Move

The road is in the course of the series "Prophery, Lord." Blurred, with flooded clay ruts and beaten right through the alpine meadows bypits, with steep climbs and four springs, crossing the already unreliable primer. On such roads, they drive exclusively in a very important matter, well, or except what a lover of extrem will ride with the risk of leaving on this road at least a “kangaroo” from his sophisticated jeep, and as a maximum of a couple of protruding parts of the car.

When they say the "highland village", it usually seems to be a forgotten place somewhere on the ledges of centuries-old rocks. The course is a highland village, much higher. But this is wrong. The course is the roof of the world. Well, if not the roof, then the attic is certainly. In the course of the clouds, you can touch your hand, and the clouds get stuck, entangled in the steep cliffs of the Caucasian ridge.

The course is an endless silence cut by the hum of emerald beetles and frenzied endless coupling, whistle, and trifles of all kinds of pts.

The move is in the past one of the largest settlements in Ossetia, and now almost the entire village lies in ruins. If you don’t know that people live here, then you will never guess, so their modest residential buildings dissolve in the surrounding landscape. And sometimes the village plays with you in tricks, creating mirages, you go like a residential house, and it turns out to be abandoned.

I saw such a number of towers, perhaps, only to Dallagka. From most of them only foundations remained. These two only ones that are well preserved. The right is the Dzugkoev tower. Left - kaitukovs.

Once upon a time there was a school. Now there is no one to teach here. However, not only here, but in all three closest villages. Locals say that before becoming a school, it was a temple. I don’t know if this is really so.

A little to the left of the school, a cemetery spread out on a high slope. Actually, for his sake we came here.

While we walked between the crypts and the graves, an elderly woman approached us. More precisely, not so, at first a large black dog attacked us, no, not to bite, to lick and demand affection.

And then she came up.

- My son also lies here. There, you see, at the very top. There. He married a bad woman, was very bad, took him to Siberia, and there he was killed. Now he is lying here. And my second son lives in Suadag. I had two sons, now here is one. Why, why did you come to such a distance?

- Yes, we just look, here is the famous cemetery.

-Yes, they often come here because of these crypts. Let's go, let's go! I'll give you tea! Oh, how so, I have nothing besides tea. The son was supposed to bring products, but there is something of it, but I don’t even have bread. How so not hungry? From such a road! Yes, I know that the road is very bad, I went to Mizur the day before yesterday. On foot, yes. Well, what to do, far, of course. But nothing. Do you know what they call me?

The old woman gains air and blurts out:

- Baba Raya Zhiguli. This is because I go a lot. Here, I go to Mizur when you suddenly need to call.

- Here I live all the time, both in winter and summer. Scary, of course, sometimes. Here, the drunken ones come, then scary. There is even no one to call. But what to do. In Suadag, I had a house, a good house, two -story. Anachists burned!

- Who?!

- Anashists. A relative brought us alcohol, and put it in our house. So they see, they wanted to pick up this alcohol. I don’t know what to burn there, but the house burned down to the tr. Ten mattresses burned, Herodes! And his son had a machine gun, so they carried it into the yard! Why do they need a machine gun? To prepare for war, or what?! And the house was burned! I rushed, but where there, unless anyone could put out ... And now I live here, settled in an abandoned house. Then the Russians lived before me, but they left. The worst house. I just washed everything, one room, but I can’t make repairs. Where am I. I had 20 cows. Cheese, butter, I do everything myself. Now I don’t have 20, of course, only 14. My son made an accident, 130 thousand had to be paid and the cows were sold. Here are 14 pieces only left.

- Nobody comes here. There is no mail or store. Only now I live. Well, in two houses they live, but, in truth, they communicate with me poorly.

We ate a piece of homemade cheese, left the paradise all the bread taken on the road and set off on the return trip.

If someone decides to ride, then do not forget to take a few loaf of bread with you. Baba Paradise Zhiguli will be glad to him, just like you.

But the most important thing for which we went in was in - this, of course, is the tombstone of the work of Soslanbek Oskiyev. This great primitivist, Ossetian Pirosmani, was born in 1864 in this village. In those days, about 400 people lived during the course. It was a very large village.

The house of Sryziev has long been lost among the ruins of the village. But tombstones are still intact.