Читать книгу A Sea Nomad. Prose/проза - Фируз Мустафа - Страница 3

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On the outskirts of a small village there were two small houses the yards of which were adjacent, the roofs of which were covered with red tiles. While looking from afar, the roofs of the houses looked like a pair of rabbit ears. In one of those houses there lived a young boy by the name of Tuqay, with his mother. The inhabitant of the other house was a girl in the name of Shahla. About her a bit later. …Still let’s continue our talk about the village and Tuqay.

The inhabitants of this village, mostly were engaged in fishing. It is true, the sea was much further from the village; even from there the sea wasn’t seen. But smelling of the gigantic sea, its smelling of dampness and seaweed was clearly felt. The people usually did their work according to the direction of the wind that blew from the sea; they tried to go to fishing at a suitable time.

That day was one of the ordinary days.

Tuqay’s mother went out to the yard, put her hand above her eye and looked at the sky. From far there were seen grey clouds. When mother saw that the grey clouds were becoming dark, she was upset. It appeared that the clouds were gathering above the sea. According to mother, Tuqay should have returned from the sea. Her heart was full of anxiety: “I wonder, why is my son late? Maybe there is a storm in the sea? Maybe no fish fell into a net? Maybe something has happened? Maybe… “The eyes of mother stared at the road. But there was not a piece of news from Tuqay.

The boy who had lost his father when he was little, had seen much difficulty of life; if needed he helped the neighbors together with his mother. Though the family consisted of only two persons, life was impossible. In the village the number of those who lived good lives was few, was a few. As if the God had forgotten forever the gigantic sea which was near, and the small village near the giant sea, and the inhabitants of this small village. “No, it appears that we have forgotten our God, my son… God never forgets people. Not everybody understands that in order to live, it is necessary to toil much. God values all the toils of people, my son… “Tuqay’s mother often used to repeat these words.

Tuqay wasn’t afraid of working much. The prayers said by his mother at times in a whisper and at times loudly, increased his love for work.

Recently, Tuqay had made friends with the fishermen. Sometimes he went to the open sea to fish even at nights. Most of the fishes that fell into the nets were sold. At times, some little fishes given by the old fisherman with whom Tuqay went to fishing were brought home by Tuqay. At such times mother was very happy seeing that her son could earn his living.

The woman knew very well that her son doesn’t earn his living easily. She also was aware that her son was a witness and a participant for some time the fight of the fishermen. Of course, the struggles of those old fishermen who fought for the possession of area of the sea which were rich with fish, those who wanted to “divide” the sea, like naughty children, were both funny and sorrowful. It is obvious that during the fight of those rude “sea people” some merciless fishermen found a chance and attacked Tuqay too. But Tuqay never said to his mother about their fighting; the woman had heard about the fight from the other neighbors, and in the bottom of her heart she was pleased with his son’s being able to keep secrets and had said to him in her heart: “Well done, my son!”. He who can keep secrets, his character is also distinguished from others for good.

There was not a piece of news from Tuqay.

“Tuqay, where are you, my son?”