How am I going hay KYRGYZSTAN Bobby Nystrom U.S. "Stop, Drop!" - Shouted one of the boys who led me through the village of Sary Mogul. I bent down and suddenly we found ourselves standing on his knees in mud beside a small river that flowed somewhere right down the street between the houses of clay. A second later I realized what was happening: a low near the mosque with whitewashed walls, about 20 paces to our left, a man in Muslim garb began the call to prayer. This was not the first time when I, while in Kyrgyzstan, heard the call to prayer, but never before have I seen the people on it so reacted. Appeal to continue, the children remained kneeling with heads bowed. Once the man stopped, the children jumped to their feet and raced ahead of me on the street, showing a quite an extensive vocabulary of Russian curses. The next morning I left the village in the direction of the great mass of snow and stone, which seemed to me the mountain. Walking past a small garden with a stone wall, I saw a young man who sat on the grass next to an elderly couple, apparently, their parents. The young man waved his hand, stood up and walked to the stone wall. - Where are you going? - He asked in English. - In the mountains, - I replied. - And how are you? - From England. - And where will you sleep in the mountains? The tent is? - No, I will try to find someone who will shelter me, maybe in a yurt any. How do you know so well English? - I am an English teacher. Was it. Now it no longer. Now I am working with my family. - Why? - Teachers of English underpaid. What are you doing in Kyrgyzstan? - Travel. I stayed at jailoo (summer pastures) in the northern and middle parts of the country, but now I want to see how they live in the south - I have already said in Russian. - Well, if you want, I invite you to his farm. She was not quite in the mountains - about 15 km from here - but we go there in an hour, and we will be happy if you come with us. We will collect the hay in the fields, you too can participate. - Well, - I replied. - Thank you very much. Mountain landscape next two hours we tried to make an ugly truck, which belonged to the family Nirtenbeka (the name of my new friend). First he got into it, then at him, then under it, there is something twisted, then turned him, and then in front of him, got a pole about a meter long, put it in somewhere in the front of the machine and with the entire force began to twist. I sat around and watched, excited, aware of their inability to help and sputters from the heat in the rays of the sun, until, finally, one of the regular rotations of the miracle-six did not result in a terrible car to life. We were all told to jump in the car, she moved up and rolled down the stoned dirt road to the outskirts of the city. Great! Finally we left the city, my anxiety and sweating vanished with the advent of wind that blew in my face. Barely ten seconds, as the motor is dead. Sara Mogul moment later Nirtenbek jumped out of the driver's seat and was lying on the ground under the truck, something was screwing. Half an hour passed, he continued to grab an iron pole, insert it into the hole and twist with maniacal zeal. Attempts to ten life back in the old engine. Nirtenbek bullet flew into the driver's seat, and again we hit the road, heading clear where, but in some very interesting place at the foot of the snowcapped mountains of the giant, barely on the horizon vidnevshihsya. At this time, the truck only lasted for five seconds. Gathering hay resuscitation attempts machines were repeated more than once. After the eleventh attempt, I lost count how many times Nirtenbek was forced to play the role of the amateur mechanic. In the end, however, someone did something wrong it was and the truck finally left the village and began to crawl towards the mountains. About 20 minutes later we drove up the hill on a flat rocky surfaces. From time to time we cast from side to side. I even got a couple of large bruises. Suddenly we were on the undulating, wooded rolling hills and stopped in a field where the grass has been mown and collected in a haystack. Nirtenbek, his father, myself and another young man jumped from the car. I drank some water from his canteen and offered to others. - No, thank you, - said Nirtenbek. - It is Ramadan. We can drink and eat only once a day, evening, after sunset. - Wow! - I said. - Even if you work all day in the heat? - Yes, - he answered. - You can take a little water in your mouth, rinse it, but then spit it out. It can not swallow. Nirtenbeka father lay on a haystack, and fell asleep, while I and others took the pitchfork and started throwing hay into the truck. This exercise, during which it was necessary to stick a pitchfork in the haystack, then raise them vertically over your head and throw up quite quickly began to tire. Five minutes later the truck had already appeared fully loaded, so Nirtenbek climbed into the truck and spent the rest of the day, putting the hay. I and his assistant continued to work hard and sweat, collecting and throwing hay on a pile that grew steadily. Read more:
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