Part I
Afghan
We were inspired by Nikolay’s idea to go five kilometers (3.2 miles) deep in taiga and witness a lifestyle that goes back at least a few centuries.
At first, we went through the underwood. The grass here rose above any of us. The grass was full of life: everything inside hummed, chattered, flied, chirped or buzzed.
Once we went deeper, the green fields and bright colors of flowers turned into gloomy and damp surroundings. We arrived in the kingdom of mosses. The terry carpet of moss covered everything: the stumps, fallen trees, rocks, and even the anthill. Blue-gray, and in some places brownish lichen, covered the torso of mighty cedars or hung down here and there in the form of a long strands, like the beards of some elder giants.
The crunch crackled from the deadwood. It seemed like someone else is headed his way to Dalny Kezek and this someone is quite big.
— There is a bear sallying out. Do not pay attention to him, — said Nikolay.— There are wild raspberries just ripe, he is not here for you.
No one expected to meet a bear. It was another unawareness of inexperienced tourist. Slightly scared, we continued to move forward.
Two hours went by. The closer we got, the more deteriorated the road got. At some point the trail turned into impassable mud. There was no place where one could walk without slipping all the time. The soil in this part of taiga, even in the summer, never dries out and the locals prefer to travel on horseback.
Finally, from the mountain top patched roofs appeared. We are in Kezek. Shaky curved huts stood on a hill and were surrounded by a variety of buildings. The look of all the buildings made a weird impression; it seemed that all the houses are attached to each other as if at any moment they’ll hold their imaginary hands and lead the roundelay.
Every family has its own fenced garden where, from May to mid September, they grow potatoes, onions, herbs, and other simple plants. Wooden fences do not have wickets. Instead, they use a make shift ladder to climb up and over the fence. Each time, when the inhabitants want to get inside, they climb on this strangely looking ladder. So we did, too.
When we got inside, on the lawn in front of the house the lively play of husky dogs unfolded in front of our eyes. The young huskies were so into their game, that they did not pay the slightest attention to strangers.
A man named Afghan met us on the porch. We did not get his real name. In the 80's he served in Afghanistan, since then everybody calls him Afghan. Afghan was quite shy upon our arrival and not so talkative.
He looked at us suspiciously, implying “I am harsh,” but inside he probably thought “who are these crazies that made it to the edge of the earth?”
Nikolay and Afghan lit a cigarette for the meeting. After that the host became easier and smiled.
Afghan grew up in taiga and, like other Shors, he learned at a young age how to shoot, hunt, set traps and read animal trails. In the army, these type of people were valuable. In the Afghanistan war he was captured, miraculously escaped and made it home safely. He later received a medal and settled in his native taiga. Since then, he’s never come out from the forest. Here in taiga, he and his sons do a variety of things: hunt, pick mushrooms, berries, bring down pine nuts from the cedars, or make mesh for fishing nets. From Afghan we understood that fishing was always good in Shoria, even grayling is caught in the river. Now, with industrialization, the forest continues to be cut down, Mras-Su is becoming shallow, and the fish are smaller. Afghan’s family also owns domestic animals — a cow with a calf and a few horses.
Afghan’s veterans pension provides some cash, just enough to make ends meet. They can’t afford to send their 12-year-old daughter Marina to school. Aunts — Afghan’s sisters help them because they live in the city. Marina goes to boarding school in Tashtagol for children from remote villages and comes home by helicopter only twice a year — for New Year and summer break.
In Dalny Kezek time is slowly passing by and no one really counts it. Hours are determined by looking at the sun. Spring has come when the mother bear brings her cubs to Aigan mountain and shows them the water; the summer — when the gadflies stick to the backs of the cows. When the first pine cone falls from the tree - the fall is around the corner and it’s time to climb a cedar. With the first snow the hunters go deeper into taiga — it’s time to watch the traps.
While we spoke with Afghan, the door creaked and there appeared the curious face of an old woman with a hooked nose and thick glasses. A green handkerchief with red flowers was tighten around her head. Faded robe, wool socks over tights. The grandma was Zoe — the mother of Afghan. She mainly spoke in Shor but showed us around.
Afghan built his house himself. The main structure with adjacent constructions resembled a locomotive with cars. The biggest room — of this train is upstairs. The other two are much lower and shorter.
The second car of the train, an open veranda. Everything fits in here: mesh, nets for fishing, hiking clothes, rubber boots, birch bark, and wood for kindling.
The third room — the kitchen with sooty walls and the straight hole in the roof. The fireplace is bred right on the floor. It’s used mainly for cooking during the summer. Everything inside was made by Afghan. One can spend a long time examining all these little things necessary in his world: long sticks, sandpaper, crushers, spinners and skis hanged to the ceiling. On the opposite wall the skin of a dead animal waits its hour. Afghan will find a way to create something of it, too.
The kitchen is very functional. It contains a barn with a lot of chests for storage: flour, cereals, etc. There, in the corner, is an elaborate heavy instrument made of stone used for the preparation of a Shor barley flour “talkan.” A beam of light falls on a carved 19th-century cabinet. When and under what circumstances it was brought here is unclear. On the wooden benches the buckets of milk, future cheese and butter are resting.
Afghan’s wife Eugenia is a slim, fragile woman with a body type of a fourteen year old girl. She is busy with household chores; walks back and forth in front of us, looking for a bucket. She is going to milk the cow.
Grandma Zoe led us upstairs. She diligently prepared and acted like, in her opinion, one needs to behave in front of visiting photographers. She laid out all of her medals, letters from the governor and postcards in front of us.
From the conversation with her we learned Zoe gave birth to nine children. She delivered everyone here, in taiga, even one child during her walk in taiga. She has never been to a hospital and has never traveled far.
This is how she began.
— We came here in 1941, I was only two months old. There was a war, WWII. My father was taken to serve in the Russian army and never came back. I remember the hunger. Father is gone, nothing to wear, nothing to eat. I never went to school, even first grade. Never was officially employed. We always kept cattle. It’s how we survived.
Listen on Soundcloud in Shor
From the kitchen to our noses we could hear pleasant smells. Afghan’s family decided to invite us to dinner.
Eugenia — Afghan’s wife, brought us fresh steamed milk and the potatoes mixed with mushrooms.
The big frying pan was removed from the fire and stood in the center of the table. We sat down around it. Our spoons were flying back and forth. Try to catch them if you can.
After dinner we went outside. The evening sun lit up the tops of the pines in bright orange. It’s time to go back.
The way back seemed much faster. Probably because no one wanted to stay in taiga in the dark. Manuel flied forward first. The strong legs of a trained Texas football player carried him fast. Everyone else tried as hard as they could to keep up with him.
Upon arrival to Ust-Anzas it became dark. In complete darkness we moved our luggage to the next house. This house happened to be Nikolay’s parents house. Now Grisha, a King’s relative, looks after it. Grisha kindly agreed to let us stay in his house for a time being and, instead, slept in the barn himself - a tiny construction in the middle of the yard.
That day I realized one important thing about these people. They prefer simplicity in all things: modest furnishings, humble food. Precarious life from the perspective of a westerner. However, they preserved the openness for another being that is not so easy to find. They have so little, but they were be able to share it with a complete foreigner and thus to say to a stranger: “I trust you. You can rely on me. I do not ask anything in return.”
Thanks to these people, we spent our whole trip in warmth and security in the middle of Siberian taiga. It was necessary to go as far as the edge of the earth to discover these people and try to see things as they see them.
part II
Zoe
The next morning Zoe woke up early. Today was bread day. It meant that she had to ride on horse through taiga to the nearest store in Ust-Anzas and buy everything she needs. She planned to make the dough in the evening and let it rest before our visit tomorrow.
The cold and wet air blew from taiga. However, for Zoe the wild nature with its tall plants, animal footprints, fallen trees is a quite usual thing. She and her horse knew what to expect.
Grandma Zoe sat on the back of her horse and in half an hour she was in the middle of Anzas river. A horse eagerly swallowed the liquid standing in the water up to his knees. The coolness of water had a great effect on the horse and it could not even think to move.
Zoe patiently waited to the right moment, then kicked the horse’s ribs and ordered him in Shor to get out. Horse humbly obeyed and went to the place of his parking.
Zoe jumped from the horse’s back and tied it to the fence. Then picked up the sack that served her as a shopping bag and walked toward the store.
The horse left to wait his mistress. He shook his head like a pendulum to drive away the pesky flies and tried to catch little grass near him.
Zoe pulled the door of the store located in a regular wooden hut and found out that the store was closed. Someone shouted to her from the garden that Tatiana, the owner of the place, went to the city and will return later by helicopter. Zoe stood confused for a second. Then looked around and slowly plodded to another side of the village.
She passed the ladies that rinsed laundry in the cold water of Anzas river and their children that sat on the fence like disheveled sparrows and watched their moms.
Then Zoe passed her horse. She greeted the neighbors from different houses moving from one wicket to another. Chatted with one neighbor, tried some fresh raspberries with another. She walked to the end of the street, across the bridge and entered the last house, where Evdokia lived.
When Zoe approached the house, the dogs barked at her at first. Without paying attention to dogs, Zoe opened the wicket and went to the yard.
The house seemed empty. But then, in a minute Evdokia appeared with a little boy in her arms. The baby was her grandson.
Zoe sat on the arm chair in the middle of the living room. They chatted a little. It was a time for the boy to sleep and Evdokia lulled the toddler in a makeshift cradle.
Zoe blinked her eyes and never said anything. They sat in the silence.
The soft moans were heard from the kitchen. There was someone. That someone was wrapped in a white sheet. The grandpa.
— Grandpa woke up, I’ll go check him, — said Evdokia and disappeared to another room.
The grandpa lied there, his weak arms hung limp on her shoulders. She gave him a drink, lifted him with her strong hands, rolled over and went back.
— Already eight years. — she explained mainly for us. — We all thought that God would take him quickly, but it’s not his time. Life continues. Every day challenges us a little bit. In the winter, however, is the most difficult time. The water in the creek is frozen. I go with a hammer, chop the ice and bring the big ice chunks in the buckets. Then we heat the ice up and only then we have water.
Zoe stayed a little bit more, then suddenly said, “Well, I have to go,” and quietly left the room. Grandfather lifted his head from the pillow and waved her.
Zoe came back to the main street and saw a lot of people gathered outside. At the center of the village a helicopter had just landed.
Boys and men scurried back and forth, helping to unload the boxes for the store and lifted them on their shoulders. Women and children gathered outside the store and made a line. Zoe was one of the first to the store.
Inside the shop the walls were covered in cardboard and painted in boring blue. On the left-side there were pictures with available spices glued on the wall with price stickers.
On the shelves behind the seller was a large variety of canned goods, cereals, instant coffee, tea and sweets. There stood a few alcoholic beverages, too. Shors borrowed a hard drinking habit from Russians long time ago. Besides the shelves there were also the trays of fresh bread loafs that will disappear after 4 p.m and a few boxes with fruits. There are no vegetables in the store, everyone just grows what they can.
Grandma Zoe bought a few dozen of eggs, a sack of flour, sugar and chocolate candies for Marina and boys.
Zoe carried all of her purchases to her horse. She put everything into a bigger sack, slung it over the horse’s back and tied it to the saddle.
Then she perched on the horse’s back and went towards the small river. After a day of standing in the heat, the horse gulped the water in big sips and continued carrying his mistress slowly up the hill.
The next morning we made it again to Dalny Kezek. Zoe saw us and cried from the large room in the second floor.
— Come in, come in. The dough is ready.
— Have you tried something like this one yet? — She asked.
— Of course not.
The bread is made from an old recipe using an ancient stove with technology that goes back to at least the 17th century.
— I bake this bread only once ,— informed us Zoe — Then we eat it for the rest of the week.
When the bread’s tops were browned enough Zoe pulled it out and called us again to the table at the room with the sooty walls.
For me, the Dalny Kezek became a place of return to the simple ideas and simple things. We saw how Shors managed to be self-sufficient and live tough but quite happy life in the middle of Siberian taiga, far away from major cities and roads.
The day with people in Dalny Kezek ended and it was a time to say goodbye.
Before leaving, we asked Zoe ride on horseback again. We all were pretty impressed by her physical shape and ability to ride a horse in her 70-s.
And then we made a picture with everybody.
— You’ll never send it back to us — said Afghan — The previous photographers promised us the same but never did.
— You have our word— said Mike before we left.
That night at the Grisha’s house, I could not sleep at night. Through the muddy little glass I was looking at the distant stars. They emanated their cold light from another part of the universe. A light that radiated centuries ago and only now reached the Earth. It’s an interesting idea, — I thought — to witness the past, embrace it and continue to move forward. I do not remember how I fell asleep.
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