„She was mad. She went mad,“ she said loudly, and seeing that no one agreed with her she repeated, „Went mad!“
„Why are you harping on one and the same thing – went mad, went mad? It’s you who’ve gone mad in your old age. Would an intelligent woman say such a thing about someone who has just died? Have you become stupid?“ Arkham snapped at her and Bibi fell silent, guiltily looking around her.
The incident was quickly forgotten. Talgat told us that they were all given a glass of vodka after the explosion and only then were they brought to the hills. „Glad to see you all alive and well,“ shouted Talgat pretentiously. The other dzhigits were also tipsy – the doctors had given them diluted alcohol and themselves had had a fair amount to drink, insisting that this was healthy. My grandfather and the other old men also wanted some vodka. „It’s good for your health!“ shouted Talgat. „And to top it all we got five hundred for leaving the village and for a month we’ll be twiddling our thumbs… It’s true what the soldiers say, what’s done is done… The bomb’s gone off and that’s it! All in the name of science, of the future, the land and the people!“
He died at the beginning of the sixties from leukemia.
IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE?
FOR THE FUTURE?
FOR THE LAND? FOR THE PEOPLE?
I think that even Kurchatov understood that to live in the shadow of the bomb is to bring the end of the world closer, a world where there will be neither science, nor land, nor people for whose sake this lethal weapon was devised.
And there will be no future.
A week later we were allowed to return to the village. Everybody rejoiced. Everybody missed their children, grandchildren, their close ones, their friends. I also dreamt of seeing my brother, my sister, my mother and, of course, my father. He had, after all, remained behind with the soldiers in the very thick of things. How was he, I wondered?
Kenje’s grandmother and I went-to bid our farewells at the little girl’s grave. Her grandmother said goodbye to her only grandchild and I to my first childhood sweetheart.
So much time has passed. I have met so many people in my life and lost many but I will never forget that small, frail girl, Kenje… Her pensive expression, her dazzling smile revealing a row of white even teeth, which transformed her immediately. Farewell, Kenje! Farewell, my angel! Farewell, my beloved! I will Endeavour to visit your grave all my conscious life, but thirty-five years will pass before I will find myself here, sitting amidst the silent hills, remembering my distant childhood, the lonely nomadic camp of old men and women and the weeping of our people. Here I am, a fully grown adult, and I’ve forgotten your face, Kenje; no matter how much I’ve tried to recall your features, it has been in vain – a haze and mirage rise before my eyes – haze and mirage…
