SKYSCRAPERS OF SOCIALISM

corridor that was buzzing like a beehive. “There is!” Answered some bright dzhigit in a sombrero from the crowd. “What’s your last name?” “Bekturov.” “Bekturov? What kind of Russian are you?” “My father’s name was Victor, when they wrote the metric, the Kazakhs wrote Bektur instead of Victor.” “Eh, that sounds quite farfetched, I don’t believe it. Well, whatever, Satan will deal with you later, accepted, go on!” While Sepentai was calling on all the nationalities living in Kazakhstan, the evening came. Exhausted from fatigue, he said to Pashat: “That one time in the newspaper it read that representatives of one hundred and thirty nationalities live in friendship and harmony in Kazakhstan. I got one hundred twenty-seven here today. Where can we find the remaining three? Who are these peoples?” “Was there a Kurd?” “Yes.” “Was there a Nogai? “Yep.” “And Chinese?” “Those as well.” “What about the Shurshits?” “Shurshits? No, I don’t think we had any of those… What kind of nation is it?” “How am I supposed to know what kind of nation it is. We just hear the people always mention them: ‘Shurshits this, Shurshits that.’” “Alright, I’ll try asking,” he looked at the people left in the corridor, and asked: “Are there any Shurshits?” “No.” “Are there at least any Pashtos?” “No. They live in Afghanistan.” “Eh, we desperately need some Shurshits, Pashtos… And what about you, who are you?” “What do you mean who? We’re Kazakhs.” “Eh, we don’t need Kazakhs. You can go.” “Oh god! Perhaps you think that a house built by the Kazakhs will fall? Wherever we go, us Kazakhs are turned away from the gate. Where do we go now, how do we live?” “That is none of our business. If you want to help, go to the end of world will you! And whilst you’re there, bring us a Shurshit, or at the very least an Eskimo.” “Oh god, what if we can’t find any, are we to just – die?” “Go and find them then, find them!” No matter how many times the bosses called out, neither Shurshits, nor Eskimos, nor Pashtos responded from the crowd. They once again carefully checked the list, and, making sure that they hadn’t missed anything on there, they looked at each other. “What do we do now?” Pashat asked sadly. Sepentai thought for a long time. “What if we do this?” He whispered.

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