Читать книгу THREE TALES FROM ASYLGUL - Asylgul Baidaralina - Страница 3

A foreword from the author

When we were kids, we lived in our house in a village at the vast steppes of the Western Kazakhstan, in the land called the Qazaq Eli.

The people of my land are very tough on the outside, and their words are sometimes sharp; but inside they are kind, honest, and hospitable. Our mentality is forged by the harsh nature of where we live. We grew wild and free like the steppe wolves, in a good way.

Hot summers with just a few shadow-giving trees, cold falls and freezing winters with big snow storms, and beautiful springs with blooming snowdrop flowers and tulips.

If you look at our land from a bird’s eye height, you will see there are no mountains, no rivers or lakes, and no forests; just empty flat plains. But it was the best place in the world for us in our childhood.

In a way, the Steppe felt like an ocean to me. Maybe that is why I fell in love with the real ocean when I first saw it after many years…

When I recall my childhood, the following memory comes out: my mother prepared tasty dinner, and we all ate it seating at our round table. It was in the spring time, and the inside of our house was filled with sweet-smelling tulips from my steppe. It was majestic!

I loved our village with a name of Dossor, our house, tulips in spring, and our big apple tree that we often climbed on. That apple tree was planted by our grandfather Matbai: he grafted different species of apples onto one tree, so the different types of apples grew on it. I think, maybe my grandfather’s soul was in this tree…

With these thoughts I will start writing this one story from my childhood. One summer evening it was rainy and windy outside. The electricity went off in our little house located in an open plain. The thunder and lightning bolts were striking loudly in the sky.

My little sister and brother and I were seating quietly in our Grandma’s room. The sounds on the outside appeared to be so scary and mesmerizing, almost magical.

Our Dad lit an old oil lantern and came by. He hugged us and started telling us one old story tale. Dad heard this story from his father, our grandfather. It was about the Iron Axe and the Woodcutter.

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In the old time, magical creatures sometimes appeared before humans. Back then one old Woodcutter lived near the forest. He was providing for his family with his old iron axe. He cut firewood and sold it at a local market, and with this little earning he bought necessary things for living.