Yotkhee. Andre Martin
href="#note14" type="note">14 to get started on his journey.
In honor of their great guest, the herders made a huge bonfire and, after a festive dinner, everyone gathered around the fire, sitting on the sledges put together in a circle.
«It was a long time ago,» the white-haired old man finally said, starting his story. His chin rested on his right hand, his elbow on his knee. He was stroking his beard with his left hand and staring into the fire as if looking through and beyond the flames into some unknown depths.
«How long ago, Irike?»15 asked Khadko, rosy-cheeked and curious, his hair sticking out in funny tufts.
«A ve-e-ery long time ago, Son,» intoned the wise Vydu’tana gravely, shaking his head with a long sigh. «A very long time ago,» he repeated. «The great-grandfather of my great-grandfather’s great-grandfather used to tell this story,» he added. «Back when I was the same age as you are now,» he said, hiding his smile. The reindeer herders knew that the wise shaman was joking, and exchanged amused glances.
«Wow!» the boy shook his head in wonder. «So, how old are you now, then?» he asked.
The old man sat silent, still stroking his long white beard.
«Well, I was still very small when the wise teacher visited our camp,» said one of the khasava.16 He was one of the men who helped Khadko’s father to move his herd of reindeer from camp to camp.
«I remember your visit as well,» another herder added from the other side of the bonfire.
The teacher lifted his grave eyes from the bright flames and slowly looked at each of the children who were patiently waiting for his story.
«You all need to know this,» he continued serenely, «so I will tell you all about it. Listen and try to remember everything well, so that you can tell the story to your great-grandchildren.» He was speaking slowly, in a deep, low voice, as if trying to make sure that everyone heard and understood his every word. «This way the good name of our people and their history will live on in the memory of our descendants.»
Suddenly his face lit up with a smile, and he looked at each of the little children in turn. Finally he started again.
«Our people came to this land from far, far away. The place where they came from had been very warm. They had never seen reindeer and didn’t know how to herd them. They had never worn such warm clothes,» the teacher pointed to the colorful, skillfully embroidered malitsas around the campfire. Then, stooping to his beautifully decorated belt, he took off it a small pouch, like a girl’s padko,17 made of fur and just as gorgeously adorned. He untied the string, took out a pinch of some dark sparkly powder, and threw it into the fire.
All at once, a tall pillar of blue and green flames shot high into the air. Startled, the herders shrank back from the fire, covering their faces and blinking at the dazzling light. However, the strange fire didn’t seem to burn them: it only lit everything around even brighter. The colorful blazes danced over the people’s heads like a river rolling and whirling in a strong wind.
Both the grown-ups and the children gasped with amazement. The herders’ eyes grew wide with wonder, and little Khadko’s mouth fell open. The tops of the flames reached high into the starry night sky, setting it on fire with a radiance almost too marvelous to behold. The light spilled wider and wider, blossoming into new colors and hues as it grew larger.
In a few moments, the flames gradually settled down, grew a little smaller, and suddenly turned into a stunning living picture, so real you could almost touch it. It showed them the wonderful place the teacher was talking about.
«Can we go there now?» asked Khadko eagerly.
Vydu’tana looked at the boy with a kind smile and answered:
«It would take more than a lifetime to go there and come back again.»
«What if we take the reindeer, Irike?» Khadko persisted.
«Even with the reindeer it would take a long, long time. Listen to my story, and then you will see how it is, alright?»
The tufted-haired boy nodded and, resting his head on his fists, prepared to listen.
«In that faraway place there are mountains, tall and beautiful, with their peaks piercing the clouds. On their slopes there are big leafy trees with strong, massive branches. Many different animals haunt the mountain paths, and many happy streams of living water run down between the rocks and boulders. In the valleys there are lakes with clear blue water, large and small. Butterflies flit from one lovely flower to another, and bees keep buzzing, going about their work gathering sweet and fragrant honey. The bright sun keeps that land warm and fruitful.»
«Why did we have to leave it, then?» Khadko blurted out.
Vydu’tana stopped, and Khadko’s father, who was sitting next to his son, whispered in his ear quietly:
«You shouldn’t interrupt when someone is talking, especially someone older. It’s bad manners.»
«I am sorry, Irike,» the boy whispered to the teacher at once, just as quietly. «It’s just that I’ve never heard such interesting tales before.»
«And it’s just the beginning,» the old man said mildly. «You will wonder at many more things before I am done talking.»
Khadko fidgeted a little on his sledge, trying to find a more comfortable seat, and finally settled down.
«We lived in that land for a long time and very happily. Winters there weren’t as cold as here, and they were short, although just as snowy.»
Yotkhee18 kept speaking, and the enormous deep screen which hovered, cloud-like, over the listeners’ heads, kept changing its multicolored pictures. The herders heard the chirping of unfamiliar-looking birds, the rustling of leaves, the babbling of streams, the cries of various animals, and the rushing of the warm wind in the tall grass – everything amazingly bright and beautiful.
«At first our families were small and close-knit. There was enough land for everyone. There was enough food for everyone. We enjoyed life, gladly welcomed every new day and every new guest who came to visit. We went to visit others as well. We exchanged gifts. We helped to heal the sick and to take care of children. We never cultivated the land or planted anything specially: everything we needed simply grew around our huts which we made out of young trees, weaving broad palm leaves around them to make walls for protection from winds and rains.»
As wise old Yotkhee continued with his story, sweet music started coming from the bright vision over his listeners’ heads: in the picture a small boy of seven or so was playing a soft tune on his reed pipe. He was standing on the low bank of a small blue river, and behind him there was a thick green forest where many paths were winding their different ways around the trees, big and small. Next to the boy the herders saw a little girl of about six, with a puppy in her lap. A doe with her fawn came out from behind the thick bushes on the opposite bank and stopped at the water, lifting its front left leg slightly and perking up its ears to listen to the song. Several noble-looking swans delicately glided onto the water, gently spreading their wings and bowing their long necks graciously as if to greet the young musician.
«This is me,» said the teacher, nodding his white head at the boy. «I got the reed pipe from my grandfather, our old shaman. He could see the future.»
Here the old man furtively brushed away a tear and kept looking at the picture intently until it disappeared, giving way to something else.
«Aw!» the herders gasped in admiration, some covering their mouths with their hands
Irike (Nen.) – grandfather, grandpa. The Nenets believe it is impolite to address older people by name.
Khasava (Nen.) – an adult man.
Padko (Nen.) – a small embroidered bag for a girl.
Yotkhee – «The Keeper of Wisdom,» vydu’tana’s other name. The Nenets do not call each other by real names, it is prohibited.