Whatever resolution was adopted in Moscow, as a rule, it was immediately reacted to in Almaty. It just so happened that from the first days of Soviet power, the decisions of numerous congresses and plenums, of which there were many, came flying over Russian villages and territories of other republics, without stopping once in the expanses of the state, ending up here to hastily be put into practice right away. Russian villages and republics did not have time to really hear about these decisions, and our Kazakhs, having rolled up their sleeves, were already implementing them. It is known, after all, whoever starts first is the first to finish, while the Russian villages and other republics were digesting what they had heard, slowly getting down to business, others asked themselves what they had heard, scratching their heads, meanwhile Kazakhstan was al- ready reporting to the centre about the completion oftheir tasks, rubbing their hands in impatience, thinking about when they will be able to start implementing the new resolution. One of the next, most important political decisions was the blurring on the line between the city and the countryside. As soon as the decision of the authorities reached Almaty, first regional centres, then districts, then — villages, the local authorities of which, accustomed not to shelve the decrees of high-ranking party leadership, immediately set to work. \u201cBut how, how can we blur the line between the city and countryside? And what are the differences between them? What needs to be done to eliminate these differences successfully and quickly?\u201d These were the questions that the authorities in many districts of Kazakhstan puzzled over, holding meetings, studying the opinion of the conscious, informed activists. We do not know how these issues were resolved in other places, but in the \u2018Socialism\u2019 department of the notorious collective farm of \u2018Communism\u2019, they concluded that the main difference between the city and the aul is connected by the presence or lack there of multi-storey buildings. \u201cWhat makes a city, a city? There are multi-storey buildings. What makes an aul an aul? These are one-story huts. If we demolish these huts and build high-rise buildings instead of them, then the main difference between the city and the village will disappear.\u201d Pashat Barakatov, head of the department, summed it up like this. \u201cThus, high-rise buildings will appear in the village, they will be our skyscrapers, that is, the heights of \u2018Socialism\u2019.\u201d Pashat enjoyed well-deserved prestige, not only in the department, but throughout the collective farm. According to some people, Barakatov was once a step away from being enrolled in the Timiryazev Agricultural Academy in Moscow. He was aware of the current politics; he read newspapers and even had a knowledge of literary fiction. Last year, Pashat bought Ernest Hemingway\u2019s novel \u2018Farewell to Arms\u2019 in the village shop. At a time when the people in the village had not only never heard of such a writer, but could not even pronounce his name in syllables, he amazed many by exclaiming in public: \u201cOh, did Hemingway\u2019s works really come to our store?\u201d People\u2019s jaws dropped in surprise. The management and the general meeting of the collective farm, taking Pashat\u2019s proposal as a basis, adopted a resolution as an experiment to build two multi-storey buildings in the \u201cSocialism\u201d department. The meeting instructed the foreman of the department, Sepentai, to go to the regional centre in order to obtain technical passports from the builders, the drawings of multi-storey buildings and to calculate construction costs at average prices. \u201cThis order is unbearable for one person, let the manager of the department, Barakatov, take part,\u201d was an amendment Sepentai had made, at first Pashat mercilessly criticized him, then the chairman of the collective farm scolded him. \u201cIt is unusual for a communist to run away from difficulties. What does the party charter say about this? You are avoiding responsibility,\u201d they said. Since two people had expressed their opinion, what was there left for the rest to do? The activists harshly condemned Sepentai, and there were those who offered to take his party card away from him, and to exclude him from the collective farm and drive him out. The head of the sheep insemination station, veterinarian Ospan, expressed regret that he had to work in the same team as that of such a duplicitous and cowardly communist. Twenty-one people took part in the meeting, all of them were Kazakhs, of course, they did not speak Russian, and if some could speak, then it was only at such a level where they would pronounce the word water as — \u2018uada\u2019. Despite this, Ospan expressed his thoughts entirely in Russian. Since the speech was delivered in Russian, the meeting listened attentively to the speech of the veterinarian. They became convinced that Sepentai was a dishonest communist, that he is a reactionary element, looking for any opportunity to damage the cause of the developed socialism, that he is against the policy of destroying the distinction between city and village, against the general point of view that work for the good of socialism is creativity. At this meeting, Sepentai was forced to apologize in the meeting for his ideological apostasy and deviationism, he admitted his mistake, and promised to soon, no, immediately correct himself, and assured everyone that he would fulfil this important party assignment, no matter how difficult it may be, and, in general, follow all orders. A simple majority voted with one vote to pardon him, with only one person abstaining. The next day he left for the regional centre. Since Sepentai never crossed the threshold of such important institutions, he barely found the building of the Regional Construction Project, which is next to the Regional Project of Kazakhryba, after meeting the right person there with whom he could reinterpret. The people he found could not decide anything on their own. The fourth day was crowned with success: in a remote corner office where four dzhigits* were sitting, there\u00a0 was a man who said that he knew an architect in the \u2018Yuzhkazelevatormelsnabsbytstroy\u2019 organization who had a project of two high-rise buildings in his hands. And if Sepentai agrees, he can meet with this person for a conversation and persuade him to sell his projects at an affordable price in the name of communism to the Socialism department. Sepentai was beside himself with joy, he worked with the dzhigits from the office until he got his way. For two days they negotiated with the architect from \u2018Yuzhkazelevatormelsnabsbytstroy\u2019. The negotiations were held in a secluded place, in a city recreation park in the Aral restaurant on a lake island with a warm atmosphere, an atmosphere of complete mutual understanding. A month later, the results of Sepentai\u2019s stay in the city began to appear. From the regional centre to the \u2018Socialism\u2019 department, cars with building materials poured in a stream, then the working people poured in; plasterers and masons, architects and bulldozer operators, surveyors and concrete workers. How was Sepentai to know that those drawings that were sold for twenty thousand<\/p>\n
*dzhigit \u2013 nomadic horse riders from Central Asia and North Caucasus, usually distinguished by their courage, endurance and exceptional horse-riding ability<\/em>rubles to the collective farm were projects that were gathering dust in a forgotten box of the institute: not accepted by the authorities, they were rejected at all levels. A rumour spread throughout the region that the Socialism branch needed workers, and the unemployed rushed there from all sides. There were more and more people who went out onto the highway and raised their hand to stop a ride: \u201cMy friend, where are you going?\u201d \u201cWhere are you heading to yourself?\u201d \u201cTo the \u2018Communism\u2019 collective farm. I\u2019ve been stuck here for an hour, any longer and I\u2019ll cry, take me with you.\u201d \u201cCan\u2019t do, my car is faulty. Will it be alright if I take you to the \u2018Socialism\u2019 department instead?\u201d \u201cOh, that\u2019s it, that\u2019s where I need to go.\u201d Not more than two weeks passed, and that small office was overflowing with visitors. Poor Pashat and Sepentai were dizzy — they did not know where to go from the onslaught of the people. Having entrusted the main work in the department to the linkers and foremen, they took care of the visitors completely. Having hired the right number of people, they sent the rest home. At first, they did not know how many workers would be needed to build two seven-story buildings. Like a flock in a paddock, the people were noisy, chattering, crowding in the room. Whom were they to leave alone, whom to send back — were the organizers lost, unable to resolve these issues? \u201cHow many people do we need? Who do we leave from these restless devils?\u201d Asked Pashat, ready to vent his anger on Sepentai. \u201cHow many workers, do you suppose, would be needed to build such houses in the city?\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s the city, and this here \u2013 it\u2019s the steppe. There is more equipment here than people, but even then, we only have one crane, three dump trucks, and that\u2019s it.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m not asking you what we have and what we don\u2019t. Tell me, how many people do you need for one house?\u201d \u201cI mean, except for the tech… hmmm…\u201d Sepentai moved his lips, keeping the score. \u201cHmmm… back and forth, here and there… Twenty on the first floor, twenty-five on the second floor… third floor… fourth… fifth… One building needs one hundred and twenty people.\u201d \u201cHey, we\u2019re not going to build five floors at the same time. First, we will build the first floor, then we will proceed to the second, is that not how it works? Or will your people lay bricks in the air?\u201d \u201cWell, in reality… that is true, until the first floor is completed, you cannot proceed to the second, be- cause the second floor is being built on the first.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s right, comrade foreman. If I don\u2019t explain everything, you yourself will never understand. So how many people do you need, in the end?\u201d \u201cOne head is good, two is better. Let\u2019s leave one hundred and fifty people, send the rest home. If it\u2019s too much, then we\u2019ll cut it down as needed.\u201d \u201cAll right, get the teams! However, make sure to strictly observe the international composition of the workers.\u201d At this time, the old door jambs, on which the crowd peering inside pressed against, could not hold them any longer, they broke away from the adobe walls, and the door collapsed right into the office. The ten people who were about to enter first flew head over heels over the threshold onto the floor, crushing and breaking the straw hats of some. Two or three of the poor fellows were able to get out of the heap and rushed to the authorities, but on the way, they were overcome by timidity, and they stopped halfway. Sepentai looked sternly at the dark-haired, thin dzhigit who was floundering under a pile of bodies, and asked: \u201cWhat\u2019s your last name?\u201d \u201cKamysbaev.\u201d \u201cWhat\u2019s your speciality?\u201d \u201cI\u2019m a bricklayer.\u201d \u201cYour nationality?\u201d \u201cKonyrat.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m not asking where you\u2019re from, but what nationality you are.\u201d \u201cKazakh… But I\u2019m only asking because I heard that you are also from Konyrat…\u201d \u201cOh, these Kazakhs! Even when being crushed by a crowd, they will still try to divide into tribes. Okay, accepted. Well, what about you… sir, what is your last name?\u201d Sepentai shifted his gaze to the bald guy, who was lying on top of the heap. \u201cKopbergenov.\u201d \u201cSpeciality?\u201d \u201cBricklayer.\u201d \u201cNationality?\u201d \u201cKazakh. I\u2019m also a Konyrat…\u201d \u201cHe\u2019s lying, he\u2019s a Naiman!\u201d Blurted out a pock- marked dzhigit with protruding ears, floundering nearby. \u201cKazakh, Kazakh,\u201d Sepentai thought, eyes darting from one man to another. \u201cKazakh again. It would be nice if there was a Russian. If everyone is a Kazakh, then…\u201d Sepentai stopped himself and sighed. \u201cAre there any Russians among you?\u201d The crowd was silent. \u201cAre there Russian masons among you?\u201d Shouted Sepentai into the corridor that was buzzing like a beehive. \u201cThere is!\u201d Answered some bright dzhigit in a sombrero from the crowd. \u201cWhat\u2019s your last name?\u201d \u201cBekturov.\u201d \u201cBekturov? What kind of Russian are you?\u201d \u201cMy father\u2019s name was Victor, when they wrote the metric, the Kazakhs wrote Bektur instead of Victor.\u201d \u201cEh, that sounds quite farfetched, I don\u2019t believe it. Well, whatever, Satan will deal with you later, accepted, go on!\u201d While Sepentai was calling on all the nationalities living in Kazakhstan, the evening came. Exhausted from fatigue, he said to Pashat: \u201cThat 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?\u201d \u201cWas there a Kurd?\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cWas there a Nogai? \u201cYep.\u201d \u201cAnd Chinese?\u201d \u201cThose as well.\u201d \u201cWhat about the Shurshits?\u201d \u201cShurshits? No, I don\u2019t think we had any of those… What kind of nation is it?\u201d \u201cHow am I supposed to know what kind of nation it is. We just hear the people always mention them: \u2018Shurshits this, Shurshits that.\u2019\u201d \u201cAlright, I\u2019ll try asking,\u201d he looked at the people left in the corridor, and asked: \u201cAre there any Shurshits?\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d \u201cAre there at least any Pashtos?\u201d \u201cNo. They live in Afghanistan.\u201d \u201cEh, we desperately need some Shurshits, Pashtos… And what about you, who are you?\u201d \u201cWhat do you mean who? We\u2019re Kazakhs.\u201d \u201cEh, we don\u2019t need Kazakhs. You can go.\u201d \u201cOh 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?\u201d \u201cThat is none of our business. If you want to help, go to the end of world will you! And whilst you\u2019re there, bring us a Shurshit, or at the very least an Eskimo.\u201d \u201cOh god, what if we can\u2019t find any, are we to just — die?\u201d \u201cGo and find them then, find them!\u201d 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\u2019t missed anything on there, they looked at each other. \u201cWhat do we do now?\u201d Pashat asked sadly. Sepentai thought for a long time. \u201cWhat if we do this?\u201d He whispered. \u201cWe will add eight nationalities, which were not here today, from the list of the remaining Kazakhs: We will write down one as a Pashto, the other as a Shurshit. What else is there for the unemployed to do \u2013 they\u2019ll definitely agree. And we will agree with them, we will explain to them, and if the inspectors become interested, they will name the nationalities that we assign to them.\u201d \u201cWhat if their looks don\u2019t match?\u201d \u201cWho cares about their looks? Do you think anyone will really bother examining the appearance of all these working people? When they find themselves covered in dust and dirt at work, they will all have the same appearance as that of any proletariat.\u201d \u201cPashat gazed at Sepentai for some time.\u201d \u201cWhat a brilliant, expeditious idea!\u201d he said, smiling happily. \u201cWell done, Sepentai! Your head does work it seems. Though only from time to time.\u201d And Pashat, as if he was being tickled, giggled effusively in a thin voice. Then he coughed brusquely, masking his laughter. \u201cCome on, get to work,\u201d he said. \u201cHowever, do not write whatever comes into your head, but choose the appearance that suits the desired nation.\u201d \u201cCertainly. In truth, you can find an appearance suitable for any nearby nationality among the Kazakhs.\u201d \u201cThis is true. Well, I\u2019m going home, you finish the rest yourself,\u201d with these words, Pashat, pushing the people crowding in the corridor, went out into the street. Sepentai did not bother with this matter for long. He selected eight Kazakhs from the crowd, whose appearance, in his opinion, corresponded to the desired nationalities, then explained to them that if they agreed to the conditions, he would immediately apply them for work. None of the chosen Kazakhs wanted to miss the chance, and they chattered fervently from all sides: \u201cOh god, do you really think we\u2019ll argue? If it comes to it, you can mark us down not only as Shurshits, but also as earthworms if needs be — we will be satisfied. It won\u2019t hurt us. And if someone in the future becomes interested in what nationality we are, we will answer as you instruct us. We\u2019ll just need to write it down, so we don\u2019t forget who we are. A bit of time passed, and on the construction site of the \u2018Socialism\u2019 department of the \u2018Communism\u2019 collective farm, vigorous activity began to boil on the construction of the two seven-story houses. Even before the construction of the foundations, two banners were hung out on the border of the site. A lot of old banners were gathering dust in the storeroom of the department\u2019s office. Sepentai pulled out two of them by the shafts, scraped off the faded obsolete words, and began to write out new ones. Instead of the appeals: \u201cLet\u2019s catch up and overtake America!\u201d and \u201cLet\u2019s con- tribute to the construction of communism in 1980!\u201d He instead wrote: \u201cWe will eliminate the differences between the city and the village at an accelerated pace!\u201d and \u201cThank you to the party for existing in the era of developed socialism!\u201d Then he hoisted the banners on two tall poles so that the proclamations could be seen from afar. Pashat, the manager of the department, contacted the centre every Monday by radio to report that the construction of buildings was proceeding at a marvellously unprecedented pace, and if these rates were maintained, two buildings would be erected not in a year, but in five months. He reported that the \u2018Socialism\u2019 branch would again come to the forefront in the yearly report, having completed everything ahead of schedule regarding the instructions of the party and the government to eliminate the differences between the city and the aul. Still, Pashat and Sepentai kept their word — five months flew by like dashing horses, and the villagers began to prepare for the move. During the move, both leaders vigilantly ensured that the settlers did not turn out to be representatives of only one nationality, they solved this important task with great skill. Mostly Kazakhs lived in their department, though there were five or six families of Russians, three Uzbek, two Azerbaijani, one Turkish, one Georgian, one Armenian, and for some unknown reason, one Kyzylbash family, who arrived from Iran last year, one Dungan and one Korean. First of all, Pashat gave appropriate orders to these nationalities, he recorded the rest of the Kazakhs as representatives of all other nations living in Kazakhstan, and set a date for the move. In total, the department consisted of eighty-four families, huge seven-story buildings swallowed up these families in one sitting. Only two or three old women remained in the one-story huts, who did not want to live on the floors, and a few peasants who did not want to part with their households and outbuildings. On the day of the resettlement, the chairman of the collective farm and other leaders arrived from the centre, and a solemn meeting was held in the courtyard of the new buildings. At the rally, the manager Pashat Barakatov made a fiery speech. He said that such a thing as the construction of beautiful seven-story residential buildings in five months, and not in the year allotted for this, is only possible under the conditions of developed socialism, and that the working people of capitalist countries are not only deprived of such a prospect, but also are simply unable to dream up anything like it. He casually mixed the dignity of capitalism with dust and ashes. Blaming America, the flagship of the capitalist world, for all mortal sins, and exposing Reagan, the president of America, as a kind of scarecrow and laughingstock. At this time, an old man standing in the front row said to him: \u201cHey, Pashat, my friend, you\u2019re getting quite prideful, you just said you\u2019re building two buildings in the vast steppe, right? If that\u2019s it, why do you need to bother the distant America, wouldn\u2019t it be better to start talking about the affairs of your own village?\u201d Pashat immediately lost his temper, giving vent to the heap of anger: \u201cWho said that? Aksakal Meldesh, is that you? What, you didn\u2019t like my criticism of American imperialism? By twisting our words, maliciously, instead of being an example for young people, you demonstrate your extremist character every time. If you like America so much that you care about it, go there. We will not hold back malicious people for a minute. Or was the criticism that you received last time not enough?\u201d The people made a noise and turned towards the old fidget. And a lot of eyes burning with anger aimed for spoiling such a solemn event, and for trying to protect the distant America, which was the main enemy of the Socialism branch. There was a lot of truth in the words of Pashat, \u201cOr was the criticism that you received to last time was not enough for you.\u201d Eight months earlier, Elder Meldesh bought two barrels of beer in the city on his pension, he brought it and distributed it free of charge to people near the collective farm club. A lot of people gathered near the club for free beer, in the end the stampede ended in a big fight. The old man\u2019s cart was broken, both barrels were crushed. The news of the incident reached the manager first, then the chairman of the collective farm. The chief, calling Meldesh into the office, asked: \u201cWhat is the meaning of this? Why are you disturbing the people?\u201d \u201cWhy is it my fault? I should only be at fault for deciding to treat people weary with work to free beer.\u201d \u201cWhy?\u201d \u201cWhy not? You yourself say every day that under communism everything should be free. I am already old, my age is approaching the limit, in order to see communism, which you talk so much about, I bought two barrels of beer for my two pensions and distrib- uted them to the people. How was I to know that everything would end in a fight.\u201d \u201cWrite!\u201d The chairman said to his assistant, who was sitting next to him. \u201cIt\u2019s an order!\u201d Old Meldesh calmed down that day, having received a severe reprimand for disturbing the rest of the workers with his adventurous undertaking. Pasha reminded him exactly of this as he stood in front of the two buildings. Who knows how this situation would have developed further if the chairman of the collective farm had not reminded himself: \u201cOkay, keep talking.\u201d Then Pashat, clearing his throat well, continued to read the prepared speech. \u201cDo not treat these two buildings that are in front of you, as if they are just homes. This is a model of the future, that is, a communist hostel. This is another outstanding achievement of the Soviet working people. These houses were built by representatives of all nationalities living in Kazakhstan, which is why they were completed seven months ahead of schedule. Today, multinational families are preparing to move into new homes. Not only Kazakhs, Russians, Ukrainians, Tatars, Moldavians, Belarusians, but also representatives of all those other nationalities inhabiting Kazakhstan who took part in the construction and completion of these buildings. In particular, the Eskimo, Sagyntai Aibaltaev, the Pashto, Yergeshbay Sarmoldaev, and the Shurshit, Temirbek Sikymov, who have attracted attention with their hard work. And now about this celebratory event\u2026\u201d The people murmured like a disturbed beehive. And only then Pashat realized that he had ruined everything with his thoughtless words, his face flushed with embarrassment and looked like a loaf that had just been taken out of the oven. It turns out that in the hassle he forgot to change the names of the people who he wrote down as having different nationalities. \u201cHey, what kind of Eskimo is that? What kind of Shurshit?\u201d Shouted the employees of the department, completely drowning out Sepentai. The dzhigits, whose names were called out by him, were there with their wives, children, and other relatives. And when one of them was called a Shurshit, another an Eskimo, and the third a Pashto, not to mention other people, their wives made an incredible noise. \u201cHey, comrade opraulaish*!\u201d Shouted the wife of the proclaimed Shurshit, Temirbek. \u201cYou will not disgrace my husband like that, not only is he not a Shurshit, but he has never seen one in his entire life. He is a Kazakh! And not only is he a Kazakh, but his great-grandfathers are Otrar Konrats who fought with Genghis Khan, within the Konrats are the Kulshygash, within the Kulshygash are the Taz, within the Taz are the Bori, within the\u2026\u201d \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t divide the Kazakhs into clans and tribes like that,\u201d the bewildered Pashat muttered out of place, biting his reddened lips. But then the wife of the Eskimo and the wife of the Pashto, raised their voices at once, and the solemn meeting turned into a noisy gathering. The chairman of the collective farm, realizing that this noise and uproar could last forever, stepped forward: \u201cPatience, comrades, patience!\u201d He raised his hand. \u201cLet the named comrades come forward, and we will see with our own eyes who they really are. \u201cThey are the department workers we see every day. Why should they come forward?\u201d \u201cLet them step forward anyway. Jzhigits, where are you? Come on, come forward!\u201d And when the Eskimo, Sagyntai, the Pashto, Ergeshbai and the Shurshit, Temirbek, came to the centre of the circle, the people burst into uncontrollable laughter. \u00a0\u201cTraitors!\u201d One tipsy Jzhigit shook his fist at them. \u201cThey sold their nationality for thirty coins. But me, I stepped down, I said: \u2018Even if I have to be unemployed and collect beetles in the steppe for the rest of my life, I will still remain a Kazakh.\u2019 But now we saw with our own eyes what we heard! And I was wondering what this all was about, and now I know, why these men smiled so widely that their<\/p>\n *opraulaish \u2013 a corrupted\/misleading manager]<\/em>grin reached both of their ears when they left Sepentai\u2019s office!\u201d The assembly was noisy like a disturbed chicken coop. It is not known how this scandal, which crossed every boundary, would have ended if the chairman of the collective farm had not taken the reins of the government into his own hands. \u201cStop making noise!\u201d He got angry. \u201cWhat are you talking about: \u2018You\u2019re a Shurshit, he\u2019s Shurshit?\u2019 Well, let them be, is it really hurting anyone? These days, every Soviet person is free to change to any nationality they want, when they feel like it.\u201d He paused and waited, checking the effect of his words on the people, and when the noise subsided, he spoke calmly. In a pleading tone, he told the people about what was planned to improve the life of the villagers, then, after discussing the village, he switched to the domestic and foreign policy of the state, drawing general attention to the problem of national relations, finally, making sure that the people were slowly forgetting about the cause of the unrest and calming down, said to the newcomers: \u201cI welcome you to your new home! May you live happily!\u201d And then cut the prepared red ribbon with scissors. Looking back at the ribbon in his hands, the huddled crowd poured into both seven-story buildings. And only then did the chairman of the collective farm, wiping his sweaty forehead, head towards his car. But before this, he understood, that he gave the people a reason to swear at their head of department, Barakatov, from the bottom of their hearts. In the morning after breakfast, Pashat, the chairman of the collective farm, and Sepentai sat down to write a report to the district committee of the party: \u201cA Report to the District Committee of the CPSU, The workers of the \u2018Socialism\u2019 department, branch of the \u2018Communist\u2019 collective farm, belonging to the Zhetisai region, are supporting the policy of the party and government to eliminate the differences between town and countryside in every way possible, they undertook an honourable obligation to build two seven-story buildings. According to the plan, it was envisaged that all construction work would be completed in full within a year. As a result of the heroic work of the residents of the branch and the involved workers, two sixty-four apartment buildings, that is, one hundred and twenty-eight apartments, were put into operation seven months ahead of schedule. Yesterday, that is, September 21st, 1981, the settlement of two new houses was fully completed. We assure you that in the future we are ready to strictly fulfil all the instructions of the party and the government. Chairman of the Board of the Collective Farm Assembly, B. Zhalmuratov. Party Organization Secretary, S. Kereybaev. Manager of the \u2018Socialism\u2019 Department, P. Barakatov. September 22nd, 1981\u201d In order to immediately deliver the report, the secretary of the party organization, Kereybaev, urgently left for the regional centre. Having agreed to hold a meeting in the evening at the manager\u2019s house to notify all responsible employees of the collective farm about the early completion of this important project, the three leaders dispersed. Pashat, who did not like to waste time, sat down at the radio in the collective farm board room and contacted the department and instructed them to slaughter and skin one heifer and two sheep by his return. Since the report had already been delivered to the district, it was decided that the party organizer, without stopping by the collective farm, would go directly to the department, and his family would stay with the rest. At this time, the area in front of the two new houses turned into something resembling a cattle market. There was a frenzied roar, the bleating and lowing of cattle. In front of the house were crowds of horses, camels, donkey carts, heavily loaded \u201cZila\u201d, \u201cKamaz\u201d and \u201cBelarus\u201d vehicles parked side by side, caterpillar tractors, cotton harvesters. In short, whatever kind of equipment, livestock or product that someone on the collective farmer had, they put it in the yard. Everyone was only busy with the fact that they only had time to carry theirs loads from their vehicles to their houses. Since the move took place in hordes on the same day, the heated, sweaty people now and then collided at the entrances, it led to swearing, cursing and even assaults. Only by midnight did the tired people more or less calm down, leaving unfinished business for the next day. In the new houses, however, as was the case for whole area, there was no home gas. Therefore, each of the new settlers, contriving who was good for what, looked for a way out of the situation in their own way. Some were content with tea from a thermos, some indulged their stomach with pieces of cold, boiled meat, some heated their food with electric stoves, and old Meldesh who lived with his old woman and grandson, well he boiled tea by setting a fire right on the balcony of their third floor. Many Kazakhs, accustomed to the spaciousness of their courtyards, with kindled fires that popped and sparked, built hearths on the site in front of the house. From an outside perspective, it seemed that these new houses were not objects of socialist brilliance, but sinking ships set on fire. People scurried between houses and hearths, some crushed down grain in a mortar, some pounded nails into their walls with a hammer, their fires burned with might and main on the balconies, the stoves in the yard scattered about their sheaves of sparks — in short, the seven-story com- munist dormitories whiled away their God-given days as they could. Tomorrow these families would celebrate a housewarming event, and the residents of the houses, according to the traditions of one hundred and thirty nationalities living in Kazakhstan, will sing songs and dance from day till night. The people settled in these buildings were mainly chauffeurs, tractor drivers, mechanics, carriers, combine operators and builders, who would park their cars and tractors near the houses. And when three dozen tractors belonging to the owners of one hundred and twenty-eight apartments start immediately at dawn, it may seem to some that the end of the world has come, at that point it will be impossible, by God, to guarantee that some of them will not jump off their balconies in fright. The first morning of the communist hostel had come. The dawn was bright, one of those that are mentioned in the newspapers. It was a peaceful, quiet, rainbow-clean morning. The sun floated up, with the brightness of a new day, as if it was completely oblivi- ous about the storm brewing in some dormant faraway universe. And this sun carried future events to the unsuspecting residents of the new homes, who were coming to their senses after the housewarming party. Since these are communist houses, of course, toilets were also included in them. If there is an easily accessible toilet, then there is no person in those buildings who wouldn\u2019t want to use it. The proclaimed Shurshit, Temirbek, a resident of the first floor, like all people on this Earth, began a new day with a trip to the toilet. After yesterday\u2019s feast, the apartment had not yet been tidied up, half-asleep, stepping over dishes, bags and chests, he grabbed the handle of the restroom, and at that time his feet slapped down into some kind of liquid. As usual, he began to grumble at his wife, believing that she accidentally spilled water on the floor. However, his nose caught a suspicious smell, and he, realizing that this was no ordinary water at all, froze in place. Since he was distracted by the liquid surrounding his legs — he pulled the toilet handle towards himself without much thought, and due to the inertia, as they say, what next happened, happened. The slurry that had accumulated in the toilet rushed over him like a shaft. He jumped back into the corridor. Temirbek\u2019s family woke up from their sleep and immediately found themselves in the noise of this bedlam. Inside the toilet, sewage was pouring out of a thick black pipe with loose fittings, and this eruption had no end. It can be assumed that the inhabitants of the upper apartments indulged in the pleasure of using communal amenities. Temirbek instantly flew up the flight of stairs. And as if reporting an enemy invasion, he pounded his Tatar neighbour\u2019s door with his fist. The door was opened by a thin, yellow-faced old woman with glasses. \u201cNi kirak sizge*?\u201d She asked. \u201cOh god! Lady, Do not touch your toilet. God has cursed us!\u201d He pushed the old woman aside, bursting into the apartment, shouting: \u201cWho\u2019s in the toilet?\u201d \u201cOh, God save our souls, what is this about?\u201d \u201cI won\u2019t ask again, who is in the toilet?\u201d \u201cIbatullah is in there.\u201d \u201cEverything has gone to hell, Ibatulla!\u201d Temirbek pulled on the handle of the toilet door: \u201cIbatulla, come out of here!\u201d He demanded. \u201cQuick!\u201d Ibatullah\u2019s strained voice was heard: \u201cGive me a moment.\u201d \u201cForget \u2018a moment\u2019, come out now! My apartment is being carried away by a flood. Don\u2019t sit on that toilet. Whether or not you finished the duty or not \u2013 get out soon!\u201d Ibatullah came out, very embarrassed, his face was covered in red spots. \u201cGod, these Kozakhlars* won\u2019t even let you sit on the toilet normally,\u201d he tried to joke. \u201cWell, what do you need?\u201d Temirbek quickly explained to him the essence of the matter. Then<\/p>\n *Ni kirak sizge \u2013 \u2018what do you need?\u2019 in Tatar<\/em>\u00a0Ibatullah opened the toilet door once again, and seeing a leaking pipe, yelled at the top of his voice. They both ran to the third floor where an Uzbek, Islamzhan, was living. They explained the situation to him. \u00a0\u201cIt can\u2019t be,\u201d he shook his head. \u201cSurely this place can\u2019t be breaking down after only one day.\u201d \u201cHey, your \u2018surely\u2019 and \u2018can\u2019t be\u2019 don\u2019t really matter if my apartment is already full of sewage. A little more, and all that crap is going to float into your apartment.\u201d The three of them ran to the fourth floor. Where Gamrakeli, a Georgian warehouse manager, was living. He, apparently, had just left the toilet, fastening his belt as the men suddenly appeared. \u201cOh, gammarjoba my friends!\u201d He was very happy. \u201cOh god, leave your \u2018gammarjoba\u2019 to yourself, just don\u2019t go in the toilet anymore!\u201d \u201cWhy?\u201d \u201cWell, because… this and that…\u201d Serenity reigned on the fifth floor. The electrician, Ivan Krivonosov, had settled there. After the men clarified the situation to him, he shrugged his shoulders. \u201cWhat do you want from me?\u201d \u201cWe\u2019ll go to the authorities together. We will write a statement that we did not have time to move to a new house, as our apartments were flooded with sewer water.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t have time today,\u201d he said, taking a sip of ice-cold tap water from a cup. \u201cI have to bring my wife from the city, you go yourself. Whosever apartments the water has flooded, let them go and file the report. A lot of time will pass before it reaches the fifth floor.\u201d \u201cYou\u2019re being quite inhumane on you part,\u201d Temirbek, the proclaimed Shurshit, said earnestly. \u201cI don\u2019t care how you lived before, but right now, right here, we live one under the other, we have a common fate, if the neighbour from above does not care about the people below, what will life in this country become? Come and take a look at my apartment and trust me, you\u2019ll want to run away to the ends of the earth the moment you\u2019ll see it.\u201d They went down to the first floor and entered Temirbek\u2019s apartment. His wife and children, pinching their noses, stood there in rubber boots, surrounded by a dam they built from rags and old clothes to protect them from the flowing water, using all their strength to direct the<\/p>\n * Kozakhlar \u2013 another word for Kazakhs.<\/em> incoming fetid slurry through a threshold into the street. The Georgian, Garmakeli, accidently knocked the door\u2019s threshold out of its place, and the collection of everyone\u2019s human waste poured out as sludge between the men\u2019s feet, having gained strength, it cascaded down along the flight of stairs. And only then did they notice that the residents of the other entrances were preoccupied with the same problem, which they had been busy dealing with for an hour, immersed in the fight against the dashing water. After a while, the inhabitants of both buildings rushed out into the yard.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n The night before, all the authorities of the col- lected farm gathered at the house of Pashat Barakatov, where it was announced that the report had been sent to the district, after which they stayed up all night and only went to bed in the morning hours. According to an unwritten rule of a special category of leaders, the chairman, the party organizer, the chief agronomist, the manager, all had to sleep on the floor in the main hall. And they, snoring freely, calmly fell into a deep dream. When ten people entered the front room, one after another, covered in God knows what, Pashat\u2019s mother, who was spinning threads with her spindle, shouted in fright: \u201cKitty!\u201d and jumped up. \u201cWhere is that opraulaish?\u201d Temirbek, the proclaimed Shurshit, asked the old woman calmly. \u201cEh… he recently… oh God, Temirbek, is that you? What is the matter with you \u2013 oh but there is no face on you, as if the devil is chasing you? Are you healthy?\u201d \u201cI\u2019m healthy, healthy,\u201d Temirbek began to say, trying not to waste time. \u201cThe bosses are needed.\u201d \u201cThey\u2026 have been gone for a long time.\u201d \u201cWhere?\u201d \u201cHow do I know; they don\u2019t report to me.\u201d \u201cShit!\u201d Temirbek cursed in exclamation. \u201cOur homes are flooding with water, and they\u2019re just dan- dling around who knows where!\u201d At this time, the snoring of a friendly male quartet seeped through the tightly closed door of the hall. Having solved the riddle of this snoring, Temirbek and Ibatulla, in spite of the old woman\u2019s screeching, opened the door and slipped into the hall. And it seemed to them that they found themselves in a small MTS. It looked like the carcasses of freshly slaughtered cattle were piled up, the men raised such thick snores that the walls trembled, and the ceiling was seconds from floating off into the sky. Just then, three more men entered the hall, rushing from different sides, they barely woke up and raised the snorers to their feet. The chiefs, shaking their heads, looking at them with dull eyes, as if seeing before them Munkir and Nankir, the angels of death demanding an answer, could not understand anything. Then, somehow understanding the essence of the matter, they muttered: \u201cOkay, go, we\u2019ll be right there,\u201d and as soon as the people left the hall, they again fell on their beds. When the chiefs, clutching their heads every now and then due to the fogginess and noise \u2013 found them- selves near the seven-story buildings, it was already noon, and the people, losing patience, were seething with anger. At that point, the first test had begun. \u201cYou are all ignoramuses!\u201d Pashat said after listen- ing to the irritated people. \u201cYou are wild people and are not accustomed to living in the city. Barely having moved in, you already slaughtered many sheep, started cleaning your offal in the toilet bowl, and flushed all your garbage down the very same toilet. For violating the rules of the communist hostel, I should be fining you all right now.\u201d \u201cIs that really how they do things in the city? Having barely moved in, we now have to pay fines?\u201d Old Meldesh shouted from his balcony, squinting his eyes. \u201cDo you think we\u2019re a bunch of idiots? First and fore- most, you need to be held accountable for all of this.\u201d Suddenly he leaned out over the railing and looked up where he could see the head of a girl leaning over the railing of her balcony on the fifth floor, he shouted to her: \u201cHey! Tell your stupid father not to go to the toilet, and not to flush. Are you all deaf up there or something, even if we tried to hit your door with an axe, you probably wouldn\u2019t open it, would you?\u201d The girl silently slipped into the apartment. After a long noisy trial, they went around all the apartments. Everything turned out to be true. They decided to invite a commissioner over from the district. Prior to the arrival of the commission, they agreed not to flush the toilet, not to use the bath, not to open the taps in the kitchen. The commissioner arrived a week later. She didn\u2019t stay long. She made her conclusions right away. It turns out that the \u2018Socialism\u2019 department made a sensational discovery in the world of multi-storey building con- struction: It never occurred to the collective farmers to lay underground sewers and connect them to high-rise buildings in order to eliminate the difference between the city and the aul. \u201cThat\u2019s the problem, you know, I kept thinking, \u2018How did they build everything in just five months!\u2019 Now I know\u2026\u201d After listening to the commissioner, the chairman of the collective farm looked menacingly at Pashat and Sepentai. As if to say, \u201cWell, get ready for jail, there is no other way out.\u201d \u201cWell, if we\u2019re going to jail, at least we\u2019re all going,\u201d Pashat said plaintively, as if finding at least some consolation in these words. This exceptional event also reached the local region. Meetings, party bureaus, severe reprimands were held and made. However, reprimands won\u2019t fix a building, they can\u2019t build a sewer. After long meetings, the district authorities came to the unanimous opinion that it was necessary to start work on sewerage. Overnight, the best equipment in the region was brought to the \u2018Socialism\u2019 department in order to start work the next day, before news of this disaster spread all over the world. A large pit was dug a few kilometres from the village, and a trench half a meter deep was dug away from it, extending all the way to the high-rise buildings of Socialism. At this time, the population of both buildings lived like hell. Some returned to their old huts, others, subject to strict discipline, cooked food in the yard on the hearths and relieved themselves in the steppe, and only came home to spend the night. The grandson of the old man Meldesh was supposed to marry, they were only waiting for a housewarming party, and soon his wedding came up. They asked him to wait, but the grandson insisted on his own. When they were preparing for the wedding, the mother-in-law of Zhaparkhan, the old man\u2019s neighbour, had unfortunately died. And this family met its first mourning in the new home. In this regard, the residents of the building faced a particularly shocking situation: relatives who came to the funeral began shouting: \u201cBauyrym*!\u201d But some accidently entered the apartment where a great feast was flaring up to celebrate the marriage, and the guests who arrived for the wedding ended up in the apartment where people were wailing a mourning cry with might and main. After that, people became accustomed to this unconstrained life, the villagers began to avoid each other, quarrels and scandals broke out more and more often, little by little people stopped communicating. At first, the sewers were being dug with enthusiasm, but gradually the work subsided. Two and a half months later, a pipe was laid out, and the ground under the skyscrapers began to dry out. Either engineering calculations turned out to be inaccurate, or the ground under the houses was loose, be that as it may, with the drying of the soil, both buildings began to sink into the ground, noticeably tilting towards each other. The authorities urgently stopped work and ordered the residents of the buildings to be evicted. It was necessary for some people to put up tents and temporarily move into them, as they had managed to destroy their unsightly old houses in the joy of the housewarming event. And again, there was shouting and screaming, the people who were accustomed to living in the buildings were indignant. The district authorities again gathered for a meeting to decide: What should they do? During the hot harvest season, the people were not willing to work, everyone thought only about themselves and their homes, about their unfortunate situation.<\/p>\n *Bauyrym — a ritual cry in the funeral customs of the Kazakhs.<\/em><\/p>\n 1986<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Whatever resolution was adopted in Moscow, as a rule, it was immediately reacted to in Almaty. It just so happened that from the first days of Soviet power, the decisions of numerous congresses and plenums, of which there were many, came flying over Russian villages and territories of other republics, without stopping once in the expanses of the state, ending …<\/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-582","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\/582","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=582"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/582\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":585,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/582\/revisions\/585"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=582"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=582"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/isabekov.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=582"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}