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„I wish. How are we going to spend the winter here?“
„Don't stand. Give me the cross, there's the guard coming. They can see it.“
She wrapped the knife and the cross in a piece of birch bark, and began digging the ground near the birch. At first, she threw wooden chips into the hole, and then put the gifts in the middle.
„Let's dig in. Quick, put the turf so that it's not visible,“ Pukan anki rushed her friend.
Having covered everything with earth and turf, women instantly grabbed shovels to make a dugout. Soon a guard came up and began to question:
„What did the old man want?“
„He said something, but we couldn't understand what he wanted. We thought he would go to the authorities, but he went to his place. Maybe he wanted to bring some fish, we don't know.
Maybe he scolded us that the girl was thrown. We don't understand his language.
„You fools, why did you open your mouths? Be silent about the child, otherwise I will send you further north.“
Women said, stumbling:
„Don't ask us! We did not see the baby“»
What and to whom could they say, bonded people of huge Russia under constant guard? Neither they had homes, nor the land, nor households – and nor rights. Their only goal was to save a man in themselves, not to become a beast in this remote taiga. Even this was hardly possible: every person those days thought only of his life, not of nobility. In order to survive, you needed to become slippery like a smelly burbot, slimy, toothy like a pike. But, as you know, pike and burbot always fall into the largest boiler. It's more convenient to cook large pieces of fish well.
It seemed that people lived on a deserted, god-forgotten land. The only ship on the Ob came once a month from afar. For thirty-forty kilometers from each other, you could find inconspicuous Khanty villages. In the small, dull gorts that were hidden near deep saimes, there were only two or three huts. The father's house – the clan's house, and, perhaps, the houses of older sons separated by age. However, every day at least one boat passed along the Ob banks, then another one sailed upstream. In good weather, light boats quickly disappeared behind the turn of the Ob, and on fishing boats, kayaks, that were stable on the waves, there were several people. Rowers struggled in three oars with the fast flow of the high-water As river, which had spread widely over the litter. It was good if they went down the river, but if they were sailing up, they had to stay close to the shore, where the current slowed down due to the shallow water.
No one was surprised when a few days later authorities approached the village. When people saw the boat arriving, they looked out of the doors and closed them again. There were attentive eyes looking from all the low windows of the huts and houses. District officials walked into the village council with a red flag fluttering. Soon the messenger boy ran to the houses, calling people to the gathering. Levne stepped out of the house with Anshem iki, looking around, and ran into the forest with the cradle. Anshem iki and his granddaughter went to the gathering. A high boss from the district stood next to the chairman, looking at the ignorant people who did not understand anything in the new life. He frowned, carefully examining people. Clearing his throat loudly, the guest spoke menacingly:
«Someone from your village took a newborn from exiled kulaks, from criminals. Who was it?»
The Khanty were silent as always. What could they say without knowing the Russian. Kurtan iki, the assistant chairman of the village council, wanted to get forward, but someone rudely pulled him back. A large man blocked him with his back and said loudly:
«Our babys here. Other baby no walk.»
«Baby no walk,» the newcomer from the district mocked, «so we have the newborn already walking!»
Someone convincingly spoke from the crowd:
«Hoyat baby holt tulev?»
Kurtan iki again began to get out of the crowd. He really wanted to help the authorities: they had important, necessary laws, but his fellow villagers didn't understand that a child of strangers had no place in the Khanty village:
«We have baby!»
«What? Where is the baby?» The visitor exclaimed.
«Turkoi kurt luti toock baby, mun at watsev nyavram!» Kurtan iki was painfully squeezed among the crowd, and went silent.
«That's ok, keep quiet! We'll check every home now. Chairman, take us to all the houses. Look at them! They decided to hide the children of the kulaks. Apples don't fall far from the tree.»
People were silent as they poorly understood Russian, but firmly held Kurtan iki.
The district authorities, along with the gloomy chairman, went with a family check. Anshem iki's neighbor, pushing into the back of the abiding Kurtan iki, headed towards the river. Kurtan iki resisted, but, fearing his cousin, continued to walk with him.
«If you live with bad thoughts, I'll drown you in the Ob,» the broad-shouldered man reprimanded the black-haired relative with cunning eyes. Kurtik iki was completely depressed from the frustration, lowering his shaggy head: he couldn't do a good deed for the authorities.
Kurtan iki was not liked in the village: he was envious, and the luck of his relatives never pleased him. Under the new government, he could compliment, almost bowing to every boss. He could slander anyone before him. He did this, of course, not for the benefit of himself, but for the benefit of the new government. He reported to his relatives, but received no gratitude from the authorities. They did not even thank him, but he already became addicted. Kurtan iki had nothing to do at the honorable work of the Russians, nor he went hunting like his brothers or other relatives. It seemed to him that his work was precisely in this, and it pleased him. What about the villagers? Constantly dissatisfied, illiterate. He didn't know how to write, but could sign documents. He didn't draw tamgu on paper – he wrote his name in letters.
Kurtan iki was the last child in a large family. His mother was fifty years old when she suddenly felt another heart beating under her heart. In their old age, his parents indulged their last child, allowing him whatever he wanted. While elder children helped around the house, went fishing, hunting, harvesting firewood and water, the favorite child played late until night with the neighboring children. The best pieces at the table went to the youngest, and he was used to taking it for granted. If only everything was done for him. Kurtan iki did not learn anything good from hardworking, kind parents.
Having looked at the work of the new authorities, who, without going into the forest for prey, without blood corns from oars, calmly earned money for bread, Kurtan iki was delighted. For Russians, those who have learned one or two letters were no longer illiterate. Therefore, he went to serve them, exposing himself to his superiors in every possible way. Soon he was appointed foreman. The bosses didn't need to catch fish, or get cold at a frozen ice-hole. Now he himself was the head of everything.
But no one envied him, although the new foreman dreamed of it. He envied everyone. His fellow villagers were indifferent to power. And his wife, silent Utiane, was not happy for him. She did not care if he was the boss or just her husband.
Noone knew who was to blame: the NKVD people or someone from the village who was informed about the newborn. The guards of the settlers was free. From time to time they came for fresh meat in the Khanty part of the village. They ate fish together, but someone, apparently, couldn't stop thinking of the baby born. But for some reason no one reported that they took a fresh catch from the population.
Finding nothing in Pitlourkurt, district authorities left for the next village to look for the unknown child. As soon as everything calmed down in the village, Anshem Iki went into the forest for his wife. Soon they returned home. The baby's face was smeared with mud and ash, although the little Tatar was no different from the Khanty children. They did it just in case: who would touch a dirty girl?
The authorities couldn't find the child, so soon they calmed down. How could one find a newborn in large Khanty families? Women gave birth according to ancient customs, in small clean houses specially set for mothers, with a bonfire that cleansed and warmed a woman in labor. You can't give birth in a house, it's a great sin. The child must be clean from all human sins and evil spirits.
There wasn't a single hospital within three hundred kilometers from the village. No Khanty woman in those years would dare to commit a terrible sin and let a doctor take birth. They had a midwife for this – and that was enough. The children were registered in the village council much later after the birth, while others were not taken into account by the Soviet government at all.
After the umbilical cord fell off at the little Tatar, women gathered at Anshem iki's house, bringing the children dressed up for the ceremony of initiation. Levne appointed mother assistants to the newborn girl – Pukan anki, Altam anki, Perna anki, and most importantly, according to the ancient custom, she thanked the goddess Kaltashch, to whom she dedicated her new child. It was she, Kaltashch Anki, who gave children to a family. Levne prayed to her, bowing her head in gratitude for the happiness of a fair-haired Tatar girl accidentally falling on her head:
«Long-braided, Golden Nye!
More beautiful than the sun, Golden Nye!
More beautiful than the beautiful, Golden Nye!
In a silk shawl colored like the morning dawn, whose long tassels are decorated with uncountable silver stars.
In the sable clothes, white kisas embroidered with the sacred ornament, sitting in your golden house in Heaven, goddess Kaltashch, you sent us a blessed day,» prayed Levne.
«My soul sings with happiness, and I thank you for the priceless gift, for the fair-haired daughter, who smiles with her ember eyes. I dedicate her soul to you. Take care of her, let her please us with her bright smile!» Grateful Levne bowed three times to the goddess.
«Your long braids are falling, Heavenly Nye, with a seven-fold silk sable from the mouth of the deep-water Ob to the Kara Sea itself. At night, under the moonlight and a thousand stars, your hair illuminates everything around. Even for our daughter moonlight and stars illuminate your face. On a clear day, your braids illuminate summer land covered with a green carpet, winter land with a white snow coat. Let the ends of your golden braids touch the head of our baby. Each of your fingers is wearing countless gold and silver, expensive and cheap rings – gifts of all the women of the Khanty land that gave birth or wish to have children. Take the ring from me too!»
At the sacred labaz, Levne laid a scarf with a silver ring tied in a corner and several hairs of a newborn girl. This was a gift to her, the Goddess of mothers. She was to decide the fate of the little Tatar by birth, and Khanty by fate, as the Khanty goddess Kaltashch Anki gave her life on the edge of this cold, frosty earth. That day she started writing every step of the girl in the sacred paper ornament, her whole life, whether it was long or short, rich or poor, happy or unhappy. She could send her disease if the child's mother had unkind thoughts, or send joyful days if the child's mother had bright thoughts.
Like the legends say about Kaltashch anki:
Turam the father allowed her, the beautiful, to be stronger than all the gods.
Turam the father put her, the almighty, above all the gods.
She was given the right – to continue life,
She was given the right – to give life,
She was given the right – to run life,
She was given the right – to resurrect life.
She was commanded by Turam to be stronger and higher than hundreds of Khanty gods in Heaven and on earth. Only the Great Almighty Turam gave her the right to authorize the birth of not only a child on earth, but also all animals, birds and insects. She gives life to men, and she takes it away. Her golden staff has many threads of deer veins, from which the goddess knots out the length of a newborn's life. How long a person lives in the world depends on this knot of life.
God Turam created the Khanty man, but it turned out that procreation depends on the woman. Therefore, the Almighty Turam gave this great power to his daughter Kaltashch – to be the Mother of all mothers, of all people on earth.
According to legends, if Turam had not given the Great rights to Kaltashch, the Khanty land would be empty without people. Without a woman, there is no life on earth, no continuation.
All women living on the Khanty land are in full view. She decides on procreation in the family, and woe betides women if the Mother Goddess does not look into their families. Punishing for a serious sin, she will not give a child to this family. A tree of a whole family will dry up; there will be no one to remember people after their death.
For years childless husbands and wives try to atone for their family and tribal sins, offering sacrifices to the Deer Goddess, giving gifts, but rarely does she forgive. It is hard to atone for the sin of killing, betrayal or the insult inflicted on Khanty spirits and gods. Earthly woman only carry the child and give birth, but it is Great Nye who gives the first breath, gives soul to a newborn. That's why Khanty women cannot rejoice at the child presented by the goddess Kaltashch for their entire lives.
For the poor upbringing, especially for the condemnation of other people, Kaltashch could punish a mother or a child with serious illnesses, which all women were so afraid of.
Therefore, Khanty women thank Heavenly Mother all their lives, and took care of their children. They brought them up as it is sung in her song – a message to people:
I give a beautiful daughter, beautiful Nye!
I give a strong son, beautiful Nye!
Good girls grow like brightest colors,
Good boys grow like rich grass.
Giving glorious daughter to a woman
Giving a good son to a woman
I, the Golden-Haired Priceless Nye
Thereby command,
Thereby bequeath.
May my covenants be fulfilled:
Ample tables with hot food.
Those striving for good luck set a table
Bringing bloody sacrifice to me!
Behind the sacred corner of Anshem iki's house, the mothers made fires on the iron sheet – a cleansing fire for women and children. They set up a low table with products – hot food and refreshments for Kaltashch Anki and patrimonial spirits. This is what Kaltashch Anki bequeathed to do in gratitude for the child.
Levne took out a small piece of otter fur and a birch growth – ush, conductors for cleansing the unkind spirits. All this was thoroughly burned in the fire, and sacred smoke rose above the children and guests.
Children and their mothers cheerfully jumped over the smoke purifying flesh and soul, saying:
«Shanaku, ponaku! Put some luck!
Shanaku, ponaku! Put some luck!
Shanaku, ponaku! Put some luck!»
Khutline picked up the newborn, jumped over the fire three times, and repeated after the children:
«Shanaku, ponaku!
Shanaku, ponaku!
Shanaku, ponaku!
Kaltashch Anki, give healthy legs and arms to my Altam evi!
Let her play while grandfather walks for prey!
Let her live a long life while her grandfather's checking fishing nets!
Let her sleep soundly while her grandmother does the needlework!»
«Let Sorni Nye, that walks among us invisibly, marks the name of my daughter in her writings – Khatan evie,» Levne was full of happiness, satisfied with the ritual.
Following the customs of children initiation, she didn't forget about gifts: threw a large beautiful shawl over Khutline's black hair. She bought it when she was young at the Obdorsk fair: noisy, cheerful, where the merchants exchanged furs and meat to the things Khanty women desired: cast iron boilers, needles, jewelry, and much more.
Today there were no merchants, and no cheerful fairs. The inhabitants of the taiga outback wondered where did they go. None of them could know that those wealthy merchants were either destroyed, or exiled to the most distant parts of the USSR.
And the holy city of the Khanty princes Taishins – Pulnavat Vosh, which was located at the exit of the Poluy River on the Ob, has already been renamed several times. But he was subject only to the Khanty gods, located just below the city – this is what from generation to generation the Khanty people respectfully passed on to their children. The Great Turam assigned his best sons to rule since the advent of land, when the sacred bird Gavia pulled this land from the sea, and called the fiery river cape Lunkh Avat. They protect the ancient settlement Pulnavat Eokh from misfortunes. The sacred cape of the gods is revered even by wayward Nenets and other small nations living off the coast of the Ob. The gods sitting there were so mighty that no woman could even watch in that direction, not to mention stepping on that sacred cape with her filthy feet. Coming to the winter fairy, and passing the Lunkh Avat cape by in order not to disturb the gods, men had to sacrifice a deer. Then the Pulnavat settlement was populated by the Russians and Zyryans, and was renamed to Obdorsk. This is how they wrote it down in Russian papers, without even asking the owners of the land. After that the Taishin clan left the town, and settled above the sacred cape of gods. Long live this family guarded by great gods. The town was later called Salekhard. But for Levne it was still the town of the Grand Prince, who was paid by her grandfather and great-grandfather. Passing through or by, each Khanty man had to bring a gift – toss a silver coin into the clear water of the Ob. Those who passed Lunkh Avat by and moved further, had to bring a bloody sacrifice.
Levne put four more needles with reindeer stitches for sewing and four red ties into the hands of Khutline – a shishkel for false braids for Altam anki, the third mother Khatan evie.
«Let my girl be a craftswoman, and in no way she knows what need is. When she grows up, a thin needle will cheerfully dance in her fingers, just like it dances in your hardworking hands, karkam Khutline. Now this is my daughter – Khatan evie, and your milk daughter – Altam evi! While you are waiting for your master, your little birds are always welcomed in my house. Today, five mothers love and cherish our girl on Khanty land – Pukan anki, Perna anki, Altam anki, and me, her mother. Kaltashch Anki herself will be protecting her from heaven».
Children were jumping and laughing, and then ate sweets.
Before Khutline entered her house after the initiation, she saw Kurtan iki at her doorstep. On the rights of a superior, being the foreman of the village, he entered her home, and took an old icon of the Virgin from the family hearth without hostess permission. Like all the inhabitants of the village, he knew that the family shrine was hidden in a chest along with the Khanty spirits since the red authorities destroyed the Russian church in Kushevat. Now the icon, transmitted from generation to generation through males in the family of the young shaman, was in the hands of Kurtan iki. Khutline knelt before him, reaching out for the defender of the family, but Kurtan iki kicked her out of his way with his foot. As he kicked her, the woman remained lying on the ground, howling sobbingly, but covering her mouth with her hands so that no one would hear. If anyone finds out that she hid an Orthodox icon in her house and worshiped it along with the goddess Kaltashch, everything would be over for her and her children.
Khutline didn't remember how long she lay at the threshold of her house, what she was thinking about, left without a husband and without a defender, but the next day, without a shadow of fatigue and despair, she went fishing with her eldest son.
«No one should feed my family,» the woman decided, «I am not a helpless child.»
She had a boat and oars left after her husband, and family gods sitting in the sacred chest. Wouldn't they give her strength and mind to rise to her feet? She had strong arms and 3 children.
«I am their mother. Their father entrusted me with the most precious thing – their children. Why should I torture my little birds and wait until they bring us fish home? I can't be full of someone else's piece,» she decided.
No one came from the village council to inquire about the icon.
«Kurtan iki did not take the icon to the authorities, which means that he stole the shrine from his cousin. What a sin,» Khutline was dumbfounded.
«How could this atrocity happen? In a different time, the elders of the thief's family would have chopped off the whole hand at the sacred fire. Now they are allowed to do anything,» the young woman was horrified.
Exactly one year later, on a bright summer night, when the sun crouched at sunset to have some rest and move along the sky again, and everyone in the village fell asleep, someone quietly opened the canopy of the house where Khashkurne and her husband Kushta iki lived. The guest coughed quietly, like all people did according to the Khanty tradition if they entered the housing with good intentions. Khashkurne slipped out of the canopy like a small ermine and gasped:
«Ashieh! Dad!»
It was Lylan Luhpi shepan iki sitting at the entrance, inaudibly, quieter than the arctic fox, bending one leg. His weathered face was dark, like the inner side of a spring birch on which women loved to scrap out bizarre ornaments.
The malica of the great shaman was not even torn, but completely tattered.
«Hush, daughter, don't scream!»
Khashkurne clasped her mouth in her hands and rushed to her father.
«Everything's fine, daughter. I'll sleep with you a little and get home tomorrow.»
Sleepy Khashkurne's husband went out as he heard the quiet whisper from behind the canopy. Seeing his father-in-law, silently, without any surprise, he approached Lylan Luhpi shepan iki, and greeted him as if he knew for sure that his wife's father would return home. The great shaman rose and, taking the head of his young son-in-law, kissed him on the cheeks three times.
– Set the table, mistress. My father-in-law is tired after a long journey, so make a bed for him!
Inviting the long-awaited guest to the place of honor in the house, he sat next to him. Khashkurne set a tea table at her father's feet. As a sign of respect, Kushta did not start the conversation first, he waited for the great shaman to tell how he returned home, and how he escaped from the people that wanted to destroy the soul of Lylan Luhpi shepan iki. The guest silently drank the first cup of slightly warm tea. He forbade to make the fire in the house: they didn't want curious eyes and ears. After drinking the second cup of tea, he threw a hungry look at the plentiful table that the daughter had covered, but only grabbed a khul voy with his fingers, slowly chewed it, broke off a piece of bread and said:
«I was the only one to get out of that prison in Salekhard. The rest were sent to distant lands, the lands I've never heard of. I didn't rush home, as they could grab me and send me to prison again. I got a little confused at the beginning of the journey. The spirits closed the road for me, did not let me go home, protected me from all sorts of misfortunes and from the hands of the new government. I went to the forest side. It seems that our gods were afraid that they would again take me to prison. I spent the winter in the hunting house on the Pole, people helped me. I even brought a child to his feet. He was dying, got a meat piece in the wrong way. The spirits helped me cut the throat with a hunting knife. The child swallowed air and came to life. Turam helped me every day, he didn't leave me alone with my troubles. For a long time I was treating the boy, and he recovered. His parents hid me in their ancestral lands for the winter. Kind people gave me a hunting belt with a knife, since mine was taken there in prison. In the spring, I crossed the talnik islands to the Ob. I spent spring a little higher than Palvoshkurt. There was a lot of water. I didn't cross the channels and rivers in spring water. I walked slowly, in no hurry. This spring was good: a lot of ducks and eggs. I was waiting for summer. As it became warm, after the ice drift, the moon was born again, and I moved home. In one moon growth I have overcome the path to you. It's up there in the sky, transparent, rounded, full, going to decline tomorrow. The water was high, so I had to circle and cross small rivers. It was difficult with the fowl, but the knife helped a lot, thanks to the good people…
