No sooner had Party Secretary Zhanaidarov entered his office in the early hours of the morning, combed his hair, brushed the traces of dandruff from his shoul- ders and sat down in a chair, than the telephone rattled loudly in the corner to his right, as if just waiting for him to arrive. \u2018Long distance,\u2019 thought Zhanaidarov, picking up the receiver and holding it to his ear. \u2018Hel- lo!\u2019 he uttered in an important, somewhat tired voice, preoccupied with the enormity of things to do in the morning. \u2018Zhanaidarov speaking. Ah, hello, Tursun Satanovich!\u2019 The trace of importance went from his voice, and he seemed ready to hang up the phone. \u2018How is your health? I heard you caught a cold, how do you feel now? Is it gone? Yes, spring is the most treacherous time, especially the beginning. You should take care of yourself, dress warmer. I say, take care of yourself. From colds, I mean… Yes? I remember, of course. You bet I do! A statue? Statue! It\u2019s… standing… Right in front of the tannery. Who, who? Well…\u2019 Zha- naidarov suddenly weakened and became as helpless as a steppe toad seeing a snake: sucked in, hypnotised. \u2018Let them come… Let them… Wait… You too…?\u2019 his voice quivered. \u2018Oibai, in that case… Of course we are, we\u2019re delighted, infinitely delighted. When, when? This evening…? Where did you say the guests come from? From England…? Oh, thank Allah… Save… \u2018 Zhanaidarov had no time to come to his senses; they had already hung up the phone at the other end. \u2018That\u2019s it, gone!\u2019 he whispered as if reciting a last prayer. \u2018This is God\u2019s punishment, pure and simple. Who would have thought it! And these Englishmen get themselves around the world. They should be sitting there on their own island, but they have to go all the way from one side of the world to the other. Not only to England, but to Alma-Ata!\u2019 Zhanaidarov himself did not notice how he rose from his desk and paced around the room, putting his hands behind his back. An unknowable force, blowing out from the telephone receiver, lifted him easily from his chair and made him pace like a pendulum around the study. Here, perhaps, it is necessary to explain why the district secretary was so agitated. The area had long been a livestock breeding area. Even in the pre-revolutionary years, this region was famous for its fat flocks of sheep. That\u2019s why a meat processing plant was built here in its time. If it was a meat processing factory, it should also have a leather processing plant. As it was found out later, this work- shop was the first one in Kazakhstan, which later grew into the biggest combine in the country. Last year the whole district, region and even the entire republic was eagerly preparing to celebrate the centenary of the combine. During these preparations various meetings were held with the combine\u2019s workers. Radio and TV broadcasts were arranged, and artists and writers began visiting the combine. During one of these meetings a guest, a writer from Alma-Ata, came to the podium and said: \u2018We have forgotten how to appreciate and honour the working man. Who laid the foundation of this factory? Who was the first owner of this workshop? It is necessary to find the first tanner of leather and erect a statue to him in front of the mill! And we must do it quickly!\u2019 A storm of applause greeted his words. It lasted for quite a long time. The orators who stood on the podium cheered the writer, who had become a prophet to them. They demanded the speedy erection of such a statue and even issued a public shakedown to the district authorities, for not thinking about it sooner. So a paper proposing the construction of a statue in honour of the first tanner went to the region, and from the region to the republic, and from there as far away as the centre. Six months passed, and only then did the paper, tired to the point of exhaustion, finally return to the district. There was no sign of the endless resolutions on it, and it was accompanied by accompanying, tongue-in-cheek letters. And this paper, shaking its leaflet tongue like a ribbon of rags in shreds from a dervish\u2019s head, was laid on the table in front of Zhanaidarov, tempted and shabby. In short, the question of erecting the statue was resolved in principle, as they say. Now another question arose: how to depict the first tanner: full-length or only as a bust? Artists, for example, or writers can be placed on statues in different poses; they can stand, or sit, or recline on a plinth, but it seems awkward to truncate the working man\u2019s lower part. And so, in the end, it was decided that it had to be full-length. After that they sent another paper to Alma-Ata with a plea: \u2018So, so and so, send us a sculptor, and not some run-of-the-mill one, but the very best one. A week later two men arrived from Alma-Ata. The head of the propaganda and agitation department was pleased to say they would be received. \u2018Let them in,\u2019 Zhanaidarov said, adjusting his tie. Two men entered the office with eyes as deep as a well in the desert. One\u2019s hair was braided into pigtails; the other\u2019s completely covered his shoulders. At the sight of them, Zhanaidarov shuddered. After shaking hands, the two noticed that Zhanaidarov was looking at them incredulously, even squeamishly, and handed over their passports. \u2018Durus,\u2019 said Zhanaidarov, clearly wishing to get rid of them as soon as possible. \u2018Get on with it.\u2019 \u2018When do you need it?\u2019 Zhanaidarov looked at the head of the depart- ment, and asked \u2018When is it due?\u2019 \u2018By autumn,\u2019 said the head of the department. \u2018By the twenty-fourth of October. That\u2019s when the centenary celebrations are scheduled. Will you be able to do it by that date? \u2018Easy,\u2019 said the one with the pigtails. \u2018A piece of cake!\u2019 he chimed in, his hair falling down over his shoulders. Immediately a contract was concluded and signed with the sculptors and an ad- vance was given. The hardest part started now. What should the statue be like? Is it enough to take the figure of a worker and cast it, or should it be tanned? Should the portrait be a resemblance of someone, or can it be a common type? Or should it be a close relative, a descendant of the first tanner? Maybe someone from the local community? Someone off the street? Somewhere in these parts or from far away? From here? In fact, what was the name of this pioneer in the tanning business? When was he born, when did he die? What was his appearance, his character, his demeanor? And so on and so forth… While the two sculptors were figuring it all out, two more months passed. The master\u2019s direct descendants were also found. It turned out that they live in the area, and one of them even lived near the district com- mittee. They also found out the name of the first leather tanner and prepared an official text to be engraved on the plinth: \u2018Melden Zheldibayev, the founder of leather tanning in Kazakhstan\u2019. Ashten Zheldibayev, a living descendant of his distant relative, turned out to be a plumber in house management office number two. He described in detail what Melden looked like, sketched his height, face, his whole appearance — all according to the words of his father, who remembered the old tanner well. When his grandson finally produced a portrait of Melden on paper, he bore a close resemblance to the narrator, Ashten. The artists, or sculptors, themselves sat for a long time in astonishment, looking silently at the portrait and back at Ashten. \u2018So your distant kinsman is your exact copy?\u2019 the two beards marvelled. \u2018Yes, according to those who saw my grandfather, he looked like me, as if he had been skinned and stuffed.\u2019 \u2018I\u2019m sorry, maybe it\u2019s you who looks like him, not him who looks like you? After all, he is somewhat older than you\u2026\u2019 \u2018Yes,\u2019 laughed the plumber, \u2018Maybe so.\u2019 In short, they decided to make a sculptural portrait of Melden directly from Ashten. They measured his height, thickness and even the length of his fingers and got down to business. Ashten started coming to the House of Culture every evening after work. He came to the room where the two sculptors had set up their studio. He lifted the hide of a Yolbayev ram high above his head with both hands and stared at it lovingly for hours. And the two artists, who were also sculptors, made sketches of it from both sides. So some twenty sketches had already been made of Ashten holding the skin over his head. The sculptors had to, on arrival back in Alma-Ata, make a sample statue of the one they liked best, mould it in clay, and then do the same in plaster. The unknown Ashten, who until then had been quietly drinking his red wine in the cellars of houses, suddenly became one of the most famous people in the village. A number of people were honoured to say hello to the model for the statue of the first tanner, and some were happy to walk down the street to the liquor shop with him and buy him a bottle. Some even took pride in standing in line with him. All this could not help but excite the district leaders. \u2018As long as the work on the statue is unfinished, keep an eye on Ashten. No matter what happens!\u2019 Zhanaidarov himself once expressed his fears, and this was taken as an order. To avoid Ashten putting himself at risk on the town\u2019s streets, it was decided that a bottle of pure wheat vodka would be secretly brought to him from the district committee\u2019s cupboard, one every two days… So that no one would suspect anything, they began to carry the potion in bottles of Sary-Agach mineral water. But Ashten was Ashten: one time he took his dose of \u2018mineral water\u2019 and then went to a park, where he asked someone\u2019s girlfriend to dance. She refused, which led to a scandal, and the scandal ended in a fight, so in the end Ashten had to have a ride in a yellow car with a blue stripe. When at the police station the police lieutenant began to fill in a form for Ashten\u2019s fifteen-day arrest, Ashten squeezed his hand tightly and asked \u2018Can I call the district?\u2019 The lieutenant smirked: \u2018Don\u2019t you want to call the UN? Go ahead. Perez de Cuellar is in Cebu\u2019s office right now. \u2018I… I am… telling the truth…\u2019 Ashten almost fell out of his chair, but managed to grab hold of the edge of the table. The senior lieutenant and the lieutenant looked at each other. \u2018Shall I let him make a call?\u2019 asked the lieutenant. \u2018Let\u2019s see what he has to say. We can have a laugh!\u2019 He smiled and nodded. Ashten, wobbling on his feet, not without diffi- culty dialed four numbers, then coughed. The two policemen smiled merrily, enjoying the fun. Finally a bass voice came through the receiver: \u2018The district committee\u2019s duty officer speaking,\u2019 he said clearly in the silence. \u2018Hello… Duty officer… It\u2019s me… Ashten,\u2019 said the detainee. He was stammering, though he tried not to. \u2018Who? \u2018Ashten, Zheldybayev… Ashten… Statue… You know, the one they\u2019re making the statue from… I\u2019m the one… They want to put me in jail… Where? For fifteen days… Yes!\u2019 Ashten turned to the lieutenants. They sat relaxed, smiling, not quite sure what was happening. \u2018Address… What is your address?\u2019 Ashten asked. They exchanged a glance. District police station. Every idiot knows this. Ashten smacked his swollen lips against the tube again. The district police station… They say every idiot knows… Ashten hung up the phone and sat back in his chair. Not ten minutes later he was picked up by the car on duty. The two policemen remained seated, unsure whether this had happened in a dream or in reality. The case raised Ashten\u2019s profile even higher. Time went by, and eventually the sculptors from Alma-Ata said that they couldn\u2019t make it by the dead- line, i.e. the twenty-fourth of October. The district wrote to the region to have the centenary celebrations timed to coincide with the November holidays. But even by 7 November the statue was not ready. A letter was again sent to the region, arguing that the best time to celebrate the anniversary of the tannery was on New Year\u2019s Eve. But the statue was not ready for the new year either. Then the region, as they say, became enraged. The district was accused of failing to keep its word, and the issue of neglected cultural work on the part of district leaders was considered at a meeting, at which Zhanaidarov tried to justify himself and, it must be said, not in the best way. \u2018The statue is almost ready,\u2019 he lied without looking at anyone. \u2018Only minor details remain: the nose, for example, the eyes and the ears, or rather one ear. This softened the blow and warded off more serious punishments. \u2018Well, if it\u2019s only the nose, two eyes and one ear, then never mind,\u2019 the region consoled. \u2018And yet, when exactly will the statue be ready?\u2019 they asked menacingly. \u2018Does the whole figure have to suffer because of such trifles as eyes, noses and everything else? Will it take five days to glue it all on?\u2019 But even after five days the statue was not ready. He was still noseless, eyeless and earless, but the district could not, so to speak, lose face, and reported back to the region: \u2018The statue is ready\u2019. The news that a statue honouring the first tanner in Kazakhstan was to be erected quickly spread around the county. This was widely reported in the district, regional and national press, and even in the central newspaper, Pravda. It seems that the news reached abroad from there. The result was that a delegation from far-away England had the misfortune of visiting the Paradise Centre where it would be unveiled. And yet the statue was still not ready. What to do…? \u2018Well, what shall we do?\u2019 Zhanaidarov asked, gathering his senior staff members in his office. \u2018Representatives of the tannery from England, accompanied by the secretary of the Regional Committee, are coming to visit us tonight. In the morning they want to see the factory, and of course, they want to admire the statue of the first tanner. What can we do, how can we get out of this? No one opened their mouth. \u2018What if we say someone knocked down the stat- ue in the night?\u2019 suggested the head of the agriculture department. \u2018No way,\u2019 objected the head of the department. \u2018And if they say to find the criminals, who should we grab by the neck? It is better to tell the truth and admit our guilt. Perhaps he himself, Comrade Secretary, will find a convenient excuse to take away from us… foreigners.\u2019 Zhanaidarov glared at him angrily: \u2018Then we\u2019re all dead. There\u2019s no patronage for cheating at the Obkom.\u2019 \u2018What to do?\u2019 \u2018What to do?\u2019 No one could suggest anything sensible. \u2018And it\u2019s raining at the wrong time,\u2019 the head of the livestock department broke the silence again by talking about the weather. \u2018What\u2019s the rain got to do with it?\u2019 The chief of propaganda scowled at him, unhappy with the inappropriate conversation his neighbour had started. There was again a pained silence. \u2018I didn\u2019t start this conversation for nothing,\u2019 the head of the agriculture department went on. \u2018Even though we reported on the statue, it hasn\u2019t been officially unveiled yet. By the time the British delegation and guests from the region arrive, the wooden pillar which is sticking out on the plinth must be removed, and Ashten himself must be put in its placetemporarily, of course. The unveiling of the statue will take, I think, no more than ten minutes; well, a fortnight at most. We\u2019ll hurry them up ourselves. Ashten can drink free \u2018Sary-Agach\u2019 for six months if he agrees to stand motionless for half an hour with a lamb\u2019s skin in his outstretched hands. Nothing will happen to Ashten, although it is raining. When the delegation leaves, he will jump off the plinth and go home.\u2019 \u2018What\u2019s half an hour?\u2019 laughed the head of the general department out loud. \u2018Let him stand during the day and go home to sleep in the evening. We\u2019ll find another plumber to replace him at night.\u2019 The people, who had been sitting silently as if at a funeral, laughed loudly and amicably. \u2018Comrades, stop laughing!\u2019 exclaimed Zhanaidarov angrily. \u2018This is no time for jokes. Who has any other suggestions?\u2019 \u2018There\u2019s no point in wasting your time. We have to accept the idea,\u2019 said the head of the livestock department himself. Zhanaidarov grabbed his head with his hand and paced vigorously around the room in front of the assembled subordinates, who were tensely silent, like children seeing a school and a teacher for the first time. \u2018I think we have to accept this idea too,\u2019 said the head of the office firmly, \u2018We have no other option.\u2019 It was as if the cabinet exploded! There were questions everywhere as to whether Ashten should be placed on a plinth or not, and if he was, what if he sneezed or coughed in the presence of foreign guests and the Secretary of the Communist Party? The district leader had to think long and hard. In the end, the question was put to a vote. The bureau unanimously decided that the plumber Ashten Zheldybayev should stand for one hour on the plinth in front of the tannery building. The guests were arriving that evening and would inspect the statue in the morning. Therefore, a group of three or four people must work with Ashten in advance, persuade and caress him to stand on the plinth for an hour, while trying not to anger him, not to step on any sore points, and speak with the utmost care and subtlety, as if they were pulling a horse\u2019s hair out of a ball of dough. A group of district committee instructors arrived at Ashten\u2019s house. Ashten, reclining on the sofa in front of the television set, opened the door to them because they said they were \u2018from the district committee\u2019. The men surrounded Ashten, prodded him, persuaded him, intimidated him, and promised him almost the moon. In the end they persuaded him to agree to stand for an hour as a living statue on a plinth. When he gave a muffled \u2018alright,\u2019 it was as if a mountain had been lifted from their shoulders. They wiped the sweat from their foreheads with a sigh of relief. \u2018But be warned, I will not stand still for a minute after the time is up. I don\u2019t give a damn about your Englishmen, I\u2019ll jump off and go home,\u2019 was Ashten\u2019s way of expressing his stubborn nature. \u2018Look out, the secretary of the Communist Party will be there too.\u2019 \u2018So what? He\u2019s something for you, but he\u2019s nothing to me. And what kind of a secretary is he if he couldn\u2019t get a single statue built in all this time! Who needs a secretary like that?\u2019 Ashten delivered a long tirade that struck fear and terror into the hearts of the instructors. After patting Ashten on the back, almost licking him, the men from the district committee left. Three cars arrived on the promised date and the distinguished foreign guests arrived. They were received with proper fanfare, accommodated in a special hotel, and served a fancy dinner… Both our and their leaders took the floor: the leader of the British delegation expressed admiration for the inventiveness of the Soviet people and their leaders, who had erected the first statue of a simple leather tanner, their great and tender love of history, their special attention and care for a simple working man, their love of art and refined artistic taste, and raised a toast to their health. Our side did not lose face either. The secretary of the regional committee in his speech noted that the statue erected here in honour of the unknown worker is a kind of sign that such a thing is possible only in a socialist society, and there is no such thing in capitalistic society; that he is extremely glad and proud that such a statue had been erected not just anywhere, but exactly in that part of the world where they were standing now; that statues can take the form of a bust or also show the lower part of a person. At this the English party applauded in unison and the representatives of the district committee looked at each other. He went on to inform the English guests that tomorrow\u2019s programme would be too full and tight in terms of schedule, so the viewing had to take place today and would happen immediately after dinner. The English party began to argue that the viewing had been scheduled for the next morning, after breakfast, and that viewing the statue in the evening was, to put it mildly, a sign of \u2018bad manners\u2019, to which the district manager replied that it is a forced measure, otherwise they would not have time to visit the village seventy kilometres away, where the shepherds would serve them hot kebabs made of fresh- ly skinned mutton in the open air. Wouldn\u2019t that be preferable to gazing all morning at the figure of a tan- ner with a sheep skin in his outstretched hands? Each member of the delegation was to be given photographs of the statue, taken from different angles. The foreigners clapped their hands together again, signifying their acceptance of the changed programme. While the guests were eating dinner, a group of men from the district committee again turned up at Ashten\u2019s place and with all sorts of apologies. They began to explain to him that the programme had suddenly changed and he would have to go up on the plinth tonight instead of in the morning. \u2018Alright,\u2019 he said, stretching out his hand to the trousers hanging from the headboard. \u2018I\u2019ll stand up for the district committee!\u2019 \u2018But not a word about this to anyone! Even your wife must not know about it.\u2019 \u2018Why? One of the young men hurriedly took out an envelope and handed it to Ashten. He opened the envelope, peered into it, and silently slipped it into his trouser pocket. \u2018Three,\u2019 said the young man who had passed the envelope, \u2018then you\u2019ll get two more.\u2019 \u2018Isn\u2019t that a bit small? \u2018Have a conscience!\u2019 One of the instructors burst into tears. \u2018Five hundred roubles for half an hour! That\u2019s your salary for four months.\u2019 Ashten, who had already put one foot in his trouser leg, began to pull it back out. The young man who handed over the envelope grabbed Ashten\u2019s trouser leg. \u2018My dear man, don\u2019t take your trousers off, I beg you! It was just a thought. It just came out of his mouth. Didn\u2019t it, eh?\u2019 He turned to his companion, winked, and told him off. \u2018I didn\u2019t mean to,\u2019 he apologised slyly. \u2018I wonder how it came out of my mouth\u2026\u2019 Ashten began to pull on the other trouser leg. Fi- nally, having dressed Ashten up like a bride for a dress fitting, they picked him up from under his arms, led him out the door, and only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. \u2018Where are you taking him in the middle of the night?\u2019 his wife shouted after them. Ashten turned around and proudly said: \u2018Stay out of the district committee\u2019s business!\u2019<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
When the British approached the square in front of the combine, Ashten was already standing on the plinth, staring at the dried lambskin that he held high in his outstretched hands. The lights, all of them directed onto the statue, made the statue look huge and majestic. Zhanaidarov himself was struck by this view of the statue. The English guests walked around the statue, respectfully and admiringly looking at it with the most enthusiastic words. \u2018Amazing!\u2019, \u2018wonderful!\u2019 \u2018Rare art!\u2019 came to Zhanaidarov\u2019s ears, and with each passing moment he felt more and more excited, his heart clenched tightly as if fine needles were being thrust into it. Don\u2019t let them be too long, take them away quickly,\u2019 he whispered to the instructor as he walked past and looked at the Communist Party secretary for ideology with great respect. Averting his eyes, he raised his face to the sky and sighed. Then he noticed a trickle of white steam escaping from his mouth. It was only now that he remembered that the rain that had fallen in the morning and towards the end of the day had turned to snow, and he saw flakes of snow that whipped around the sharp beams of the searchlight, and the white, slightly thawed, shoulder straps of Ashten\u2019s black overcoat. He stood motionless, bravely exposing his face to the falling snow, and Zhanaidarov admired the selflessness of the plumber. He even felt pity for him in his heart. Despite the fact that the secretary of the district party committee hurried things along, the foreign guests kept walking around the statue, and were in no rush to leave the square in front of the factory. They wanted to know where the stone for the plinth had come from, when it was erected, who first came up with the idea of commemorating the first master of leather tanning, who the sculptor was, and what school and style was favoured. In general, they completely messed with Zhanaidarov\u2019s head. He barely had time to fend off the questions that were falling like snow from the dark sky. At one point he noticed with horror that the secretary of the regional committee for ideology had come up to them and was also listening in silence. \u2018Praise to Allah!\u2019 he thought, frightened by his lies about the stone being transported from afar and other details about the statue. \u2018How badly it must have turned out for me. And the devil dared me to get involved with that statue!\u2019 \u2018It\u2019s a pity! A pity!\u2019 \u2018The lanky Englishman was wiping the lens of his camera with his handkerchief. \u2018What is he talking about?\u2019 Zhanaidarov asked the interpreter anxiously. \u2018He regrets not visiting the statue during the day,\u2019 he explained. \u2018You explain to them that there will be another dastarkhan. And being late for a dastarkhan is considered shameful in our society. Tell them,\u2019 the ideological secretary demanded of the interpreter. \u2018Oh! Tastarkhan!\u2019 cried the long-haired Englishman. \u2018Opyat tastarkhan!\u2019 \u2018Da, da, da,\u2019 said the secretary of the Communist Party, calling everyone to his side with a broad gesture. \u2018The Kazakhs like to eat meat late at night!\u2019 The interpreter immediately translated the words. \u2018Uh-oh! Shkotland!\u2019 another Brit exclaimed. \u2018I\u2019m a Scotsman. We like our scran too…\u2019 The last words were said in English, and when the interpreter translated them into Kazakh everyone laughed in unison. The secretary of the regional committee said a warm goodbye to everyone and left for the regional centre. Before leaving, he took Zhanaidarov aside: \u2018Your statue is a success. It is standing here as if it were alive. It\u2019s a very realistic statue,\u2019 he praised. \u2018It should be nominated for the State Prize!\u2019 \u2018Oh dear, oh dear!\u2019 muttered Zhanaidarov, com- pletely losing his head at these words. \u2018What\u2019s the matter with you? You are shivering so much, are you ill or something?\u2019 \u2018No, no! I\u2019m… touched by your words!\u2019 No sooner had the black Volga disappeared from view than someone\u2019s soul-shattering shriek was heard by the plinth. Everyone involuntarily looked around. The long-haired Englishman, who was about to take a picture of the statue, froze with his head up and his mouth open, holding the camera in his outstretched hands. \u2018Oh!\u2019 he mumbled, poking his fingers somewhere upwards. For Zhanaidarov, who realised that trouble had struck, his soul left his body. The Scotsman was singing something, rasping in his own language to his dazed countrymen. \u2018What could have happened has already happened!\u2019 thought Zhanaidarov, and came to his senses. The sheepskin in Ashten\u2019s outstretched hands fluttered in the strong wind. There was an incredible uproar around the statue. Everyone huddled around Zhanaidarov and demanded an answer: \u2018What is it? Why is the skin in the sculpture\u2019s hands moving? Maybe it was only an optical illusion? Or was it really the wind blowing the hide? It was impossible to not answer these questions. But how and with what? Finding no answers, Zhanaidarov looked expressively at the secretary. He looked at the instructors around him. Nobody knows how the situation would have ended if the head of the cattle breeding department, the one who had suggested putting Ashten on the plinth, had not come to his aid. \u2018This is a find by our sculptors,\u2019 he said suddenly, raising his eyes to the statue. They decided that if the skin in the tanner\u2019s hands were made of plaster or cast in bronze, it would not look good and would be unoriginal. If they gave him a natural skin, a natural hide, it would be much more interesting. We have a dashing collection of such skins here. The workers of the plant change this skin every week and renew it. Such a decision by the sculpture\u2019s authors brings viewers one step closer to the truth of life.\u2019 He spoke at a feverish pace, so much so that he probably didn\u2019t realise what he was saying. But the guests were stunned, and did not take their stunned eyes off the wind-whipped skin in the hands of the bronze man. Such a simple and therefore ingenious solution by the sculptors shocked them, and they emitted whole platoons of words in praise of the designers, claiming that hardly anywhere else could an artist have shown such ingenuity. At the moment when the guests again raised their heads upwards, then, as Ashten\u2019s fingertips had become stiff, the sheepskin, under every successive rush of wind, was torn from his hands and, swaying and whirling in the air, came down smoothly just before the Englishmen. They parted and stared with some trepidation at the fallen rocks of genius. \u2018You dog, couldn\u2019t you have been patient a little longer!\u2019 reproved Zhanaidarov to Ashten without raising his eyes. Neither the guests nor the interpreter understood what he said and began to interrogate. An explanation was given by the secretary for ideology: \u2018He expresses embarrassment to the guests about what has happened. It has never happened before; it seems the workmen didn\u2019t attach the hide very firmly this time.\u2019 Here the Scotsman turned to the interpreter and delivered a long monologue. The interpreter was silent, shrugging his shoulders, then approached Zhanaidarov: \u2018He says: you change this skin every week anyway. This one suddenly fell out of the statue\u2019s hands. Can\u2019t I buy it as a souvenir? He promises to pay five hundred pounds sterling. How do you feel about that?\u2019 Zhanaidarov, who with all his gut felt that disaster was approaching by the minute, rubbed his fingers against each other in his pocket, sweating with excitement. \u2018Let him take it for free,\u2019 he said, and smiled as if to acknowledge his generosity. The Scotsman, who did not seem to understand a word of Russian before, understood and exclaimed: \u2018Ooh, that\u2019s some good Russian!\u2019 \u2018He is a Kazakh, not a Russian,\u2019 the interpreter laughingly corrected. \u2018Yeah, ta, ta! Cossack!\u2019 the Scotsman laughed, too. \u2018Free is good! Scotsman lubits free!\u2019 Everyone laughed in unison and then, from up high, Ashten gave a short hiss: \u2018Come on, it\u2019s freezing.\u2019 The words were spoken so quickly that not only the foreigners but even Ashten\u2019s compatriots did not immediately realise where the voice was coming from. However, everyone, especially the English, realised that there was a sharp sound in the air, not even a sound, but a whole sentence in the local language, and immediately their laughter was cut short. They began to look around as if someone had lightly rubbed them on the tip of their ears, but finding nothing and no one suspicious, they did not ask about anything. For the thousandth time the Scotsman was thankful for the dry lamb hide that had lain in Ashten\u2019s barn for forty years. He wrapped it with the utmost care and put it in a bag with the big letters \u2018Adidas\u2019 on the sides. The foreigners, despite the rather late hour, were not about to leave the unfortunate square, where a cold Ashten was still standing. In addition, the leader of the delegation, a lanky Englishman, was about to make another speech. He said that they were extremely happy to see with their own eyes this unique statue, a statue found nowhere else in the world, and that this visit would remain in their memory as the brightest one that greatly enriched their spiritual life. After him the Englishman, who was really Scottish, took the floor. He reported that they were in excellent spirits, that they would speak at length of this trip when they returned home, that the piece of hide which had fallen from the statue would henceforth be preserved in the British Museum and would thus become a national treasure, and confessed that he would gain at most ten thousand pounds by reselling the hide to the museum, as he had intended to do before. He even took some notes out of his pocket, but our people, brought up on morals different from theirs, which put morality and creation first, and money only in fifth or sixth place, immediately shoved the guest\u2019s pounds back into his purse. Just then there was a sharp sound like a clap, \u2018Khap!\u2019 The foreigners were once again confused. But to question them about anything was seen as inappro- priate. Whether the cry came from the heavens or the ground, no one could make it out either. Here again, the head of the propaganda department felt the advantage of the widespread bilingualism in the republic. He pretended to be explaining something to the first secretary of the district committee while in Kazakh he spoke words meant for a different ear: \u2018Hey, Ashten! You can see they\u2019re not leaving, they\u2019re all admiring you. Five more minutes and we\u2019ll have them out of here.\u2019 There came a groan or a gnashing of teeth from the statue. \u2018Hey, be still!\u2019 The head of the department looked under his feet. \u2018We don\u2019t want any more scandals from you.\u2019 The secretary for ideology, after asking the interpreter for the name of the head of the delegation, addressed him: \u2018Mr. Conrad!\u2019 he turned round sharply. \u2018Excuse me, but we are expected!\u2019 The secretary tapped his finger on the clock face. \u2018Oh, ta, ta! Nato, nato!\u2019 he retorted and spoke in English, addressing his compatriots. After five or six minutes, the square with the statue was empty. When the noise died down and the guests disappeared around the corner, Ashten jumped down from the plinth and, shaking off the snow, swore at the delegation and its attendants, everyone from the foreigners to his own countrymen. As a result of having to stand motionless for more than half an hour, every muscle in Ashten\u2019s body was twisted and his back ached as if it had been shot. Jumping down from the plinth, Ashten took the rest of the Sary-Agach out of his pocket and tipped it down himself.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
When most of the late-night members of the delegation had settled down and gone to bed, there was a chilling cry in the room where the Scotsman and Mr Conrad, the head of the delegation, were staying. Conrad jumped out of bed and asked his roommate what had happened. It turned out that he had left his Adidas bag with the priceless gift of a sheepskin from the statue on a bench in the park. Conrad got up and woke the interpreter in the next room and explained what was going on. He said that the square with the statue was not far from the hotel and one had to walk straight ahead towards the huge mill building on his right. He was prepared to go along if necessary, but the Scotsman told him not to worry, he could find his way. He hurriedly got dressed and left the hotel. It might take fifteen minutes at the most to get there and back, but half an hour had passed and Jones was still gone. The interpreter regretted letting him go alone. He went back to Conrad, saying, \u2018Well, Jones is still missing\u2026\u2019 All the members of the English delegation were already on their feet. The interpreter and Conrad had thrown on their coats and were about to go in search of them when Jones appeared, soaked, tired and dejected, mud splattered up to his bald head. \u2018I couldn\u2019t find it,\u2019 he blurted out, out of breath. \u2018How could you not find it?\u2019 \u2018I must have got lost. \u2018My God,\u2019 the interpreter exclaimed, \u2018You don\u2019t want to get lost here. You go straight through two streets and you can see the factory. Did you see it?\u2019 \u2018Yes.\u2019 \u2018Well, how come you didn\u2019t see the statue that stands in front of the mill?\u2019 \u2018No,\u2019 Jones assured, his eyes widening with horror. \u2018There was no statue.\u2019 \u2018What are you talking about? How is there no statue?\u2019 \u2018That\u2019s how it is. The factory is there, but there is no statue.\u2019 \u2018Ah,\u2019 laughed the interpreter. \u2018You must be on the wrong side of the mill. Come on, you two, let\u2019s go and have a look.\u2019 When they approached the square in front of the factory, they stopped dead in their tracks, unable to believe their eyes. Everything was there: the plinth, the flowers, the floodlights in the bushes, but the figure of the tanner itself was not there. The interpreter and the foreigner looked at each other in bewilderment. Then, as if on cue, they rubbed their eyes and stared again at the spot where the statue had stood just an hour before. \u2018Oh!\u2019 shouted the Scotsman to the translator from Moscow, shaking his head puzzledly. \u2018It is very possible, sir! It happens all too often in this country. You must have heard about the theft of the Liverpool Railway Bridge. In one night alone\u2026\u2019 \u2018Yes, I have,\u2019 the interpreter replied. \u2018It was in the papers.\u2019 \u2018And what is your statue compared to a railway bridge! It\u2019s almost like a puppet you can slip into your pocket and carry away. It\u2019s a mistake not to put guards around such a rare statue. It\u2019s even more irresponsible! Besides, the floodlights are all out. There\u2019s an empty bottle, it smells of vodka. So the thieves drank it here…!\u2019 They went back to the hotel. It turned out that some old woman in plaid from the same delegation had already called the district committee and got everyone up on their feet. Soon Zhanaidarov and the secretary for ideology appeared in the hotel lobby. After explaining to them what was the matter, they, yawning, answered: \u2018There is no such thing.\u2019 \u2018Why is it impossible? Mr. Translator and I have just come from there. No statue, no bag.\u2019 Zhanaidarov, still at home, found out what was causing the commotion in the camp of the British and took measures: the same instructors went to Ashten, to persuade him to return to his place, saying that it was not raining or snowing, it was warm and he could stay there for another ten or fifteen minutes. The phone rang. The instructors reported that all was well. \u2018Well, let\u2019s go. Let\u2019s see,\u2019 Zhanaidarov invited the Englishmen along with him. \u2018It\u2019s not just the statue, the money will be lying on the road, no one will bend down to take it.\u2019 When they approached the square in a noisy crowd, they saw a statue holding a new sheepskin in its outstretched hands. \u2018You see, the statue is in place. No one has even thought of stealing it. And the workers at the plant have already managed to put a new skin in his hands,\u2019 announced Zhanaidarov in a nonchalant tone, ostensibly wiping his eyes. Jones and the interpreter clutched their hearts and stopped, swaying. As they got into the car and drove off, the ideology secretary, head back, turned to Ashten: \u2018Hey, Ashten, give the bag back to the foreigner. Nobody could have taken it but you. Give it back, don\u2019t embarrass the whole neighbourhood. \u2018My son has been dreaming of an Adidas bag for months now. \u2018Tomorrow I\u2019ll get you not one but two of these bags from the warehouse. Give this one back.\u2019 \u2018\u2019I was going to take it with me, but when my wife opened it, she saw an old lambskin and threw it out to the dogs.\u2019 \u2018Use the one in your hand. There must not be any marks on that hide.\u2019 \u2018Still, we should have taken \u00a3500 from him\u2026\u2019 He shook himself off, took the bag that hung on the post supporting the chain-link fence around the plinth, slipped a lambskin into it and handed it to the secretary. \u2018You have no use for English pounds, Ashten. All the shops where you could sell foreign currency are now closed. You can only buy with Soviet money. Understand? Now go home. And don\u2019t take a step out of the house without our permission. You never know what else these foreigners will think of.\u2019 Ashten staggered back to his room, and the secretary staggered towards the hotel with his Adidas bag. Zhanaidarov was preparing to take the foreign guests to the jailau when the red telephone rang again. \u2018Zhanaidarov speaking,\u2019 he picked up impatiently. \u2018What?!\u2019 he covered his eyes and was silent for a while. \u2018From Italy? When? Tomorrow…? Ugh! Well ok, we are waiting\u2026\u2019 He hung up and sat still for a long time, unable to come to his senses. \u2018He\u2019s a strange man,\u2019 he thought reproachfully of the first secretary of the district committee. \u2018Did he tell the whole world that a statue of a leather tanner had been unveiled? He had to make such a fuss about that damn statue! The English have barely been dealt with, and now the Italians are coming. They probably drank the advance, and now they\u2019re looking for a new order… And we don\u2019t care about ours\u2026\u2019 After seeing the English off, Zhanaidarov breathed a sigh of relief. Now the Bulgarians would be welcomed and seen off too… And after that he firmly decided not to have anyone else: he would say that the plinth had a crack in it. Better that than to be exposed for such a shameful fabrication. The day before, when the Italian delegation arrived, it had been a warm day. However, fearing the eyes of local visitors, it was decided to show the Ashten statue at night\u2026 As the night\u2019s darkness thickened and the people in the houses sat down to dinner, the secretary of ideology, taking four or five guests with him, arrived in the square in front of the mill. Ashten stood as if cast in steel, proud and motionless, holding a lamb\u2019s hide high in his hands. Not like the last time.\u2019 He must have gained experience, seemingly unmoved even if delegations from not only the socialist countries, but all the capitalist countries were to arrive. At the sight of such an original statue, the Ital- ian guests opened their mouths in amazement and squeezed their eyes shut in delight. When one of them opened his eyes, he saw something gleaming in the spotlight shining from below in the middle part of the worker\u2019s figure. He took a closer look and realised that it was the neck of an ordinary quatroon, sticking out of the pocket of the dirty sweatshirt of a sculpted hero, and was dumbfounded. After blinking for a while, he poked his elbow at a fellow delegate standing nearby and pointed at the neck of the bottle with his eyes. Hearing a suspicious whisper among members of the delegation, the secretary of ideology, without lifting his head, followed with his eyes where their gazes were directed and saw what they had seen. His heart shivered. As had been agreed beforehand, he beckoned to one of the instructors and began to scurry out of the crowd, trying to go unnoticed. In two or three minutes the searchlights should have gone out, but they continued to shine brightly, as if to say, \u2018Look, look!\u2019 The secretary of ideology immediately sent another instructor to follow. And then the Bulgarian brothers, one by one, began to ask what it was that was shining in the pocket of the statue. The secretary replied that it was the first time he had ever seen such a thing, that it had snowed yesterday and that it was the ice which glistened in the light. It turned out that there was a burnout in the electrical panel. While the two instructors searched for the electrician in the booth and demanded that the spotlights be turned off immediately, because that was the order from on high, the electrician replied: \u2018It takes at least twenty minutes, if not a whole hour, to repair the unit in the electric panel.\u2019 \u2018No, it has to be right away, five minutes at the most!\u2019 the instructors almost pleaded. \u2018Then there\u2019s only one thing to do,\u2019 the fitter said with a yawn. \u2018Connect one phase to the other and then the floodlights will burn out.\u2019 \u2018Come on!\u2019 They said to him, \u2018Let them blow up, as long as they don\u2019t burn out! Hurry up!\u2019 Having given such an instruction, the two instructors ran to the site, knowing that Atashbayev was there in an agitated state. As they ran towards the square, six floodlights went off one by one and it went pitch black. \u2018Well done!\u2019 praised Atashbayev, patting the panting instructors on the back. \u2018What speed! And now let\u2019s hurry up and get the guests out of here!\u2019 Half an hour later they were noisily entering the hotel with their guests. Zhanaidarov, having heard about the emergency in the square near the tannery and its successful resolu- tion, sank back in his chair and stretched out to relax. After a while he suddenly burst out laughing loudly, and startled the secretary enough to make him jump out of his seat. He opened his mouth several times to ask \u2018What is wrong with you?\u2019, but Zhanaidarov kept on laughing. Then he sank back into his chair and waited patiently for the secretary to stop his wild laughter. Soon, Zhanaidarov, still laughing, said: \u2018You said it was frozen ice, didn\u2019t you?\u2019 Without waiting for an answer, he laughed again. \u2018Ice! In the pocket of the statue! What ice can there be now, look at the barometer! It is nine degrees above zero. And you\u2019re talking about ice! Hahaha! Did they believe you?\u2019 Only now was Atashbayev\u2019s heart in the right place. \u2018I don\u2019t know,\u2019 he replied cheerfully, \u2018But at that moment I had to say something, to distract their attention.\u2019 \u2018Ah, Ashten, Ashten! Would a half an hour of standing on a plinth kill him without that damned vodka? No, we must take it with us! He\u2019s got some nerve. You don\u2019t say a word to him now and he still replies rudely. He\u2019ll drive us to our grave.\u2019 The head of the propaganda department entered the office. \u2018Suyunshi! The sculptors are here!\u2019 he announced loudly. The two secretaries jumped up from their seats. \u2018Really?\u2019 \u2018Yes,\u2019 assured the chief propagandist. \u2018They just called from Alma-Ata. They told us to get a crane and workers ready. They said they will install it tomorrow.\u2019 \u2018Ugh, finally! Thank God! It\u2019s all over,\u2019 said Zhanaidarov with a deep sigh. \u2018Put everything else aside, just take care of the statue.\u2019 A week later the statue of the first leather tanner was officially unveiled and the locals could finally admire the sculpture, which had become famous long before it appeared in the square. Witnesses have claimed, with a chuckle, that the worker on the plinth looks identical to Ashten: that if you placed them side by side you wouldn\u2019t be able to tell one from the other. However, the arrival of his plaster counterpart did not cheer Ashten up. No one needed him now. But evil tongues claim that a bottle of Sary-Agach is still delivered to him every three days, so that he won\u2019t divulge the secret of how he became Ashten the Statue. People think the nickname comes from his resemblance to the statue. He knows the truth, but he won\u2019t tell. Until…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
No sooner had Party Secretary Zhanaidarov entered his office in the early hours of the morning, combed his hair, brushed the traces of dandruff from his shoul- ders and sat down in a chair, than the telephone rattled loudly in the corner to his right, as if just waiting for him to arrive. \u2018Long distance,\u2019 thought Zhanaidarov, picking up the …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[37],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-576","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stories"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/576","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=576"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/576\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":579,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/576\/revisions\/579"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=576"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=576"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=576"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}