš, siraçu dino vadiyna, thex’ikqina khant. Šina vašas thäxha a xäzhna, älla:
— Ma vayša ċaxh vitinçu vešex tera vac iza, co elan yoj yokqur yu xhuna.

Šen šed qoçexh, mel dolu adam a guldina, ela jaš, vaxana djaqäçna zhimax volu vaša. Derrige a adam guldella dälça, elo djaqayqiyna:
— Loman berdax bolçu leçanan bena çüra ši khorni yeançu khante šen yoj lo ša, — älla.

Ocu adamašca vaxana, leqaçu loma khel dja a höttina, šen siraçu gile xättina khanta:
— Hinca hun diça, tölur dara vayša? — älla. Sirçu dino šen dega älla:
— Qu lomana go bina duqa adam du, xhünar qhovsa deana, xho humma a voxa ma voxalaxh. Dag the bog hottoš, ši gola thetajae suna, çozh morcuš çözhe šed a toxa. Quztqhe qaammo sanna moxh toxa, xhalxarçu kogašca ghašloyn neqh bokquš, thäxharçu kogašca vordanan neqh bokquš, ocu leçanan bena the qaçor vu asa xho.

Khanta, šen dino šega ma-allara, dag the bog hottoš, gola tajiyna, çözhe šed töxna, quztqhe qaammo sanna moxh-ċogha töxna, sira din thetajiyna. Xhalxarçu kogašca ghašloyn neqh bokquš, thexharçu kogašca vordanan neqh bokquš, loman berdaš xercoš, leçanan bena the qäçna sira gila. Bena ullo qäçnaçu khanta, ele oxha moxh töxna:
— Leça dac benaxh, cünan ši khorni yu, hun de ša! — älla.

Elo i khorneš sxhayalae älla, zhop della. Leçanan ši khorni yan a ye’na, yöjan korax çuqössina khanta. Qaa diynaxxhiy, qaa busiy toy a dina, khante šen yo! a yella, novqha väkqina, ċa xhazhiyna elo. Ša yaliyna elan yoj, toxara, xhalxa yaliyna cünan yiša yolçu, ċa çu dja a laçqhiyna, parghatvälla, oxhaxi’na zhimax volu vaša.

Ċa veançu šina veše xättina buxarçu vašas:
— Elan yoj xhan yäkqina? — älla.
— Siraçu dinaxh veançu bereço yäkqi elan šolgha yoj a, humma a xhox tera a vacara iza, — älla, zhop della šina vašas.
— Sox tera ca xillexh a, šüšinnax tera muqha a xila velara iza, — älla, zhop della zhimax volçu vašas.

Qoalgha yoj, quztqha ärša khorga yolçu ghu çüra ka xhala-bäkqinçunna lo elo, älla, xabar xezna vezharšna. ZHimax volçu vašas ša vaiytaxhara, älça, xhalxa sanna, iza çovxa a vina, vira the a xi’na, šäšši’ novqha välla vokqax volu ši vaša. Ši vaša novqha välla duqa xan yalale, kisnara sxhabäkqina, qoalgha merz a bagiyna khanta. Beana, sxhaikqina khanta qoalgha läcna xilla rasxa din. Dügu nuskal sanna, šen din keçbina, nuskal dalo khant sanna, ša a keçvella, novqha dälla hara ši’. Novqha djavöduš, šen šina vešina thäxhaqi’na, cärga salam della qo. Qünan sapam sxhaeca üš ca qialuš, thex’ikqina zhimax volu vaša. Vaxana elan ghope qäçça, cigaxh kariyna qunna masso a maxkara bäxkina nax. Elo, naxana yukqhe a välla, qayqiyna, quztqha ärša khorgaçu ghuna çüra ka sxhabäkqinçu khante šen yoj lo ša, älla.

Masso a cecvälla visina. Khant šen rasxaçu dinax dagavälla, vayšinga hun dalur dara-teša, älla. Rasxaçu dino khantana zhop della:
— Ša qoa ca beš, arenaš jadoš moxh toxiy, çozh dagoš šed toxa šena. Xhalxarçu kogašca latta oxkuš, thexharçu kogašca latta nacqhar qüysuš, ša ghuna buxa qaçor vu xho. Thakqa ka sxha a ecna, xhalader du vayša.

Dino šega ma allara, arenaš jadoš moxh töxna, gila or the tesna khanta. Rasxaçu gilo xhalxarçu kogašca latta oxkuš, thexharçärca iza nacqhar qüysuš, kana the qaçiyna khant. Buxa ma qeççinexh, katöxna maja a läcna, ka xhalabadiyna khant voghuš, köman maja a yälla, xecabella yuxa or çu baxana iza. Cu zaman çoxh ghalin korax araxhözhuš jaçu yoja, khantana xilla xarco a gina, moxh töxna:
— Daqhaza ma vala xho, zhima qhonax! Barzo locuçüra, hunda ca locu axha iza? — älla.

Govraca yuxa çu a ikqina, katöxna vortana thera a läcna, ka xhala a bäkqina, lastiyna yoj yolçu korax çuqössina khanta ka. Ciga guldella mel dolçu adamana qaa diynaxh, qaa busiy toy a dina, šen zhimax yolu yoj a yella, ċa vaxa novqha väkqina elo qaa vešex zhimax volu vaša. Ša yaliyna elan qoalgha yoj, šayn yizhariy bolçu dja a laçqhiyna, rasxa din vazha ši din bolçu bozhli çoxh dja a xhulbina, šen vezhariy sxhaqaçale, vaxana oxhaxi’na khant.

Elo qayqiyna xhünar töllaçunna yoj luš xillaçu toynexh a jiyna, ċa veana ši vaša. Buxaxh jaçu šayn zhimax volçu vešega älla šina vašas:
— Ma xhox tera vacara-q, elan yoj qhevsinçoxh, rasxaçu dinaxh quztqha ärša khorgaçu ghuna çüra ka xhalabäkqina zhima khant.

Zhimax volçu vašas älla:
— İ khant sox tera ca xillexh a, co xhünarš tölla yäkqina qo yoj a, cünan xhünarš toliyna järzha, sira, rasxa qo din a asa goytur-m bu šuna, — bozhlara sxhaoziyna qö a gila a, sov ċa çüra arayäkqina xazalla gharayälla yolu elan qö a yoj a šina vešina xhalxa hottiyna zhimax volçu vašas.
— Vay das dina veset dagara dja ca dolu suna: von xila atta du, dika xila xala du bertaxh jelaš, ällera co. Qhastade šayna nuskal a, din a, — älla zhimax volçu vašas cecbövlla lättaçu šen vezharina.

Dügu nuskalš sanna doy keçdina, nevcariy sanna šaii keçbella, poštanna qo din a bözhna, ela volçu vaxana qo vašiy, ceran zudariy, qo yišiy.

Baxana nevcariy a, šen mexkariy a ša volçu qäçça, šen šed qoçexh mel dolu adam a guldina, vorh diynaxh, vorh busiy dokqa lovzar a dina, ša da volçu doxnax ax däxniy šen nevcaršna a, mexkaršna a della, ċa xhovsiyna elo üš.

Bäxkina ċa a qäçna, merzaçu bezamca, ċençu dagca, dokqaçu irsaca baxa xövšina qo vašiy, ceran zudariy, qo yišiy.
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The original version in Chechen language with cyrillic alphabet:

Кхо ваша

Цхьана ден кхо кlант хилла. Вехаш хийла хан яьлча, дена чlогlа цамгар кхетта.
— Со кху цамгарх вала мега, то а ца луш, — аьлла, дас, шен кхоь а кlант, кхайкхина шена тlе а валийна, цаьрга весет дина, — Со велча, суна, туьхан тlулгах дай, чурт а догlа, наггахь тlедуьйлий, кош тlе а хlитта. Бертахь а lе, диц а ма де, вон хила атта ду, дика хила хала ду шуна.

Оцу цамгарх то ца луш, да кхелхина, ткъа бухависинчу кхаа кlанта, шешан ден весет кхочушдеш, дена туьхан тlулгах дина чурт а доьгlна, шайн да дlаверзийна.

Цхьа хан яьллачу хенахь хlара кхо кlант, шайн ден коша тlе эха воьлла. Иштта хlорш лелаш, шешан дена доьгlна туьхан чурт жимлуш хилар хааделла кlенташна. Воккхах волчу вашас аьлла жимах волчу шина веше:
— Хlара вайн ден кошана вай доьгlна чурт лахлуш ду, хlара ларда деза вай, — аьлла.

Цу тlехь барт а хилла, хьалхарчу кхаа буса воккхах волу ваша вахана ден чурт ларда. Ден чуртана билгало а йина, чурт ларда хиъначу воккхах волчу вешина, кхаа а буса наб кхетта, ден чурт лардеш lачу заман чохь. Ден чурт кхара йинчу билгалонал жимделла карийна. Шолгlачу рогlана юккъера ваша вахана ден чурт ларда. Чуьртана тlехь билгало а йина, охьавижна юккъера ваша а. Цунна а, вукху вешина санна, наб кхетта. Кхоалгlачу дийнахь хьаьжча, хьалхачул а чурт лахделла карийна. Тlаьххьара а жимах волу ваша вахана ден чурт ларда. Шена мел чlогlа наб тlегlоьртича а, наб ца кхоьтуьйтуш, чурт лардеш lаш хилла жимах волу ваша. Буьйса юкъал тlех яьллачу хенахь, стиглара охьа а беъна, цхьа lаьржа бода тlегlоьртина ден чуьртана.

Бода дикка гера кхаччалц, lадда а lийна, кlанта, вист а хилла, аьлла:
— Хlай суна тlегlерта бода, хьо хlун ю? Са ду хьо я жин ду хьо? Дистхила! Бода, хlумма а ца олуш, кхин а герга гlерташ хилла. Кlанта lад а оьзна, пха
тоьхна. Тlаккха а юха ца болуш, кlентан ден чурта тlе кхетта бода. Кlант, кхоссавелла, боданна тlе хиъна. Кlант шена тlе хиъча, бодано вадийна ворхlе а стигалан lаьрчашка ваьккхина. Цу стиглан lаьрчашкара керчаш, юха лаьтта боьссича, кlора санна lаьржа дин хилла, дlахlоытина lаьржачу боданах. Лаьтта тlехь ира а хlоьттина, лестина, бегабелла дин:
— Хlинца-х даций суна тlехь цхьа а хlума, — аьлла. Букъа тlехь хиъна lачу кlанта аьлла:
— Кхин хlума-м дац хьуна тlехь, со кlант-м ву. lаьржачу гилано жоп делла:
— Тахана-тховса дуьйна хьан долахь бу со, хьо бен кхин да воцуш. Хьо холчухlоьттинчу муьрехь, хьайна со ма ишшинехь, хlара сан цlоганан мерз багор ахьа, со тlекхочур бу хьуна.

Кlантана цlоганах баьккхина мерз а белла, дlабахана lаьржа гила. Говран цlоганах баьккхина мерз шен кисана а биллина, шолгlачу буса а ден чурт ларда охьахиъна жимах волу ваша. Хьалхарчу буса санна, лерина, кхунна наб тlегlоьрттинчу хенахь, стиглара охьахьаьдда кlайн гlаларт. Гергга кхаччалц, lадда а lийна, кlанта аьлла:
— Суна герга ма гlерта, аса лазор ду хьо, кlайн гlаларт.

Кхин и соцург а ца хилла, lад оьзна, пха тоьхна кlанта. Шена пха тоьхча а, шек ца долуш, кlентан ден чуртана тlе кхетта кlайн гlаларт. Цунна а, кхоссавелла тlехиъна, чурт лардеш lен кlант.
Хьалаиккхина, ворхlе а стигала хьала а даьлла, цигара керчаш лаьтта охьадоьссинчу кlайчу гlалартах сира дин хилла дlахlоьттина.
— Хlинца-м маlа-моза а хир бацара суна тlехь, — аьлла, лестина, бегабелла сира дин.
— Со санна волу кlант бен, кхин хlума дац хьуна тlехь, вир-бекъа, — аьлла, вистхилла кlант.

Тlаккха кlайчу дино, шен цlоганах баьккхина мерз а луш, кlанте аьлла:
— Хlинца хьан дола бели со. Холчухlоытина, соьгара гlо эшна, со хьашт ма хиллинехь, хlара мерз багор ахьа, со тlекхочур бу хьуна.

Кlанта, баьккхина мерз кисна а боьллина, сира дин дlабахийтина. Еана тlекхаьчна кхоалгlа буьйса а. Кlант ден чурт лардеш lачу хенахь, тохара санна, мерза наб тlегlоьртина цунна. Оцу буса тlегlоьртина гlаларт а, кlанта, тlера охьа ца вуссуш, карадалийча, цунах расха дин хилла. Цо а, вукху шина дино санна:
— Хьан дола бели со, хьо холчухlоьттича, хьайна гlо эшначу меттехь, хlара мерз багор ахь, — аьлла, цlоганах баьккхина мерз белла. Иза а, вуьш санна, баьлла цхьана агlор дlабахана.

Кхо дей, кхо буьйсий дlадаьлча, шайн жимах волу ваша волчу вахана воккхах волу ши ваша, цо ден чурт муха лардо хьажа. Шаьш йинчу билгалонал чурт лахделла ца карийна кхарна. Цхьана дийнахь воккхах волчу шина вешина хезна, хаьхкича, дин хьалхабаьллачунна шен йоl а луш, эло говраш хохкуьйту, аьлла. И шиъ цига ваха кечвелча, ша а ваийтахьара, аьлла жимах волчу вашас.
— Ахь цигахь дан хlумма а дац, я хьан цигахь гlуллахк а дац, — аьлла, човхийна хилла цара жимах волу ваша.

Воккхах волу ши ваша шайн дех йисинчу вирна хьалхай, тlехьай а хиъна, ваха новкъа ваьлла, эло говраш а хахкийтина, говр хьалхаяьлла, хьуьнар тоьллачунна, йоl лучу тойне хьажа. Воккхах волу ши ваша дlаваханчул тlаьхьа, араваьллачу жимах волчу вашас, ша хьалха баьккхина мерз, киснара схьа а баьккхина, багийна, цунах хlун хуьлу хьажа. Мерз баьгна балале, беана схьаиккхина, кlанта дуьххьара лаьцна, хьаргlа санна болу lаьржа дин. Дика, лерина кечвелла, цу дина а хиъна, элан тойне ваха дlаиккхина жимах волу ваша. Воьдуш, хьалха вирахь дlаваханчу шина вешина тlаьхьа кхиъча, цаьрга салам а луш, царна вовзале, тlехъиккхина и шен динахь, уьш салам дlаэца кхуьуш, ца кхуьуш. Шина вашас аьлла хилла, тlаьхьа а хьаьжна:
— Ма вайша човхийна, цlахь витинчу вайшиннан вешех а, вайшиннах а тера вац и вахана бере, — аьлла.

Урх хецна йитча, мохаца чехкалла къуьйсуш, юхаоьзча, стиглан lаьрчашка хьалагlерташ, вадийна элан юьрта дlакхачийна lаьржачу дино жимах волу ваша. Юьрта чу ма вуьйллинехь, тlекхаьчначу тобане, элан той мичхьа ду, аьлла, хаьттича, юьртахоша дийца а дийцина, элан гlалин гlопе вахана кlант. Кетlахь лаьттачу эле салам а делла, кlанта аьлла:
— Хаьхкича, говр хьалхаяьлла хьуьнар тоьллачунна, эло шен йоl ло, аьлла, хезна вогlу со.

Эло кlанте аьлла:
— Динан бере, хьо тlаьхьависна. Дика дой долу береш говраш хахка бахана кхо дей, кхо буьйсий хан ю.

Тlаккха вистхиллачу кlанта аьлла:
— Сийлахь эла, хьуна хlун билгало ян еза дин хьалхабаьллачу кlанта? И билгало хьуна тlекхачо хьожур вара со.

Эло жоп делла:
— Башлома кlел кхаьчна, охьадогlуш шийла шовда ду. Цу шовдан йисттехь лаьттачу лекхачу кхура кlел, билгалонна, йиллина сан йоьlан кlудал ю. Оцу кlудал чу тесна цо пlелгах юллу чlуг ю, сан йоьlан цlе а тlехь. Хьалха тlекхаьчначу беречо цу кlудал чуьра пlелгах юллу чlуг схьакхачо еза. Цуьнга лур ю ас сайн йоl.

Эло дан дезарг шега ма-дарра дийцича, шен динан урх схьа а озийна, кlентийн тоба дlаяханчу лорах шен гила а берзийна, иза урхана малбина битина кlанта. Дикка некъ бинчул тlаьхьа, хьалха дlабаханчу берешна тlаьхьа а кхиъна, уьш тlаьхьа а буьтуш, хьалхаваьлла, лам чу а кхаьчна, цигахь шовдана йистехь болчу кхура уллорчу кlудал чуьра элан йоьlан цlе тlехь йолу чlуг а яхьаш, цlехьа вирзина шина вешин жимах волу ваша. Элан йоьlан чlуг а яхьаш, говраш хахка бахана береш цlа кхочу ларбеш lаш эла а, цуьнан тойне гулделла адамаш а хилла. Кlанта мавоггlура элан гlопан керта тlоьхула дин дехьа а оьккхуьйтуш, цуьнан йоl йолчу коре шен гила тесна. Корах арахьоьжучу йоlе ша еана чlуг кхоьссина кlанта.

Говраш хахка баханчу нахал, кхуьнан дин хьалха баларна, кху кlанте шен йоl а луш, кхаа дийнаххьий, кхаа бусий ловзар дина эло. Доьалгlачу дийнахь кlант-йоl новкъа даьккхина.

Веана цlа кхаьчча, ша ялийна элан йоl нацкъарчу цlа чу дlа а лачкъийна, ша хьалха чохь висинчу цlа чу а вахана, паргlатваьлла lаш хилла кlант. Ловзарга вахана ши ваша а веана цlа кхаьчна. Шен шина вешега хаьттина жимах волчу вашас:
— Хьан яьккхи элан йоl? Хьенан говр хьалхаяьлла тойнехь? — аьлла. Шина вашас аьлла:
— Хьох тера вацара иза. Хьаъа а яьккхича а, хьуна хlун бала бу цуьнан? Шолгlачу дийнахь а хезна кхаа вешина:
— Лахара хьала хьаьжча, бохь а ца гуш, охьахьаьжча, бух а ца гуш болчу лекхачу бердах бинчу бена чуьра лечанан ши кlорни еанчу кlантана, эло шен йоl ло, — аьлла.

Ша а ваийтахьара аша, аьлча, шешан жимах волу ваша а ца воуьйтуш, элан йоl яккхалур яцара-техьа вайшинга хlинца мукъана а, аьлла, воккхах волу ши ваша вахана, шайн вира а хиъна.

Бухависинчу вашас шен киснара шолгlа мерз багийна. Дукха хан ялале, беана схьаиккхина сира дин. Дика духар тlе а дуьйхина, лерина кеч а велла, шен динахь араиккхина жимах волу ваша.

Новкъа дlавоьдуш, шен шина вешина тlехъиккхина хlара. Дlаделла салам дlаэца уьш ца кхуьуш, схьаделла жоп хаза хlара ца кхуьуьш, сирачу дино вадийна, тlехъиккхина кlант. Шина вашас тlаьхьа а хаьжна, аьлла:
— Ма вайша цlахь витинчу вешех тера вац иза, цо элан йоl йоккхур ю хьуна.

Шен шед кхочехь, мел долу адам а гулдина, эла lаш, вахана дlакхаьчна жимах волу ваша. Дерриге а адам гулделла даьлча, эло дlакхайкхийна:
— Ломан бердах болчу лечанан бена чуьра ши кlорни еанчу кlанте шен йоl ло ша, — аьлла.

Оцу адамашца вахана, лекхачу лома кlел дlа а хlоьттина, шен сирачу гиле хаьттина кlанта:
— Хlинца хlун дича, тоьлур дара вайша? — аьлла. Сирчу дино шен дега аьлла:
— Кху ломана го бина дукха адам ду, хьуьнар къовса деана, хьо хlумма а воха ма вохалахь. Даг тlе бог хlоттош, ши гола тlетаlае суна, чож морцуш чоьже шед а тоха. Кхузткъе кхааммо санна мохь тоха, хьалхарчу когашца гlашлойн некъ боккхуш, тlаьхьарчу когашца ворданан некъ боккхуш, оцу лечанан бена тlе кхачор ву аса хьо.

Кlанта, шен дино шега ма-аллара, даг тlе бог хlоттош, гола таlийна, чоьже шед тоьхна, кхузткъе кхааммо санна мохь-цlогlа тоьхна, сира дин тlетаlийна. Хьалхарчу когашца гlашлойн некъ боккхуш, тlехьарчу когашца ворданан некъ боккхуш, ломан бердаш херцош, лечанан бена тlе кхаьчна сира гила. Бена улло кхаьчначу кlанта, эле охьа мохь тоьхна:
— Леча дац бенахь, цуьнан ши кlорни ю, хlун де ша! — аьлла.

Эло и кlорнеш схьаялае аьлла, жоп делла. Лечанан ши кlорни ян а еъна, йоьlан корах чукхоьссина кlанта. Кхаа дийнаххьий, кхаа бусий той а дина, кlанте шен йо! а елла, новкъа ваьккхина, цlа хьажийна эло. Ша ялийна элан йоl, тохара, хьалха ялийна цуьнан йиша йолчу, цlа чу дlа а лачкъийна, паргlатваьлла, охьахиъна жимах волу ваша.

Цlа веанчу шина веше хаьттина бухарчу вашас:
— Элан йоl хьан яьккхина? — аьлла.
— Сирачу динахь веанчу беречо яьккхи элан шолгlа йоl а, хlумма а хьох тера а вацара иза, — аьлла, жоп делла шина вашас.
— Сох тера ца хиллехь а, шуьшиннах тера мукъа а хила велара иза, — аьлла, жоп делла жимах волчу вашас.

Кхоалгlа йоl, кхузткъа аьрша кlорга йолчу гlу чуьра ка хьала-баьккхинчунна ло эло, аьлла, хабар хезна вежаршна. Жимах волчу вашас ша ваийтахьара, аьлча, хьалха санна, иза човха а вина, вира тlе а хиъна, шаьшшиъ новкъа ваьлла воккхах волу ши ваша. Ши ваша новкъа ваьлла дукха хан ялале, киснара схьабаьккхина, кхоалгlа мерз а багийна кlанта. Беана, схьаиккхина кlанта кхоалгlа лаьцна хилла расха дин. Дуьгу нускал санна, шен дин кечбина, нускал дало кlант санна, ша а кечвелла, новкъа даьлла хlара шиъ. Новкъа дlавоьдуш, шен шина вешина тlаьхьакхиъна, цаьрга салам делла кхо. Кхуьнан сапам схьаэца уьш ца кхиалуш, тlехъиккхина жимах волу ваша. Вахана элан гlопе кхаьчча, цигахь карийна кхунна массо а махкара баьхкина нах. Эло, нахана юккъе а ваьлла, кхайкхийна, кхузткъа аьрша кlоргачу гlуна чуьра ка схьабаьккхинчу кlанте шен йоl ло ша, аьлла. Массо а цецваьлла висина. Кlант шен расхачу динах дагаваьлла, вайшинга хlун далур дара-теша, аьлла. Расхачу дино кlантана жоп делла:
— Ша кхоа ца беш, аренаш lадош мохь тохий, чож дагош шед тоха шена. Хьалхарчу когашца латта охкуш, тlехьарчу когашца латта нацкъар кхуьйсуш, ша гlуна буха кхачор ву хьо. Тlаккха ка схьа а эцна, хьаладер ду вайша.

Дино шега ма аллара, аренаш lадош мохь тоьхна, гила ор тlе тесна кlанта. Расхачу гило хьалхарчу когашца латта охкуш, тlехьарчаьрца иза нацкъар кхуьйсуш, кана тlе кхачийна кlант. Буха ма кхеччинехь, катоьхна маlа а лаьцна, ка хьалабадийна кlант вогlуш, коьман маlа а яьлла, хецабелла юха ор чу бахана иза. Цу заман чохь гlалин корах арахьоьжуш lачу йоlа, кlантана хилла харцо а гина, мохь тоьхна:
— Дакъаза ма вала хьо, жима къонах! Барзо лоцучуьра, хlунда ца лоцу ахьа иза? — аьлла.

Говраца юха чу а иккхина, катоьхна вортана тlера а лаьцна, ка хьала а баьккхина, ластийна йоl йолчу корах чукхоьссина кlанта ка. Цига гулделла мел долчу адамана кхаа дийнахь, кхаа бусий той а дина, шен жимах йолу йоl а елла, цlа ваха новкъа ваьккхина эло кхаа вешех жимах волу ваша. Ша ялийна элан кхоалгlа йоl, шайн йижарий болчу дlа а лачкъийна, расха дин важа ши дин болчу божли чохь дlа а хьулбина, шен вежарий схьакхачале, вахана охьахиъна кlант.

Эло кхайкхийна хьуьнар тоьллачунна йоl луш хиллачу тойнехь а lийна, цlа веана ши ваша. Бухахь lачу шайн жимах волчу вешега аьлла шина вашас:
— Ма хьох тера вацара-кх, элан йоl къевсинчохь, расхачу динахь кхузткъа аьрша кlоргачу гlуна чуьра ка хьалабаьккхина жима кlант.

Жимах волчу вашас аьлла:
— И кlант сох тера ца хиллехь а, цо хьуьнарш тоьлла яьккхина кхо йоl а, цуьнан хьуьнарш толийна lаьржа, сира, расха кхо дин а аса гойтур-м бу шуна, — божлара схьаозийна кхоь а гила а, сов цlа чуьра араяьккхина хазалла гlараяьлла йолу элан кхоь а йоl а шина вешина хьалха хlоттийна жимах волчу вашас.
— Вай дас дина весет дагара дlа ца долу суна: вон хила атта ду, дика хила хала ду бертахь lелаш, аьллера цо. Къастаде шайна нускал а, дин а, — аьлла жимах волчу вашас цецбоьвлла лаьттачу шен вежарина.

Дуьгу нускалш санна дой кечдина, невцарий санна шаыи кечбелла, поштанна кхо дин а боьжна, эла волчу вахана кхо ваший, церан зударий, кхо йиший.

Бахана невцарий а, шен мехкарий а ша волчу кхаьчча, шен шед кхочехь мел долу адам а гулдина, ворхl дийнахь, ворхl бусий доккха ловзар а дина, ша да волчу дохнах ах даьхний шен невцаршна а, мехкаршна а делла, цlа хьовсийна эло уьш.

Баьхкина цlа а кхаьчна, мерзачу безамца, цlенчу дагца, доккхачу ирсаца баха хоьвшина кхо ваший, церан зударий, кхо йиший.

May God do good to you, may you live long with good, may evil not come to you, may good come to you! I will tell you a tale, I will tell you a wonder. Make your ears attentive like ears of a deer, make your eyes attentive like eyes of a wolf!

It was a long time ago, when those icy mountains were higher than they are now, when there was no show and ice in their summits, but instead there were various flowers, good smelling grasses, when in the deep gorges and on the mountain slopes, there were snow and ice that never melted.

I will tell you since what time there is snow in that summit of Baş-Lam, I will tell you since what time in the fields and in mountain slopes, there are pleasant smelling grasses and various flowers.

In those times, our ancestors Närt Erstxós lived in deep gorges, high towers, and caves. They were very tall, like these mountains. Their horses also were large. Närt Erstxós were strong like bears, courageous like wolves, agile like tigers, and cunning like foxes. They could easily tear pieces from mountain rocks and throw them, they could make heavens tremble with their voices, but they still were powerless because they did not have fire.

However, mighty Siela (god of fire) was merciless and ruthless. He was the owner of the heavens and fire was his property. Why power is needed if it is useless for people? What is the use of power if people suffer because of it?

In order to demonstrate his power to Närt Erstxós, Siela would sit in fire chariots and drove above the heavens, making terrible noise as if the heaven was crushed and broken in pieces.

Wow! How he surprised people!
Wow! How he terrified the earth!

Siela’s heavenly dwelling place was always covered with black clouds. Siela filled clouds with rain and sent them to the earth. Rain like hail and ice fell on the earth, causing people even more sorrow and calamity. He shoot lightnings on the earth, using a bow made of rainbow and fire. Siela had authority over both good and evil.

Siela was generous to give evil, but mean to give good.
People could hardly get good from him, but Siela himself gave evil.
There was eternal enmity between the heavens and the earth!
There was eternal fight between Siela and people!

The more Närt Erstxós were upset by sorrow and calamity, the more Siela was happy. The more Siela was happy, the more upset was Sata, Siela’s beloved one and mother of Närt Erstxós. Sata very much wanted to help Närt Erstxós, but was afraid of Siela.

At that time, in the mountains, there lived a mighty Närt Pxharmat. Pxharmat was a very skillful blacksmith. He made swords, shields, and chain-mail shirts of cold bronze for Närts, asking only for a good word. Good word is very valuable in the mountains. Be happy! Be lucky! Be victorious! Be free! Pxharmat was a modest, generous, and strong Närt. He spoke little, but thought a lot. He thought how to help people, how to get fire. Siela did not give it. Since Pxharmat was born, he accumulated all the good human attributes: strength, dexterity, keen mind, knack, and patience.

His horse Turpal walked around freely in the mountains. “Horse becomes stronger when horse-man rides him, and man becomes stronger in labor and fight! Then, why does your Turpal always walk freely?” asked Närts. Pxharmat replied: “My horse is strong enough. There will be time when he takes a smoldering log from heavenly hearth!” Närt Erstxós sincerely laughed at Pxharmat’s words. But Pxharmat thought how to help people.

Pxharmat called his Turpal. At of this cry, Argun’s gorge thundered, mountains trembles, and mighty Siela woke up and turned to another side.

Turpal that was grazing far away in the mountains heard his master’s call and neighed in reply. It cause waves of Argun to hide themselves in mountains and waters of Argun to pour out of their marble riverbanks. Animals in the mountains were frightened and stood still. Turpal came to his master with a speed of a lightning.

Pxharmat took a mace into his hands, attached a shield of bison leather to his elbow, hanged a bow on his neck, attached quiver filled with arrows at his side, put on a chain-mail shirts, attached a sword to his belt, and took a spear into his hand. He saddled his horse Turpal, drank a full horn of mountain goal filled with yay (Chechen national beer), saying: “Let a foot be stable as in tar, let a hand be stable as in dough.” He sat on the horse and went to the place where nobody had gone and from where nobody had come back.

Närt Erstxós scattered millet on the road where Pxharmat was going to go in order that he would be lucky and they put a vessel filled with millet so that he would go light and empty and come back heavy and full! Pxharmat was riding for a long time. He was on the way seven days and seven nights. He passed through seven mountains and seven gorges. Eventually, he came to the foot of that highest mountain Baş-Lam that reaches the heavens where Siela lives. Pxharmat took a long and hard way, climbing to the top of the mountain. His way was through is hard slopes. On the top of the mountain, there were pleasantly smelling herbs, various flowers, and beautifully singing birds.

From time to time, sun-like Sata, Siela-Sata, Siela’s beloved one and Närt Erstxós’ mother came to the top of the mountain to rest. She took an image of a bird and came to Pxharmat. She spoke, using human language:
“Hey, mighty Närt, you came to the top of Baş-Lam with some purpose.”
“This is right, generous bird, I came to the top of Baş-Lam with some purpose. I came to take smoldering log from the heavenly hearth and will not come back without it,” – Pxharmat replied.
“The one who has a good intention will be lucky. I will help you. Is your horse swift?” – Siela-Sata asked.
“My horse is more swift than wind.”
“Is your horse strong?”
“My horse is strong. Where it hits with its hoof, this place becomes a fountain.”
“Are you strong yourself?”
“In my hands, cold bronze becomes softer than tar and wax,” – Pxharmat replied to Siela-Sata.

Siela-Sata told Pxharmat how and in what way it is possible to come to Siela’s hearth and how to take a smoldering log from it.

“Siela is sleeping now. Let your horse, running like a wind, jump over the hearth. At that time, bend down, take a smoldering log, and drive your horse to the top of Baş-Lam. Be careful! Siela is terrible and cruel! If he wakes up, you will not be able to come back alive and bring fire.”

Pxharmat did as Sata advised him.

Pxharmat’s horse swiftly jumped over Siela’s hearth. At that moment, Pxharmat bent down, took a smoldering log from the hearth, and went to the top of Baş-Lam. Due to horse Turpal’s swiftness, a fire tail followed Pxharmat. Siela woke up because some sparks got into his nostrils.

He saw a brave Närt bringing fire from heavens to the earth for people.

Siela got very frightened because he knew that if people got fire, they would become strong and brave and would try to rebel against him.

He started a terrible pursuit of a brave Närt.

Siela untied a sack with dark night. It became so dark that Pxharmat did not see his fingers and ears of his horse. Both Närt and his horse could not see anything. They could easily fall into precipice. However, wonderful bird Siela-Sata flied in front of them and showed them the way by her wonderful singing. Siela saw that dark night was unable to stop Pxharmat and his horse. So, he untied another sack with a terrible storm. Terrible storm and dark night were going to destroy brave Närt and his horse. However, the wonderful bird showed them the way by her beautiful singing.

The brave Närt saw that the storm was going to put out his smoldering log. Without hesitations, he hid the fire in his bosom. Due to strong wind, Argun’s waters came out of their course. Large oaks were take out of the ground with their roots and were tossed in the sky like straw.

Siela saw that dark night and terrible storm could not stop Närt and his horse and that he was not damaged be his heavenly pursuit. So, Siela untied his third sack with coldest frost. The coldest frost caused rocks to crack, making terrible noise, and mountains to become smaller. However, fearless Närt Pxharmat and his horse Turpal moved on.

Siela was very frightened. He saw that the brave Närt and his horse were near the foot of Baş-Lam and that they were going to hide themselves in a cave. He took his bow made of fire and light and began to shoot lightnings toward Närt. The lightnings caused the mountains to tremble, frozen fountains to melt, and the waves of Argun to go to mountain slopes. High mountains trembled as if they were alive.

The strongest frost, the terrible storm, the dark night, and the lightnings could not stop or lead astray fearless Närt Pxharmat and his horse Turpal.

They entered the cave where Närts were waiting for them.

“Take it! Here is fire for you!” – Pxharmat said to amazed Närt Erstxós. “In every tower, in every cave, in every house, light fire! Let there be much fire, warm, and light in every home! Let there be happiness with you!”

At that time, there was a terrible noise. The heaven proclaimed eternal enmity toward the earth. In turn, people proclaimed about their eternal fight toward heaven.

“Be happy!” – the fearless Närt said again.

At that time, there was a terrible noise in the mountains because of heavenly thunder and lightnings.

“People, be happy! I have to undergo eternal torment! I will undergo torment in order to deliver you from Siela’s anger! Do not be upset about me!”

Leaving the cave, the fearless Närt Pxharmat went to the mountain Baş-Lam through lightnings, cold, dark night, and storm. Above his head, there were lightnings, storm tossed him around, his arms and legs got stiff because of cold, dark night surrounded him. It was because Siela, being angry, expressed his malice.

Seeing the brave Närt Pxharmat who was going to the dome of heaven, to the top of Baş-Lam, Siela slowly put the storm, cold, and night into his sacks. Gradually, snow and ice were moving higher from the valleys, gorges, and mountain slopes to the top of Baş-Lam, following Pxharmat.

The summit of Baş-Lam got covered with snow and ice. It put a white, snowy cap on its head forever.

Siela shouted: “Let you eternally long for the fire that you brought out from the heavens. Let you eternally long for warm!”

Siela sent his faithful servant one-eyed Uzhu with bronze chains to Pxharmat.

One-eyed Uzhu tied Pxharmat to the icy summit of Baş-Lam with bronze chains. Siela cursed him. Since then, everything good is cursed by god, and everything cursed by god is approved by people! There is an eternal enmity between the heavens and the earth! There is eternal fight between people and Siela!

Every morning, the queen of all the birds Ida comes to the tied Pxharmat.

She sits on his knees and every time asks the same question:
“Hey, miserable Pxharmat! Hey, pitiful Pxharmat! Do you repent for what you did? If you repent, I will not touch you. If you do not repent, I will peck your liver!”

In spite of the terrible torment that he is going to undergo, Pxharmat always gives the same answer:
“No, no! I did not repent. I gave warm and light to people! I should not repent of a good action that I did.”

Ida sharpens her steel beak with a rock and pecks Pxharmat’s liver.

Närt Pxharmat does not utter a sound. His eyes never becomes wet. He undergoes this great torment and pain with a great courage and patience. Since this time, as Waynakhs [Chechens and Ingushs] say, Närt Erstxó men never cry! Since this time, there is snow on the summit of Baş-Lam. Siela gathered all the snow and ice from valleys, gorges, and mountain slopes to the summit of Baş-Lam where Pkharmt is tied in order to increase his desire for warm and fire.

Since this time, it is warm in valleys, gorges, and mountain slopes. This warm is from the fire brought by Pxharmat from the heavens. Since this time, at the foot of the mountain and in valleys, there are pleasant smelling herbs and various flowers. Beautiful, wonderful birds live there. However, at the summit of Baş-Lam, there is cold, eternal storm, and never melting hard ice. Pxharmat is tied there. He will be in eternal torment. However, he will never die.

Turpal never dies. Turpal will live forever!

Pxharmat

Xhuna Dala dika diyrig, dikanca xho duqa vaхarg, vonna xho thäxhatеttarg, dikanna xho xhalхavaхarg! Diycaniy-älliy, hun du xhuna, as cxha tüyra düycur du xhuna, tur-tamaša büycur bu xhuna. Lunan lеrgaš samadaхalaxh, bеrzan bjärgaš sеrladaхalaxh!..

Asa xhuna düycur du ocu djogarçu bašlamanan körtеxh lo maca düyna jüllu, šеraçu arеnaškaхxhiy, lamaniyn basеškaхxhiy хaza xhozha yolu bеcaššiy, tayp-taypana zеzagaššiy maca düyna düylu…

Macaх xhalхa zaman çoxh i djogaxh šuna guš dolu lеqa lämnaš qin a lеqa хilla, cеran kortoškaxh hinca sanna loy, šay a docuš, хaza bеcaššiy, zеzagaššiy хilla. Tqha xhalхa zaman çoxh cqha a ca dеšaš loy, šay khorgaçu jannaškaхxhiy, lamaniyn basеškaхxhiy, šеraçu arеnaškaхxhiy хilla.

Ocu хеnaxh vayn day, närt-orstхoy, jannaškaхxhiy, xhехaškaхxhiy, lеqaçu bjävnaškaхxhiy bехaš-jaš хilla. İ djogara lämnaš sanna lеqa хilla üš. Cеran doy a хilla ištta dakqiy. Çеrçiy sanna nicqh boluš хilla närt-orstхoy, bеrzaloy sanna mayra хilla, ċöqhaš sanna kadе хilla, cxhogalš sanna mеkar хilla.

Katuхiy, atta sxhayokqiy, lamanan tarх qussuš хilla cara, moxh tuхiy, lamanaš dеkoš хilla, ċogha tuхiy, stiglanaš еgoš хilla cara. Dеlaxh a ghorasiz хilla üš — ċе ca хilla cеran karaxh.
Nicqh bolu Sеla qhiza хilla, jazapе хilla. İza хilla stigalan da, ċе a cünan dolaxh хilla.

Hun payda bu nicqhan a, cunaх adamašna dika doluš ca хilça?

Hun payda bu nicqhan, cunaх adamašna jazap-bala хüluš хilça? Närt-orstхošna, šеgara nicqh gayta, ċеran xhorkanaš thе a хoiy, inzarе yokqa ghovgha ghattoš хilla Sеlas, stigala kagluš, daqhanaš хüluš, oxhathеyölхuš sanna хötüytuš, yеrrig stigala a qhеqhoš. Sеla jaš volu stiglan järçеš daima järzhaçu marхaša xhuldinеra. Doghanaх yuzayoy, marхaš lätta xhovsayoy, ocu doghanaх ša, qhora lätta еlхayora Sеlas, adamašna thе qin a dokqa jazap dossoš. Kеst-kеstta co, nüraх-ċaraх dina stеlajad kara a öciy, lätta stеlaхäštigaš qüssura, dеrrigе a gondjaxh dagoš.

Dika a, von a Sеlin karaxh dara. Vonna komärša vara Sеla, dikanna — sutar vara…

Dika qhäxhaçu qhica qhiysamеxh dokqura adamaša, tqha von — Sеlas ša luš dara.

Stigalniy, lättaniy yukqhеxh daima mostaghalla lättara.

Sеliniy, adamašniy yukqhеxh daima qhiysam lättara. Närt-orstхoy balano mеl tajiy, ghad’öхura Sеla. Sеla ghad mеl iхi, ghayghanе yödura Sata. Satina çhoga läara närt-orstхošna gho dan, amma Sеlех qörura iza.

Ocu хеnaxh lomaxh vехarš vara nicqh bolu närt Pxharmat, šеn pxhalghi çoxh, naхana ghullaq a dеš. Dika pxhar хilla iza.

Pxharmat yesala, komärša, nicqh boluš närt хilla. Qhamеl khеzig a dеš, qha duqa xhögura Pxharmata. Oylanaš duqa yora, adamiyn balina, hun gholi yiyr yara-tе, boхuš. Co oyla yora, Sеlin dolara a yäkqina, adamašna ċе muхa yaxhar yara-tе, boхuš. Bеrtaxh ca lora iza Sеlas.

Ša dünеn çu välçaxhana, naхana yukqhеra dikanig, özdanig, xhеqhalеnig sxhaguldеš vara Pxharmat.

Cünan din Turpal guttara lomaxh parghat lеlara.

Oluš хillеra närtaša Pxharmatе:
— Din bеrеçunna khеlaxh baхçalo, qhonaх qhiysamеxh vaхçalo. Xhan din parghat hunda lеla?

Pxharmata zhop luš хillеra:
— San din baхçabеlla bu. Хan thеqäçça, san dino stiglara хäštig daxhar du!

Cxhana diynaxh Pxharmata šеn Turpalе moxh töхnеra, Organan çhozh dеkoš, lamanaš dеgoš, samaväkqina, Sеliga agho хorcüytuš. Gеnnaxh lomaxh bеzhaš bolu din, šеn da qoyquš хеzna, düxhal tеrsira. Tqhеs sanna masa qеçira Turpal šеn dеna Pxharmatana düxhal. Karaiycira Pxharmata çxhonkar, thеdüyхira yözan ghagh, хän thе öllira pхеrçех yüzina хumpjar, pxhärsaх qhеvlira buliyn nеjarх yina yolu turе, koça tеsira sеqajad, yuqhaх diхkira tur, buyna qhövlira büхxhеxh yöza vеd yolu ghömaq.

Šеn Turpal dinna yutqha nüyr a tillina, xhехan maja yüzzina döttina yiy a mеlla, baqaх sanna kog latiytalaxh san, badaх sanna küg latiytalaxh, älla, dina a хi’na, cqha a cxha a ca vaхançu, vaхnarg vuхa ca voghuçu novqha vеlira iza. Närt-orstхoša Pxharmat vöduçu novqha borc xhärsira, nеqh dika хiliyta, älla. Maqaх büzna mok hottiyra: «Vöduš, vayn-vеsa хülda xho, voghuš vеza-vüzina хülda xho!» — älla.

Duqa iхira Pxharmat. Boph diynaхxhiy, vorh busiy nеqh bira co. Boph jin, vorh lam хadiyra co. Šеna thеxh Sеla vехaš yolu stigal xhalaläcna lättaçu Bašlamanan duххе qеçira Pxharmat. Nissa xhala yolçu inzarе хalaçu basеškaхula irх nеqh bira Pxharmata. Bašlamanan körtе vеlira iza. Bašlamanan körtеxh хaza xhozha yolu bеcaššiy, tayp-taypana zеzagaššiy dara.

Ocu Bašlamanan körtе sadaja yussuš хillеra mälхan nur dogu Sata, Sеla-Sata, Sеlin еzar, närt-orstхoyn nana.

Khayn olхazar хilla düxhal’еlira iza Pxharmatana. Adamiyn mattaxh cuo yelira:
— Hay nicqh bolu närt! Xho laa-tara ca välla hoqu Bašlamanan büхxhе.
— Baqhdu iza, komärša olхazar, so laa-tara ca välla hoqu Bašlamanan körtе. So stigalan qеrçara adamašna ċеran хäštig daxha vеana, i docuš, vuхavörzur voluš a vac, — zhop dеllеra Pxharmata.
— Dikaçu ghullaqana aravällaçünan nеqh dika ca хilça, amal dac. Asa gho diyr du xhuna, — älla Sеla-Sata.

Yuхa a хättinеra co:
— Din dika buy xhan?
— Moхal masa bu san din, — zhop dеllеra Pxharmata.
— Nicqh boluš buy xhan din?
— San dino bеrg töхnaçoxh, šovda guçudolu.
— Nicqh boluš vuy xho xhuo?
— San karaxh šiyla börza baqal a, balozal a khеda хülu, — yelira Pxharmata.

Sеla-Sata diycira Pxharmatana muхa, mülхaçu novqha vaхça, qaçalur vu Sеlin qеrça, diycira cünan qеrçara ċеran хaыntig muхa yecalur du.

— Sеla hinca vizhina хir vu. Moх sanna çехka xhayn din djaхaхka. Sеlin qеrçana thöхula qossabaliyta iza. Cu çoxh yoguš yolçu ċarna xho thе ma nisvеllinеxh, oxha-çuqovdiy, katoхiy, ċеran хäštig sxhaeca. Cul thäxha xhayn din, yuхanеxha, nissa Bašlamanеxha хaхka. Larlolaxh! İnzarе vu Sеla! Qhiza vu Sеla! İza samavalaxh, diyna djavoхüytur vac co xho a, ya xhan din a. Lätta ċеran хäštig djaqaçor dac axha thakqa.

İštta, Satas ma-xhеххara, ghullaq dira Pxharmata.

Çехka хaхkabеlla, Sеlin qеrça thöхula qossabеlira Pxharmatan din. Oxhaqövdina, ċеran хäštig sxhaecna, Bašlamanan körtеxha хäхkira Pxharmata šеn din. Din sov masa xhadarna, хaыntiga thеra ghövttinçu suynaša dеххa ċoga dillira Pxharmatana thеxha. İ suynaš mеranjürga daхana, samavеlira Sеla. Gira cunna mayraçu närto šеn ċepgapa хäštig xhoš. Хäara Sеlina, ċе karaе’ça, stag nicqh boluš a, mayra a хir vuyla, thakqa iza šеna düxhal ghottur vuyla.

Bokqa nicqh karabaхnеra stagana. Qеravеllеra nicqh bolu Sеla. Dokqa orca däkqira Sеlas mayraçu närtana Pxharmatana thäxha. Järzha büysa çoxh yolu kitt sxhadästira Sеlas. Pxharmatana šеn küygiyn pjеlgaš ca guš, dinan lеrgaš ca guš, jarzh’еlira. Sa ca guš disira Pxharmattiy, cünan dinniy. Aхkaçu a daхana, hallak’хilarna qеram bara i ši’. Amma tamašina хazaçu olхazaro Sеla-Sata, xhalхa a dälla, šеn isbäxhaçu yešaršca nеqh xhöхura carna.

Järzhaçu büysanan nicqh ca qäçna, närttiy, cünan dinniy saco. Thakqa Sеlas sxhadästira šеn darc çoxh dolu kitt a. Çехka darc thäxhaхiycira Sеlas Pxharmatana. Järzhaçu büysanoy, çехkaçu darcoy çhogha xhovziyra Pxharmattiy, cünan dinniy. Thakqa a, хazaçu olхazaro Sеla-Sata, šеn thеmašca dorcana düxhalo еš, šеn yešaršca nеqh xhöхura carna.

Pxharmatana gira, šеn karara doguš dolu хäštig, çехkaçu darco doyuš. Ċе yocuš, lätta vossa taro yacara cünan. Šеn çеta dillira co iza. Jozhallin хеlхarca mayraçu närtana gonaх xhiyzara bürsa darc, järzhaçu büysano bjarzvinеra, çеtaxh dolçu хäštigo naqa morcura. Duqa çhogha lastorna, Organan хiš moqazan bеrdaškara yüstaх tiysinеra, dakqiyra nеzhnaš, oramašca buхdäхna, çan хеligaš sanna, stigalхula idadora.

Sеlina gira ya järzhaçu büysanе a, ya çhoghaçu darcе a närttiy, cünan dinniy sacaluš caхilar. Zеn-zulam docuš, stigalan orcanaх närt khеlxharavoluš lättara.

Thakqa sxhadästira Sеlas morsa šеlo çoxh yolu qoalgha kitt a.

Morsaçu šеlono lamanan tarхaš lölхüytuš, lamanaš хabiynеra, dеlaxh a mayra närt Pxharmattiy, cünan din Turpalliy xhalхa djaöхura.

Çhogha qеravеlira Sеla. Cunna gira mayra närt Bašlamanan oxha buххе qoçuš. Hinca khеlxharavoluš lättara iza. Sov çhogha ghirvölla, ċеraх-nüraх dina, šеn stеlajad sxhaecna, närtana thäxha stеlaхäštigaš qiysa vüylira iza.

Stеlaхäštigaša lamanaš lеstadora, ghoriyna lättina šovdanaš doladaliytira, Organan tulghеš, qhäхkinaçu zhan mеtta sanna, lamanan basеškaхula djay-sxhay xhovdiytira, lamanan lеqa tarхaš, diyna yoluš sanna, mеttaх’xhеra.

Morsaçu šеlonе a, çhoghaçu darcе a, järzhaçu büysanе a, stеlaхäštigaška a ca sacavеlira mayra närt Pxharmat. Šеga xhüysuš närtaš bolçu yokqaçu xhехa çu djaqеçira iza.

— Han! Hapa yu šuna ċе! — yelira Pxharmata cеcbövllaçu närtaška.
— Hop bjävna çu, hop xhехa çu, hop ghali çu lataеlaš ċе! Pattaеlaš yokqa alu! Hop ċa çoxh хiliytalaš ċе! Хiliytalaš yovхo! Хiliytalaš sеrlo!.. Ma yaytalaš ċе cqha a! Хülda šu irs doluš!

Thakqa ocu хеnaxh yokqa ghovgha ghaыtira, Sеlas thom bеš… Stigal yara lättе guttarеnna a mostaghalla xhеdеš! Stag vara Sеliga guttarеnna a qhiysam xhеbеš! Sеla, ghirvölla, öghazvaхnеra!

— İrs doluš хülda šu! Šuna thеra Sеlin jazap djaayarxhama, so jazapе vozha vеzaš vu! İrе doluš хülda šu! Suna ghayghanе ma хilalaš!

Mayra närt Pxharmat stеlaхäštigašniy, šеlonniy, darcanniy, järzhaçu büysanniy düxhal vaхara Bašlam thе. Cünan körta thöхula stеlaхäštigaš lеlхara, darco djay-sxhay vеttara iza, küygaš-kogaš šеlono daxhiynеra cünan. İza Sеla vara, öghazvaхançüra vasta ca luš.

Bašlam thе, šеna düxhal stigalan järçaška xhalavoghuš mayra närt giça, Sеlas mеllaša kittašna çu üyzira darcciy, šеloy, büysiy. Arеnaškara, jannaškara, lämniyn basеškara šеlo, cqha a ca dеšaš jillina lo, ghypa mеllaša Pxharmatana thäxha Bašlamanan körtе xhalayaхara. Layn, šan yiysarе baхana djahöttira Bašlamanan korta, cqha a qin dja ca yakqa, cuo šеn körtaх khayn bašlaq xharçiyra.

Moxh tüyхira Sеlas:

— Ayxha stiglara yixhnaçu ċaraх xhеgavoyla xho! Yovхonaх xhеgavoyla xho! — älla. Šеn tеšamе lay, cxha bjärg bolu juzha, vaхiytira Sеlas Pxharmatana düxhal gеzan zjеnaš a yecna. Bašlamanan körtе djaviхkira juzhas Pxharmat ocu zjеnašca.

Pxharmatana jazapna, älla, Sеlas xhalagulyinçu šеlono, ghurano, layno Bašlamanan korta, ghopoš, djalеcira. Pxharmata lätta еançu ċaro dеrrigе dünе doхdira, arеnaš, lamaniyn basеš, khorga jannaš хaza xhozha yolçu bеcašiy, tayp-taypanarçu zеzagašiy duqhdina djahittiyra.

Masso a jüyranna djaviхkina volçu Pxharmatana thеdoghu dеrrigе a olхazariyn yela İda. Pxharmatan golaš thе oxhaхuiy, daima cxha хattar do co:
— Hay dеqhaza Pxharmat! Hay qhinan Pxharmat! Doхkovälliy xho, ayxha dinçunna? Xho doхkovällеxh, asa xhaviyr vac xho, ca vällеxh, xhan dojaх dozhur du so!

Šеna хin dolçu inzarеçu jazapan oyla ca еš, guttara a cxha zhop lo Pxharmata:
— Han-han! Doхko ca välla. Asa adamašna irs dеlla, asa adamašna yovхo, sеrlo еlla! Dina dällaçu dikaçu ghullaqana doхkovala mеgar dac!

Tqha olхazariyn yela İda, šеn bolatan zjok, moqazan thulgех xhoqiy ir a yoy, Pxharmatan dojaх dazha dolalo. Pxharmata cxha uzar ca bo. Cünan bjärgaš çu cqha a thunalla ca yussu. Dokqaçu dönallica, voхa ca vuхuš, lov co i dokqa jazap, i dokqa lazar.

Occu хеnaxh düyna sxha du-q vaynехan, närt-orstхoyn qhonaхa völхuš caхilar. Occu хеnaxh düyna du-q, lamaniyn baхxhaškaxh, daimanna a ca dеšaš, dizhina jüllu luo, ša xhöquš, šiyla darc. Pxharmat Bašlamanan körtе djaviхkiça, cunna jazapna, älla, Sеlas ciga xhalaguldina-q iza, daimanna a iza yovхonaх xhеgo, ċaraх xhеgo.

Occu хеnaxh düyna sxha du-q šеraçu arеnaškaхxhiy, khorgеçu jannaškaхxhiy, lamaniyn basеškaхxhiy хaza xhozha yolu bеcaššiy, tayp-taypana zеzagaššiy. Ocu хеnaxh düyna sxha yu-q lättaxh yovхo, bеrkat, sеrlo. İ yovхo adamašna Pxharmata yеana! Tqha Pxharmat djaviхkina vu ocu Bašlamanan büхxhе. İza daimanna a dokqaçu jazapеxh vu, amma cqha a liyr vac iza!

Turpal ca lе! Turpal daim vехa!

ПХЬАРМАТ

Хьуна дала дика дийриг, диканца хьо дукха вахарг, вонна хьо тIаьхьатеттарг, диканна хьо хьалхавахарг! Дийцаний-аьллий, хIун ду хьуна, ас цхьа туьйра дуьйцур ду хьуна, тур-тамаша буьйцур бу хьуна. Лунан лергаш самадахалахь, берзан бIаьргаш серладахалахь!..

Аса хьуна дуьйцур ду оцу дIогарчу Башламанан коьртехь ло маца дуьйна Iуьллу, шерачу аренашкаххьий, ламанийн басешкаххьий хаза хьожа йолу бецашший, тайп-тайпана зезагашший маца дуьйна дуьйлу…

Мацах хьалха заман чохь и дIогахь шуна гуш долу лекха лаьмнаш кхин а лекха хилла, церан кортошкахь хIинца санна лой, шай а доцуш, хаза бецашший, зезагашший хилла. Ткъа хьалха заман чохь цкъа а ца дешаш лой, шай кIоргачу Iаннашкаххьий, ламанийн басешкаххьий, шерачу аренашкаххьий хилла.

Оцу хенахь вайн дай, наьрт-орстхой, Iаннашкаххьий, хьехашкаххьий, лекхачу бIаьвнашкаххьий бехаш-Iаш хилла. И дIогара лаьмнаш санна лекха хилла уьш. Церан дой а хилла иштта даккхий. Черчий санна ницкъ болуш хилла наьрт-орстхой, берзалой санна майра хилла, цIоькъаш санна каде хилла, цхьогалш санна мекар хилла.

Катухий, атта схьайоккхий, ламанан тарх кхуссуш хилла цара, мохь тухий, ламанаш декош хилла, цIогIа тухий, стигланаш егош хилла цара. Делахь а гIорасиз хилла уьш — цIе ца хилла церан карахь.
Ницкъ болу Села къиза хилла, Iазапе хилла. Иза хилла стигалан да, цIе а цуьнан долахь хилла.

ХIун пайда бу ницкъан а, цунах адамашна дика долуш ца хилча?

ХIун пайда бу ницкъан, цунах адамашна Iазап-бала хуьлуш хилча? Наьрт-орстхошна, шегара ницкъ гайта, цIеран хьорканаш тIе а хоий, инзаре йоккха гIовгIа гIаттош хилла Селас, стигала каглуш, дакъанаш хуьлуш, охьатIейоьлхуш санна хоьтуьйтуш, ерриг стигала а къекъош. Села Iаш волу стиглан Iаьрчеш даима Iаьржачу мархаша хьулдинера. ДогIанах юзайой, мархаш лаьтта хьовсайой, оцу догIанах ша, къора лаьтта елхайора Селас, адамашна тIе кхин а доккха Iазап доссош. Кест-кестта цо, нуьрах-цIарах дина стелаIад кара а оьций, лаьтта стелахаьштигаш кхуьссура, дерриге а гондIахь дагош.

Дика а, вон а Селин карахь дара. Вонна комаьрша вара Села, диканна — сутар вара…

Дика къаьхьачу къица къийсамехь доккхура адамаша, ткъа вон — Селас ша луш дара.

Стигалний, лаьттаний юккъехь даима мостагIалла лаьттара.

Селиний, адамашний юккъехь даима къийсам лаьттара. Наьрт-орстхой балано мел таIий, гIадъоьхура Села. Села гIад мел ихи, гIайгIане йоьдура Сата. Сатина чIога лаьара наьрт-орстхошна гIо дан, амма Селех кхоьрура иза.

Оцу хенахь ломахь вехарш вара ницкъ болу наьрт Пхьармат, шен пхьалгIи чохь, нахана гIуллакх а деш. Дика пхьар хилла иза.

Пхьармат эсала, комаьрша, ницкъ болуш наьрт хилла. Къамел кIезиг а деш, къа дукха хьоьгура Пхьармата. Ойланаш дукха йора, адамийн балина, хIун гIоли йийр яра-те, бохуш. Цо ойла йора, Селин долара а яьккхина, адамашна цIе муха яхьар яра-те, бохуш. Бертахь ца лора иза Селас.

Ша дуьнен чу ваьлчахьана, нахана юккъера диканиг, оьзданиг, хьекъалениг схьагулдеш вара Пхьармат.

Цуьнан дин Турпал гуттара ломахь паргIат лелара.

Олуш хиллера наьрташа Пхьармате:
— Дин беречунна кIелахь бахчало, къонах къийсамехь вахчало. Хьан дин паргIат хIунда лела?

Пхьармата жоп луш хиллера:
— Сан дин бахчабелла бу. Хан тIекхаьчча, сан дино стиглара хаьштиг дахьар ду!

Цхьана дийнахь Пхьармата шен Турпале мохь тоьхнера, Органан чIож декош, ламанаш дегош, самаваьккхина, Селига агIо хорцуьйтуш. Геннахь ломахь бежаш болу дин, шен да кхойкхуш хезна, дуьхьал терсира. Ткъес санна маса кхечира Турпал шен дена Пхьарматана дуьхьал. Караийцира Пхьармата чхьонкар , тIедуьйхира йоьзан гIагI , хаьн тIе оьллира пхерчех юьзина хумпIар , пхьаьрсах къевлира булийн неIарх йина йолу турс , коча тесира секхаIад , юкъах дихкира тур, буйна къоьвлира буьххьехь йоьза вед йолу гIоьмакх .

Шен Турпал динна юткъа нуьйр а тиллина, хьехан маIа юьззина доьттина йий а мелла, бакхах санна ког латийталахь сан, бадах санна куьг латийталахь, аьлла, дина а хиъна, цкъа а цхьа а ца ваханчу, вахнарг вуха ца вогIучу новкъа велира иза. Наьрт-орстхоша Пхьармат воьдучу новкъа борц хьаьрсира, некъ дика хилийта, аьлла. Макхах буьзна мок хIоттийра: «Воьдуш, вайн-веса хуьлда хьо, вогIуш веза-вуьзина хуьлда хьо!» — аьлла.

Дукха ихира Пхьармат. ВорхI дийнаххьий, ворхI бусий некъ бира цо. ВорхI Iин, ворхI лам хадийра цо. Шена тIехь Села вехаш йолу стигал хьалалаьцна лаьттачу Башламанан духхе кхечира Пхьармат. Нисса хьала йолчу инзаре халачу басешкахула ирх некъ бира Пхьармата. Башламанан коьрте велира иза. Башламанан коьртехь хаза хьожа йолу бецашший, тайп-тайпана зезагашший дара.

Оцу Башламанан коьрте садаIа юссуш хиллера маьлхан нур догу Сата, Села-Сата, Селин езар, наьрт-орстхойн нана.

КIайн олхазар хилла дуьхьалъелира иза Пхьарматана. Адамийн маттахь цуо элира:
— ХIай ницкъ болу наьрт! Хьо лаа-тара ца ваьлла хIокху Башламанан буьххье.
— Бакъду иза, комаьрша олхазар, со лаа-тара ца ваьлла хIокху Башламанан коьрте. Со стигалан кхерчара адамашна цIеран хаьштиг дахьа веана, и доцуш, вухавоьрзур волуш а вац, — жоп деллера Пхьармата.
— Дикачу гIуллакхана араваьллачуьнан некъ дика ца хилча, амал дац. Аса гIо дийр ду хьуна, — аьлла Села-Сата.

Юха а хаьттинера цо:
— Дин дика буй хьан?
— Мохал маса бу сан дин, — жоп деллера Пхьармата.
— Ницкъ болуш буй хьан дин?
— Сан дино берг тоьхначохь, шовда гучудолу.
— Ницкъ болуш вуй хьо хьуо?
— Сан карахь шийла боьрза бакхал а, балозал а кIеда хуьлу, — элира Пхьармата.

Села-Сата дийцира Пхьарматана муха, муьлхачу новкъа вахча, кхачалур ву Селин кхерча, дийцира цуьнан кхерчара цIеран хаьштиг муха эцалур ду.

— Села хIинца вижина хир ву. Мох санна чехка хьайн дин дIахахка. Селин кхерчана тIоьхула кхоссабалийта иза. Цу чохь йогуш йолчу цIарна хьо тIе ма нисвеллинехь, охьа-чукховдий, катохий, цIеран хаьштиг схьаэца. Цул тIаьхьа хьайн дин, юханехьа, нисса Башламанехьа хахка. Ларлолахь! Инзаре ву Села! Къиза ву Села! Иза самавалахь, дийна дIавохуьйтур вац цо хьо а, я хьан дин а. Лаьтта цIеран хаьштиг дIакхачор дац ахьа тIаккха.

Иштта, Сатас ма-хьеххара, гIуллакх дира Пхьармата.

Чехка хахкабелла, Селин кхерча тIоьхула кхоссабелира Пхьарматан дин. Охьакхоьвдина, цIеран хаьштиг схьаэцна, Башламанан коьртехьа хаьхкира Пхьармата шен дин. Дин сов маса хьадарна, хаьштига тIера гIоьвттинчу суйнаша дехха цIога диллира Пхьарматана тIехьа. И суйнаш меранIуьрга дахана, самавелира Села. Гира цунна майрачу наьрто шен цIергара хаьштиг хьош. Хаьара Селина, цIе караеъча, стаг ницкъ болуш а, майра а хир вуйла, тIаккха иза шена дуьхьал гIоттур вуйла.

Боккха ницкъ карабахнера стагана. Кхеравеллера ницкъ болу Села. Доккха орца даьккхира Селас майрачу наьртана Пхьарматана тIаьхьа. Iаьржа буьйса чохь йолу китт схьадаьстира Селас. Пхьарматана шен куьйгийн пIелгаш ца гуш, динан лергаш ца гуш, Iаржъелира. Са ца гуш дисира Пхьарматтий, цуьнан динний. Ахкачу а дахана, хIаллакьхиларна кхерам бара и шиъ. Амма тамашина хазачу олхазаро Села-Сата, хьалха а даьлла, шен исбаьхьачу эшаршца некъ хьоьхура царна.

Iаьржачу буьйсанан ницкъ ца кхаьчна, наьрттий, цуьнан динний сацо. ТIаккха Селас схьадаьстира шен дарц чохь долу китт а. Чехка дарц тIаьхьахийцира Селас Пхьарматана. Iаьржачу буьйсаной, чехкачу дарцой чIогIа хьовзийра Пхьарматтий, цуьнан динний. ТIаккха а, хазачу олхазаро Села-Сата, шен тIемашца дорцана дуьхьало еш, шен эшаршца некъ хьоьхура царна.

Пхьарматана гира, шен карара догуш долу хаьштиг, чехкачу дарцо дойуш. ЦIе йоцуш, лаьтта восса таро яцара цуьнан. Шен чета диллира цо иза. Iожаллин хелхарца майрачу наьртана гонах хьийзара буьрса дарц, Iаьржачу буьйсано бIарзвинера, четахь долчу хаьштиго накха морцура. Дукха чIогIа ласторна, Органан хиш мокхазан бердашкара юьстах тийсинера, даккхийра нежнаш, орамашца бухдаьхна, чан хелигаш санна, стигалхула идадора.

Селина гира я Iаьржачу буьйсане а, я чIогIачу дарце а наьрттий, цуьнан динний сацалуш цахилар. Зен-зулам доцуш, стигалан орцанах наьрт кIелхьараволуш лаьттара.

ТIаккха схьадаьстира Селас морса шело чохь йолу кхоалгIа китт а.

Морсачу шелоно ламанан тархаш лоьлхуьйтуш, ламанаш хабийнера, делахь а майра наьрт Пхьарматтий, цуьнан дин Турпаллий хьалха дIаоьхура.

ЧIогIа кхеравелира Села. Цунна гира майра наьрт Башламанан охьа буххе кхочуш. ХIинца кIелхьараволуш лаьттара иза. Сов чIогIа гIирвоьлла, цIерах-нуьрах дина, шен стелаIад схьаэцна, наьртана тIаьхьа стелахаьштигаш кхийса вуьйлира иза.

Стелахаьштигаша ламанаш лестадора, гIорийна лаьттина шовданаш доладалийтира, Органан тулгIеш, къаьхкиначу жан метта санна, ламанан басешкахула дIай-схьай хьовдийтира, ламанан лекха тархаш, дийна йолуш санна, меттахъхьера.

Морсачу шелоне а, чIогIачу дарце а, Iаьржачу буьйсане а, стелахаьштигашка а ца сацавелира майра наьрт Пхьармат. Шега хьуьйсуш наьрташ болчу йоккхачу хьеха чу дIакхечира иза.

— ХIан! ХIара ю шуна цIе! — элира Пхьармата цецбоьвллачу наьрташка.
— ХIор бIаьвна чу, хIор хьеха чу, хIор гIали чу латаелаш цIе! ГIаттаелаш йоккха алу! ХIор цIа чохь хилийталаш цIе! Хилийталаш йовхо! Хилийталаш серло!.. Ма яйталаш цIе цкъа а! Хуьлда шу ирс долуш!

ТIаккха оцу хенахь йоккха гIовгIа гIаьттира, Селас тIом беш… Стигал яра лаьтте гуттаренна а мостагIалла хьедеш! Стаг вара Селига гуттаренна а къийсам хьебеш! Села, гIирвоьлла, оьгIазвахнера!

— Ирс долуш хуьлда шу! Шуна тIера Селин Iазап дIаайархьама, со Iазапе вожа везаш ву! Ире долуш хуьлда шу! Суна гIайгIане ма хилалаш!

Майра наьрт Пхьармат стелахаьштигашний, шелонний, дарцанний, Iаьржачу буьйсанний дуьхьал вахара Башлам тIе. Цуьнан коьрта тIоьхула стелахаьштигаш лелхара, дарцо дIай-схьай веттара иза, куьйгаш-когаш шелоно дахьийнера цуьнан. Иза Села вара, оьгIазваханчуьра васта ца луш.

Башлам тIе, шена дуьхьал стигалан Iаьрчашка хьалавогIуш майра наьрт гича, Селас меллаша китташна чу уьйзира дарцций, шелой, буьйсий. Аренашкара, Iаннашкара, лаьмнийн басешкара шело, цкъа а ца дешаш Iиллина ло, гIура меллаша Пхьарматана тIаьхьа Башламанан коьрте хьалаяхара. Лайн, шан йийсаре бахана дIахIоьттира Башламанан корта, цкъа а кхин дIа ца яккха, цуо шен коьртах кIайн башлакх хьарчийра.

Мохь туьйхира Селас:

— Айхьа стиглара йихьначу цIарах хьегавойла хьо! Йовхонах хьегавойла хьо! — аьлла. Шен тешаме лай, цхьа бIаьрг болу Iужа, вахийтира Селас Пхьарматана дуьхьал гезан зIенаш а эцна. Башламанан коьрте дIавихкира Iужас Пхьармат оцу зIенашца.

Пхьарматана Iазапна, аьлла, Селас хьалагулйинчу шелоно, гIурано, лайно Башламанан корта, гIорош, дIалецира. Пхьармата лаьтта еанчу цIаро дерриге дуьне дохдира, аренаш, ламанийн басеш, кIорга Iаннаш хаза хьожа йолчу бецаший, тайп-тайпанарчу зезагаший дукъдина дIахIиттийра.

Массо а Iуьйранна дIавихкина волчу Пхьарматана тIедогIу дерриге а олхазарийн эла Ида. Пхьарматан голаш тIе охьахуий, даима цхьа хаттар до цо:

— ХIай декъаза Пхьармат! ХIай къинан Пхьармат! Дохковаьллий хьо, айхьа динчунна? Хьо дохковаьллехь, аса хьавийр вац хьо, ца ваьллехь, хьан доIах дожур ду со!

Шена хин долчу инзаречу Iазапан ойла ца еш, гуттара а цхьа жоп ло Пхьармата:
— ХIан-хIан! Дохко ца ваьлла. Аса адамашна ирс делла, аса адамашна йовхо, серло елла! Дина даьллачу дикачу гIуллакхана дохковала мегар дац!

Ткъа олхазарийн эла Ида, шен болатан зIок, мокхазан тIулгех хьокхий ир а йой, Пхьарматан доIах дажа долало. Пхьармата цхьа узар ца бо. Цуьнан бIаьргаш чу цкъа а тIуналла ца юссу. Доккхачу доьналлица, воха ца вухуш, лов цо и доккха Iазап, и доккха лазар.

Оццу хенахь дуьйна схьа ду-кх вайнехан, наьрт-орстхойн къонаха воьлхуш цахилар. Оццу хенахь дуьйна ду-кх, ламанийн баххьашкахь, даиманна а ца дешаш, дижина Iуьллу луо, ша хьоькхуш, шийла дарц. Пхьармат Башламанан коьрте дIавихкича, цунна Iазапна, аьлла, Селас цига хьалагулдина-кх иза, даиманна а иза йовхонах хьего, цIарах хьего.

Оццу хенахь дуьйна схьа ду-кх шерачу аренашкаххьий, кIоргечу Iаннашкаххьий, ламанийн басешкаххьий хаза хьожа йолу бецашший, тайп-тайпана зезагашший. Оцу хенахь дуьйна схьа ю-кх лаьттахь йовхо, беркат, серло. И йовхо адамашна Пхьармата еана! Ткъа Пхьармат дIавихкина ву оцу Башламанан буьххье. Иза даиманна а доккхачу Iазапехь ву, амма цкъа а лийр вац иза!

Турпал ца ле! Турпал даим веха!

29th September 1819: punitive expedition led by General Yermolov

A milky mist, clinging to the crowns of the ancient trees, shrouded the mountain village in a blue-grey haze. The cavalary, armed to the teeth, spurred their horses to a gallop and flooded the sleeping settlement with the din of war. Everythinf fused into a blood-drenched nightmare. A ray of morning sunlight trying to break through the thinning mist would have dimmed in horror had it possessed the power vision.

In the midst of that slaughter, among the bodies already growing cold, sat a boy of about four, weeping bitterly and tugging incessantly at his mother’s hair, tangled with clotted blood. His cries were drowned by the groans of the dying. The soldiers had set fire to the village: any harvest crops missed by the flames they hacked down with sabres, so that nothing would remain for any chance survivors.

The previous night, before the attack, Nassipat had dreamt of when she was small and, terror-stricken by a Russian attack, was fleeing with her parents into the forest. That had happened more than once in her childhood. But on this horrific morning, wide awake though she was, fate pro-longed her nightmare. She saw her husband and children being bayoneted before her very eyes. One of her daughter streched out her hands to a soldier, appealing for mercy. Yet he pierced the thin little body with his bayonet, and the child sank to the ground like a sheaf of corn falling to the scythe. Nassipat howled like a wounded beast at this horror, her soul grasping its reality, while her mind willed it to be just part of her dream. Oblivious of her wounds, she struggled to breather life into those dead children. Then she sank into a chasm of unconsciousness.

A child’s heart-rending cry reawakened her. She attempted to open her eyes but her swollen lids would not obet. Forcing them open, she raised her leaden head, but the sight of those torn bodies plunged her once again into the abyss.

The boy’s plaintive wailling dragged her back into the world of the living, the last place she wanted to be. That sound gave her strength, and she crawled towards it. A smoky mist swirled over the village, velling the rising sun. A column of flame soared skywards and the familiar smell of burning cramped her breathing. “The maize crops are on fire – may you burn like that in hell, infields!” she cried. But her curses went unheard. The soldiers had left the village. Anyway Nassipat would have felt no fear – only blind maternal instinct to rescue the weeping child. Stumbling through heaps of corpses, she finally found the half-naked little boy.

The sobbing, dark-eyed lad was trying desperately to rouse his mother. Suddenly he fell silent but, this terror re-kindled, he screamed in anguish. She grasped his hand and staggered towards the familiar forest refuge.

At last she stopped to rest under an ancient beech-tree, whose dense crown shahed them with morning cool. The foliage murmured something secret in the breeze. A brook babbled in the distance. Nassipat alone knew that both were imploring the Almighty tos pare the child. She felt like sobbing out her own grief to Him, but instead, gulping back the lump in her throat, she asked the boy: “What’s your name?”

Reassured by her kindly eyes, he answered: “Salam”.

“Salam”, she repeated softly. “What a fine name!” His mouth, previously convulsed with sobbing, streched into a smile. She clasped him to her, her eyes brimming with tears. Lulled by her warmth, he fell asleep, and Nassipant abandoned herself to memories.

Imperceptibly, night drew in. The moon’s soft glow lit up the mountains. The air smelled of grass. An eagle owl’s be-witching call echoed through the forest. But broken-hearted Nassipat could see only blasphemy in nature’s beauty. Her maternal heart had settled forever in the village that re-mained her family’s resting-place.

A bridge was cast between this day of horror and that far-off day when she had been orphaned, at about the same age as Salam was now.

“Beter that I had died then!” she whispered. “But the Almighty let me survive for this child’s sake.”

She feared neither her solitude nor wild animals. All feelings had grown numb: saving Salam had become her only reason for living. For three days and nights they walked on towards her mother’s relatives’ village. The boy whimpered, begging her to return to his parents, not fully grasping what had happened. Nassipat kept picking young nettles, which stung her hand mercilessly; she ground them and ate them with Salam, to ward of starvation. In bramle thickets she picket the dark, juicy berries and fed them to him.

Evening was drawing in and the mooing cattle, their udders heavy with milk, were returning home, dust billowing in their wake. Only recently, her own cow would have returned in just the same way, but now there was no cow, no village, no family. That lup in her throat was back again, hindering her breathing.

Summoning their kast ounce of strength, they followed the herd into the village.

Nassipat knocked on the woven willow Gates of an old house. In the spacious courtyard, her relative Khalipat was tethering her cow, just back from the pasture. Sensing someone’s presence, she turned round, but could barely recognise the women before her as the Nassipat she had known. Throwing down the cow’s halter, weeping and wailling, she flung her arms around Nassipat, who also gave free rein to her tears. Then, pierced by a searing pain, she fell to the ground, swallowed up bu darkness again. Salam took fright and whimpered softly.

When she regained consciousness, she was lying on a wooden sofa bed, her relatives bustling around her, and Salam settled close by; he would not stir from her side.

“Now that you’ve returned from that world, you will live for a hundred years,” Khalipat rejoiced.

“It clearly isn’t my destiny to die,” Nassipat said softly, her face lighting up as her gaze fell upon Salam.

“You have a remakable little son,” said her hostes. This was no time to speak of those children left behind the massacre. It did her good to her praise of her son.

Every day they were given fresh milk and maize bread. As guests, they occupied the best bed, received the best food, and were shown particular courtesy, while their hosts lay down to sleep on the floor and refrained from eating to leave more for newcomers.

As Nassipat gradually recovered, a seperate house was built for her and Salam, where, as members of Djamirza’s family, they were supplied with all Essentials. Her body retrieved its lost vigour and her cheeks grew pink again; only the fire in her black eyes did not return. And conversation was something she could not endure, giving her a reputation for taciturnity. Although his grief was sometimes visible, he never complained, in proud solitude, like a wolf-cub that had lost its mother. Seeing this, Nassipat’s heart ached, and those dreadful events flashed through her mind again. Everything that remained intact in her injured soul went into rearing her adopted son. Yet she made no show of her boundless affection, fort hat was not customary; boys were brought up according to the strict laws of the mountains.

One evening she was watching from the window as Salam chopped wood. Despite his youth, he already showed the attributes of a grown man. His resolute nature was manifest. He needed to be growing up under male guidance, and the day was approaching when he would leave her.

“Soon you shall go over to Djamirza’s house to gather in the crops for seven years,” she said softly. Djamirza was a courageous warrior, often wounded in combat. “I am ready”, answered Salam. He became a serious, responsible boy, like his own father, who had perished on that fateful morning, whose bravery had won him the esteem of his peers – a Chechen’s highest honour. Salam was kind and responsive, but would not pardon an insult; he would fight doggedly if unjustly provoked. At Djamirza’s house he would also be trained from the age of seven as a defender of his Motherland.

Salam prospered under Djamirza’s guidance, a worthy and attentive son to Nassipat, who took pride in his successes and the authority he earned among those around him. At fifteen he joined in fighting against the Russians, although Djamirza was opposed to this, considering him too young. Djamirza’s children became Salam’s own brothers and sisters, and he was much envied for having not one but two adoring mothers and an exemplary father. He married early on his own initiative, but with the support of Djamirza and Nassipat. He considered it his duty to ensure a worhty succession.

Salam dreamed of returning to his native village, but was afraid of giving offence to his adoptive father, Djamirza. Nevertheless he did later return there, and fethered three sons and two daughters. Salam took part in a number of campaigns against the Russians and finally gave his young life in the cause of freedom, in the hope that we, his descendants, would never have to bear the colonial yoke and could live free and equal, as Chechens are born on this earth.

Salam died in 1840, aged twenty-five.

Tamara Islamova

*Published at Exiled Ink magazine (Issue 12, Autumn/Winter 2009)

An editor and copy editor by profession, Apti Bisultanov continued to write poetry during the first Chechen war. Unwilling to be a victim for a second time, Bisultanov joined the fighters when second Chechen war broke out in 1999. He stayed with them for three years before leaving his native country. The signifiance of this move for him poignantly described in the first lines of a poem dedicated to this farewall: “Both hands grasp the heart / this old hedgehog / and firmly patch up all the wounds / like old boots on a shoemaker’s awl.”

Bisultanov explains that he has lived in poetry since his childhood. As always, whenever he speaks of poetry, his face lights up. Circumstances brought him into politics: “If you can really put it like that,” he says. Bisultanov hopes that he will at some point in his life be able to devote himself entirely to art again. He points out that very little poetry is being read in Chechnya at present. “The beauty of poetry no longer has anything to do with people’s everyday lives,” says Bisultanov. “People say that poems could no longer be written after Auschwitz. The same now applies to Chechnya.” Of the one million Chechens that were alive before the war, some 200.000 have been killed in the conflict. Yet, says Bisultanov, there is still more poetry in Chechnya than in the West. “Here there is no secret, no sacrement. Everything is standardised.”

Apti Bisultanov is not naive when it comes to the West; he knows that he, his attitudes, and his experience do not fit into the Western intellectual scene. The poems in his volume entitled “Shadow of a Lightning Flash” come from a world where religion is woven through every fibre of the being. “For me, there are no two ways about it: religion and poetry are one and the same. God created the world like a poem.” For a religious person, there is no such thing as a coincidence. This being the case, it is no surprise that Bisultanov sees a deeper meaning in the Russian-Chechen war. “Tell the world, which is sacrificing Chechnya / that for the world Chechnya is burning” is a quote from one of the few poems he wrote during the war. “The world is revealed in Chechnya,” he explains. “We learn the truth about the Russians’ attitude to the Chechens, the Russians’ attitude to each other, and the Chechens’ attitude to the each other. What’s more, the rest of the world reveals its true colours in its silence about the war.”

The suffering of the Chechen people is carved into every single Chechen family tree. Bisultanov’s father fought in the Red Army. Despite this and the fact that he was wounded at the time, he was deported along with the entire Chechen population as an “enemy of the people” directly from the front line to Kazakhstan in February 1944. Five of his ten children starved. Apti, the youngest, was the first of them to be born in Chechnya in 1959. He was six years of age when his father died from his war wounds. Last year, his mother died at the age of 89, having witnessed her village, Goitschu, being razed to the ground. In the winter of 2000, the village was surrounded by Russian soldiers. The women, children, and old people were driven into a snow-covered field where they were forced to remain, exposed to the elements without food of water, for then whole days.

In addition to Bisultanov’s nationally tinted poems, there are others that are immediately accessible for non-Chechen readers. The power of the images in these poems hints that Bisultanov has in his poems “arrived at a place where no one else has ever been,” Joseph Brodsky describes the task of a poet. The heart is a central motif in his poetry: “The round nest in the boughs / my heart / in the undergrowth of my ribs,” he writes in the poem “X-ray”. That being said, the heart is hardly ever a refuge for private feelings. It is “more powerful than the world” and beats for the fate of an entire people. The heart is the seat of both bravery and an unshakeable pride that shapes Apti Bisultanov’s attitudes, but without the slightest trace of pathos. His anecdotes from the war bear witness to the Chechens’ desire for freedom; the Chechens, who have never in their history known feodal structures.

It was only when he went straight from the forests of Chechnya to the Literature Festival in Berlin that he saw things differently. In the audience were a few Germans and a dozen Chechens living in exile. The Germans that were there heard something they had never heard before. Ravaged by the deprivation of forest life, the poet-partisan recited his poem “Khaibakh” with his tightly shut. It was a glimpse of the aesthetics of another world. “I must be too archaic for the Germans,” says Bisultanov in an ironic tone that softens his estrangement from the West. “The clouds did not stop passing across the heaven when the computer was invented. Why then should I disappear?”

Sieglinde Giesel

*Published at Exiled Ink magazine (Issue 12, Autumn/Winter 2009)

The mountain-dwellers in his part of the country refer affectionately to him as “our Makhmud.” Makhmud Esambayev is a whole world of images, characters, emotions, thoughts and passions.

Chechen-Ingushetia will seem familiar to you, reader, even if you have never been there. Gren strips of woodland pleasent with the smell of trees and the aromatic wild strawberry, and with the sound of springs bubbling unseen. The water in them looks black, pine needles float lazily on the surface, but if you bend right down and take a sip you will probably be sorry that you have never before tasted this life-giving beverage. And those mountains of the Chechen-Ingushetia! They are slashed by a multitude of gorges, with rivers roaring like monsters in their depths. For a second you halt on the brink of a dizzy precipice and take a great lungful of the surprisingly fragrant mountain air.

You have in fact known that happy mountain land, dear reader, if you have seen the magic dances of Makhmud Esambayev.

…Like huge peas of the stars hung low over the mountain village of old Ataghi, hemmed in by jagged mountain tops. Slender poplars ran down the banks of the never-silent Argun. Resilient sticks crackled in the fire. The flames flared up and it seemed that the fiery tongues would envelope the fragile body of the little boy at any moment. The old musician threw dry twigs into the fire from time to time and sang: “I see the mist stealing down from the mountain tops and settling on the plain-tree leaves. I see the pink clouds awakening above the mountains and a young eagle bathing in them of a morning…”

Makhmud sat cross-legged, looking into the starry heavens. How beautiful they are, those stars! But there was one, the very brightest, the very furthest, that fascinated the mountain dweller. Can it be my star? He wondered excitedly, if only I can reach it…

This old musician, whose fame had spread far outside his mountain village, loved Makhmud dearly. He often took the boy with him and willingly sang him songs about legendary heroes. All life Makhud was to remember that quiet voice, the dark hands with prominent veins and the grey, proudly-held head of singer.

The Argun was roaring on, dislodging white stones. From the sandy bank rose a pungent smell of cool mint.

The first incomprehensible sense of anxiety filled his heart. If only he could tell of all this in dancing… But were there movements capable of expressing the sound of early morning? One could hardly tell about these heavenly expanses, the serrated mountains, the Rolling hills covered wih nut trees. Could one really convey the Argun’s restless song?

Away in the distance twinkled the lights of the town. They would vanish, then flare up again. They had been troubling his imagination for a long time. What kind of place was it, this town, flooded with light? Probably the lights would blind eye, there were so many of them. It was a long, hard dusty road, scorched by the August sun. Ahead the vastness of the sky merged with the earth. The wheels of the cart, laden with a handful of domestic utensils, squeaked quietly. The father walked silently after the cart. The mother wiped her tear. Their native village was left behind. Who knew what awaited them in the town?

The town of Grozny gave Makhmud a noisy greetings. The boy didn’t have time to see everything, to look round at the many townspeople, to keep an eye on the traffic, to admire tall buildings. Everything was new for him.

Makhmud’s family settled in a little house in Poselyanskaya Street. The younger inhabitants of this street were fated to be first viewers of the first performances given by the young dancer. It began like this.

The circus came to Grozny, an done evening Makhmud went to see it. A thin little boy wearing a shining costume, wriggled on the arena, like a snake. It looked to Makhmud as if the boy’s body were made of rubber, otherwise how could he tie himself up in the knots, and then suddenly straighten out again?

“I am going to learn to do everything that he did,” he said, “I shall become an artist! I’ve made up my mind!”

“I shall never allow you besmirch the name of our clan,” his father shouted. “I won’t allow it! It’s not for a man to earn his bread by amusing other people!” But neither his father’s ban nor the endless lamentations of his mother had any effect. He organised a “theatre” in the courtyard of the house next door and time and again the girls and boys of Poselyanskaya Street would gather there in secret from the adults to watch their friend dancing.

“Bravo, bravo Makhmud!” they shouted.

Shy and happy, he would bow awkwardly to his familiar “public”.

The old maple covered the small square in front of the house with shade and from time to time yellow leaves would fall from the branches. Alisultan, Makhmud’s father, sat here sunk in reflection. For a long time he had had a scrap of land, and with his wife Bikatu had toiled on it from dawn to dusk. One day his land was taken in payment of a debt. He sent a petition to tsar’s ministers, and all his carefully hoarded savings went to draft court documents, for he could neither read nor write.

The revolution came to the soil of Chechen-Ingushetia with the thunder of guns and the smoke of battle. The sun of freedom rose over the valleys and gorges, its rays penetrated the dark hovels of the mountain people.

At one of the first village assemblies Alisultan was elected chairman of the village Soviet. With first-hand knowledge of the injustice of tsarist regime, he cherished the dream that his son would become a judge.

But even engrained respect fort he authority of his parents could not break Makhmud’s burning wish to become a dancer. The conflict with his father lasted for many years, but Makhmud went on stubbornly working to achieve his purpose. He used to g oto dancing classes, working with great determination and putting his heart and sould into it.

During the war, at the age of sixteen, he appeard with a group of performers close to the front line, travelled to mountain villages in slush and cold, not stopping to rest, and danced for workers in the factory shops. At last he danced on the Professional stage, joining the company of the Alma-Ata Opera Theatre.

In every man’s life there are events which remain in his memory forever. Makhmud looks upon the Moscow Youth Festival in 1957 as one such event. Lev Komarovsky, the choreographer, accepted Makhmud in his home like one of the family. Elenora Grikurova worked with him to prepare the Indian dance “Golde God”. Alexandra Gryaznova and Mariette Alberingo helped with a Spanish dance, and Tamara Zeifert and Igor Moiseyev with a dance with knives.

The seven months he spent in Moscow brought Makhmud Esambayev two gold medals: he won awards at the USSR and international dancing contests. His name began to appear with increasing frequency on the posters, and number ıf his fans mounted up.He was becoming famous.

Talent and temperament.. As far as Makhmud is concerned one has to add: great efforts. Extraordinarily hard-working, with great will powe and dedication to art- there are vital qualities of his talent.

Complex art demans rigorous, even harsh discipline. To make a dance unique, each movement has to be repated hundres of times over. What difficulties Makhmud had to overcome before the harsh discipline of his lessons was transformed into its opposite – freedom! That freedom withput which superb artistry is unthinkable in a dancer. Esambayev’s specific, original style of dancing began to win increasing recognization. His dancing is emotional, precise and classical. The dances of countries all over the world pass before the audience in a fantastic pageant. Different rhythims, different colouring, different times and nations, and in each dance – whether Chechen-Ingush, Spanish, Indian, Jewish, Negro or Tajik one not only sees a specific style of the people has been caught and kept alive.

Once after Makhmud performed a Spanish dance well-known Spanish dancer Marietta Alberingo commented: “Makhmud, you were born to dance in Castille and Aragon…”

This praise was a great tribute.

It is a true that Soviet dancer not only has a wide range and a great gifts of transforming himself into different characters. There is something else. Esambayev’s dance Express and reflect all spheres of people’s emotional life. To use the words of Stanislavsky, Makhmud Esambayev has brought “the life of the human spirit” to the world of dance.

The plane was flying at the great height over the Carribbean. On the board were stars of Soviet balet on their way to Caracas, capital of Venezuela.

The theatre in Caracas was packed. Makhmud was profoundly agitated; fort he first time in his life he was performing abroad. He felt keenly that people would look upon him as a part of his homeland.

That evening he danced “Golden Gold”, based on highly expressive mime, and unusual fluidity and grace of the arm movements. The dance makes considerable use of motifs from ancient Indian folklore, telling of the rains, of the Ganges, of the blues god of night and the golden god of day. In his dancing Makhmud spoke of eternity, of absolute peace, of the aternation of day and night. He dances a bacchanalia of the elements run amok.

Suddenly he slowly sank to the ground, taking up the pose of seated god, and did it so smoothly that it was impossible to notice any one seperate movement.

“Fantastic!” spectators called out as they applauded.

The triumphal tour of the Soviet dancers through Latin America was coming to an end, behind them were Venezuela, Columbia, Mexico and Cuba, thousands of kilometres, a mass of delighted reviews, endless handshakes, flowers and fond farewells. Ahead were Brazil, Chile and Argentina, where would be more concerts, more meetings with more spectators.

Makhmud will never forget his meeting with the magnificant Brazilian dancer Mercedes Baptista. With her small company she toured America and Europe and their performance always drew an enthusiastic response. As a token of her respect and admiration Mercedes staged fır Makhmud the dance “Macumba”.

It was a small temple 45 kilometres from Rio de Janerios, built by Jose Gomez, the finest performer of ritual dances in Brazil, at his own expense. Once a year the “Macumba” is danced in his temple. But this time it was danced twice – an exception made in honour of the Soviet artists.

It was seven o’clock in the evening and Makhmud was waiting eagerly fort he ritual to begin. A priest come out with Jose Gomez. Young, well proportioned and extremely lithe, Jose was wearing a white shirt and a grey trousers. He began to sing and through some iner doors people came out holding one another by the hand. That evening Makhmud Esambayev danced the “Macumba” with Jose Gomes. When they said goodbye to Makhmud, his Brazilian friends presented him with a leopard skin costume and a huge hat made from the skin of the anaconda.

The Soviet dancers spent seventy days in Latin America, and among them Makhmud Esambayev, son of the mountain folk. One hundred and forty thousand people applauded them.

Grozny was welcoming its favourite. Each trip Makhmud makes his native haunts becomes a kind of festival. The big auditorium was packed to overflowing. People were impatiently waiting for his appearance.

The curtain rose to show a bright moonlit night. The audence was hushed. Suddenly the silence broken by an unfamiliar melody. Makhmud began to dance a fiery dance of incantation, a dance of self-immolation- the “Macumba”.

Disaster dogs the Indians. Only the sorcerer can free them of ill-luck. He appears at night, dressed in a leopard skin. The feathers of his head-dress gleam in the twilights; his face smeared with blood, he impersonates the evil spirit, deceiving it with this likeness. Wild, rushing music is heard and the sorcerer begins to dance. During the dance the evil spirit enters his body and kils him. With the sorcerer the evil spirit dies, too, and the tribe is saved from misfortune. The “Macumba” brings happiness to the house which it is danced.

The entralling expressiveness of this dance, the incredible intensity of man’s dramatic struggle with the evil spirit which has taken possession of his body gripped the audience. They couldn’t tear their eyes from the stage, afraid tos tir or take a breath even when dance was finished. But one minute passed, than another, and everyone leapt to their feet to demonstrate their delight and gratitude at the unique talent of the dancer.

Makhmud Esambayev lives through this rhythmic, exotic ritual dance in the way a dramatic actor lives through his part in a play. This is what makes the dance unusual, unique. “Makhmud Esambayev is a kinsman of the god of dance,” wrote newspaper after he had danced the “Macumba” in Brazil.

In all countries where Makhmud has performed he has displayed an interest in folk and ritual dances. He studies them, introduces them into his repertoire and shows them to audiences in other countries.

“Are you staying here for long, Makhmud?” I asked.

“This time I’ll try tos tay longer,” he replied with an enigmatic smile. He was scheduled to appear in the film “I Shall Dance”.

We walked unhurriedly out of the theatre. The summer night had descended upon the town, and unusually mild breeze was blowing from the banks of the Suznha, scarcely ruffling the leaves of the trees. Now and again we met some late passers-by. Recognising Makhmud, they would stop and follow his progress with affectionate eyes. And he, handsome and lithe, walked in his gareceful way through the town which once upon a time in his childhood had son fascinated him.

“I have been in many countries and seen many beautiful cities,” Makhmud said, “but I wouldn’t change Grozny for anywhere else in the world. Wherever I have been, I have always felt nostalgic for Chechen-Ingushetia,” he said with a smile. His blue eyes recalled the sky of his own land, and a trim, upstanding figure, with a waist small enough to arouse envy – a young horseman from an old mountain legend.

That evening he and I talked a lot about the original culture of our small people – of thw wonderful melodies of our folk songs and dances, of the composers Alexander Dhalebsky, Umar Beksultanov and Adnan Shakhbulatov, of the asbug Idris Tsitskiev; of Zulai Sardalova, soloist in the State Ensemble of Song and Dance, and many others.

The mountain village of Old Ataghi lloked festive and young. The gathering gloom laid a dark shawl with miracle stars on the sharp mountain summits. No one stays at home on an evening like this – neither the elderly savan tor the young and daring horseman. In the club a film was to be shown about their compatriot. The old people stil remember Makhmud’s father Alisultan, recall how the little boy grazed cattle, ran along the precipitous mountain tacks, and caught trout in the rushing Argun.

Since then the mountain tops have more than once put on their shaggy white caps of snow, more than once have nut trees bloomed.

In the noisy, brightly-lit theatre he audience saw upon the screen Parisians applauding a Soviet dancer, a Chechen from the little village of Old Ataghi.

Makhmud delibaretly opened his programme with the Lezginka. The fresh breeze from the mountains burst into the crowded hall, the roar of mountain rivers was heard, the audience saw the mountain waterfalls iridescent in the sun’s rays. The dancer was performing a poem about his joy on returning to his homeland. After a long absence a young man, visits the places dear to his heart. He walks along familiar paths and feels the familiar coolness of the forest. Suddenly he comes upon a spring. He bends down to it eagerly, a tear running down the young man’s cheek. The curse of an old vendetta threatens him with death here. He cannot enter his mountain village, yet he cannot make himself leaves it forever. Beter death on his native soil that eternal parting from it. Each movement of this dance evokes in the hearts and minds of the spectators a whole world of thoughts, feeling and associations –joyful, sorowful, but always poetic.

Now the camera switches to Makhmud as he stands by the window admiring view of Paris. The city is beautiful, magnificant. The Seine leisurely carries its waters to the sea. Peircing a light flock of snow-white clouds, the sun’s rays tinge Notre Dame with gold. The awakening city is enchanting in its mysterious beauty.

Makhmud says goodbye to Paris, to a city which has been captivated by his artistry. “Eys that speak”, “flying hands” – these are typical of the comments in the Paris newspapers. The plane heads for Moscow. Just a few hours seperate Makhmud from his homeland. Relaxing in his seat, he gives himself up to pleasant reminiscences.

Once a reporter in New York had asked him: “Say, Mr.Makhmud, has art a homeland?”

The reply had been laconic: “You can’t be successful in the arts without being rooted in your homeland”.

The truth of these words of Makhmud’s has one numerous occassions been borne out by the wisdom of his talent, by his unusual life-story. Makhmud Esambayev, fro the mountain village old Old Ataghi, is now a People’s Artist of the Chechen-Ingush ASSR, a People of the RSFSR, a deputy to the Supreme Soviet of his republic. He has won prizes in a USSR contest and in two international competitions at youth festivals, holds the Order of the Red Banner of Labour, and has become the pride of his people.

The pleasent voice of the air hostes announced: “We are approaching the capital of our homeland, Moscow…”

Makhmud glanced down thourgh the round porthole. In the sunshine the cupolas of ancient cathedrals shone gold. New building sites flashed beneath the wings.

The newst day Makhmud gave a concert in the Tchaikovsky Concert Hall.

On the stage was a man with a white marble face, bright lips and frozen glassy eyes. He was elegantly dressed in black evening suit, top hat, black patent leather shoes, white gloves, white tie and spats. He was a fine figure of a man but lifeless. Here was a man whose heart had died. He was an automation. He danced to order, each of his movements highly polished but without the vital spark. He was like a huge clockwork doll with a mechanism that would run down and would have o be wound up again. So it went on from day to day.

“The Automaton” is one of Makhmud Esambayev’s sketches. It tells of a man who has been turned by the world of capital into a robot devoid of human qualities: the ability to feel, to love, to think and to create. Here profound psychological insight, devasting satire and hopeless melancholy are combined with graceful fluid and dynamic movement.

The art of Makhmud Esambayev is in essence optimistic, even when he creates tragic characters.

In her reminiscenes Anna Pavlova wrote at the height of her world fame: “Now I see that my life represents an integrak whole. To pursue unceasingly one and the same goal – this is the secret of success…”

Makhmud Esambayev does not do anything by halves. He devotes himself completely to his art. He discovered his life’s aim when he was only nine. It is realised in the “Macumba”, the “Golden God”, the “Automaton”, the “Gay Tailor” and many other dances and choreographic sketches. The name of this son of the mountain folk from the village of Old Ataghi has become symbol fort he wonderful, inspired art of the dance.

Raisa Akhmatova

Translated by Hilda Perham

*Text was taken from the book “They Found Their Voices” which was published in 1977.

The scientific value of the book is that its content and conclusion can be used in reading lectures for special courses at the higher educational establishments, studying history and ethnography of Vainakhs, restoring ancient handicraft that has ceased to exist in Chechnya and making displays for museums to attract people’s attention to the elements of traditional culture use them in daily life.

We start to present the summary of the book on our site:

Ceremonial Wear

Bridal Dress – The traditional Vainakh bridal dress consisted of several sets of robes, underwear, chokha, arkhaluk, kerchiefs and footwear. Those components of clothing were sewed of silk (atlas and shantung) , sateen, cotton print and woolen cloth, while footwear was made of red or white leather. The primary elements of women’s wear were chokha and arkhaluk.

The cut of bridal chokha and arkhaluk was traditional, however, in the process of sewing they acquired a decorative outlook, decorated  with special ornaments  and embroidered.  Bridal wear included additionally a sash of gilt silver, earrings, beads, rings, bracelets and several kinds of head kerchiefs of various sizes. Except for underwear, some elements of bridal wear were customarily made of silk. A bride would first put on an ankle-length gown (koch) over her underwear. The color of the gown always matched her chokha, so that the bride wouldn’t look too garish. The dress sleeves reached her wrists tapering off from the shoulder. Over the dress she would put on a cloth bib with 16 pairs of silver buckles. The bib itself was made of silk. Next to put on was the chokha which was different from daily and holiday wear. The two middle back tails were longer and almost swept the ground, while the front tail was shorter for easy movement.

Some chokhas had their front side hems decorated with precious while fur. Such chokhas were not embroidered, since a silk chokha with this welting were quite valuable with the Vainakhs and few brides ever got to wear them. Also good was an embroidered chokha decorated with laces. It was worn by most brides. One peculiar feature of a Vainakh bride was three meters off chiffon rolled around the bride’s head.

On the wedding day, after the bride was led out of her native home, a large paper wrap was pulled over her silk head kerchief. This was a special wrap to ward her off from evil eye and to cover her from flour she would be sprayed with. In keeping with the Vainakh tradition, when a bride is led from the courtyard of her parents’ home, her relatives and neighbors were supposed to pour a handful of flour on her head in congratulation. They would say: “Be happy, don’t live poor and have plenty of flour, stay healthy and procreate in your new family”.

A Vainakh bride would cover her face with  a silk kerchief up to her chin. Previously this custom was observed quite strictly. Even in her spouse’s house, the bride would not uncover her face to her father-in-law for almost a year. This was a show of respect for him and for other elder relatives.

The bride would remove her wedding dress the very next day but she would wear its components for the time being. For example, she would wear her underwear,  gown  footwear and head scarf. Those who would join a wealthy new family, would preserve the wedding dress with all its elements for their children and some would donate it to an unmarried sister of the husband.

At the engagement, the groom’s parents would send an agreed sum of money to the bride’s parents as the bride-price. Out of this money, the bride’s parents would additionally buy wedding, home and holiday wear, dowry articles and gifts for their matchmakers. They included expensive cloth rolls, gowns, bathrobes head scarves, socks, handkerchiefs etc. Remarkably, neither Chechens nor Ingushis would use the bride-price money to buy gold or silver decorations. These items for the bride would be acquired from her childhood.

On the wedding day a chest or a large trunk stuffed with bridal wear and gifts for the groom’s parents would be brought into the groom’s house along with various house utensils. The mother-in-law would receive dress cloth and a carpet, sisters-in-law would get dress cloth, neighbors could expect shirts, cloth, socks and handkerchiefs, etc. Traditionally, sisters-in-law were entitled to have one item each from the bride’s most valuable gifts. The bride would distribute other gifts at her will among the rest of the relatives, except for the mother-in-law who was entitled to a bed-set (a mattress, pillow, blanket and bed linen). On the wedding day all other members of the groom’s family would present the bride with gifts.

In case of divorce on account of the man, the wife would be entitled to her clothing and to the part of furniture that was bought with the bride-price money. If the family broke up on the woman’s initiative, all her belongings would stay in the family of her former husband. A divorced woman would return to her parents without any property. If a woman was to be married without a wedding ceremony, in that case her dress would be a simple chokha with simple attachments.

Prerequisites for Making Vainakh Women’s Wear

According to available data, in the 19th – early 20th centuries, Vainakhs used extensively home-made woolen fabrics (masha) and skins of domestic and wild animals, particularly so before mass-produced clothing became available in the plains and mountainous areas of the Central Caucasus. Like with other peoples in the mountainous Caucasus, wool processing and clothes-making for family members played a highly important role in their economic activity.

Crude home-made production of woolen clothing developed more intensively in the mountains than on the plains. And it was almost exclusively women who were traditionally engaged in this production from as early as 7 or 8 years old. Wool was usually cleaned up and washed by daughters-in-law with their sisters-in-law in assistance. Elder women (nana) were mostly occupied with subsequent processes.

Vainakhs cleaned up, washed and processed wool in any season, while free from house-hold and agricultural occupation. Vainakh women washed wool in river water at any time of the year, except that sunny weather was required. Almost every household kept a wooden board  and two matching sticks, which were used to wash wool. Married women were engaged in home-made production individually but in case of need when, for example, there was too much wool to process, they resorted to collective labor. This form of cooperation was known as ‘belkhi’, which means to assist. When setting up such temporary collectives, Vainakhs primarily called upon their relatives and then to neighbors.

Wool processing with such assistance involved girls and young women, always supervised by elder women, as well as boys who themselves did not take part in work but rather entertained those working. They came on their own volition as soon as they learned that somewhere ‘belkhi’ (joint work) would take place in wool combing. In keeping with Chechen and Ingushi traditions, a young man was supposed to be always present where his bride to be was to show up, follow her to another village inviting his comrades. A similar custom existed with neighboring Kumyks. During such cooperative efforts, women could select a bride for their sons and brothers.

Vainakhs had various names for such cooperation in the process of making woolen capes, raw felt, hats and fine felt depending on the kind of work being done: ‘verta datosh bolu belkhi’ — cape rolling; ‘verta dyullush boly belkhi’ — cape packing; ‘istang dyullush bolu belkhi’ — raw felt pressing, and so forth.

The same mode of weaving was used in the three regions where Vainakhs resided. The woolen threads thus produced were either fine or coarse. The fine thread was used to make woolen fabrics for garments, while the coarse thread went into the making of household items, such as cases, sacks, over-saddle double-bags (khurdjin) and socks.

Prior to the Caucasus War linen fabric (vieta/giyeta) was also made in Chechnya and Ingushetia. All other fabrics were imported and purchased from Armenian, Persian, Russian, Kumyk and later from local merchants.

The choice of wool color and dyes depended on the economic status and age of the maker woman, but light-gray color were mostly in demand in the mountainous regions. Previously, white threads were mixed with black or light gray colors and the combination blended well with any other colors. Chechens and Ingushis used hazel-nut leaves, laurels, wild apple tree, oak-tree bark, alder and walnut for dyes. The best dyes came from madder grass roots which abounded in profusion along the Terek River banks in Bragunski region. These materials yielded black, yellow and brown colors. Vainakhs in most cases dyed woolen fabrics in black, dark gray and most frequently in blue colors, using natural dyes. Only rarely did they use artificial dyes. Dyed materials were hung for drying on a rope from end to end. The fabric was weighted down by a load in order to straighten and stretch it. Before the fabric was dyed, it had to undergo an intricate treatment process. Hooks of coarse twine were attached at both ends of the cloth, so that the ends stayed even. The whole piece was soaked in water-sodden ashes and left for three days. Then it was rolled and dried.

Briefly on leather treatment intended for clothes-making. There were three ways of its treatment: oats and salt, pure salt or salt and flour. Sheep-skin was to be treated immediately after cattle slaughter. Excess lard was to be removed after skinning, the meat carved out and the inside to be rubbed with the mixtures mentioned above. The skins were left in this condition for two weeks and afterward taken into the open air and unfolded for drying in the shade. Two days later further processing took place. Sheep-skin treatment and that of leather in general had long reached a high craftsmanship in Chechnya and Ingushetia.

Materials for outer wear were made of goat, calf and horse skins, while footwear was made of bull, cow and buffalo skins. Sheep-skin was largely used for light warm footwear, and felt was used to make footwear for home use, sawn by elder women.

Footwear for both Vainakh men and women was made of leather. Most craftsmen specializing in footwear making lived in Galanchojski, Shatoi, Itum-Kali, Nozhai-Yurt mountainous areas.

Cutting and Sawing Methods

Cutting and sawing were largely women’s lot with the Vainakhs, but there were certain items of clothing which required the work of a man’s hand.  Such items included sheep-skin coats (ketar), mountaineers’ footwear (khulchi), a man’s fur hat made of Bukhar lamb-skin (khoalkhazan kuy).

Vainakh women engaged in sawing, despite all their household work, found time for teaching young girls the basics of handicraft. This was one of the more important activities of the household mistress. It was important that a Vainakh girl by bridal time should be prepared to saw clothing for herself and her family in law. An average family had 10-15 members and sometimes more than that. Since each family member required outer and underclothing, one can imagine how much labor clothes making required to meet their needs.  In large families elder women always supervised the work of all others. But well-off families occasionally ordered clothing from an experienced seamstress. Cutting and sawing were the elements known to almost each woman, but it took special experience for making ‘chokhu’ and arkhaluk’. Each village always had a few women residents, who specialized in making these two items and boasted of a wide clientele.

Clothes cutting was made without any special molds. An experienced seamstress could immediately determine how much material was required. Each seamstress at cutting always blessed her client. For a middle-aged woman she wished goodness to her whole family. But if a dress was to be made for an unmarried girl, she would wish her a good groom and many children. A widow would get her wishes for a new family and a happy life in it.

It is notable that up until the last quarter of the 19th century, Vainakhs even those in the plains, thought it reprehensible to accept money for clothes making. Instead, the customer would help the seamstress in the field or with house chores for as many days as she was occupied with the sawing of clothes for her.

At the moment of cutting, Vainakhs were forbidden from entering or leaving the premises where this was taking place. It was believed that otherwise the clothing material would be wasted. All sawing was done by hand and the word sawing translated into Vainakh languages as ‘toyguna’ (Chechen), tegash yolu khlam (Ingush), ‘tiyegar’ (Kistinz). Woolen, cotton and silk threads were used for sawing. Vainakhs first introduced sawing machines in the last quarter of the 19th century and with the laying of the railway line to Baku, sawing machines spread all over the place.

At cutting a shirt, seamstresses folded the cloth in two along its length. A round neckband (‘kach’ – Ingush, Kistinz) was made to fit the owner’s head, and slits were made alongside for wedge-like insertions (‘khatash’), then followed loose and long sleeves (‘pkhiosh’ – Ingush, ‘pkhyuash’ -Kistinz) and insets for armpits (‘ulkh/kishlik’) were added. The cloth thus cut left almost no scraps or shreds. Undergarments were also made without refuse. In those cases when the cloth was wide, the seamstress would fold it in double, cut it from ankle or knee to seat and sawed in insertions in the middle in the form of a triangle of double cloth – ‘aila’.  In cutting all other elements, the cutter would strive to slice the cloth without scraps and whatever was left out was used in making other clothing items.

It is likewise noteworthy that Chechen and Ingushi women were excellent makers of decorative wall felts and felt saddle padding. At sawing and embroidering clothing items for a bride, relatives helped each other. One of them would embroider a hat, another – a sheep-skin cape (‘chokha’), another – footwear and still another head kerchief and so forth. In our days, an embroidered hat is an obligatory garment component for an Ingushi bride. Notably, a Chechen bride was not supposed to wear a hat as an item of clothing. It may suggest that Chechens never had such a hat, or the custom was completely forgotten, while Ingushi women have retained it. Most Chechen and Ingushi women along with female occupations, did fairly well in some male trades. If neighboring mountainous peoples had only men sawing leather garments and footwear, elder women could do it successfully in Chechnya.

From the above said it follows that in Chechnya and Ingushetia of the 19th – 20th centuries, home-made woolen fabrics and cattle skins were used for making clothing, footwear and head gear. Subsequently with the emergence of factory production previous items of clothing were supplemented by new elements, which helped transform the traditional styles of clothing. Migration of the population from the mountains onto the plains and the proximity of urban trade, ushered in changes in its life-styles, cutting and sawing methods of clothes making.

Dresses of Vainakh women

The costume of Vainakh women includes the following items: petticoat – Chura koch, underwear – kxecha, gown – tluepa koch, bib – silga (Chechen), Kachmat (Ingus), pinafore – Khalkha ullurg (Che), tlolg (Ing), chokha-glabali (Che), Chokkxi (Ing), arkhaluk – Glovatal, uncovered sheep skin coat – kkhakkhan ketar, woollen shawl – kortali, fur-lined sleeveless jacket – sadyokhdiirug (Che), belkhkhiolurg (Ing), skirt – yukhatsiolurg, belt – dokhka (Che), tlekhkar (Ing), mluekhku (Kist), socks – pazatash, shoes – kogayukhurg and jewellery – tuidargash (Che), dato (Ing),tuidargash (Kist).

Vainakh women started to wear silk petticoats between the 14th and 16th centuries when a part of the population became rich. Women of rich families could buy expensive cloths brought by traders from other countries and at the time these women adopted a taste for wearing them.

It’s worth mentioning that Vainakh women made clothes very carefully for their children. The pattern of clothes for small and large children was the same and it suffered no changes with their growth. Elders’ clothes were often old clothes altered for the sizes of children. Children started to wear chokhu and arkhaluk from the ages between 10 and 12. Children up to 5 years wore breeches with holes in the crotch gusset in order not to untie the wide rough girdle – barch – when they needed to go the lavatory. Elders made at least one of these above mentioned clothes for their children at the end of Ramadan. Families marked the Holiday wearing new clothes after taking baths. Children’s head wear was a piece of woolen cloth but when textiles were started to be manufactured this was replaced by a shawl from cotton or a rectangular coarse calico. Girls at the ages between 12 and 14 were considered marriageable girls and wore jewellery, earrings, beads and rings and made clothes from new materials.

Women’s clothes clearly marked their social status. Women in the mountainous areas, where people were engaged in stock- breeding wore simple clothes or clothes from homemade woollen materials. Poor people did not replace clothes until they were worn out. People in the low lands of Chechnya, the former wheat growing region in the East Caucasus and national bourgeoisies in Grozny were quite rich. Women of rich families had several costumes for various occasions, expensive shawls, much jewellery and shoes.

Petticoat and breeches – chura koch-khecha – were the elements of underwear of Vainakh women. The tunic like petticoat of Vainakh women – churpa koch – is a pleated wide cloth stretching to the ankle and thrown over the shoulders. It had straight long sleeves and a round collar opening on the chest. The collar was a buttoned up one – nuida (Che), chopilg (Ing) – The button was replaced by a drop like wicker button from cord or a metallic buckle. The second layer of cloth was sewn on the chest to strengthen the petticoat. Flanks – khat – and gussets – kleda (Che) and Kishlig (Ing) were stitched to widen it. The petticoat was sewn with a tucked up hem. Women wore this and underwear at home and at work in the field. In the beginning of the 19th century the length of the petticoat was shortened to the knees and sleeves to the elbows. By the 20th century all women in the society got the opportunity of wearing another petticoat over it.

The second element of the underwear was breeches – khecha – with wide steps, which were fastened by being strung up. Women in neighbouring Dagestan, Avars and Dargins also wore these breeches.

The breeches are also known as sharbal. The word shalbar is Iranian but wide trousers are known in Turkish as shalvar. Most likely, the word shrovar or wide trousers appeared in the Russian language from these words. The pattern of this garment in Chechnya is identically the same as that which was used by the other highlanders in the Caucasus. But there is a peculiarity in it. A triangular pleated gusset – aila – was stitched between the breeches. This type of breeches is also known as – aila tesina khecha.  This element was the most widely spread among highlanders. It was essential during the work or when traveling.

The next element is the bib which was later described as a brassier. It was a strip of woollen or cotton cloth, which was tied to hide the breasts since it was considered indecent to show them. Shoulder straps were sewn to the 25 cm wide strip which was buttoned on the left side.

Vainakh women also wore an outer garment, a gown or frock over the petticoat. It was longer than the underwear and reached down to the ankles. Vainakh women could stay at home or work in this garment. The cut of the outer garment was the same as that of the petticoat but it was longer and widened from the arm-pit and widely falling on the wrists. The garment had a round collar and 10-cm-long slit-pocket which was a buttoned up one. The gown was sewn from silk, cotton or satin. The colour of the cloth could be red, reddish-white, yellow or brown. Poor women did not choose the colour. They made the garment from cloth the price of which was acceptable. Wedding garments or other clothes for holidays were sewn in light colours.

Another type of gown-petticoat started to spread among Vainakh women in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and is known as cut coquette over the breast – lakkhe khadiina koch.

In the late 19th century these two types of gown-petticoat were replaced by another dress. A sleeveless padded jacket appeared at the beginning of the 20th century and Vainakhs named it as saduokhdiirig. It was popular until the forties and even in the fifties.

Chechen and Ingush women wore underwear – yupka – under the petticoat. The word itself suggests that this garment appeared not earlier than the beginning of the 20th century. This garment is an adapted wide skirt with a stitched belt having a width of about 2 cm. It was accompanied by a jacket or short warm overcoat – belikhiolurg. It was very difficult to cut out the jacket and not all women could sew it. A jacket with lining covering the hip, and it was buttoned in the front using silver or copper buttons. It had long narrow straight sleeves reaching to the ankles. Collar and cuffs were fur lined – khasa or klinzh. Some jackets were embroidered in coloured silk thread.

The next element of the garments of Vainakh women was the chokha or chokha-glabali in Chechnya. Women wore chokha from the age of 12 years. It was made in different styles. One chokha had a gathered waist and was worn by slim girls of ages between 12 and 16. The second was 5-5 fat. Unmarried girls and married women wore this. The upper part of chokha that reached almost to the ground was lined. Rich women sewed chokha from velvet, brocade and cloth. However, many people made chokha from satin and coloured woollen cloth. Old women did not wear this garment. They wore a straightly cut gown-petticoat or gown with coquette at home or when they went out. Old women wear these clothes even today. According to the tradition of Vainakh women, they usually saved a costume for special holidays. They could wear any garment at home and no one cared about if the body is fully covered. Vainakh women had no tradition of making special clothes to wear at home and working costumes. They wore an element of an elegant dress later in their day to day life.

Arkhaluk – glovtal – was considered to be the dress that Vainakh women wore during the autumn and winter. According to Ingushs, it is a dress for older women but married women or unmarried young women can also wear the costume with pleasure. Unmarried women made arkhaluk from coloured silk cloth – dari – cloth – iskhr or lasting – lasting. Women used green, blue or brown cloth as a lining.

Glovtal was filled with a thin layer of cotton, which was quilted. It was a little shorter than the chokha. More over, it was fitted at the waist. Its cut is quite different from that of the chokha. Glovtal is similar to the men’s arkhaluk except for minor differences.

Vainakh women wore long and wide dresses, chokha and arkhaluk with a belt. It is known that women who lived in Nozhai Yurt, Vedeno, Urus-Martan and Shali districts wore wide petticoats with a 10 cm-belt around the waist. Even to the present day old people living in mountainous districts wear a similar belt.

Hair Styles and Headgear

In order to get a general idea of Chechen and Ingush women’s garments, one needs to delve into the rules and customs linked with hair styles and some elements of Vainakh’s headgear.

The Vainakhs in general perceived female beauty in the length of her braids. And their women used every conceivable methods and means to grow long and thick hair. Children until the age of 7 or 8i had their hair shaved off clean so that the hair would grow thick.

Vainakh women usually parted their hair in two (chiop dekyar) and braided their into several tresses which they threw back. As they advanced in age, women began wearing only two braids. And young girls, who had long and thick hair (biazh), did not bother to braid their hair at all, and just made a hair tie at the roots wearing it loose on the back.

In Chechnya they have a saying: “Yol yanniye yatz, amma tzuyanan biyezhiye khyeravaykkhina so” ( This girl is nothing special, but her hair drives me crazy).

Long hair is regarded as part of a woman’s beauty in Ingushetia, too, where young women wore their hair behind back, without tying it in braids, while older women parted their hair in two (mesash) and tied it up with a piece of cloth and a thread, so it didn’t get greasy and stayed in place. The lost dead hair (choish) was usually not discarded and kept throughout life time and put into a grave with the deceased person. Lately the lost hair was burned, particularly by those parents who lost a son.

Vainakh women usually did not make a single tress. Such hair style was prohibited to women who had a father or a brother. It was commonly believed that a single tress spelled a life as a single woman. In such cases, the Allah would not give her a fiancé and leave to serve her relatives at home. A similar custom was also observed in Dagestan.

Chechen and Ingush women could frequently change their natural hair color, but it was considered shameful to cut their hair. An aged woman, as was earlier noted, parted her hair in two and attached multi-colored threaded  beads to the hair ends. Women with thick and long braids along with the beads attached an amulet or a charm against an evil eye.

Young Chechen and Ingush girls and brides (and partly married women) wore tall hairdos. And those who didn’t have their own thick hair, padded their hair artificially so that the hairdo would look tall.

Apart from hair styles, Chechen women paid a great attention to their headgear. Thus, for example, women from wealthy Vainakh families wore white or colored kerchiefs – kur-hars.  Headgear was not known as just a useful means to protect one’s head. It was also a symbol of social standing, a woman’s sacred purity and in crisis moments all other members in society would kneel before her in humility.

One of the elements of an Ingush bride’s attire was her traditional cap – kiy. This headgear was adopted from the Ingushis by many other peoples in the Northern Caucasus. Kiy caps were sown with yellow, red, blue, green velvet and silk. Their passementeries, laces and multi-colored silk welts and edgings denoting national ornaments were all a matter of pride. Young girls could wear such caps even before marriage.

A large shawl or scarf was one other indelible part of women’s wear. Married women usually tied a black kerchief underneath  the scarf. Its ends were passed underneath the hair tied in braids or a knot and tied at the crown of head. Chechen women would use as head gear long black fabric in the form of tight sacks (chukhta), instead of the kerchief, which covered her braid. The upper part of the chukhta was not sown up and stayed in place with the help of ties. The lower end of the chukhta, which fell on the back was frequently decorated with laces ( chechekh) or coins. After the adoption of Islam, all Vainakh women from the age of 15 were made to wear the chukhta. In mountainours areas of Chechnya, young girls did not wear long shawls or scarves and aged women would use them as holiday wear. They would wear a small scarf tied up in a crossed manner and laid up in a triangle. Young girls would also use smaller scarves tied up behind their backs.

It is notable that Vainakh women’s headgear for wealthy women was markedly different from those of the less affluent. But there was virtually no difference in the manner of their practical use. Elder women covered their chukhtas with kyeda bolu kortali (a large shawl), or with chechakh yolu miergya  kortali or yovlakh (laced head shawl) or shera kortali (a white silk shawl), or else boy (sprawling head shawl also used as a coat.  And both young older women would put the boy over their dresses in winter time.

Head shawls have become customary with Vainakh women and were appraised not just as a piece of garment, but also as a significant symbol. But a head shawl did not always resolve issues relevant to blood feuds. If a woman threw a scarf between brawlers at a spat, would instantly freeze them in their tracks and pacify them.

The traditional head shawl was preserved among older women, while young girls would wear smaller scarves tied up behind them. These days and in the past older women would ply up their shawls in a triangular form, one end of it would wind around the neck and the other would tie it up under the chin.

Each woman would choose her shawl in the color and design to suit her tastes and in accordance with her age. Thus, older women preferred their shawls in black, blue, brown, yellow and light blue colors, while younger women would opt for white, red, yellow and light blue colors. In addition to that, younger girls would choose silk and patterned shawls and smooth laced shawls without patterns. The shawl played an important role in the wardrobe of each Vainakh woman and therefore it was one of the most valued bridal attire in the bride’s adornment.

Decorations

Decorations worn by Vainakh women were distinct for their variety. In the late 19th,  early 20th centuries, Chechen and Ingush women in rich families wore rings and earrings, bracelets, chains, chest watches, which were brought from St. Petersburg and Moscow as well as from Tiflis and Baku. But Vainakh craftsmen themselves did not shun from manufacturing decorations. And Grozny was the place where they could be manufactured and acquired.  This craft also prospered in Urus-Martan, Shali, Atagi, Vedeno and other places. Gold and silver craftsmen was practiced by the Takhiyev clans in Vedeno, by the Abdulayev clan in Urus-Martan and by the Nintziyevs in Atagi. Manufacturing of various decorations (belts, chest decorations, rings and earrings) was developed by their ancestors.

Decorations differed in the manner of their wear: to be worn around the neck, over the chest, on hands or in ears. Adornments of various kinds were worn by both unmarried girls and brides to be. After marriage the number of such decorations usually diminished but some of them, depending on the age, were worn throughout women’s lives. Some of those decorations were notable for their solemnity. Each Vainakh woman cherished them dearly passing them on from generation to generation.

The late 19th, early 20th centuries saw proliferation of adornments matching traditional clothing which reflected the people’s good taste and the clothing’s attractiveness. Such adornments could be worn separately but chest and loin decorations were usually worn in a set to match each other. They were viewed as the main decorations of women’s garments which enhanced their looks.

Over-the-chest Vainakh adornments in previous years were attached to the chest over the outfit called ‘chokhi or arkhaluka, which were tied up from top to bottom by silver buckles.

Some decorations carried their own significance, such as ‘kamal’ which was a silver-embroidered sash, occasionally worked in gold or gilded. Chokha or arkhaluk were not supposed to be worn with a belt alone. They had to be matched with over-the-chest adornments which enhanced the quality of clothing.

The Ingushis called their chest decorations ‘dato’, while the Chechens called them ‘myudargash’ which stands for loop. They presented sometimes 16 or 12 pairs of gilded silver clasps attached along the width of 8 centimeters or 12 centimeters in length running from the neck to the waist line made of velvet or woolen cloth sown on chokhi from both sides of the chest. At the waist the garment was clasped by 4-5 paired buckles – ‘chiarpaz’. Later on the wear custom for this adornment was modified and shifted it underneath the chokkha over the chest and over the dress. It looked good on the chokha’s cutout at the neckline.

In the early 20th century clasps or their imitations were made in various forms, depending on the neckline cutout form on the dress with a breast cover worn underneath. The latter fashion was prevalent primarily in Ossetia, Chechnya and Ingushetia.

In the late 19th, early 20th centuries Vainakh women widely used various waist sashes. They were recognized as the secondary chief adornment of a woman’s dress. The Georgia sash embroidered in golden colors contained a red gemstone embedded in the middle. There is also a Caucasian embroidered sash. This waist band is an embroidered sash measuring three fingers thick with an under-layer attached to it made of a strip of woolen cloth. The sash cut to fit contains five silver buckles adorned with red and blue stones. This sash is believed to be truly Vainakh. The second kind of sash is made in the form of a laced chain. It front buckles depict a bull’s head and its clasps carry a child’s image. This is supposed to depict an angel (malik), a woman’s companion safeguarding her. The Chechens themselves call this waistband ‘Cherkess’.

Adornments made of metal, gold and silver, such as earrings, rings, bracelets, beads, necklaces of coins and temple pendants, have traditionally played a big role in Chechen women’s dresses.

They used to wear their earrings – chiug – in pairs to each each simultaneously. Large flat earrings – khalkhanash – were additionally strung with a thin chain, hanging underneath the chin. Bracelets were wide and massive adorned with turquoise or emeralds and sometimes devoid of any gems at all. Neck adornments included coral or crystal beads, silver and gold chains of varying colors and sizes. Vainakh women also treasured earrings and little girls had their ears pierced as early as 4 or 5 years and were given to wear intricate and sophisticated earrings. Girls from wealthy families usually wore gold and silver earrings.

Unmarried women wore decorations of all types – over the neck, on the chest, at the waistline, on the hands, on the ears and at the wrist. After marriage they removed their over-the-chest adornments – tiydargash – removed them from the waist – doykha – and the bracelet from the wrist – khioz . A bride would put on those adornments at marriage but she was also supposed to wear an additional brooch and more than one ring on her hand. Becoming a wife, the woman removed those decorations and preserved them carefully for her future children.

Vainakh women and children used to wear an amulet – khiaykal – to keep them protected against an evil spirit. This was a piece of paper with a verse quotation from the Koran. The paper was folded in a triangle and sown into a leather covering. This good-luck piece was worn around the neck.

Thus, it might be stated with certitude that from ancient times Vainakh women treasured and cultivated decorations. They wore them with everyday clothing, as well as garments meant for festive and solemn occasions. This tradition has been preserved to our days. The number of such adornments diminished but more developed and evolved forms of them emerged. Vainakh women’s decorations were both locally made and brought over from neighboring and distant areas which had long maintained good-neighborly relations with them.

Children’s Wear

In the period under review, as well as in our days, the Vainakh family was and is traditionally numerous. It was not customary to acquire children’s wear before the child was born. After a child’s birth it was the responsibility of the mother-in-law to  take care of the child’s wear and its cradle. If there was no mother-in-law, then this responsibility went to the elder woman in a man’s family.

The birth of a child always brought a great joy to each family, particularly if a boy was born.  It was the privilege of the elders in each family to give a name to a newborn child. Customarily, a newborn boy was given the name of a young man in a family who had passed away untimely. If it wasn’t the case, he was given the name of an ancestor. A name for a girl was chosen by the grandmother from her family at her discretion.

It was a custom that a mother with many children who were all alive, was invited to put the baby into the cradle for the first time. To keep a child from the evil eye, it had a black bead put over its wrist. And one over the cradle they would hang a black bead and a bear’s or a wolf’s claw or a tooth.

After carrying out this ritual, the invited woman was given a good treat and generously gifted.

If a boy was born, his first shirt would be made out of his father’s shirt. If that was a girl, her mother’s shirt was used. This tradition originates from the desire to have the child grow up like his or her parents, to live a happy life and to wear out both the old and new shirts until late in life. This shirt would reach up to the child’s knees. The shirt would be folded with the back of it to the waist, when putting the child into a cradle, and the front of it would be lowered to the knees.

The shirt would be made in the same fashion as the parents’, but the seams would be sewed on the outside so as not to injure the baby’s delicate body. The shirt usually had a round form about the neck and had long sleeves. When taken out of the cradle, the baby was wrapped in a cloth blanket. After 2 or 3 months, warm clothing of the jacket type was put on it, reaching to the waistline. A small kerchief – yovlakh -  folded in a triangular form was put on its head, lowering it to the forehead and secured on the head with a piece of cloth two  fingers wide, called tuhch. The child’s feet were covered with short woolen socks. Such clothing was designed for infants from 5 to 6 months. After the child begins walking, his or her clothing added pants reaching to the ankle and narrowing below the knees called khecha. They were sewed from the waistline to the pant seats, while the pants’ front remained open at the crotch. The child would wear these half-sewed pants until the age of 4 or 5 and occasionally until 6 years old. It needn’t be changed when the child wetted himself. Boys would have their pants sewed from dark cloth, while girls would have them of any color.

From the age of 5 to 6 Chechen children would wear regular pants. It is notable that the cut and the designation of children’s wear elements are the same as for adults. A 5-6 year-old child would wear warm clothing made of sheep’s skin, sewed from fabrics or woven and reaching to the knee. Pants were usually tucked into socks and children’s feet were covered by ‘nejarmachash’ or ‘malash’ and the head would be covered with a kerchief folded in a triangular form, with the loose ends wound around the chin and tied at the back.

Vainakhh families never wove for their 5-6 year-old children ‘chokhu’ or ‘arkhaluk’ as at this age such clothing was uncharacteristic. It was believed that a child should be inspired for growth, good health, appreciation for work so that by the age of 12 or 14, they should have both the ‘chokha’ and ‘archluk’ and by the age of 15-16 they get decorations on the chest made of gold or silver.

The next element of children’s wear, as was noted above, would be the pants, called ‘khecha’. This element was different from the pants that were worn before the age of 5 to 6. Between the trouser leg cut to size, a triangular  patch was inserted made of different cloth. If the width of the cloth permitted it, the patch was neglected and the trouser leg from the crotch to the ankle was gradually narrowed, leaving the crotch part of the pants loose and the trouser leg was sewed from top to bottom. At the waist, the pants were tied with a waistband. Girls would wear clothing akin to the ‘arkhaluk’ over their shirts, but it was somewhat different from the real thing. It was cut at the waist and at the front and was completely flung open, shorter than their shirts, padded with cotton with the sleeves cut straight. The top of this clothing was made of satin or wool but cheaper fabric was used for the padding. This clothing was worn in chilly weather, its front and bottom were embroidered with lace.

Children in the most part of Chechnya and Ingushetia usually made do with the clothing remade from adults’ clothes or from elder brothers’ and sisters’. From the age of 13 to 14 children would don ‘chokha’ made to the usual adult cut. At this age they were already considered to be part of the circle of girls of age and were required to comply with all the Vainakh customs in clothes wear. The clothing of 7 to 12 year old children was usually devoid of decoration. Their mothers did not particularly care about the attractiveness of their children’s wear. And all their attention seemed focused on to the clothing for girls to be shortly wed, and a great deal of time was devoted to the wedding clothes’ embroidery and decoration.

Winter wear, usually  sheep’s skin coats – ‘khakhan ketar’- were sewed for children beginning from the age of 3 or 4. Such coats were sewed for all ages, almost to the same cut, but there were some nuances. Such clothing was needed for winter wear. It was made of sheep’s skin, but for young3er children lamb’s skin was used because it was fine and had tender softer wool. The same skin was used to warm up the feet of new-born babies.

Children from an early age would wear woolen home-made socks. It was observed in Shatoi and Vedeno regions that socks were made with the help of spikes. Socks for both sexes reached to the knee. “Nejarmachashes’ were used for footwear. In the summer time children would usually go about barefoot.

It is notable that Vainakhs, at least 2 or 3 times during adolescence, would shave off their girls’ hair completely so that their hair grows thick. Many methods were used to help girls’ hair grow thick. From young age, girls were shown how to comb their hair. If  there were girls of different ages in a family, they would help each other. Girls would comb their hair in 2-3-4-6 braids, the ends of which were tied together with a piece of thread completed with a charmed bead or an animal’s tooth.

Girls from the age of 3 to 12 would use for décor beads or earrings made of glass or coral, and girls from the age of 3 had their ears pierced and initially, until the age of 4 or 5, a simple thread was strung through their earlobes. Later on they would use simple earrings or beads, although there were rich families that could afford to have expensive decorations for their children.

From the above said it may be concluded that Vainakhs in general did not pay much attention to their children’s wear. Up to the age of 12, children would wear various clothing, testifying to the proprietary division of Vainakh society. There were families in which children would have only a single home-made woolen shirt, which in winter time would be supplemented by a sheep’s skin coat worn over the shirt. The cut of children’s clothing was in many ways similar to the cut of adult clothing. At sewing, however, there were many elements of adult clothing missing. The designation of clothing, head wear and foot wear, both for children and adults, was similar, except that the number of elements for adults, was more numerous.

More games will be played when the bride has made it for the bridegroom’s place. A felt rug and a broom are left to lie on the threshold. The bride can either walk right in or stop to put the two things in the right place. If the bride restores order, she is a clever girl; if she ignores the two misplaced things, her would-be husband has had a stroke of bad luck. The dolled-up bride is seated by the window where guesta of nonor are supposed to sit. That part of the room is decorated with a special wedding curtain. The girl is offered to hold someone’s firstborn son (she will hopefully give birth to many boys.) The bride hugs the baby and gives him a present.

Guests give various things to the newlyweds. Women give them bolts of cloth, small rugs, candy, money. Men bring either money or sheep. They make a point of giving their presents directly to the newlyweds. And then, everyone is invited to partake of a sumptuous meal.

The meal over, it is time for a new performance. The guests ask the bride to give them a drink of water. All of them talk without stopping, crack jokes, discuss the bride’s looks, but the bride should keep her mouth shut because verbosity is a sign of empty headedness and immodesty. The bride can only offer the guests a drink of water and wish them all good health.

Another performance is timed to the third day of the wedding festival. Musical instruments are played when dancing guests lead the bride to the river. Cornmeal pancakes are thrown into the water, to be shot at, after which the bride draws some water from the river and goes home. The observance of this old custom is supposed to protect the young woman from the spirit of the river: the water sprite who wanted to get a pancake rose to the surface, and the wedding guests shot him down dead, which makes the river a safe place to visit.

It is usually in the evening of the third day of the wedding festival that a man empowered to act for the bride’s father and the bridegroom go to the register office. It is usually the mullah who gives, on behalf of the girl’s father, consent to the marriage, and next day the bride becomes the young lady of the house.

A very old Chechen custom forbids the bridegroom to appear at his own wedding. He plays no role in the wedding ceremonies and whiles away time in the company of his friends.

Chivalry, gentility, diplomatic skills, manliness, generosity and reliability are the qualities which a child of a hardline Chechen family imbibes with, as they say, his mother’s milk. And the Chechen code of honor is rooted in the remote days of Chechen history.

In the severe conditions of bygone years a refusal to open the door to a stranger could lead to lethal frostbites. He could succumb to fatigue or famine, fall prey to a wild beast or  highway robbers. The ancestral tradition which has been held sacred, demands that a stranger be welcomed in, seated by the fire, offered food and shelter for the night. Hospitality is, thus, “nokhchallah”. The narrow roads and paths of Chechnya zigzag around mountain cliffs and on the brink of precipices. A fight or a heated argument may send one down into the abyss. Politeness and willingness to compromise are “nokhchallah”. The strenuous conditions of their life taught the highlanders to help and support one another, which is also “nokhchallah”. But “nokhchallah” has nothing to do with the Table of Ranks.  There have been neither princes nor serfs among the Chechens.

“Nokhchallah” is an ability to deal with people without showing your privileged position. The privileged should be extra polite and accommodating to avert hurting anyone’s feelings. If two men meet and one of them is riding on horseback and the other walking, the one who is riding shall be the first to utter words of greeting. If the one who is walking is older that the one who is riding, the rider shall dismount to greet the older man.

“Nokhchallah” is friendship that lasts all life: in joy and sorrow. Highlanders hold friendship sacred. Inattentiveness or impoliteness shall be forgiven if they are displayed to a brother, but to a friend – never!

“Nokhchallah” is special respect for women. A man dismounts his horse before entering the village where the relatives of his mother or his wife live. And here is a story about a man who asked to spend a night in a house that stood on the outskirts of a Chechen village, without knowing that she was alone. The hostess could not reject his request. She gave him something to eat and made a bed for him. In the morning, the man realized that the woman was alone and that she had spent the night sitting by a lit lantern in the anteroom. As he was hurriedly washing up, he brushed the woman’s hand with his small finger by accodent. The man cut the finger off with his knife before leaving that place. Only a man brought up in the spirit of “nokhchallah” will go to such pains to protect a woman’s honor.

“Nokhchallah” rules out all attempts at subjugation. Male Chechens have, since times immemorial, been brought up as protectors and trained to bear arms. “Come at liberty” is the oldest of the  greetings in actual use in Chechnya. The freedom of spirit and readiness to fight to protect it is “nokhchallah.”

“Nokhchallah” demands that Chechens respect all other men, regardless of their social origins, family background and religious beliefs. The bigger the difference between a Chechen and someone else, the more respect the Chechen shall accord that someone. You have a chance to be forgiven for hurting a Moslem’s feelings because, people say, you may meet the person whose feelings you have hurt on Judgement Day. But all is lost if you have hurt the feelings of a person of a different creed, because there is no chance of ever meeting him. The sin will stay with you forever.

“Nokhchallah” is no book of do’s and don’t's. It is of their own free will that the Chechens obey its rules. It is a condensed formula of a Chechen way of life.

The elements of the Chechen nuptial ceremony, including horse-riding, bridal introduction into the groom’s home, acquaintance with the bride, her movement to a river, a visit of the future groom to the bride’s relatives and others represent the main features of the Chechen folk theatrics, which manifest a mass creativity, originality, multi-faceted national forms, breadth, and depth of popular fantasy.

In general, the playful element spectacle and facial expressions are well developed in the images of a Chechen marriage. This is evident from the very notion of the Chechen marriage known as ‘lovzar’ which means –‘play’.

Nuptial ceremonies among Chechens and Ingushis have some differences. With Ingushis it is considered a calamity that s girl gets married without the parents’ blessing, while Chechens see nothing wrong in that. Sometimes, her relatives go this way in order to avoid extra expenses involved in marriage ceremonies.

At the appointed time, a groom with friends would go to an appropriate place (the exit spot for the bride) and take away the girl and this is considered to be getting married (marie yakhar) or nuptials (zuda yalor). The bride is taken to the home of a friend, or brother-in-law or a groom’s relative (zuda yossar – the bride’s sojourn) to settle certain formalities. It is necessary to dispatch a man (stag vakhiitar) in order to inform her relatives about her voluntary decision to get married, reconciliation (tam bar), redemption payment (yoikhana or kyovlam) to the girl’s relatives, preparation of the bride for her nuptials (nuskal kechdar) when the parents send her clothing, sow or buy whatever she needs. This lasts for a week or sometimes longer. And all this time the marriage (lovzar)is being prepared.

A retinue (zamuoi) is sent for the bride on the marriage day, including the groom’s friends (nevzan nakyosk or best men).

On the way to the bride and back the nuptial procession throw up a merry-making. They play harmonica, fire guns and previously Chechen equestrians displayed their shooting prowess, fencing and equestrian skills.

While on the way, the bride’s relatives or her fellow villagers can halt the procession by a burka (shipskin overcoat) or a rope strung across the street and demand a redemption fee. The fee is demanded on the bride’s exit from her parents’ home (Ney lazar – meaning to hold a door).

The bride is taken to the groom’s home and is placed fully dressed in a nuptial costume in an honorary spot in a room, usually in the opposite corner from the entry near a window covered in a nuptial curtain (kirkhya).

Subsequently the bride is handed a child (usually the first son of honorary relatives) with the blessing that she herself bears only sons. After cosseting the boy, the bride gives him a present or money.

After the bride enters the house a besom covered in a felt carpet is placed in front of her and the bride needs to tidy up the threshold and put money on the spot. According to Vainakhs, if the bride is stupid she will walk over the money, if she is clever she will remove it. Previously a burka was thrown to the bride’s feet.

After all these ceremonies, the nuptials begin, with relatives and fellow-villagers attending. With Chechens all those willing to come are welcome.

The master of ceremonies at the marriage is usually an elected general – inard. The marriage is accompanied by dancing, harmonica-players, drummers and zurna-players (pondarcha, votancha and zurmancha) are invited.

Previously, clowns (zhukhargs) were invited to entertain the guests. They put on masks (tuytm ayazhig).

Guests usually arrive with gifts. Women bring along, as a rule, cloth, carpets, chicken, sweets, sometime money, while men bring along money or sheep. Men frequently pass on their gifts directly to the bride at the nuptial ceremony (mottbastitar) (loosening the tongue). The ceremony goes like this: the guests attending the marriage, after they have eaten, are presented to the bride who is asked to give them water so that she gets to talking drinking water with them for good health. The bride is joked with and both positive and negative remarks are made about her looks and character and about her groom. Finally she drops one or two  phrases because garrulity is a sign of stupidity and immodesty and she offers to drink water to good health. The guests thank her and wish her the best of success, happiness in her future family, children, relatives and she is presented with gifts.

There is also a ritual – zuda guchyakkhar, which means showing off the bride, when the master of ceremonies (anarl) seated with his aides, calls for collecting money for the newly-weds announcing all those present, who brought gifts and money.

After the passage of three days, the newly-wed was taken to water accompanied by music, dancing, and shooting (previously this was a must). A piece of bread (chiepalgish- baked and stuffed cake) was thrown into the water, which was shot at and after taking some water the girl comes back home. This custom is rooted in ancient times: the girl must daily go to get water. On her way to the water she could be surprised by a water-sprite who could get her into a whirlpool. In order to safeguard the bride, the marriage ceremony’s guests thus entice the water-sprite by throwing bread or a cake into the water and shoot and kill the sprite. On that same evening the marriage registration takes place (makhyar), which is attended by the bride’s father or brother, or uncle and the groom himself. Usually a mullah represents the wife’s relatives, who on behalf of the father (in his absence – brother or uncle) give his consent to the marriage of the sister or niece. On the next morning the bride becomes a young mistress in the house. During the nuptials and the exit ceremony to the water, the groom is usually absent, frequently having a good time with friends.

After a month’s time, sometimes after 2 or 3 months, the daughter-in-law goes back home with gifts for her parents and relatives accompanied by a close relative of her husband (zakhaluo), who presents her donation gifts to the parents (dzagia). The lady accompanying the daughter-in-law immediately returns with gifs of cloth or a carpet. The young bride stays at her parental home usually for a month, but sometimes less than that depending on her wish. At home she prepares bed sheets and some other of her dowry and the returns to her husband’s home with gifts for her mother and father-in-laws, her brother and sister-in-laws. She usually brings bed sheets (mottgyeiba) for her father-in-law and to all the rest – other gifts depending on her abilities.

Vainakhs usually held marriages after bringing in crops or before harvest time.

Mutual aid and assistance is rooted in the olden day. The hard living conditions made it imperative for the farmers to join forces. Villagers would tie up with one rope to be able to cut the grass on a steep mountain slope; it took a whole village to make a plot of land good for farming. If a calamity befell a family, everyone joined forces to repair the situation. Should a bread-winner die, all the villagers felt responsible for the bereaved family. Men would not sit down to eat until part of the food had been delivered to the family that had lost its bread-winner.

An offer of aid and assistance was an integral part of every phrase of greeting that a young man might address to a representative of the older generation. If an elderly villager started doing something, the neighbors were expected to give him a hand. Often as not, it was the neighbors who completed the job.

The tradition of reciprocal aid and assistance has taught the people to be responsive. The neighbors of an afflicted family hold the gates wide open to show that they share its grief. Should someone die, all the villagers will flock to its house to voice condolences and render moral assistance and, if necessary, material aid to his family. The relatives and neighbors take it upon themselves to foot all the funeral bills. A traveler will receive, on return to his home village, detailed information on all the recent developments. The first thing he does, on return home, is go to voice his condolences.

Chechen wisdom says that “a neighbor next door is worth more than a relative far away from home,” “death is preferable to life without human warmth,” “people united are likened to an indestructible fortress.”

Parents usually live together with one of their sons. A good daughter-in-law kicks off the day tidying up the in-laws’ part of the house. Free from this, she may attend to other matters. The first thing the sons do when getting back home in the evening, is to go to see the parents, to talk and to share with them the day’s joys and sorrows.

It is not only their children but all other members of the family who take care of the old couple. Grandfathers are usually called “big fathers,” and grandmothers, just “mothers,” in Chechnya. Children may sometimes disobey their mothers. They will be forgiven for this. But it is absolutely inadmissible to disobey a grandfather, a grandmother or some other representative of the older generation of the family members or neighbors.

Only an ill-mannered person will remain seated in the presence of elder people or will sit down without a repeated request from his seniors. It is inadmissible to drink alcohol in the presence of one’s parents or any other older relatives. One should watch his manners and cannot raise his voice in a conversation with an older person.

If the parents live separately from their sons, the children are especially attentive to them: the best food shall, for example, be given to the parents. It is an old tradition of the Chechen countryside that the parents live in a separate small house built for them by their children, right by the wall of the children’s house. The children try to create the most comfortable conditions for the parents and meet all the requirements of the old age.

Relations between family members. Most Chechen families are big. Several brothers usually live, together with their families, in the same village or even on the same plot of land. They observe the age-old rules of conduct in family relations.

Conflicts and quarrels between their children or womenfolk are settled by the eldest male or female member of the family.

If someone has hurt the feelings of her children, the mother of the family should make no complaint to her husband. She may, under the worst of the circumstances, appeal to either of the husband’s relatives, but it is bad manners to pay attention to children’s quarrels, grudges and tears.

Chechen children know their uncle will be the first to meet a request or come to their aid. An uncle would rather tell his own offspring to leave him alone. But he will never leave unheeded a nephew’s or a niece’s request.

The older members of a family feel responsible for the well-being of the younger generation. The younger generation feel responsible for the elders. The elders are responsible for the consolidation of family relations. The parents must do their best for accord and understanding in their sons’ families. They must be very considerate to their daughters-in-law. The father-in-law must avoid hurting his daughters’-in-law feelings: they should not see him undressed and he may not drink alcoholic beverages when either of them is around.

Family honor. The Chechens are accustomed to put the merits and shortcomings of an individual on the family bill. If someone has done wrong, the faces of his numerous relatives “will darken,” and the whole family will go around with bowed heads. If someone has done well, people say that “nothing else could be expected from a member of that fine family,” or that “the son of such a father could not behave in a different way.”

Children brought up in the spirit of the family tradition are competitive-oriented. They want to be “yakh,” that is “better than anyone.” Their elders insist that they should be “yakh, that they should under no circumstances be worse than their playmates.” They should neither let others hurt a weaker being nor be the first to start a fight.

The villagers are most hospitable. Every coutryside family has a special guest room that is always kept clean, with clean bed linen, in a word, ready for a visitor. No one makes use of this room. Even the children are forbidden to play or do anything else in this room. Every family must be ever ready to serve the guest a meal. Chechens used to set aside a special stock of food supplies for this purpose.

No questions are to be asked of a guest in the first three days of his visit… He is considered a privileged member of the family. In the olden day, the daughter or daughter-in-law of the head of the family would even help him to take off his shoes and overcoat. The guest enjoys the warmest reception at meal times. A Chechen must risk his own life to protect the life, honor and property of his guest. This is one of the basic rules of Chechen hospitality.

The Chechen code of conduct says guests should offer no payment to the family they stayed with. A guest may only make a present to the children of that family.

The ancient rules of hospitality were obeyed regardless of circumstances. Any good man, regardless of his ethnic roots, merited a warm reception.

There is a direct connection between hospitality and greetings. To greet someone, Chechens open up their arms, that is bare their heart for us to see that they neither hide mean intentions nor plan any evil.

Edi Isaev is a historian, Professor at the Chechen State University, writer and publicist directs his book to youth. In introduction he emphasizes: “ The norm of Vainakh ethics is the code of wise truths of people that reflects their ideals.”

The book is educational. It contains the ideas on ethics by thinkers of various people and various times from Epicurus and Confucius A.S. Makarenko and L.N.Tolstoy. The second chapter is devoted to ethic norms of Chechens. The third chapter considers in detail traditional family ethic code. The final chapter is devoted to Islamic ethic norms.

Materials from the book Vainakh Ethics by Edi Isaev is devoted to customs and traditions of Chechens.

The ethos of taip

Since the 16th century, the Chechens have been living in distinct patriarchal family clans or ‘taips’ (from Arabic ‘taifa’ group, circle, community). Each taip gradually evolved into a tree of offshoots, or ‘tars’. Each tar gave rise to a separate taip. Each person within a tar knew the name of the founding forefather of his of her tar. Each Chechen was also supposed to remember the names of at least 20 of his or her ancestors.

In all, there have been as many as 135 Chechen taips. Over 20 consist or consisted of assimilated descendants of non-Chechens, who joined the Chechen people in different conditions and at different times. Each taip had an obligatory ethos, and the higher the social standing of a man within his taip, the stricter he was supposed to adhere to that ethos.

Each such ethos had the principles of what we no call ‘freedom. liberty and brotherhood’ in its heart of hearts. It also upheld mutual help, respect for seniors and chivalry towards women. In everyday life, all these principles existed as customs. A violator of them attracted general condemnation from fellow taipfolk, regardless of his or her standing within the taip. People would choose a roadside site for what they called ‘a damnation heap’ in the name of the offender  and through rocks and earth upon this when passing by. Each rock or lump would come in package with strong words of denunciation with regard to the man or woman whose name had been associated with the heap.

In his book ‘The Vainakh Ethos’, Professor E.Isayev argues that taips are still relevant today because norms of behaviour within them play a great role in the upbringing of the young.

‘Yah’, the main virtue in man

Chechen epics (‘illis’), songs, fables and parables often end with the phrase “May no mother ever give birth to a son without ‘yah’!”

Professors I.Aliroyev and D.Medzhidov, in their book “The Customs, Traditions and Norms of the Chechen People” (Grozny, 1992), have this to say: “Whenever you hear that a person has no ‘yah’, this means the person in question commands no respect within his or her circle. Describing a man as having no ‘yah’ is as good as saying he is no man at all. Stating that a man possesses ‘yah’ is the highest possible praise to that man. A man with ‘yah’ in him is a model to emulate. He possesses all the qualities that the Vainakhs deem positive in their ethical code.”

‘Yah’ (akin to ‘yuh’ face, countenance, decent appearance) fully embraces fortitude, valour, courage and bravery but does not boil down to them.

The collector of Vainakh folklore Merited Teacher of the Russian Federation Adam Dolatov calls attention to relevant chapters of ‘Yahian Kostash’ (‘Behests of Decency and Dignity’), a codified collection of traditional ethical principles of the Vainakh people: “Gain the deepest possible insight into yourself and your ancestry. Retain your ‘yah’. Never lose decency or dignity. … Your are mortal. But never be fearful of your physical death. The only thing to be really feared is life without decency, dignity, spirit. faith or ‘yah’. He who loses them loses his freedom as well … .”

Other elements of ‘yah’ include modesty, moderation, generosity, responsiveness to other people’s needs and also the pursuit of public recognition by showing best results in labour, battle, sport and help to others and by modestly holding the last place in the queue for awards.

The Vainakh family code calls on the parents to instill competitive qualities in their children. ‘Yah’ supposes high competitiveness in people who have it.

Sworn Brotherhood

“Worthy man always has friends” say a Chechen proverb. Sworn brotherhood raises friendship to its highest peak.  Chechens honour the centuries old custom. This ethic norm has been passed from one generation to another. It was passed through verbal people’s creations, fairy tales and legends.

The ethic of sworn brotherhood in multi-national Chechnya has long been considered foundation of relations between peoples. It is respected as kinship but toward friends it is considered much more greater than toward relations. Inattentiveness or discourtesy toward a brother can be pardoned but never toward a friend.

How a friendly union is concluded? There are three kinds of brotherhood. The first is solemn sworn before friends or elders, The second, the drinking of milk from a single cup that symbolizes faithfulness. A gold ring was put into to it so as not to “rust” the friendship. The third is mixing of blood for this purpose wanted to be brothers cut their fingers and mix drops of blood. After the performance of one of these rituals the sworn brothers exchange barbecues, felt cloaks and other things that symbolizes sworn brotherhood. The performance of the ritual is informed to all relations and friends of both sides.

Famous Russia writers Alexander Pushkin, Mikhail Lermontov and Lev Tolstoy who knew about the mode of life and customs of highlanders and wrote about the tradition of sworn brotherhood. Lev Tolstoy had friendly relations with many highlanders and described them as sworn brothers. He wrote the following about his sworn brother Sado Miserbiev: “ He proved his faithfulness risking his life but this was of no importance for him, it was a custom and pleasure for him…”. It is well known that Sado Miserbiev presented Lev Tolstoy a sword as a symbol of true friendship. Chechens present weapons only to friends. Now the sword is In Lev Tolstoy museum in Moscow.

Chechens and their attitude to work

Vainakhs valued the concept “khianal” – something one earns with hard work. From times immemorial Chechens highly appreciated aspiration to creative work. From early childhood, they tried to raise their children with respect to toil. A very old Chechen parable is exactly about that.

The father calls for his son and gives him 1 rouble, saying: ” Go and throw it in the river “. At once the son did as told. A bit later his father suggested he does the same with 10 roubles, and then with 100 roubles. His son obliged. But the day has come, when the son began to earn his own money. When he earned his very first money, he brought it to his father to please him, but father suggested he threw his first rouble in the river again. The son was indignant:” How do you mean to throw it away, when I worked so hard to earn it?”.His father’s answer was: ” Son, but you never had a shade of confusion throwing in the river the 111 roubles I gave you, and I also worked hard to earn them”. That was how his son learnt about the price of money one gets working hard.

The respectful attitude to work is emphasised by the very old Chechen tradition of shared work. For example, harvesting crops. Or in a household, which has lost its breadwinner. In this mountainous country people used to build their stone houses together, all members of the community lending a hand, with children working side by side with adults.

” Let’s take a look at the “belkhi”, a century-old tradition – E.Isaev writes in the book “The Vainakh Ethics”, when no one is invited to take part, but rather they come to help their neighbours of their own accord, eager and glad to help someone in need. The “belkhi ” is the type of work which has the character of help, mercy and charity, something known as work for the common good. The concept of “belkhi” from times immemorial has been part of the Vainakh lifestyle. It embraces the philosophy of doing good, of brotherly unselfishness and friendship. More than once have we witnessed situations when such qualities were exhibited. Just recollect the landslides in the mountains of the Nozhai-Yurt area in 1991-1993.

Then hundreds and thousand citizens of our republic, Dagestan, Ingushetia came to the aid of the injured. And when similar happened in Dagestan and Armenia, among those who by first has responded to an another’s mountain there were the Chechens. Similar examples set. It is trusted, that the ethics of mercy forever remain in Chechen and Ingush traditions. In mountains stand still high, well-proportioned towers combined by ancestors present the Vainakhs! The centuries stand. It is possible to name them “as spiritual towers of the people”. And the people go on “belkhi” to realise that the towers of goods, unselfishness stand and in their souls “.

Examples of the alien or uncanny nature of the abrek are amply found in the biography of the Chechen abrek Zelimkhan, including his magical feat of escaping from a cave when he was surrounded by Russian officers[2] after announcing theatrically that only after he was presented with “a document from the tsar promising that the persecution of the innocent would cease and that all those exiled on my account will be freed”[3] would he surrender.

Botiakov’s underscoring of the abrek as a magical creature who belongs neither entirely to the world of the dead or of the living allows us to reach beyond a merely historical understanding of the abrek’s role in Caucasian society. Such a critical “leap” is essential, because the abrek’s capacity to haunt cannot be reduced to the role he filled in history; his magic must be sought elsewhere. And yet, it is precisely in the context of history that the abrek’s role was transformed and that he attained his magical status. The sources of this transformation if not their effect, can be traced to the concrete circumstances of the Caucasian War. In his 1916 introduction to his translations of Chechen songs, the Bolshevik leader Aslanbek Sheripov delineated a tripartite historical evolution of the abrek in Chechen folklore which emphasized the relationship between history and the abrek’s development:

“Until Chechnya was conquered, abreks were “byronic types”: they couldn’t live alongside the people of their circle, and therefore cut their ties with them as they continued to hate human society in general. In this sense, abreks were “internationalists”, meaning that they took pity neither on people from their own circle, or on people foreign to them…The people [narod] were afraid of them and therefore hated them”.

For Sheripov, the abrek in his original incarnation was simply someone excluded from the human community. Many sources, from Botiakov to Bobrovnikov, attest to the historical accuracy of Sheripov’s assertion. In its original sense, it appears, the abrek was most often a victim of the blood feud, who has committed a crime for which neither he nor his relatives could compensate the victim with cattle or other commodities. He is therefore forced to hide from his own community, which in those days administered judicial punishment. He takes up residence either in an entirely new community under a new name, and hides his past from his new villagers, or he lives the life of a wanderer, roaming the mountains and forests until the day when he meets his tragic death from starvation.

Such is the necessary background for understanding the abrek’s genesis, but, from the perspective of Soviet politics, it is far from the full story of the abrek’s evolution. The next two stages in Sheripov’s analysis outline the trajectory of the abrek’s apotheosis, and the relationship between that transformation and historical circumstance: ,,When the Russian conquerors appeared in the Caucasus, then the people transferred their terror of the abreks onto their uninvited guests, and therefore during the war, abreks became the leaders of the Chechen resistance. But abrechestvo took on its most specific form only once Russian power began to establish itself in the Caucasus”.

The last two stages in this tripartite formulation are thus intimately linked to the appearance of the Russians in the Caucasus. It is noteworthy that, according to Sheripov, only with the defeat of the Chechen resistance did abreks acquire the halo of sanctity which we witness in late 19th and early 20th century texts. This aspect of their historical evolution marks the abrek as a symbol of the desperate position of the Chechen people. When they were not overwhelmed by an enemy whose army seemed to be inexhaustible in its resources, the common people, according to Sheripov, despised abreks and even killed them (this latter claim is not supported by other scholarly accounts). However, once Shamil surrendered in 1859, and the Russians effectively won the war, abreks began to be worshipped by the people; onto their images were projected all the crushed hopes of the powerless and defeated.

In his short introduction, Sheripov offers a remarkably precise account of the sanctification of the abrek, his rise from the position of bandit to savior. Admittedly, Sheripov’s argument follows (and could even be said to establish) a orthodox Bolshevik interpretation, and reminds us of the way in which the representation of the abrek in Soviet texts was itself an artifact of politics and historical circumstance, but its ideologized content does not automatically render this 20th century representation of the abrek false. Sheripov’s account is both prescient in terms of forecasting future policies and sensitive in terms of its exposition of what was at the time a genuinely “revolutionary” idea. The trajectory he delineates would be followed by many of the Caucasian writers who tackled the abrek theme in future decades, in spite of all the fluctuations in the official attitude to this simultaneously subversive and ideologically assimilable phenomenon of the abrek. Sheripov founds his history of the birth of abrechestvo in the incompatibility of the indigenous law with state structures of authority: ,,The incompatibility of Russian justice and the local law of the mountaineers, the criminal administration of the Caucasus and the general politics of colonialism forced many respected Chechen leaders… to enter an illegal mode of life, and the Russians simply exiled these people from civil society.…. People were made to suffer who had the bad fortune to be related to or simply to be from the same village as these “criminals”… Then they began to take their revenge on the authorities: abreks killed officials, robbed the post and Cossacks, as well as other official institutions…but those in power continued to punish the innocent civilians with fines, executions, exile to Siberia, and hanging.”

The clash between state structures and indigenous law is derived from a native sense that Russian law is arbitrary in its persecution of the innocent, for criteria used to determine punishment can be as random as being unlucky enough to be born into the same village as an abrek. As we will see in future articulations of abrechestvo, the tension between the arbitrary bureaucracy of imperial power and the internally cogent structures of native social configurations provided the spark for the modern day abrek. True, the abrek was not born when imperial power first clashed with the indigenous peoples of the Caucasus, but I will seek to argue in the following pages that it was in the context of such conflagrations that the abrek in his final stage came into existence, and that it is precisely this latter-day abrek who has captured the imagination of artists, politicians, and scholars, and society at large.

Sheripov thus far has accounted for the way in which Russian politics created the abrek. He turns next to the contribution made by the “people”, to the way in which they raise him from his former despised status and crown him with the wreath of a martyr: ,,Power terrorized the peaceful population, and abreks terrorized those in power. And of course, the people looked upon the abreks as fighters against the barbarism of the colonial authorities…Chechens call simple thieves and bandits by other, offensive terms. But ‘abrek’ became a term of respect, and the people did not honor just anyone with this title. The most respected and successful abreks so captivated the Chechen people that they were considered to be carrying on the battle initiated by Shamil and his murids. At one time, rumors even circulated that Zelimkhan had announced himself to be an imam and was annihilating Tsarist power.”

In other contexts, I have referred to the importance of the idea of the “lost cause” in Chechen self-representation. The abrek is certainly one of the most complete embodiments of this principle. He is the standard bearer for the cause abandoned by Imam Shamil in 1859, but with the crucial difference that the abrek’s battle has been determined in advance; the victory of the enemy and defeat of the hero is the structuring principle of abrechestvo.

One of the stories in Sheripov’s collection of prose translations of Chechen illi[4] about abreks tells the story of the abrek Gekha, who according to Sheripov, belongs to the third stage in the abrechestvo trichotomy. Gekha is a perfect illustration of Botiakov’s “liminal hero” who exists on the borderland between life and death. The text early on informs us of the hero’s exemplary status, unable to find a peer to assuage his solitude: “Gekha’s heart of steel longed for friends and gentle caresses. Gekha began to call, to search for a friend. He looked for someone to relieve his moments of suffering and gloomy thoughts. But he found no one… Because he was strong and passionate, and no one was his equal. He had no equal, and without equality there can be no friendship”.

Gekha’s position as both hero and outsider are so intimately linked here that it is as though the one demands the other: there can be no heroism if the hero is not alienated from his social environment and yet, paradoxically, his alienation is the source of his personal tragedy. The personal exists here in dynamic opposition to the impersonal heroism demanded by the community; the abrek’s tragedy is the community’s gain. We will see below how such anomalies repeat themselves in other locations and contexts, particularly in the “lonely hero” analyzed by Vagapov’s as the archetypal protagonist of the Chechen illi.[5] Rarely does heroism in the Chechen context take place outside the context of loneliness and despair.

Gekha fulfills the most fundamental requirement for the latter-day (third stage) abrek: he has no friends. He fulfills the second condition for heroism as well: “Gekha fell into despair, he who was not afraid of death and who knew no fear”. That Gekha is not afraid of death sets him apart from the average human being, and qualifies him to become a hero. His lack of fear also establishes his relationship with “the other world”, and makes of both his body and his soul a fit vessel for the sacred.

The third element of Gekha’s character which renders him a classic abrek is the fact that he is misunderstood. When Gekha fails to find friends to assuage his loneliness he curses “his former partners and those who, like beasts, poisoned him, not seeing his boundless compassion for humanity”. These lines establish not only Gekha’s misfortune, that no one understands him, but also the compassion which lays the foundation for his divinity.

Fascinatingly, Russians are never mentioned in this tale which is so obviously about the experience of colonial occupation. His enemies who ultimately kill him are referred to as “worms” and “crows” but never as Russian officers and soldiers. Surely this is an instance where explicit naming of the Russians is superfluous and would even have the effect of the violating the text’s poetics, which relies on implied analogies with the animal kingdom. Additionally, such explicitness would have the effect of destroying the ties between the audience and performer, which is produced in part by obliqueness and lack of specific reference; to refer to Russian soldiers as “worms” and “crows” implies a closer connection between the implied audience and speaker than more objective appellations would.

Nor are we provided with a specific reason why Gekha became an abrek. We are not told of any crimes he committed, or any other external situation which drove him to choose for himself the yoke of abrechestvo. Abrechestvo is instead presented here as a condition of his soul, a response to an internal, physic situation, and not at all as an attempt to escape from his fate, as according to Sheripov’s trichotomy, it was in the days preceding Russian colonialism.

Such lack of particulars should not be taken to mean that this text is lacking in concreteness. To the contrary, abrechestvo texts are marked by the juncture they create between myth and history, and between the imminent and transcendent. The sacred exists here in a precise historical context, for, as Sheripov reminds us, Gekha was an historical personage who died in 1898 in the region of Vedeno and “the circumstances of his death are correctly narrated in the song”. Gekha’s song lends itself to textual analysis as easily as any work of written literature; it contains a subtext (the historical reality of Gekha’s existence) and reinscribes this subtext in mythical form.

Having learned that there is no place for him in human society, Gekha turns to the animal kingdom and himself metaphorically becomes an animal: “He groaned like a bear and howled like a wolf”. A wolf appears at Gekha’s cry, and it turns out that this animal is better able to understand Gekha’s soul than his fellow Chechens. The basis of their mutual understanding is the fact that the same “brave heart” beats inside both man and beast. And it is not by accident that the wolf becomes Gekha’s soulmate. Wolves are not the most powerful beasts in the animal kingdom. “The lion and the eagle are more powerful than many predators and are therefore brave and worthy” but Gekha does not find his soul reflected in these creatures. Rather, he finds common ground with the wolf because though he is weaker than many animals he still “rushes into battle without hesitation”.

The wolf is already the victor, if not in the strictly literal sense, then in the metaphorical one: “either he defeats the enemy, or he himself perishes in an unequal battle”. In a pattern we will see repeated elsewhere, Gekha’s song undermines the values which structure many epic narratives: honorable death is equated here with victory. Might does not make right in this carefully attenuated context, and the single criterion for “victory” is the abrek’s preparedness to die.

The wolf as a symbol of Chechen manhood has been vulgarized to the point of kitsch in contemporary discourse; however I believe it is worthwhile at this point, given the centrality of animal imagery in Gekha’s illi, as well as the parallel typologies between the abrek and the wolf, to make a short detour and provisionally recover the wolf’s image. The wolf (borz in Chechen) possesses many traits to the Chechen cultural imagination which characterize the abrek as well: among these, the primary ones are manhood, the capacity for being alone, and an abiding sense of homelessness (analyzed in depth by Botiakov in his discussion of the abrek’s burka as a surrogate space for home). One short Chechen wolf text is particularly revealing in this regard: ,,A long time ago, farther back than anyone can remember, a hurricane swept over the earth. The sea ascended to the mountains, trees died uprooted, their corpses desiccated on the ground. Everything alive went into hiding. Alone of all the animals, only the wolf was not afraid. He greeted the hurricane calmly, though it ripped the skin off his back, bathed him in blood, and paralyzed him. […]

The animals returned and asked the wolf: “When the wind killed the trees, made the sea surge, and every animal sought shelter, only you stayed behind. Why didn’t you seek protection?”

The wolf, still bloodied and in pain, set his gaze towards the distance, and answered: “The earth on which I stand is my home. No matter what happens to me, I cannot leave.”

The wolf’s words made the animals think. Shame pricked their conscience. They went their separate ways and passed the night in silence. The wolf stayed behind. He had no other home. [6]

A clear typology can be drawn here leading from the wolf to the abrek. This wolf text singles out the wolf as a vessel for suffering: a hurricane rips his skin off his back and bathes him in blood, yet he stands stoic, ready to face whatever challenges come his way, for the capacity to bear suffering is a marker of the Chechen hero. The wolf/hero is wedded to fate as well: “No matter what happens to me,” he says, “I cannot leave.” Similarly, the task of the latter-day abrek is to make the best of a dead-end situation. The abrek is fated not only to die, but to lose the battle, which potentially means dying in vain. However, the threat of a futile death is avoided through the discourse of “lost cause aesthetics” at the crucial rhetorical moment. Instead of accepting defeat according to the enemy’s terms, the wolf and abrek, assert counter claims to another universe of discourse.

The authors, be they the anonymous creators of folklore or the self-conscious producers of literary texts, never fail to draw attention to impact made by the wolf-abrek’s counter discourse upon a skeptical audience: “The wolf’s words made the animals think. Shame pricked their conscience.” Even after this reconciliation of conflicting world-views, however, the wolf remains a creature apart: “The wolf stayed behind. He had no other home.” The internal poetics of the text here determines the vector of the plot’s development; the impossibility of compromising with a non-native world order, along with the sanctity of unconditional steadfastness mean that the wolf and the creatures who admire but misunderstand him will never see eye to eye. Such is one articulation of Chechen heroism.

To return to Gekha: the abrek’s relationship with death is the keynote of this text. Gekha “thirsted for death as the groom thirsts for his bride” and after he dies we are told that “for the strong in heart, death is beautiful; it is a beautiful woman in a fairy tale”. The final battle, into which he rushes to a sure death is both “delightful” and “joyful”. Gekha draws strength from the words of the innkeeper’s wife, the very same innkeeper who ultimately betrays him to the authorities. This woman reminds him that he is a “hawk”, symbolically related to the wolf. She tells him not to “shame his glorious name” and to “die beautifully”. She contrasts his courage with the cowardice of women to reinforce his sense of masculinity: “if you intend to deceive me, then, like a cowardly woman, clothe yourself in my shawl, and vanish without a trace”. Gekha’s courage thus ironically derives from the very antithesis whose gendered weakness he seeks to define himself against: “the woman’s words multiplied his strength ten times” he says. The abrek’s romance with death is again underscored through metaphor: “Gekha dived into the thick, dark sea of fire and bullets”.

Towards the end of the text, Gekha’s name is replaced with the epithet “abrek-hawk”. It is the “abrek-hawk” who “jumps into the embrace of death” “as a youth hurls himself into his beloved’s arms”. The battle between humans is here transposed onto the natural world, losing none of its historical specificity in the process, but gaining in depth and metaphysical breadth. The Russian officers rip his trembling body apart like a flock of crows and suck his warm blood like leeches. They squawk “cowardly, joyfully, and deceptively” over the dead body of the “proud, noble hawk”. These adjectives serve the purpose of generating a counter thesis to the commonly accepted laws of war; in the world of this text, victory is not in the hands of the strongest, but rather is the reward of he whose death is most dignified. Gekha lays on the ground “ripped apart, like a champion” while the insatiable crows gaze on him in terror because “they were afraid of the brave hawk even when he was dead”.

The prolongation of fear even after the life which produced the fear has been extinguished will appear in many of the texts to come, culminating in the description one author uses for the corpse of his dead abrek-hero: “To his enemies, Zelimkhan was alive even when he was dead”[7]. These details remind us that the abrek’s power derives not merely from his talent for banditry. More to the point, he haunts and terrifies because of his unique relationship with death itself. The source of his power is his sanctity, which is based on his romance with death. This relationship has the power to change the outcome of a battle, to turn a defeat into a victory and vice-versa. The song ends on an eloquent and analytical note, leaving the moral of the story clear for anyone who has not yet discerned it: “Thus Gekha died a beautiful death. He died a victor. A victor is not he who defeats the enemy, but rather he who sacrifices himself to the battle, who, without thinking twice, throws his soul and his body to a certain death”

Though it is beyond argument that the image of the abrek changed drastically in folkloric and literary texts produced during and after the Caucasian War, the abrek still retains many of the characteristics which distinguished him in the days when the Chechens’ primary antagonists were neighboring indigenous tribes. Vagapov, for instance, in his article on the “lonely hero” in the Chechen illi, does not once refer to the latter-day abrek, though the profile he delineates for the Chechen hero is in many ways a precise description of the latter-day abrek battling Russian colonialism. Thus, it would appear that even when the Chechens were not threatened with cultural annihilation, even when they did not unite around a hero to lead them into freedom, their folkloric heroes were nevertheless alone, founding their self-definition on the tension between their needs and the needs of the group of which they were an esteemed part. Vagapov argues that the “lonely hero” is a determining characteristic of Chechen folklore.[8]

Nor is the hero’s loneliness a matter of choice. As Vagapov notes, in the illi, he is nearly always an impoverished orphan: “Defenselessness and poverty are the foundational traits… of the lonely hero in the illi. The lonely hero is opposed to his fellow villagers by virtue of his poverty and defenselessness”. In the language of the illi, as cited by Vagapov, the hero is alone because “he has no leader in front, no elders with whom to seek counsel, and no friend with whom to be close”. Vagapov glosses: “His poverty and defenselessness offends his fellow villagers”. In the world of the illi, then, loneliness is the natural state of being for the brave man; even though he may have followers, he inevitably experiences a lack when it comes to spiritual companionship. Not only is he friendless; he is the underdog as well: poor, defenseless, and, in the case of the abrek, exiled from society.

It would be incorrect to cite this element of the abrek’s character as purely a result of the impact of Russian colonialism. What is different, however, as we move from one historical era to the next, is the abrek’s sacred status, the way in which he captivates the imaginations of the producers of texts and the audiences who participate in their creation, and the way in which he is elevated in many texts, from a typical, admirable but forgettable hero, into a god. If the hero’s loneliness in earlier texts was simply one among many aspects of his personality, in 19th and 20th century texts, the hero’s loneliness is a mark of his greatness. This difference, as
Sheripov pointed out, is the difference made by history.

Rebecca Gould

1 Botiakov, I.M. Abreki na Kavkaze. Sociokul’turnyj aspekt javlenija. SPb.:Peterburgskoe Vostokovedenie, 2004.
2 Sheripov, Aslanbek. Stati i rechi. second ed., ed. by E.P. Kireev and M.N.Muzaev. Checheno-ingushskoe knizhnoe Izd-vo . Groznyi, 1972, p. 68. Sheripov is citing Razboi na kavkaze by P. Kozalkovskii.
3 Sheripov, Aslanbek, op. cit, pp. 68.
4 Scholars of Vainakh folklore define the illi as an historically recent genre of Chechen folklore (by which is meant that it dates back to the 16th century), a ballad with a strict rhyme and meter scheme, which typically narrates the adventures of a dik k’ant (good boy, parallel usages to molodets in Russian, kai qma in Georgian) who performs noble deeds which usually involve winning a girl and overcoming great obstacles. For specific details on the poetics and meter of the illi, refer to Poetika chechenskikh geroicheskikh pesen illi. Ed. I.B. Munaev. Institut istorii, sotsiologii i filogii: Groznyi, 1983.
5 Vagapov, I. S. “Odinokii geroi v checheno-ingushkom illi” (“The image of the lonely hero in Chechen-Ingush heroic-epic songs.”) Izvestiya voprosi chechenoingushskoi literature. vol. 5, vyipusk. 3, pp. 95-116.
6 Mze deda chemi, Malkh nana ju sa, solntsa mat moia. Kavkaziuri saxli. Tbilisi: 2000, pp. 119. My translation from a composite of the Georgian and Russian. This is a trilingual anthology of Chechen folklore, in Chechen, Georgian, and Russian; however, the Chechen text was not included in this case or in any of the available anthologies of Chechen folklore. (This does not however mean that the text itself is inauthentic, as many of the major collections of Chechen texts are impossible to obtain at present, and in many cases no longer exist.)
7 Mamakaev, Magomed. Zelamkha. Groznyi: Nokhch-g’aliain knizhni Izd-vo, 1968, pp 228; in Russian, Mamakaev, Magomed. Zelimkhan. Trans. by Timofeev, Groznyi: Checheno-ingushskoe knizhnoe Izd-vo, 1983, pp. 288.
8 Though it lays outside the scope of this paper, the “lonely hero” in Chechen culture ought to be seen as the counterpart to the centripetal forces pushing towards conformity which at least in the contemporary context play a large role in shaping current Chechen conceptions of heroism. I could be criticized here for making uncritical and unhistorical linkages between centuries-old texts and contemporary concepts which are obviously only tenuously related in a genetic sense. However, I use this methodology because that is the one which I believe is most relevant to the way contemporary Chechens articulate their understanding of the abrek, and I seek here to reproduce, to whatever limited extent possible, that singular form of representation.

Desert Mirages

In the heat of far-off Tunisia, a young couple’s family had been expecting a boy, but it was a little girl who came into the world. Her body was so tiny and her skin so wrinkled and dry, that she resembled a little, shrivelled mummy.

‘The child will not live,’ was the verdict pronounced by the doctors. But her mother Zafira did not believe a word they said. She just couldn’t take her eyes of her baby’s seemingly lifeless little body. ‘She’s dead! Is she!? She can’t be dead’ wondered the young mother fearfully, putting her ear to her daughter’s puny chest. Hearing the weak beating of the little heart, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Thus the young mother spent sleepless days and nights in hopes for Allah’s mercy upon her and her little child.

Then, after some time, the little girl’s breathing became deeper and more even, that is when her mother, believing that life would not now desert her, gave her the name Naval, meaning ‘gift’!

Defying fate, with help of Almighty, the child survived. With time her skin that was once wrinkled, like that of a dried date, grew smooth and took on such a beautiful olive shade that even her mother could hardly believe she was her own daughter.

One day, after her regular feed, as she lay in her mother’s arms, Naval suddenly opened her eyes. Zafira stared in amazement at the child, especially at her wide-open eyes. Never before had she seen such a knowing look in a child. Naval’s eyes were large and black like two over-ripe olives. And just as shiny. No mother in all Tunisia had seen eyes so eloquent  and beautiful, with such a strange, enigmatic expression!

The little girl, as if reading her mother’s mind, fixed a penetrating, unchildlike gaze on her mother’s face, as if reading her mind, so that Zafira felt beside herself.

‘Naval, my angel!’she was fondling her daughter, but Naval, as if trying to hypnotise, went on staring at her with her dry, shining eyes. And it occurred to Zafira that she had never once seen her daughter cry or make a fuss to get her way, as other small children did.

‘How can this be?’ she wondered, looking at the child in astonishment. Naval blinked a couple of times, screening her eyes with those thick, curved lashes, as if to confirm her mother’s thoughts.

Time went by. In the heat of Tunisia, where its shores washed by the bright blue sea, the Saharan wind scorches not just your face, but even your blood. The nights are tender and cool like in mountain gorges and the pearly dawn is as splendid as over ancient Carthage. In that glorious land of dunes and mirages, little Naval was born and grew up.

She was not like others of her age; she did not play children’s games. Instead she would disappear for whole days in the pineapple groves or roam in the jasmine gardens. But her true passion was to ride along the boundless dunes astride her beloved camel Kemi, with his long, fluffy eyelashes. Naval would go tearing off to meet her pet, clutching a handful of couscous granules which the animal would at once scoop up with his soft, moist lips and lick her palm with his rough tongue, as though to show his gratitude.

Naval would climb nimbly onto her friend’s shaggy back and settle in front of his hump. The camel would sigh like a human being and get up onto his back feet, whereupon Naval would cling on with both arms round his neck. Then he would rise onto his forelegs and Naval, rocking rhythmically to and fro, would ride like a true Bedouin across the endless sandy plains that faded into the distant heat-haze. The straw huts, the tiny hovels, the low houses and a big mosque were left far behind under the blazing sun. From the minaret rose the call to prayer, but Naval was sailing ever further away from her little home-town on her very own ship of the desert, sinking deep into the fluid dunes, getting scorched mercilessly by the sun and the hot desert wind.

She was drawn to where the desert Berbers lived, just as their distant sun-worshipping ancestors had done, in caves hewn out of the bare cliffs. Naval was already seven years old. But she had never once shed a tear.

Some years had passed since then. Naval’s little sister was now a year and a half old. And today, on Naval’s birthday, her mother had borne her the gift of a little brother.

Naval sat outside, leaning against the cracked walls of the straw hut, its boards warped by dryness and old age, and with a marabou’s nest on its roof. A scraggy, spiny palm-tree with yellowing leaves provided no shade at all. The previous day, the palm had exuded sugar-white milk. Palms only produce milk once in their lives, and afterwards they die. All around was just sand, endless sand, without so much as a bush or a blade of grass.

The huge marabou stork, who had become almost a member of Naval’s family, was standing not far away from the little girl. He was meditating about something and looking at Naval through crinkled-up eyes. Sometimes he would pace to and fro, unfolding his powerful black wings, as if airing them. He was full of pride and self-esteem. He considered himself the lord of Africa and looked with contempt upon the finches and doves that had settled on the yellowing palm boughs, not deigning to rank them as birds.

‘Maraboush, my dear Maraboush!’ said Naval to the bird, and she got up and went over to him and put her arms round his bare neck. ‘I know you’re hungry! Do you want something to eat? Just wait a little longer.’

A noise distracted her from her thoughts. Zakariah, Naval’s father, was dragging up a bleating, protesting lamb. It was going to be slaughtered for a celebration feast in honour of the birth of Naval’s little brother.

‘Something will come your way’- she said, turning to the haughty bird and stroking the soft down on his head. But she felt really sorry for the lamb… marabou then snapped his beak as to express his joy to Naval.

Before, Maraboush had been able to travel far and wide, flying over the emerald-green sea, perching on shifting sand-dunes, catching small creatures while in flight. There were few birds that could rival him. Now Maraboush had grown older, and his pensive demeanour reflected all the harsh blows that fate had dealt him and sadness had settled in his elongated eyes.

Naval felt very sorry for him: he could no longer find food for himself as in his youth. Naval and Maraboush were both waiting for the lamb to be slaughtered. Maraboush would was waiting to feast on his entrails and Naval just wanted it to be over. The lamb cooked in an earthenware pot on an open-air fire and seasoned with yellow saffron, coriander and cumin was only prepared for special occasions. And when the scorching pot was smashed, and the whole lamb hauled out of it, smelling of bonfire and smoke, everyone’s mouths would water as they longed for the mealtime to come. After all it was Naval’s favourite dish.

The feast had receded into the past. Ordinary grey days set in. Naval’s father would go off to work on the palm plantation, as usual, every morning and Zafira looked after her newly born son.

As the time went on Naval was no longer a carefree little girl with all the time on her hands. She had less and less time left to go for her rides in the desert, and seldom managed to meet up with Maraboush. Only she would catch sight of the pining bird from afar and her heart would miss a beat. Naval so wanted to get together with her friend, or to ride off into the desert! She had so much to tell herself, let alone Maraboush and her camel Kemi.

Something was constantly bothering her, but she didn’t know what. Every night she would wake up in a cold sweat. Sometimes she would dream that she was galloping through the desert astride her beloved Kemi, and then sliding off his long neck. Finding herself on the hot sand, she could not get to her feet and the sand-dunes were swallowing her up.

‘Mummy-y-y’, Naval would cry out in her sleep, waking herself up.

One day she finally did manage to go off into the desert. There she became lost in her own thoughts as she sat alone in the sand among golden dunes that resembled ancient pyramids.

She sat there looking far into the horizon, listening to the beautiful sounds of the dunes that she loved so much. ‘It was so long since she has been here!’ she thought. Straining her beautiful black eyes over the golden desert sands, Naval listened to the humming…

There was no way she could get up and leave, bewitched by the boundless yellow desert, gazing into the infinite distance where she glimpsed a Moorish loaded caravan. She felt a touch of fragrance, of spices and sweet-smelling musk, lavender and myrrh, was brought to her by the wind as if the desert was beckoning her into the distance.

Suddenly the caravan vanished. Was it there after all? Who knows… In that very instance she heard an aeroplane that roared by above her head and, before her very eyes, plunged nose-first into the sand, just where, shortly before, the caravan had been slowly wending its way.

The plane exploded in a ball of fire, flinging burning remnants far and wide. Naval’s eyes glazed over and the glittering reflection could be seen in numbed pupils that reacted neither to the fiery flares nor to the fragments of bodies thrown all over the desert. Some time later it was as if she had awoken from a terrible dream. She slowly got up and started wandering home, as thought she didn’t believe in what she had just seen. May be that’s why she told no-one about it, not even her own mum and dad.

Time and time again she saw the same thing. As she tried to tell her mother about it, she would ask:

‘Mummy, do you ever see the sun bouncing over the sands? Or the moon dancing on the dunes?’

‘Many people have seen such things. Only they are not real. They are mirages! Desert mirages!’ said her mother, laughing. So Naval learned to keep quiet.

One day Zafira’s sister, Aïsha, fell very ill. When Zafira heard about this, she helplessly wept day and night for they lived too far away and just couldn’t afford to go there.

Zakariah borrowed some money from a friend and bought plane tickets to Kairouan for himself, his wife and their little son. They had decided to leave the Naval and her little sister in the care of the relatives for a few days.
‘Just keep an eye on Naval: she likes to run off into the desert and then dreams up all sorts of cock-and-bull stories,’ her father warned.

Zafira was packing a bag for the journey, gathering together things they would, she did not hear Naval come in and went on packing, humming to herself as she did so, when Naval suddenly spoke to her, Zafira  jumped in alarm.

‘You startled me – what are you? The invisible girl? Why are you silent? Have you been standing there long?’

Naval cautiously approached her mother, then stopped a short way from her. Her eyes were motionless, then there was a sort of strange trembling in them, as if her pupils wanted to jump out of them.

‘Naval, my dear, are you alright?’ Zafira slowly stepped towards her, dropping onto her knees and squeezing her tightly round the shoulders.

‘Mummy, Mummy, don’t go! Please! Stay home! Don’t go to Kairouan! I won’t let you go!
You mustn’t go there. Nor Daddy, nor my little brother either!’

Zafira shook her daughter and, still holding her by the shoulders, looked at her angrily:
“What is the matter with you? Is it those mirages? Have you been seeing things again?”

Her heart trembled and she embraced her tightly and whispered as she stroked her little head:
‘What am I going to do with you, other people’s children are like children! But you … sometimes I just don’t understand you …Dont worry my girl, everything is going to be fine’

Zafira slowly stood up and wondered around the room in a daze. ‘Soon will come the time for her to get married, and who will have her if they know about her eccentricities! People will just laugh at her! ‘What shall I do?’ she thought.

‘You won’t go, will you, Mummy?’ Her daughter’s voice brought her back to reality.

‘Yes, I will, Naval! I will go! She said angrily.

‘Your mirages, your strange ideas, your conversations with the marabou and with the camel, they’re not good for you,’ declared Zafira, choking with anger.

‘Everything is in the hands of the Almighty! I will go, and when I get home, I’ll then deal with you. You shall go and work in the pineapple grove, like all the other girls. When you have to pick fruit until your hands are sore and bleeding, you’ll soon forget about your mirage, you won’t go clambering on the roof at night to wish your precious Maraboush goodnights.
That miserable old carrion-eating bird that you worship! When I get back home, I’ll throw him off the roof and finally get rid of his nest– old parasite that he is!

‘Mummy, you won’t go to Kairouan, will you?’ Naval went on and on..

That  her patience exhausted by her daughter’s latest question, screamed at the top of her voice:
‘Zakariaaaah!’

Hearing his wife’s cry, Zakariah came running in to the room.
‘What has happened?’ he asked. Zafira was clasping her hand to her heart and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was sobbing as she spoke:
‘Her fantasies again, her mirages again! I can’t take it any more!’

Zakariah turned to his daughter. Naval’s eyes were unblinking, like the last time. Then they began to tremble, and her pupils flickered incessantly. Amazed by this sight, her father went up to her, not taking his eyes off her pupils. He could see sparks of fire..no glittering or something incomprehensible happening in her eyes.

He recoiled from Naval, covering his open mouth with his hand. To calm himself and his wife and Naval and, above all, to make those sparks disappear from his daughter’s eyes, he said:
‘We won’t go, Naval!’

The little girl breathed a sigh of relief and turned her grateful eyes first to her father, then to her mother, with a smile at the corners of her mouth; then, to her parents’ astonishment, she raised her brows in an attempt to start crying. For Zafira, the whole world faded into oblivion and she started to chant – as Arab women normally do to express their joy. She forgot all about her sick sister, her howling baby boy, the marabou, who was snapping his beak as if he wanted to swallow up their hut once and for all – it was all forgotten. She sat down in front of her daughter and took her by the shoulders, gazing into her face.

‘Naval, Naval!’ she whispered. The little girl again wrinkled her brows, and even stretched her mouth in readiness. ‘Now she’s starting to cry’, thought her mother, overcome with joy.
Her father stood there, afraid to alarm her by the slightest word.

Suddenly, dazzle of clear tears gushed from Naval’s eyes, as she wept. They shimmered in the sunlight as they flowed, and glistened as they fell to the floor. They flew into Zafira’s face, becoming lodged in her dress, and in Naval’s. Those sparkling tears, clear crystals, kept on gushing from the little girl’s eyes.

All those uncried tears that burned her eyes and caused her pain, cascaded out in a silver shower.

Zafira stared bewildered with her mouth open and leaned forward, while on her knees, towards the sparkling deposit and scooped up handfuls of Naval’s solidified tears. She looked at them as they dropped on the floor and on Naval’s clothes, and into Zakariah’s outstretched palms.

Zakariah awed and shaken by his daughter’s sparkling crystal tears, ran to the local jeweller’s. The jeweller attempted in vain to shatter one of Naval’s little tears with a hammer.

‘It’s a diamond! He said as his eyes lit up. A nicely cut diamond! With 57 facets! He exclaimed the.
‘Where did you steal this?’ he asked staring suspiciously at the poorly-dressed man. Noticing this, Zakariah grabbed it angrily:

‘It’s my daughter’s tears’ he said with pride and carelessness. But what did it matter, he then just laughed at the old jewller’s face, backed off and ran out screaming: ‘Its a diamond Zafira! Its a diamond!

‘What? Whose tear?’ ‘Are you mad?’ ‘How much do you want for it? ‘Come back you fool, I will pay you a good price for it!’

Zakariah rushed off, like he was possessed, and not even hearing what a newspaper vendor on the market was shouting:

‘News! Latest news! Aeroplane flying to Kairouan crashes in the desert. Crew and passengers killed!’

The tears of the little Tunisian girl, that she had held back for so many years, eventually turned out to be a veritable treasure. All the townspeople found out about it, and soon the whole of Tunisia had heard of little Naval. Eventually, all over the world there was talk of the little Arab girl with diamond tears.

But only Naval did not care about all those diamonds because she knew nothing could equal just one day spent with her family she loved so dearly.

Taisa Irs

Albika (Альбика) ;

Albina (Альбина) ;

Alpatu (Алпату) ;

Amina // Aminat ( Амина // Аминат ) ;

Asma (АсмаI) ;

Asya // Asyat (Ася // Асят) ;

Aybika (Айбика) ;

Aymani (Аймани) ;

Ayna (Айнаъ) ;

Aysha // Ayshat (Айша // Айшат);

Ayza // Ayzan ( Айза // Айзан ) ;

Aza (Аза) ;

Azni (Аьзни) ;

Batta (Батта) ;

Belita (Белита) ;

Bikatu (Бикату) ;

Bilqiz (Билкъиз) ;

Birlant (Бирлант) ;

Bitsi (Бици) ;

Busana (Бусана) ;

Cheqag (ЧIегIаг) ;

Chovka (Човка) ;

Dagman (Дагман) ;

Dagmara (Дагмара) ;

Deshi (Деши) ;

Deti (Дети) ; G

Dikman (Дикман) ;

Duqyaha (Дукх-Яха) ;

Elbika (Эльбика) ;

Elina (Элина);

Elita (Элита) ;

Eliza // Elisa (Элиза // Элиса) ;

Elmira (Эльмира) ;

Eset (Эсет) ;

Esila (Эсила) ;

Ezinet (Эзинет) ;

Fatima (Фатима) ;

Indira (Индира) ;

Izaket (Изакет) ;

Kameta (Камета) ; Kuyruklu yıldız

Kamila (Камила) ;

Kamisa (Камиса) ; Üzüm

Karina (Карина) ;

Kesira // Kesirat (Кесира // Кесират) ;

Kaypa (Кайпа) ;

Khadimat (Хьадимат) ;

Khalimat (Хьалимат) ;

Khava (Хьава) ; Yaşam veren.

Khaza (Хаза) ; Güzel

Khazan // Khazani (ХIазан // Хазани) ;

Khazbika (Хазбика) ; Çok güzel, Harika

Khazimat (Хьазимат) ;

Kheda (Хеда) ;

Khiazni (Хиаьзни) ; Denizkızı

Kurbika (Курбика) ; Onurlu, Şerefli. Kumuk kökenlidir.

Kurzhan (Куржан) ;

Kusama (Кусама) ;

Lalita (Лалита) ;

Lamara (Ламара) ;

Larisa (Лариса) ;

Laura (Лаура) ;

Layla (Лайла) ;

Lida (Лида) ;

Liza (Лиза) ;

Luiza // Luisa (Луиза // Луиса) ;

Madina (Мадина) ;

Makka (Макка) ;

Malkh (Маьлх) ;

Malkhazni (Маьлх-Аьзни);

Mali (Мали) ;

Malika (Малика) ;

Malkan (Малкан) ;

Maret (Марет) ;

Markha (Марха) ;

Marina (Марина) ;

Marisa (Мариса) ;

Marzhan (Маржан) ;

Maryam (Марьям) ;

Marzet (Маьрзет) ;

Marziyet (Маьрзийет) ;

Milana (Милана) ;

Nura (Нура) ;

Nurbika (Нурбика) ;

Nurishat (Нуришат) ;

Nurzhan (Нуржан) ;

Nurset (Нурсет) ;

Petimat (ПIетимат) ;

Polla (Полла) ;

Qoqa (Кхокха) ;

Raisa (Раиса) ;

Rovzan (Ровзан) ;

Roza (Роза) ;

Rubati (Рубати) ;

Ruket // Rukiyat (Рукъет // Рукият) ;

Ruman (Руман) ;

Rumisa (Румиса) ;

Ruvayda (Рувайда) ;

Sakinat (Сакинат) ;

Satsita (Сацита) ;

Seda // Sieda ( Седа // Сиеда ) ;

Selina // Selima (Селина // Селима) ;

Sepi // Sepiyat (Сепи // Сепийат) ;

Sovbika (Совбика) ;

Shahidat (Шахидат) ;

Shahsuvar (Шахсувар) ;

Shovda (Шовда) ;

Taisa (Таиса) ;

Tamara (Тамара) ;

Tamila (Тамила) ;

Taus (Таус);

Taymaskha (Таймасха) ;

Toita (Тоита) ;

Tumisha (Тумиша) ;

Valida (Валида) ;

Yakha (Яха) ;

Yahita (Яхита) ;

Yeza (Йеза) ;

Yisa (Йиса) ;

Yisiyta (Йисийта) ;

Zakiya // Zakiyat (Закия // Закият) ;

Zalina (Залина) ;

Zama (Зама) ;

Zamira (Замира) ;

Zara (Зара) ;

Zarema (Зарема) ;

Zargan (Зарган) ;

Zarina (Зарина) ;

Zarita (Зарита) ;

Zaynap (Зайнар) ;

Zeliha (Зелиха) ;

Zezag // Zezig (Зезаг // Зезиг) ;

Zulay (Зулай) ;

Zulikha // Zulikhan ( Зулиха // Зулихан );