„And why are you so morose?“ Talgat’s voice disrupted my day-dream.

„I was thinking about Kenje,“ I answered.

„Yes, it’s a terrible shame. Her heart could not stand such a shock,“ concluded Talgat, but was interrupted by the old lady Bibi.

„She was mad. She went mad,“ she said loudly, and seeing that no one agreed with her she repeated, „Went mad!“

„Why are you harping on one and the same thing – went mad, went mad? It’s you who’ve gone mad in your old age. Would an intelligent woman say such a thing about someone who has just died? Have you become stupid?“ Arkham snapped at her and Bibi fell silent, guiltily looking around her.

The incident was quickly forgotten. Talgat told us that they were all given a glass of vodka after the explosion and only then were they brought to the hills. „Glad to see you all alive and well,“ shouted Talgat pretentiously. The other dzhigits were also tipsy – the doctors had given them diluted alcohol and themselves had had a fair amount to drink, insisting that this was healthy. My grandfather and the other old men also wanted some vodka. „It’s good for your health!“ shouted Talgat. „And to top it all we got five hundred for leaving the village and for a month we’ll be twiddling our thumbs… It’s true what the soldiers say, what’s done is done… The bomb’s gone off and that’s it! All in the name of science, of the future, the land and the people!“

He died at the beginning of the sixties from leukemia.

IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE?

FOR THE FUTURE?

FOR THE LAND? FOR THE PEOPLE?

I think that even Kurchatov understood that to live in the shadow of the bomb is to bring the end of the world closer, a world where there will be neither science, nor land, nor people for whose sake this lethal weapon was devised.

And there will be no future.

A week later we were allowed to return to the village. Everybody rejoiced. Everybody missed their children, grandchildren, their close ones, their friends. I also dreamt of seeing my brother, my sister, my mother and, of course, my father. He had, after all, remained behind with the soldiers in the very thick of things. How was he, I wondered?

Kenje’s grandmother and I went-to bid our farewells at the little girl’s grave. Her grandmother said goodbye to her only grandchild and I to my first childhood sweetheart.

So much time has passed. I have met so many people in my life and lost many but I will never forget that small, frail girl, Kenje… Her pensive expression, her dazzling smile revealing a row of white even teeth, which transformed her immediately. Farewell, Kenje! Farewell, my angel! Farewell, my beloved! I will Endeavour to visit your grave all my conscious life, but thirty-five years will pass before I will find myself here, sitting amidst the silent hills, remembering my distant childhood, the lonely nomadic camp of old men and women and the weeping of our people. Here I am, a fully grown adult, and I’ve forgotten your face, Kenje; no matter how much I’ve tried to recall your features, it has been in vain – a haze and mirage rise before my eyes – haze and mirage…

And today, when once again the earth trembles from underground tests, it is more important to me to reconstruct the past than to read TASS’ announcement in the paper the following day.

But the present was still far off.

We slowly descended down the mountains as had been ordered, taking a long time to cross the steppe, at night stopping over on the banks of small rivers and streams.

When we reached home, early in the morning, we discovered that there was no sign of life in the village – we were the first to return. Although this is not altogether true. A soldier’s unit had arrived before us on orders to clean out the wells before the inhabitants arrived. This was a necessary precaution. Later it was discovered that many reservoirs had been contaminated and that even several new lakes had been formed – dead, radioactive lakes… Those who bathed there in ignorance, were exposed to radiation and soon died. With the passing of time, people realized the degree of danger which lay in wait for them and learned to circumvent these reservoirs.

When they entered the village, the old men bid their farewells and each silently went his separate way down the wide streets. Grandfather led his grey horse towards our large yard in the centre of the village. He rode slowly, but when he saw a soldier at our well, he gave a loud cry, lashed his horse with his whip and our bullock cart flew through the gates.

Grandfather waved the whip about, yelling, and snatched the buckets from the soldier. The soldiers did not understand what was happening. A voice from the well shouted, „Hey, you lazy donkeys! What’s going on up there? Pass me down the buckets, quick!“

Grandfather peered down the well and mad with rage said, „Hey, you infidel! Come out of there immediately. You accursed, wicked lot. You’ve poisoned all our water!“

The soldiers rapidly raised the young corporal to ground level and then in total amazement they all stared at grandfather.

„Who asked you, you infidel, to go down the well?“

„We are on orders, we wanted to help,“ the corporal mumbled.

„Help, help!“ grandfather mocked him, but a little less angrily. „How can you possibly help when you are experts at making things worse. It’s a well-known fact, don’t you know?!“Just then, my father and the lieutenant-colonel drove up. I wanted to jump into my father’s arms, I had missed him so much, but I didn’t do this for fear of grandfather’s words: „You’re not a golden eagle, no, you’re not!“ I would rather have died than hear those words again!

I held myself back. My face turned pink from excitement.

Grandfather asked my father: „Aman, esenbisin, karagym. How are you, my son?“

„Everything’s fine,“ my father answered. „How was your journey? Did everything go well?“

I understood that he was asking out of custom, for he himself knew as well as everyone else what was taking place all around.

„The old man is making a fuss again,“ some corporal complained to the lieutenant-colonel. „It was he who stopped us from working.“

„In that case, pass on this order to everyone: the wells are to be left as they are, since we didn’t manage to complete the job in time. Well, as the saying goes, it’s not fate, it’s not God’s will,“ said the lieutenant-colonel thoughtfully.

My father came up to me and drew me towards him and asked me gently: „Well, how did you get on up there, did you help the old folk?“

I embraced him. He smelled of smoke, sun and gunpowder, all the smells that had dominated the steppe over the last few days.

„Ask grandfather…“ I answered.

„That means you did help them! Good lad!“ Father patted – me on the shoulder. „Come on then, let’s carry the things inside.“

Grandmother lit a fire in the summer oven which stood in the yard and began to bake taba-nan – bread. Grandfather climbed up onto the roof and brought down a ladder, then he took a small shovel and disappeared down the well.

Grandmother and I helped him carry the buckets which he handed to us. Only nearer lunch time, did grandfather, tired and haggard, climb out of the well.

We sat down to rest in the shade.

„Ata,“ said my father guiltily, „forgive us, but we ate all your hens. There was no choice.“

„Oh, that’s alright. It doesn’t matter,“ answered grandfather briefly. „It’s more important that the earth and the people that inhabit it survive…“

„I’ll go into town soon and buy you some more chickens,“ father promised. „Good.“

I became bored with this domestic talk and suddenly felt depressed and alone in the deserted village.

The adults began to talk about their future, about deprivation, of their fear in the face of the atomic bomb, of the American threat. Father was trying to convince the old folk that there was a threat from America. He became excited and waved his arms about and I suspected that he was repeating what he had been told by the soldiers. And once again I remembered the hills. I remembered that terrifying explosion when it seemed that at any moment the umbilical cord which linked the sun and the earth would snap and the earth would be hurled into the depths of an unknown universe just as the thundering boulders had crashed down the mountain, frightening people and animals. I remembered how the horses ran in all directions from fright and the old men were only able to find them on the next day. I remembered, too, how the earth sank away under one’s feet and how I hugged the cold, damp earth and how little Kenje, having lost her mind, ran through a hail of falling stones.