öáÕáóÁ ßáõÝãÁ å³Ñ»ó. å³ïÇ ï³Ï Ýëï³Í ïÕ³ÛÇ Ù³ñÙÇÝÁ Íí³ïí³Í ¿ñ ³ÛÝå»ë, ÇÝãå»ë ³ñݳËáõÙ ·Çß³ïãÇ µ»ñ³ÝÝ ÁÝÏ³Í ½áÑÇ áëÏñ³Ñ³Ý ¹ÇÝ: ´³Ûó ïÕ³Ý, Çñ Ù³ñÙÇÝÁ Ùáé³ó³Í, í»ñù»ñáí å³ïí³Í Ó»éù»ñÁ í»ñ ѳé³Í` ÇÝã-áñ ³ÝѳëϳݳÉÇ µ³Ý ¿ñ ÙñÙÝçáõÙ: лïá ³Ù»Ý µ³Ý Éë»ÉÇ »Õ³í: Üñ³ ³ñݳϳà µ»ñ³ÝÇó §Ð³Ûñ Ù»ñÁ¦ ó÷íáõÙ ¿ñ ˳ã³Ó¨ Ù»ÏÝ³Í áïù»ñÇÝ: öáÕáóÁ ù³ñ³ó³í: îÕ³ÛÇ Ùßáõßáï ѳ۳óùÝ Çç³í Ù³ñ¹Ï³Ýó íñ³, ݳ Ó»éù»ñÁ ÏïñáõÏ í³ñ µ»ñ»ó áõ 먳ó³Í Ù³ïÝ»ñáí »ñ»ëÝ ³Ùáóѳñ ͳÍÏ»ó:
öáÕáóÁ ·ÉáõËÝ ûñáñ»ó, ÍåÍå³óñ»ó áõ ·Ý³ó ׳߻Éáõ:
ºë ë³ñëé³óÇ. ÷áË³Ý³Ï Ù»Ýù ³Ù³ã»Ýù, ÇÝùÝ ¿ ³Ù³ãáõÙ: êÇñïë Ýíí³ó, µ³Ûó ³éûñÛ³ ÃáÑáõµáÑÇ Ù»ç å³ï»å³ïí»Éáí` ïáõÝ Ñ³ë³ áõ í³ï »ñ³½ ï»ë³ÍÇ å»ë` ËáÅáéí»óÇ: Æ í»ñçá, áñáßáõ٠ϳ۳óñÇ áõ ϳñÍ»ë ѳݹ³ñïí»óÇ:
гçáñ¹ ûñÁ ׳ݳå³ñÑë ûù»óÇ, áñ Ù»Õùë ù³í»Ù. Ûá¹ áõ óݽÇý ¿Ç ¹ñ»É å³Ûáõë³ÏÇë Ù»ç: ØÇ ùÇã ù³Õóñ³í»ÝÇù, ÙÇ ß³åÇÏ áõ í³ñïÇù áõ ÙÇ ÏÇë³Ã¨ µ³×ÏáÝ Í³ÉÍÉ»É` ÏáÏÇÏ ÷³Ã»Ã ¿Ç ë³ñù»É: ºÏ³, Ñ³ë³ ÷áÕáóÇÝ áõ… ½³ñÙ³ÝùÇó Ù»Ëí»óÇ ï»ÕáõÙ: îÕ³Ý, ½áõ·í³Í-½³ñ¹³ñí³Í, ³éáù-÷³éáù µ³½Ù»É ¿ñ å³ïÇ ï³Ï ÷éí³Í ·áñ·ÇÏÇÝ: Ò»éùÇÝ å³Õå³Õ³Ï ϳñ, ³Ýáõß-³Ýáõß ÉåëïáõÙ ¿ñ:
²ãù»ñÇë ãѳí³ï³óÇ: ØÇ »ñÏáõ ù³ÛÉ ¿É ³ñ»óÇ áõ å³ñ½áñáß ï»ë³ ϳñÙÇñ å³ëï³éÁ, áñÇ íñ³ ë¨ ï³é»ñáí ·ñí³Í ¿ñ. §´áÉáñë ¹»åÇ ÁÝïñáõÃÛáõÝÝ»ñ¦: ä³ïÇ ï³Ï ³Ýáõ߻ջÝÇ ë»Õ³Ý ¿ñ ÷éí³Í` ó÷³é³ßñçÇÏ ïÕ³ÛÇ ãï»ë ³ãùÁ Ïßï³óÝ»Éáõ ³ÏÝѳÛï ×Ç·áí: ܳۻÙ-ï»ëÝ»Ù` ïÕ³ÛÇ í»ñùáï ¹»ÙùÝ áõ Ó»éù»ñÁ ÝáõÛÝ Ï»Õï³ÏáÉáÉ ë¨Ý »Ý, áñ ³é³í»É Áݹ·ÍíáõÙ ¿ÇÝ ×»ñÙ³Ï í»ñݳ߳åÇÏÇ Ñ»ÝùÇÝ:
²~Û ù»½ ÏáɳÅ:
²Ù»Ý ³Ý·³Ù, »ñµ ÙdzÙÇï ËÕ׳ѳñáõÃÛ³Ýë óϳñ¹Ý ÁÝϳÍ, ù³ÛÉ »Ù ³ÝáõÙ, áñ û·ÝáõÃÛ³Ý Ó»éù Ù»ÏÝ»Ù, å³ñ½íáõÙ ¿` ã³ñ³ã³ñ ë˳Éí»É »Ù: úñÁ ó»ñ»Ïáí ³ãù¹ »Ý ËáÃáõÙ í»ñݳ߳åÇÏÇ ×»ñÙ³ÏáõÃÛ³Ý ï³Ï íËï³óáÕ Ï»ÕïÁ, áñ §ÀÝïñáõÃÛáõÝÝ»ñǦ ѳñÙ³ñ ³éÇÃÝ û·ï³·áñÍ»Éáí` ÏáÏáõÙ-ùáÕ³ñÏáõÙ »Ý` Ç óáõÛó ÷áÕáóÇ: γñ¨áñÝ ³ÛÝ ¿, áñ §Ð³Ûñ Ù»ñݦ ³Ýï»ÕÇ ã¿ñ ó÷í»É ïÕ³ÛÇ Ë³ã³Ó¨ Ù»ÏÝ³Í áïù»ñÇÝ: ºë ÇÝÓ Å³Ù³Ý³Ï³íñ»å ½·³óÇ, ÇÝãå»ë µ³ñáÛ³Ï³Ý Ñ³ÕóݳÏÁ ųٳݳϳÏÇó ѳÛÇ ÏÛ³ÝùáõÙ:
²Ý½áñ ÁÝÏñÏ»óÇ áõ ·ÉËÇÏáñ Ù³ÛÃÝ ³ÝóÝ»Éáí` Ó»éùÇë µ³ñ»·áñÍ³Ï³Ý ÷³Ã»ÃÁ Ý»ï»óÇ ³Õµ³ñÏÕÁ:
* * *
Ø»ñ Ñ»ï³Ùݳó ³ñí³ñÓ³ÝÇó ÙÇÝ㨠§Î»Ýïñáݦ Ï»ë ųÙáõÙ ÏѳëÝ»ë, »Ã» »ñÃáõÕ³ÛÇÝ ï³ùëÇ Ýëï»ë: ºÃ» áïùáí ·Ý³ë, ÇÝãå»ë ÙÇ Å³Ù³Ý³Ï ·ñáÕ ÁÝÏ»ñë ¿ñ ³ÝáõÙ` 100 ¹ñ³Ù ·ñå³ÝÇ ÷áÕ ãáõݻݳÉÇë, »ñÏáõëáõÏ»ë ųÙáõÙ ÏѳëÝ»ë, ÇëÏ »Ã» µ³Ý ¿, ù»½ ßù»ÕáõÃÛáõÝ ÃáõÛÉ ï³ë áõ ï³ùëÇ Ýëï»ë, ï³ëÁ ñáå» ³Ýó ÏѳÛïÝí»ë ÐÛáõëÇë³ÛÇÝ åáÕáï³ÛáõÙ, áñï»Õ è³ÍáÕ ³ñ¨»ÉÛ³Ý ÍáõÛÉ Ù»Õ»¹ÇÝ Ã³éÇó åáÏí»Éáí` ³ñÓ³·³ÝùíáõÙ ¿ ëáõå»ñ»íñáå³Ï³Ý ³ÝµÝ³Ï ß»Ýù»ñÇ ËáñËáñ³ïáõÙ:
²ñí³ñÓ³ÝÇó ÙÇÝ㨠§Î»Ýïñáݦ »ñÃáõÕ³ÛÇÝáí ·Ý³ÉÇë »ñ»Ï ·ÉËÇ ÁÝϳ, áñ í³ñÓáõ Ù³ñ¹³ëå³Ý í³ñáñ¹Á, 100-³Ï³Ý ¹ñ³Ù ÅáÕáí»Éáí, å³ïñ³ëï ¿ ÙÇ ¹ÛáõÅÇÝ Ù³ñ¹áõ ·ÉáõË áõï»É, ù³ÝÇ áñ í³ñáñ¹³Ï³Ý Çñ ³×å³ñ³ñáõÃÛáõÝÝ»ñÁ óáõó³¹ñ»Éáõ ³ÛÉ ï»Õ ãáõÝÇ: Ødzݷ³ÙÇó Ù»Í ³ñ³·áõÃÛáõÝ Ñ³í³ù»Éáí` ×éé³óÝáõÙ, Ãá½ áõ ¹áõÙ³Ý ¿ñ ѳÝáõÙ, áÉáñ³ÝÝ»ñáõÙ Ù»’Ï ³ç, Ù»’Ï Ó³Ë ³ÝÇíÝ»ñÇ íñ³ ë³ï³Ý»å³ñ µéÝ»Éáí` ë³ñë³÷³Ñ³ñ áõÕ¨áñÝ»ñÇÝ Çñ³ñ ·ÇñÏ ¿ñ Ý»ïáõÙ áõ ϳݷ³éÝ»ñáõÙ Ñá·Ý³µ»Ï Ååï³Éáí` ѳÛñ³µ³ñ ѳÛï³ñ³ñáõÙ. §ÄáÕáíá’õñ¹, ׳ݳå³ñÑ ïí»ù, ÃáÕ µ³ñÓñ³Ý³Ý¦: àõ Çñ³ñ ·ÉËÇ Ýëï³Í, Çñ³ñ Ñáïíï»Éáí` Ù³ñ¹ÇÏ ×³ñ³Ñ³ï µéÝíáõÙ ¿ÇÝ` áí áõÙÇó ϳ٠áñ Ù³ñÙݳٳëÇó ϳñáÕ ¿ñ:
¾ëå»ë áõñ³Ë-½í³ñà ·ÝáõÙ ¿ÇÝù Ù»ñ Ñ»ï³Ùݳó ³ñí³ñÓ³ÝÇó ¹»åÇ §Î»Ýïñáݦ, »ñµ Ù»ñ ѳñ³½³ï »ñÃáõÕ³ÛÇÝÇ í³ñáñ¹Ý ÇÝùݳÑdzóùáí ó÷ ³é³í áõ µ³Ù÷ÛáõÝáí ÙËñ×í»ó Ù³Ûû½ñÇÝ Ï³Û³Ý³Í Ù»ù»Ý³ÛÇ Ù»ç` çÝçË»Éáí Ë»Õ×Ç Éáõë³ñÓ³ÏÝ»ñÝ áõ ÷ßáõñ-÷ßáõñ ³Ý»Éáí ӳ˳ÏáÕÙÛ³Ý ¹é³Ý ³å³ÏÇÝ:
ä³ïÏ»ñ³óÝá±õÙ »ù, û ÇÝã ÏÉÇÝ»ñ, »ñµ Ù»ñ §ûÛÇݵ³½¦ í³ñáñ¹Ý áõñÇß Õ»ÏÇ Ùáï Ýëï»ñ, ³ë»Ýù` ïÇ»½»ñ³Ý³íÇ, ù³Õ³ùÇ Ï³Ù »ñÏñÇ…
´³Ûó ëå³ë»’ù, ë³ ¹»é í»ñçÁ ã¿: Æñ Ù»ÕùÁ ÏáÍÏ»Éáõ ÷áñÓí³Í »Õ³Ý³Ïáí` Ù»ñ ³ùÉáñ³ó³Í í³ñáñ¹Á, ù³é³Ñ³ñÏ Ñ³ÛÑáÛ»Éáí, Çç³í Çñ ·³ÑÇó, ãáù»ó çÝçËí³Í Ù»ù»Ý³ÛÇ í³ñáñ¹Ç µÏÇÝ, û` Ù»Õ³íáñÁ ¹á’õ »ë, ³Ëå»ñ, ÅáÕáíáõñ¹ë ÙÇ Ù³ñ¹áõ ÝÙ³Ý Ï³ëÇ… 㿱, á±Ýó û ã¿, ¹» ëå³ëÇ, ï»ë ùá ѳËÇó áÝó »Ù ·³ÉÇ, Ñ»ë³ ½³Ý·»Ù, ·³Ý Ó»éù»ñ¹ áÉáñ»Ý` ï³Ý»Ý, ¹áõ ëå³ëÇ~, ëå³ëÇ~… ÅáÕáíá~õñ¹, Çç»’ù, ã»Ù ·ÝáõÙ…
ì³ñáñ¹Ý ÇÝùݳ·áÑ áõ ÇÝùݳíëï³Ñ ÅåïáõÙ ¿ñ: ܳ ϳÝ˳í³Û»ÉáõÙ ¿ñ Çñ ѳÕóݳÏÁ: سñ¹ÇÏ, ëáõëáõ÷áõë, µ»ñ³ÝÝ»ñÁ çáõñ ³é³Í, Çç³Ý »ñÃáõÕ³ÛÇÝÇó ¨ Ñ»ñáë³Ï³Ý ç³Ýù»ñ ·áñͳ¹ñ»óÇÝ` ùáÕ³ñÏ»Éáõ Çñ»Ýó í³ËÁ, ½³ÛñáõÛÃÝ áõ ÝáÕϳÝùÁ: ºë ¿É` ¿¹ Ù³ñ¹Ï³Ýó Ù»ç. áõ ã·Çï»Ç` ɳ±Ù, û± Ëݹ³Ù ³ñí³ñÓ³ÝÇó §Î»Ýïñáݦ ï³ÝáÕ Ù»ñ í³ñáñ¹Ç ³ëïí³Í³ïáõñ ßÝáñÑùÇ Ñ³Ù³ñ, Ù»ñ ã³ñ µ³ËïÇ Ñ³Ù³ñ, áñ ³Ù»Ý ûñ 100 ¹ñ³Ùáí §ùÇÉÉ»ñ¦ »Ýù í³ñÓáõÙ áõ ëå³ëáõÙ Ù»ñ ÷³éáõÝ³Ï í³Ë׳ÝÇÝ:
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ºñµ ÉáõÛëÁ µ³óí»ó, ÜáõÝáõý³ñÁ, Çñ ë³ÛɳÏÁ ¹Õñ¹³óÝ»Éáí, ׳Ù÷³ ÁÝϳí, áñ ³Ù»Ý ûñí³ å»ë ù³ñù³ñáï, µ³Ûó ϳñ× ×³Ý³å³ñÑáí ѳëÝÇ Ø³É³ÃdzÛÇ ßáõϳ, §µÇñÇÏÝáóÇó¦ ¿Å³Ý ÙÇ ù³ÝÇ ÏÇÉá ëáË áõ ϳñïáÉ ³éÝÇ, ÙÇ »ñÏáõ ϳå é»Ñ³Ý áõ ë³ÙÇÃ, ·³½³ñ-µ³½áõÏ, ÙÇ »ñ»ù ·ÉáõË Ï³Õ³Ùµ ³éÝÇ áõ ¿ÉÇ ÝáõÛÝ ù³ñù³ñáï ׳ݳå³ñÑÁ µéݳÍ` »ï ·³, Çñ ï³Ý ¹é³ÝÁ ß³ñÇ, ÏÇÉáÛÇ Ù»ç ï³ëÁ-ùë³Ý ¹ñ³Ù óÝÏ Í³ËÇ, áñ ïáõÝÁ å³ÑÇ:
ֳݳå³ñÑÇÝ ³ñ¨Á ͳÏÍÏáõÙ ¿ñ, ÃéãáõÝÝ»ñÁ ÑÇÝ·»ñáñ¹ ѳñÏÇ å³ïáõѳÝÝ»ñÇÝ ùëí»Éáí` ûÕ³Ï-ûÕ³Ï åïáõÛï ¿ÇÝ ï³ÉÇë: ÜáõÝáõý³ñÁ ¹³ñ¹ ³ñ»ó, áñ ù³ÙÇ ãϳ, ¿ëûñí³ Éí³óùÁ ãÇ ãáñ³Ý³ áõ ³ÝÓñ¨Ç ï³Ï ÏÃñçíÇ: ²ãù»ñÁ ÏÏáó»Éáí` ݻճó³Í ݳۻó ³Ùå»ñáí ͳÍÏíáÕ »ñÏÝùÇÝ áõ 먳ó³Í ¹»ÙùÁ ¿É ³í»ÉÇ ë¨³ó³Í Ó»éùáí ß÷»Éáí` Ñáñ³Ýç»ó: лïá ÑÇß»ó, áñ ¿Ý ³Ýï»ñ å³ñïù»ñÇ ¹³íóñáõÙ ÙÇ ùë³Ý Ù³ñ¹ ѳñÛáõñ ѳ½³ñÇó ³í»ÉÇ å³ñïù áõÝÇ áõ áã Ù»ÏÇó ÙÇ ·ñáß ³Ý·³Ù åáÏ»É ãÇ ÉÇÝÇ: §¸» ³ñÇ` ³åñǦ, - ÜáõÝáõý³ñÁ ѳé³ã»ó áõ ë³ÛɳÏÝ áõÅáí ¹áõñë Ññ»ó ù³ñ³ÏáõÛïÇó: ØïùáõÙ ÙÇ ù³ÝÇ ³Ý·³Ù ѳßí³ñÏ ³ñ»ó. û ÙÇ å³ñÏ Ï³ñïáÉÁ í³ÃëáõÝáí ³éÝÇ, áõÃëáõÝáí ͳËÇ, ÇÝãù³±Ý û·áõï ϳÝÇ, áñ µ³Ý-Ù³Ý ³éÝÇ, ·Ý³ µ³Ý³ÏáõÙ ïÕ³ÛÇÝ ï»ëÝÇ, Ñ»ïá ÙÇ µ³Ý ¿É ³í»É³óÝÇ, áñ ³Õçϳ ûÅÇïÁ ϳåÇ, ÇëÏ áñ Ñ»ñÇù»ó, Ù³ñ¹áõ ¹»ÕÇ ÷áÕÝ ¿É Ïï³ áõ…
ÜáõÝáõý³ñÇ ³÷Á ùáñ »Ï³í: §¾ëûñ ÷áÕ Ï·³¦, - ÜáõÝáõý³ñÇ ×³Ï³ïÇ ÏÝ×ÇéÁ ѳñÃí»ó, ¹³ñáõ÷áë»ñÇó ¹áõñë »É³í áõ ѳÛïÝí»ó ÷áÕáóáõÙ: гÝϳñÍ ù³ÙÇ µ³ñÓñ³ó³í: ÜáõÝáõý³ñÇ »ñϳñ³Í Ù³½»ñÁ ËéÇí ÁÝÏ³Ý ³ãù»ñÁ, ù³ÙÇÝ ÷»ßÁ ÷ñ÷ñ³óñ»ó áõ Ññ»ó í»ñ: ÜáõÝáõý³ñÁ ˳éÝí»ó Çñ³ñ. ÙÇ Ó»éùáí ë³ÛɳÏÁ Ññ»ó, ÙÛáõëáí` ÷»ßÁ ù³ß»ó, ·ÉáõËÝ ³Ýû·Ý³Ï³Ý ó÷³Ñ³ñ»ó, áñ Ù³½»ñÝ ³ãù»ñÇó ѳÝÇ, µ³Ûó ù³ÙÇÝ íñ³ ¿ñ ï³ÉÇë áõ Ù³½»ñÇ ¹»½Á ·½·½»Éáí` ÉóÝáõÙ ³ãù»ñÁ: Ø»ù»Ý³Ý»ñÇ ³½¹³Ýß³ÝÝ»ñÁ å³ÛûóÇÝ ³Ï³ÝçÝ»ñáõÙ áõ Ùáï»ñùÇó ÙÇ ÏÝáç ÍÕñïáó Éëí»ó:
ê³ÛɳÏÁ ó³ùáõóñÇí û¹ Ãé³í, ÜáõÝáõý³ñÁ ïÝÏí³Í Ùݳó ÷áÕáóÇ Ù»çï»ÕáõÙ: ì³ñáñ¹Ý»ñÁ ·áéáõÙ ¿ÇÝ, ÙÇ »ñÏáõëÁ ѳÛÑáÛ»óÇÝ, ÙÇ ç³Ñ»É ÏÇÝ ·ÉáõËÁ Ù»ù»Ý³ÛÇó ѳݻó áõ Éñµ³ó³Í ×ã³ó. §²~Û ÏÝÇÏ, ³é³íáï ÉáõÛëÁ ãµ³óí³Í` ÏÛ³ÝùÇó¹ Ó»é »ë ù³ß»±É, ¹»Ù¹ ݳÛÇ, Ñá ùáé ã»ë¦: ì»ñç³å»ë ÙÇ ïÕ³ íñ³ ѳë³í, ÜáõÝáõý³ñÇ ³ñÙáõÝÏÁ µéÝ»ó áõ Ññ»Éáí ¹áõñë µ»ñ»ó ÷áÕáóÇ ëá¹áÙ-·áÙáñÇó: سñ¹ÇÏ Ñ³í³ùí»óÇÝ ·ÉËÇÝ, Ù»ÏÁ ÙÇ ßÇß çáõñ µ»ñ»ó, óåÝ»ó ÜáõÝáõý³ñÇ ¹»ÙùÇÝ, å³ñ³ÝáóÇÝ, ÙÛáõëÁ Ó»éù»ñÁ ïñáñ»ó, Ù»ÏÝ ¿É ÜáõÝáõý³ñÇ ÍÝáïÁ µéÝ»ó áõ ßÇßÁ ¹»Ù ïí»ó µ»ñ³ÝÇÝ: ÜáõÝáõý³ñÁ ϳٳó-ϳٳó áõßùÇ »Ï³í, áõ »ñµ ·Çï³Ïó»ó ϳï³ñí³ÍÁ` ³ñóáõÝùÝ»ñÁ ѳݹ³ñï ·Éáñí»óÇÝ ³ñ¨Çó áõ ù³Ùáõó Ïáßï³ó³Í ¹»ÙùÇ íñ³Ûáí:
2009Ã.
THE YEREVANIAN SKETCHES OF 2009
TRANSLATION BY ANUSH MKRTCHYAN
EDITED BY DR. ALFRED G. MUELLER II
The street caught its breath. The body of the boy sitting beneath the wall was tattered like a boneless corpse in a bloodthirsty predator’s jaw. But the boy, oblivious of his body, moved his wounded hands upward and murmured some obscure words.
When it was possible to make sense of what he was saying, we realized that it was the Lord’s Prayer pouring out of his bloodstained mouth onto his crossed legs. The street stopped dead. The boy looked hazily towards the people; in shame he rapidly dropped his hands and covered his face with his dirty fingers.
The street shook its head, smacked its lips and went on to dine.
I shuddered; we ought to feel ashamed instead of him. My heart ached, but in the everyday hustle and bustle I went home and frowned as though I had seen a nightmare. Finally, I came up with a decision and calmed down.
The next day, I changed my route to expiate my sin; I had put iodine and bandages in my bag. Having taken some sweets, a shirt, pants and a half-sleeve vest, I made a neat package. I came to the street and struck with astonishment. The boy, now well-groomed, sat enthroned on a small carpet that was spread under the wall. There was an ice-cream in his hand, and he was licking it heartily.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Taking a couple of steps I saw a red banner on which the following was written in black letters, “Everyone to the elections.” There was a table full of sweets, with an obvious effort to satisfy the vagrant boy’s hungry eye. I saw that the boy had the same wounded face and the same grubby black hands that stood out vividly against the background of his snow-white shirt.
What a collage!
Every time I try to offer my help, trapped in my naïve conscience, it appears I’ve been awfully mistaken. In broad daylight, the filth crawling under the snow-white shirt that is being smoothed and concealed is shoved in the street onto you taking great opportunity of the “Elections”. The most important thing is that the Lord's Prayer wasn’t poured in vain onto the boy’s crossed legs. I felt myself to be anachronistic, like a moral victory in the life of a contemporary Armenian.
Recoiling, I hung my head in disgust and crossing the road, I threw the charitable package into the trash-bin.
***
It takes a half-hour to reach the downtown from our underdeveloped suburb if you take a minibus. If you walk, as once my writer friend was doing when he lacked 100 drams[1] of pocket money, it will take two-and-a-half hours to get there. And if you happen to afford the luxury and take a taxi, ten minutes later you’ll find yourself on North Avenue, where lazy oriental melody, rending from the tar[2], echoes in the depth of uninhabited super-European buildings.
Yesterday when I was in a minibus on my way to the downtown I realized that the killer driver collecting 100 drams is ready to do away with a dozen people since he has no other place to perform his driving stunt. Suddenly he would accelerate at high speed. On each turn, the car would swing right and left, and the passengers jolted bundling on each other, and at the bus stops, with a weary smile, he would paternalistically announce, “Guys, let them get on.” Sitting on each other, smelling each other, having no other way out, people would hold onto whomever they could or onto whatever body part they could.
Happily like this, we were driving from our underdeveloped suburb to the downtown when our familiar self-satisfied minibus driver accelerated and, with a crash, bumped into a car that had parked near the pavement, destroying the car’s lights and breaking the right door window into pieces.
Imagine what would happen if our eccentric driver were in charge of another steering wheel, of a spaceship’s, a city’s, or a country’s.
But wait, this is not the end yet. With the experienced manner of concealing his guilt, our outrageous driver, cursing strongly, came down from his throne and stormed at the driver of the damaged car. “You are to blame, brother; the passengers will unanimously attest to it…No? You say no? Wait…Don’t you know what is in store for you? I’ll just make one call, and they’ll come and take you, twist your arms … just wait and see! Folks get out, I am not driving”
The driver was smiling complacently and confidently. He was savoring his victory. The people got off the minibus silently, with their mouths shut with heroic effort of concealing their fright, anger, and disgust. Being among these people, I didn’t know whether to cry or to be happy with the minibus driver’s divine gift, with our bad luck that every day with 100 drams we employ a “killer” and wait for our glorious demise.
***
With the first beams of the sunrise, Nunufar as usual set off to the Malatia bazaar, pulling her cart on rocky shortcut road. From the wholesale market she would buy several kilos of cheap onions, potatoes, carrots, beets, and cabbage, some bunches of basil and fennel. She would take the same rocky road back, put the vegetables in front of her house, and sell those for 10 to 20 drams more per kilo to earn living for her family.
On her way to the bazaar, the sun was piercing, and the birds were flying in circles touching the windows of the fifth floor. Nunufar was unhappy as there was no wind: the laundry wouldn’t dry and would get wet in the rain. Squinting her eyes, she indignantly looked at the clouds building in the sky and yawned, rubbing her darkened face with her even darker hands. Then she remembered that in the notebook of debts some twenty people owed her more than hundred thousand drams, but one could never take even a penny from them. “And now how can one live?”
Nunufar sighed and with a great effort pushed the cart out of the stone pile. In her mind, she calculated how much income she would have if she bought a sack of potatoes for 60 drams and sold for 80. She wanted to buy some stuff to send to her son in the army. Then she would add some money to arrange her daughter’s dowry and, if she had enough, she would buy some medicine for her husband.
Nunufar’s palm itched. “Today I’ll get money,” she thought. The wrinkles of her forehead smoothened, and she emerged from the alleys and byways onto the main street. Suddenly the wind began to blow. Nunufar’s long hair tangled and covered her eyes; the wind waved her skirt and heaved it about. Nunufar was bewildered: pushing the cart with one hand she pulled her skirt with the other, shook her head to remove her hair from the eyes. But the wind would attack and, tousling her mass of hair, would pull it over her eyes again. The sounds of car horns exploded in her ears, and she heard a woman scream nearby.
The cart exploded into the air in a mess. Nunufar was stuck in the middle of the street traffic. The drivers were shouting, a couple of them cursed, a young woman stuck her head out of the car window to yell at her, “Hey, woman, are you tired of living? Look where you are heading for! Are you damned blind?” Finally, a boy came to her rescue, took Nunufar’s elbow and escorted her out of the turmoil of the street. People gathered around her. One of them brought a bottle of water and splashed it onto Nunufar’s face and neck. The other rubbed her hands, and another held her chin and propped the bottle to her mouth to take a sip. Little by little, Nunufar came to herself, and when she realized what had happened, tears went streaming down her sun-and-wind-beaten face. 2009
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