Yotkhee

Yotkhee
Andre Martin

This book is just amazing! It’s captivating and full of adventures. Myths and legends, tales and songs will help as to study English, so to enrich the vocabulary and master the language.

Yotkhee

Andre Martin

Illustrator Julia Khruscheva

Translator and Teacher of English at Nizhny Novgorod State Linguistic University Olga Lukmanova

Proofreader Cynthia Tucker

Translator, teacher of English, School #1, Nadym, YaNAO, Russia Andrei Martinov

© Andre Martin, 2021

ISBN 978-5-0053-3856-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

A Tale within a Tale
Part I.
Yotkhee

Foreword

All peoples of Earth have their own myths and legends, their own fascinating cultures, customs, and traditions. In Russia alone (which is the largest country in the world) there are more than 195 peoples or ethnic groups, each with its own language.

Studying all these cultures and languages is always incredibly exciting. It’s like you find yourself in a totally different world or on another planet – because, of course, each ethnic group has its own music, songs, clothes, and ways of life that are different from yours.

In this tale-within-a-tale, the author has tried to show at least some of the most fascinating things about just one of Russia’s many wonderful peoples, hoping that his curious young readers would get excited about their planet’s many nations and ethnic groups, each with its own history, culture, literature, and language, and would become involved in learning more and more about all of this.

To see how very different things could be, take a look at the alphabet of the good people you’re going to read about. It even looks different, doesn’t it? It is very close to the Russian alphabet (which is called Cyrillic), but it’s different even from that, because it has letters for some sounds that do not exist in Russian or in other languages.

Besides, each culture has something that we all can admire and might even want to imitate or adopt. Which is probably the best way to learn anyway.

Colorful illustrations, made by the artist according to the author’s careful instructions, will help the readers to get a better visual picture and a clearer understanding of what he was trying to tell them.

Happy reading to you all!

«Keep up, Khadko,[1 - Khadko – a male name.] we have to get back to the camp before sundown!» called the father to his six-year-old son. He pulled their small flat-bottomed ngano[2 - Ngano (Nenets) – a flat-bottom boat.] out of the water, tied it to the stake driven into the bank, and began to carefully stack the fish they’d caught onto the khan[3 - Khan (Nen.) – a sledge.] – a large take of muksun,[4 - Muksun (Nen.) – a type of whitefish.] broad-nosed whitefish, and white salmon: the best that rivers and lakes of this Upper End of the World can yield to reindeer herders. He then sat down on the left side of the khan and grabbed the reins and the khorei,[5 - Khorei – a long pole for guiding a team of reindeer.] ready to go.

The boy was still on the bank, expertly skipping stones across the water. He didn’t want to leave and go back to the camp. It didn’t often happen that Dad took him fishing or hunting: he was still too young. The day was quiet, with no wind at all, and the orange-colored autumn sun was bright in the vast blue sky.

«You’ll make the spirit of the water angry,» his father called out, when he saw what the boy was doing. «You mustn’t throw anything into the river!»

«I mustn’t?» responded Khadko, more in surprise than wanting to know more, and dropped the remaining stones onto the ground.

«Come on, son, let’s go,» his father called again. «Ah, dinner will be great tonight,» he added with a satisfied smile when they finally got going. «Muksun is all large and fat this year.»

Khadko sat on the right side of the sledge, holding on tight to the edges, watching his father’s skillful movements. He was an observant child. The sledge was flying over the tundra, and the handsome, powerful reindeer, like huge fairytale birds, were carrying little Khadko back home, to the camp.

«Vydu’tana[6 - Vydu’tana (Nen.) – the chief shaman of the highest rank and of the Upper World, according to Nenets beliefs.] is here!» suddenly cried his father, half-rising for a moment when they darted out from behind another tall hill and could finally see their camp with its three teepees. He turned around to the boy, calling loudly again, «Vydu’tana is here, Khadko!»

The boy half-rose on the sledge too, peering into the distance and trying to make out the man his father was talking about.

«How does Dad know that someone has come?» he wondered. «We’re still so far away. I can’t see anyone!»

His father looked at him again, grinned, and artfully guiding the sledge, added in a loud voice:

«You can’t miss the large reindeer and the beautiful sledge of the tadebya![7 - Tadebya (Nen.) – a shaman.] Look at how the fur and the hides shine in the sun!»

And indeed, the gorgeous white and gold sledge would be hard to miss even at a distance. It was hand-carved, hand-painted, covered with snow-white deer hides, and pulled by a massive, strongly-built nyaravei[8 - Nyaravei (Nen.) – a white stag.] with huge white branching antlers, his sleek gilt harness glittering in the bright autumn sun.

Khadko’s father got up on the sledge and was now driving his team of strong, swift and obedient padvy[9 - Padvy (Nen.) – piebald reindeer.] standing up. He had to yell to make himself heard over the loud swishing of the air, but his voice sounded happy:

«You know, son, Vydu’tana only visits those who are kind and hard-working.»

The boy knitted his eyebrows slightly and looked pensive. He had once overheard old men talking about a wise teacher who lived on the top of a high mountain in the north of the Urals and sometimes rode around the tundra, stopping at people’s camps to tell children and grown-ups his wonderful stories.

As swift as a khalei[10 - Khalei (Nen.) – an arctic seagull.] diving for its catch, the sledge pulled up to the first tepee at the edge of the camp, made a sharp turn, and stopped almost instantly. Khadko quickly jumped off and ran over the mossy ground straight to the campfire already circled by children. No wonder! The great wise teacher had come to visit them!

Near the camp’s main tepee, a tall, sturdily-built man was talking to the reindeer herders. He was wearing a clean, white malitsa[11 - Malitsa (Nen.) – an outer hooded garment for winter made of buckskin.] which in the sunshine seemed to shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow. His long white beard was neatly tucked under a multicolored belt with gleaming bear and wolf fangs hanging from it. There was also a large, slightly curved knife with a horn handle, in a richly decorated sheath inlaid with small gemstones that gleamed and glowed in the evening sun. The guest’s malitsa and kisy[12 - Kisy (Nen.) – tall winter boots widely popular among the peoples of the Upper North (the Nenets, the Khanty, and the Mansi). They are made of hides taken off deer legs (called «kamus’) and have thick multiple-layer soles.] were covered with intricate, beautifully embroidered patterns, sparkling with even more gemstones of various shapes and sizes. The laces on the white kisy boots were woven out of several multicolored straps of leather, adorned on the ends with small wooden figurines of some unknown creatures.

In the Far North, days were already beginning to grow shorter. Summer was coming to its end, though winter was still a long way away. Ngherm[13 - Ngherm (Nen.) – a god of the Northern lands.] hadn’t yet unleashed his biting frosts and piercing icy winds on the camps, and it wasn’t yet time for Yamal Iri[14 - Yamal Iri (Nen.) – Grandfather Frost (Ded Moroz).] 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 - Irike (Nen.) – grandfather, grandpa. The Nenets believe it is impolite to address older people by name.] 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 - Khasava (Nen.) – an adult man.] 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.