Welsapar Death of the Snake Catcher

1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-911414-83-4
Verlag: Glagoslav Publications Ltd
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 146 Seiten

This book features people from one of the most closed countries of today's world, where the passage of time resembles the passage of a caravan through the waterless desert. This world has been recreated by a true-born son of that mysterious country, a Turkmen who, at the will of fate, has now  been living for a quarter of a century in snowy Scandinavia. Is that not why two different worlds come together in Ryazan horseradish and Tula gingerbread, to come apart in Love in Lilac, in which a student from the non-free world falls in love with a girl from the West?
In the story Death of the Snake Catcher, an old snake catcher meets one on one with a giant cobra in the heart of the desert. In the dialogue between them the author unveils the age-old interdependence of Man and untamed nature, where the fear and mistrust of the strong and the hopes and apprehensions of the weak change places but co-exist as ever.  Egyptian night of fear, in which a boy goes to an Eastern bazaar and falls into the clutches of depraved forces, is created in the writer's characteristic style of magical realism, while the novella Altynai celebrates first love, radiant and sad, pure as virgin snow.
Now mythical, now lyrical, Welsapar's characters face life's injustice with a surprising optimism and fortitude. The intense Asiatic colour not only of nature but of human feelings and relationships, is expressed by the author in striking, expressive language making the reader unable to close the book until the last page.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Welsapar, Ak

Leseproben

Love in Lilac
Translated by Lois Kapila
This summer, Arslan felt like a grown-up. He dreamt of girls more and more, and, curiously, they slipped into his dreams as they would into the sea, completely naked. He couldn’t wait to experience real, grown-up love. But it was unlikely to happen now, before exams, with so little time. Yet the aroma of the lilac garden lingered in the air, beckoning with ever more force, rousing ever more deeply, his pure, youthful desires. The sun was fiery hot but Arslan didn’t want to move to the shade, and didn’t want to open his eyes. He was scared that the enchanting stranger might no longer be beside him. So he stayed there until the heat became unbearable, and only then did he open his eyes. He was surprised to see the stranger hadn’t vanished. Rather, she had made herself more comfortable by taking off her shoes and tucking up her feet, exactly like the women in his distant homeland. And what legs she had, visible under her skirt. What dainty ankles. Arslan could hear his heart beating. He could no longer act indifferently. He wanted to talk to the girl. And, of course, without giving it much thought, he asked her the first question that came into his head. “Aren’t you hot, Miss? Are you sure you’re not going to get sunburnt by mistake?” The girl looked up and smiled at him, and answered cheerfully, “By mistake, no, but maybe on po-o-rpose.” Arslan also gave an unwitting smile, but more at her pronunciation than her words. That’s interesting, thought the curious boy. Which republic is she from? Maybe one of the Baltics? Must be one of the Baltics. Where else would she get an accent like that? “Where are you from, Miss?” he asked. And then started to try to guess: Riga? No. Tallinn? No. Lithuania? “I’m from Sveeden.” Arslan was confused by her answer. “Ho-ow?” he asked, warily. “Just like that? Straight from Sweden?” The girl gave him that sweet smile which, later, over the following days and weeks, would appear so often in his dreams at night. “Yes, and so vat? I’m from Stockholm.” “But how did you get there ... to Stockholm? You’ve, what, lived there all your life?” The words unwittingly escaped from Arslan’s mouth. “I’m Sveedish,” she answered, with a giggle. Arslan was at a bit of a loss. He had no idea how to act now, what to say to her. Should he carry on the conversation, or should he excuse himself and slip away? He was even ready to close his eyes again but curiosity got the better of him. He couldn’t keep from looking at his enchanting neighbour. He started to speak again, but his words came out all muddled: “But you, it’s the very, truly, are you, I mean Swedish? Right from there?” he mumbled, glancing around with a confused look. “It’s the first time in my whole life I’ve seen a real-life Swedish girl. How did you end up here? I mean, are you a student, or have you come to visit, to see Moscow?” “I came for an internshe-e-p for a co-o-ple of months. I speak Russian wery badly.” “No, what are you talking about?” Arslan hurried to encourage her. “You speak very well, amazingly even! You’re not Russian, after all. Sure, it’s a little funny but also sweet. I like it.” “Do-o you?” the Swedish girl smiled sincerely. “Probably, you’re yust light-headed from the smell of the lilac.” “Yes,” Arslan confessed dreamily, glancing at the lilac bushes. “It’s insanely beautiful and fragrant here. But, I’m probably more flustered because it’s the first time I’ve had a conversation with such a beautiful girl.” And then, having slowed down a little, added, “with a Swedish girl.” “Vat, so every Svedish girl you have met so var has been ugly?” “No, no, I didn’t mean that!” Arslan hurried to reassure her. “They all were very beautiful, very sweet. What’s more, I haven’t seen them yet, that is, I’ve seen them, but not like you, right next to me, but at the cinema, on the television and, you know, in various pretty magazines.” He turned a deep red, both from his secret thoughts and from the sudden, fleeting memory of those pictures he had seen in the glossy magazines. They were passed around now and then, spending no more than one night with each person, as if they weren’t pictures, but real-life girls in gilded cages. “I understaa-and,” drawled his companion, as if she’d guessed the reason for his embarrassment, and started to laugh. “So you lo-o-ve Svedish girls in magazines!” “Yes, very much,” confessed Arslan, a bit unsure of himself. “Life abroad is so interesting: the weather, nature, how people dress and, all in all, what things are like. I’ve not been, of course, and I know that I don’t know anything about you.” “Vat’s your name?” asked the Swedish girl. “Arslan. And yours?” “Bibi,” she answered. When he heard that, Arslan almost fell off the bench. “Ho-ow’s that? Bibi? So, they call you Bibi? Well we’ve got that name, too. It’s even really popular. You could say there are Bibis on every street. I had a classmate called Bibi!” “That’s nice. Ve call Bridgettes, Bibi. It’s easier, and quicker too. But Arslan – that’s a Russian name?” “No, in Russian it would be Lev,” and just to be on the safe side he started to growl. “Rrrrr!.. You get it. Lion, kind of big and hairy, and strong, too!” “You’re frightening me.” She closed the book, getting up from the bench. She’s not kidding, Arslan thought, alarmed. She’s leaving. He made a desperate suggestion: “Don’t you want to take a walk? It’s so lovely here. It’s not going to last long. The lilacs in Moscow pass quickly. By this time last year, they were already gone. Spring’s come a bit later this time. You could say you’ve been fabulously lucky.” “I’m re-e-lly glad. Let’s go, then. But if ve go for a valk together, you’re not allowed to eat me like a lion, okay?” Arslan was at a loss and, unable to come up with a response straightaway. He glanced at his companion carefully, trying to understand if she was joking or serious. Flustered, he again muttered something silly, completely off the mark, which as soon as he said it seemed funny even to him. “No, don’t get me wrong, I don’t each much meat, I prefer fish. They just call me Arslan, but I’m practically vegetarian. What’s more ... how to put it ... I’m soon going to be a bit busy, I need to wash my trousers, shirt, otherwise I’ll have nothing to wear to school.” “You, vat, still go to school? But you are old!” Her remark struck Arslan to the core. He laughed out loud. But at the same time, he became a touch ashamed of his words, of his anxiety, perhaps, in front of this enchanting foreign girl. “No, I mean, when we’re talking amongst ourselves, we call our university ‘school’. You don’t do that?” And from that moment, one thing led to another, and they were quickly drawn into a conversation of “in your country, in our country” and didn’t even notice they had been walking around the garden almost arm in arm. Bibi asked him. “Vat’s dat scar on your cheek?” He joked, “I had this scrap with a real tiger.” “Va-at? With a real one?” she said, scared. “And you’re still alive? But, where does the tiger live now? He’s alive?” “I think he’s alive although I’m not sure. I was lucky that I’m a leo, otherwise that could have ended in tears.” Arslan pulled a mournful expression, but then, laughing, added, “Then again, it’s possible that without crying, you won’t get anywhere in any case, since I was a rather young boy then, just a child in nappies, when this predator, tiger of a sandfly attacked me.” But then, seeing Bibi’s blank look, he said, “It’s a pendinka, a mark from the bite of a sandfly, which you get in our part of the world.” “Pendin? Sandfly? Vat’s that?” Bibi couldn’t understand. So Arslan set about explaining the meaning of these words. From that moment, he adopted the role of teacher with delight. The walk in the lilac garden was a revelation for Arslan. He had never thought, never guessed, that you could have such an interesting conversation with a foreign girl on a first meeting. By the end of the walk, mind you, he had already forgotten that Bibi was Swedish and started to consider her accent normal. When they parted, they agreed to meet again the next day after lectures, in the same place in the garden. It’s worth hurrying to enjoy a lilac fairy tale. It doesn’t last long, after all. As he fell asleep in his little room in the hostel, Arslan smiled at the thought of Bibi, her slim waist, her white wrists, the tender radiance of her heavenly eyes. And the way she looked at him. Trustingly, as if they had known each other forever and as if he were older than her, and not the other way around. It was the first time he had felt this. He’d been confident, sitting alone with a girl. That feeling of self-satisfaction boosted his ego. For a long time he couldn’t fall asleep, and he trembled gently as if waves were rolling over him. In his mind, memories stirred of the fleeting touches...