Original Material
I Missed the World
by Zhumadin Kadyrov
The famous Kyrgyz poetess Almash Choibekova is 51 years old. She is the author of 2 collections of poetry. 60 poems of hers have been set to music, and these songs have become folk songs.
In 1993, she lost her sight in an absurd event. Her husband, an ensign, came home early on that unlucky day. Opening the door for him, she was dumbfounded. In his hand, he held a pistol pointed at her. As became clear later, the reason was blind and unfounded envy. He shot her 4 times with the pistol - the first bullet hit her stomach, the second - in the hand, the third - in the thigh, and the fourth bullet hit her in the temple. This was the bullet that damaged both her eyes.
Almash lived only through a miracle, thanks to the miraculous hands of surgeons, and not without the help of God.
Years have passed since that time. For 17 years, she has not seen the world. She missed the world very very much. A strong woman in spirit, she does not lose hope that one day she will again see the world, and then everything elese. Indeed, medicine is moving forward. Soon they will discover methods with the help of certain doctors to restore her sight, just as they had one day restored her life that was hanging by a thread. But dear memories of the world and of life have stayed with her.
For a long time before her misfortune, Almash had been living in fairy-tale, beautiful places, amongst high mountains that kissed the sky. In this land she met her first husband. Life was happy. Her husband was occupied with bee-keeping, and she - with a different activity - she wrote poetry. In this period, she wrote the prophetic lines:
Everything that was in view, suddenly hides in the abyss of darkness, and you will not be able to see anything...
In a few years, the words were put to music and it became popular. But when the poem was newly created, the author had no idea what fate had in store for her.
The young couple loved and understood each other. However, they had no children, despite having lived together for a few years. Because of this, it was necessary to divorce. He remained in the same heavenly corner, and she moved to Frunze (Bishkek).
In the capital, she began a stormy and interesting literary life.
It can be said that she was acknowledged instantly.
Thanks to chance. The widely-read founder of Kyrgyz Soviet literature, Aali Tokombaev, expressed interest in her work.
Becoming acquainted with the manuscripts of a collection of her poetry, he wrote a rapturous foreword and hurried the publication of the book. Almash's book was released without delay, and with the foreword of an authoritative figure in literature - a living classic. This led to green envy amongst a few of her contemporary poetesses. Aali Tombaev, as a principal literary figure and as a person who had bypassed the hard school of life, did not just throw around reviews and opinions of works of beginning writers. His recognition of Alma marked the beginning of a national recognition. Songs with her verses became even bigger.
At the height of her glory, she met an ensign who confessed his love to her, and offered to tie their fates together in the bonds of marriage. Almash agreed. She too was not indifferent to the handsome young soldier. They got married. They went to his parents and, after receiving their blessings, he brought Almash to the military compound in Kazakhstan where he served.
Their life together at this new place did not bring her joy. Her husband was jealous of her on the account of other officers and even the soldiers, with whom she was acquainted. During those times he could not control himself. He screamed, swore, and even beat her. After a while, he came to himself and honestly repented for what he had done, begged for forgiveness on his knees, and promised in tears that nothing similar would ever happen again.
Almash, however, understood that she had made a mistake, and decided on a divorce. She divorced him. She moved back to Frunze (Bishkek), to her comfortable one-roomed apartment given to her by the Writer's Union of the USSR.
She had one dream - to dedicate herself fully to her creative work. It did not happen. Again, her jealous and tempestuous former husband interfered.
... On the night of the 20th of January, 1983, a person knocked loudly on her door, yelling "Open up!"
She realized from the voice that it was him. She said that she would not open the door. With one hit, he broke the door in, and from an inner chest pocket, he pulled out a pistol. The thought that he was joking, that it was a game, flashed through her head. He pressed the trigger. The gun flashed freely. It hit her then - he truly wanted to kill her. She cried "Help!", and began to run through the entrance, to the side of him. He managed to hit her on the head with the handle of the gun. Her eyes grew dark, and she staggered. But she did not fall. Leaving the apartment, she ran to the apartment opposite hers. The old woman who lived there opened the door, heard noise, and wanted to defend her. But he pushed the old neighbor aside. Having reloaded the pistol, he pointed it again at her. Now she could only look down the terrible opening of the pistol. She did not hear the shot, and did not see the bullet fly, but she felt her stomach grow suddenly hot, as if a bonfire had lit up inside of her. Three more shots rang out. Almash fell. She cried. She moaned. Her blood was flowing. Seeing and comprehending nothing, she crawled again into the entryway. There she heard one last shot. Later she was told that the fifth bullet was the one with which he shot himself in the heart, dying instantly.
Wounded, she understood that she was barely alive. She began to mourn the fact that she was dying so young. She wanted to live, live, and live!
Ambulances arrived. The doctors running in asked what had happened and who she was (name, last name, patronymic, biography), in order to fill out some paperwork, and then they transported her. She heard the ambulance siren through the noise in her head.
Almash lay in the hospital for a long time. She would occasionally wonder why they did not take the bandage off her head. She was scared, speculating on various reasons.
When Almash was already discharged, the doctor, starting a conversation from far away, told her quietly that she would not see anymore - he told her how one bullet, flying into her right temple and exiting her left temple, had damaged bother her eyes.
Silence ensued... a terrible silence... She understood now why they had not taken off her bandage for so long. However, she did not know whether to believe what she had just heard. Out of hopelessness, she asked a silly question:
- Do I still have eyebrows?
-Yes, of course, your eyebrows are fine. Don't worry about them. You went through a gravely serious operation. Your body needs to recover.
In the beginning, she was helped by a girl from the Kyrgyz Writer's Union of the USSR, who was temporarily entrusted to take care of her.
Almash had to grow accustomed to everything entirely anew - like a boy just entering into the big world. Step by step. At first, she got used to cleaning her apartment - where everything was, at what distance. In those times she would often bump her head, face, body, or other places.
Later she began to learn how to prepare herself food. She boiled eggs in this fashion: She filled a pot with water, put the eggs in, and put the pot on the stove. When the water began to make noise (ie: started boiling), she would start to count to 60 - this was one minute.
She learned how to clean up, and wash clothes.
She memorized everything that was in her apartment, and where it was located. At the necessary time, she could find everything she needed without error. She memorized how many steps to the door, and how many from the window to the sofa.
One day, in deep contemplation about what had happened, she suddenly remembers those exact lines from her poetry.
Taking it as a sign, she returned, of course, to her favorite work - to her creation. She would go on to write many more wonderful poems. Not for anyone, not for glory, but for her soul.
In 1985, Almash released a second collection of poetry.
17 years without the world. Her sight has not been restored. Doctors are still not able to cure her affliction. But she still believes that, sooner or later, she will definitely see the light. Because of this, regardless of the innumerable hardships, she tirelessly continues to struggle.