Translated material
A donkey for a ban
| A donkey for a ban often look at the photograph of Bana Gaitukaeva. The one that is usually published. And such an annoyance takes ... first of all, to himself. If only this photo is published, then there is no other? After all, she could not only be sad, as in this photo, but also to smile wonderful, to be alive, perky, thoughtful, surprised, indignant - in a word, different. We failed to capture her like that. Instead, the "could not capture" more severe words suggest - they did not protect. We quite often met at a bus stop, which is in the center of the pre -war Grozny. She was always interesting with her, she was comfortable with her. It can be characterized in different ways. More often - resorting to epithets. When I remember her, I am drawn to exalted words, something like "unearthly." She was like that according to my feelings. But she would probably not like such a magnificent definition in relation to herself. How to find something else? The most accurate that would help to explain what was a ban? A woman who would never do many of those actions that an ordinary earthly person can commit.  It is not clear?Then in order. - Could a ban lie? So, walking around the little things? No! - Sound? No! - Suppose? Never! - Do not come to the rescue? No, I could not! - Looking for benefits for yourself, to infringe on someone's interests? Oh no! These transfers could be continued. But you can do it differently. Think about what she could do. And did. For example, intercede. Help. Sympathize. Support ... Not saved. The memory of her was not preserved. To the extent that she deserved. This is her view. Strengthened at you, keen, looking deep into you. Her sudden thoughtfulness, in which she sometimes plunged, passionate about random, inadvertently, someone said word. At that moment, she became silent and distant. And there, somewhere in the back streets of her immense soul, she was looking for a shelter and permission in passing a dropped thought. She pondered her. I was reconciled with our reality. Or tried to find an excuse for the one who expressed it. I tried to understand him. Understand and forgive. How the prophets did. After all, we are only people. And she thought above and wider than our understanding. Once, shortly before her death, we went home together: she is in my Valerik, I am in Urus-Martan. She had a headache. But the ban tried to hold on. She smiled. Joking. Now I smoke myself for not resisting: I asked to read poetry. She was tired, denied. Then she sat and was silent for several minutes. And suddenly quietly: “Oh my god, how tired I am! How much I'm tired! My friend, at least a minute of a small one, shared thoughts with me about what purpose the life in an old cradle and a lie on a dark bed are launched by ours tomorrow ... ” - Can you louder? Such good verses ... This driver gave a voice. I heard the poems that the ban read in Chechen. She had no strength to read louder. Therefore, she moved closer to the driver's seat. And again: “What to do? We are the life of the servants. They are ready to bury her ... ". The driver no longer rode - he barely dragged. If his will, probably, would have completely drowned out the motor. Sometimes he shook his head - agreed with Ban’s thoughts. They also say that the people do not love and do not understand poetry! But here she fell silent. He leaned back tiredly. In the cabin of the car, silence reigned, which no one wanted to break ... Once a ban showed me her collection. Do not believe it - she collected ... donkeys! Where does this strange whim come from? I did not have time to ask. Bana herself felt how the question moved my question: - They are so sad ... She gently stroked the donkey. For some reason, he was orange. The designer's quirk. - Pay attention to their eyes. How much sadness in them! No one has such eternal sad eyes ... Then she began to rearrange the donkeys on the shelf. At first I built in a series of those that are larger. Then - smaller, and in front - very tiny. - Ban, I will tie you a donkey. So she wanted to make her pleasant ... “He will be the most of all your donkeys.” Bana smiled. - He will be gray. She continued to smile. - And he will have sad eyes. I already imagined how I would knit a donkey for her. First, I draw the contour of the future knitted canvas on paper: four legs, stomach, which for some reason sags, then-the head. It will be more difficult with your head. It seems to me that I would be able to tie the head of any other pets. But how to cope with the shape of the donkey? OK. I'll figure it out. In extreme cases, I will consult with someone who knit better than me. Then I had another thought - a ban would be delighted with her! I thought that I would definitely make such a thing ... as it were to explain ... it happens in the form of a Latin letter W. It seems that this is called a "pack saddle." It is somehow fixed on the back of the donkey. On this saddle - on the left and on the right - they put a luggage. On it you can place brushwood, two bags of flour, with corn, with anything. I tied the main canvas very quickly. But then the work stalled: the head was not knitted in any way. That is, I knitted it, but the outline of the donkey of the head turned out to be completely different as I represented it: either too massive, then angular ... Dozens of times I spread my knitting, the threads were already fighting from my experiments. I had to postpone the work for a while-I will not bear the bathhouse with a donkey with the head of a mutant! Here's the bad luck! Where to find a living donkey? To take a good look at him. After all, I met them before! I never had time to finish the work. Soon the ban was gone. Another lesson - you need to rush to make loved ones pleasant. And then the war broke out. On the book shelf, in the most prominent place lay a bag with my abandoned work. The dream did not come true. But she did not let me go. Callerly in the first months of the war, in reminiscent of an eternal permafrost apartment, I tried to tie a donkey. And he turned out! I stuffed old woolen threads in it, set up a short mane, tail, made long eyelashes, behind which eternally sad eyes were hidden ... And again laid in the package. I was hoping to convey a donkey to her younger brother, whom Bana loved immensely. ... I soon had to leave. To escape from the war, from the eternal fear of being buried under the ruins of the house, from the eternal cold, which seemed to reach the very bones - there was no light, no water, no warmth in the house for a long time. The rest of the winter passed, spring, summer passed, then autumn ... When, again, getting into the apartment, I turned the bag with a donkey of the ban, I was stupefied: it was devoured by Mol. I held in my hands something shapeless, colorless, drunk through and through, it crumbled ... Tamara Chagaeva |