In the morning, the lieutenant-colonel said that we should only take with us what was absolutely necessary, to protect the windows with bales of straw and reassured the inhabitants that in a month’s time they would all safely return home.
„And now, each of you is entitled to an allowance of five hundred roubles for the family from the District Committee Accounts Office,“ he said finally.
Five hundred roubles even in old money was for many a large sum. People signed with dignity the register which the accountant, Talgat, had prepared. Averting their eyes they quickly made their way home.
Only the lonely bachelor, Duisekhan, who had a reputation, in the village for being not all there, flatly refused to accept the unexpected offer of money.
„Duisekhan does not accept hand-outs,“ he shouted in incomprehensible anger, before leaving the meeting.
On the one hand, this stand of his amused the villagers, on the other, they were astonished by it. After all, Duisekhan was as poor as a church mouse and survived on what He earned from digging and cleaning wells and helping with the haymaking.
No one would hire Him permanently. He returned from the war late, about 1947, half out of his wits. Otegen, the NKVD officer, took Duisekhan’s young, shapely wife to be his second wife. Although no one in the village knew on which front Duisekhan had fought, the rumour had it that he had been held prisoner for a long time either by the Germans or by our authorities.
With the coming of spring Duisekhan got excited. At night he would roam about the dark streets of the village, muttering words only comprehensible to himself, laughing for no reason and frightening the passers-by. If money came his way, he would buy cheap, small sugarplums and give away handfuls to the children. The children treated this huge, lonely man with respect and never teased him; each one of us was always ready to help him.
„Huh! What arrogance! If that down-and-out doesn’t want the money, let me have it,“ suggested the retired policeman, Otegen.
„You have no conscience! You’re always ready to grab what does not belong to you! Allah is not with you. At least you should be ashamed before God!“ Grandmother Bokey attacked him.
„Your God doesn’t hand out money!“ Otegen snapped back but nevertheless fell silent. He knew that there was no love lost between himself and the villagers as in his day he had over-zealously waved a revolver around.
