Khon Yush. Way From the Ob

«That's fine. Put the orphan to your chest, and the goddess Kaltashch will help. Milk will appear. For some reason, the Mother of Heavenly Child gave us other blood, maybe we can grow it? You must help me with breast milk. Its hands and legs will get stronger, and it will run. And your daughter is also silent from hunger. Feed her too».

«I can't. I have no strength!» The hostess said, leaning her head back from the overwhelming grief, without tears, with dry sore eyes, slowly swaying.

«Take it, take it, and I'll put things in order here.»

Levne handed the baby into woman's hands, rose from her knee, went to the fire and fanned it with dry birch bark and slivers. She hung the kettle over the fire, and looked out of the house, carefully glancing toward the river. A fisherman approached the shore.

«Son, run to the boats,» she turned to the eldest son of Khutline, «it seems like Uncle Yuhur came from fishing. Tell him Aunt Levne is asking for some fish,» and hung a boiler with water over the fire. Khutline stared blankly at the strange child. Then, realizing what was required of her, she tried to feed the newborn.

«Looks like milk has appeared!» She soon said.

«Have our gods ever left an orphan?»

Khutline's son returned to the house, with a large whitefish hooked in his fingers. Silently glancing at his mother, he laid the fish on the mat. Following him, Yuhur came in and dumped his catch from the bag at the entrance to the same grassy mat.

«It's fresh. I caught it this morning, so you can make a narkhul. The whitefish rises to spawn, it's full of roe. I should go. My family has already woken up and kindled a fire in the hearth. I can see smoke rising from my house.»

«They're waiting with hot tea. You've got a good soulmate, khilyem!»

They heard the hostess weeping in the house.

«So now everyone is going to help me?» Cried Khutline.

«That's fine. We used to support the destitute since ancient times. If the husband returns, he will feed his children himself, but for now we will live like that,» answered Levne, taking up the neighbor's catch.

The little Khutline's daughter started crying. Levne went to the children. The boys carefully shook the crib with his little sister by the rope. She untied the cradle with a crying child from the perch and handed it over to her mother.

«Don't you cry. Feed your daughter, she's hungry since yesterday. Think of your little kids, this is what the goddess Kaltashch Anki bequeathed. Only empty-headed cuckoos sing for the whole forest, forgetting about their children. Spirits will quickly punish you for weakness. Remember the ancient covenants of our gods. Yesterday you rejoiced at every baby, but today you mourn a living husband, you keep the kids in a cold nest. Not good at all!»

Khutline, who got thinner in one night, mechanically took her daughter from the neighbor's insistent hands.

Recently, when she was proposed and brought to the village, no one could pass by indifferently. Young girls looked enviously at the beautiful bride, even the guys were ready to look under several layers of obscure scarves. From this day on, her face was covered from all adult male relatives in the village. Khutline was brought from a neighboring village, on the other side of the Ob. She went ashore near the village, covering her face with three wedding scarves, surrounded by matchmakers and many women, pretty like a fine large Ob nelma, which every year only gets filled with juice. The happy bride herself even tried to peek out from under silk shawls and take a look at the villagers. She wanted to see people living in a new place. The curious girl even managed to see her future husband: from the wood house, where she was hidden after the matchmakers had arrived in the village. She immediately fell in love with a stranger whom she saw among the guests, although she could not even guess who he was. According to custom, matchmakers come without a groom, but that time the groom turned out to be wayward.

Now her face was blackened, and her beauty was gone. From time to time, silent tears oozed out of her eyes, as if from a dried-up autumn little river. It seemed that her back was stooped and could no longer straighten from grief.

Laying the newborn on the bed, Levne began to hastily clean the fresh fish. Her hands flickered so quickly that the silver sparkles of the scales scattered in all directions. She was in a hurry. A new sense of motherhood had already firmly settled in her heart, and she felt an acute desire to hold a new man who already belonged to her.

«You need to drink some soup, as you have to feed two now. I'll come to you once a day, and you'll feed the baby with your breast milk. I don't want to bother you. We'll feed you with the soup. We've got fish. The almighty Kaltashch Anki will help us bring the baby up!» the woman said with firm hope, looking up at the chimney through which she could see the gray autumn sky. «We'll live!»

The soup was ready in the boiler. Levne quickly moved the low dining table closer to the children's beds. She laid out pieces of fish in a wooden huvan, poured fish soup into the bowls, called for the boys to eat, and helped the hostess sit down at the table.

«Be sure to eat and feed the children. And I'll go wash the baby, it's already waking up. Full and warm – what else a baby needs. Grandfather and granddaughter are waiting at home. He'll be glad with a new person.»

Again wrapping the child in the hem of the upper dress, gently pressing it to her chest, Levne silently slipped out of the house, tightly covering the entrance canopy behind her.

At home, surrounded by her three-year-old granddaughter, son and husband, Levne unfolded the child and exclaimed:

«It's a girl! Khatanevie!»

«So fast and pretty. Her arms and legs are dancing, karkam evi!» her husband exclaimed.

Levne took a wooden trough and prepared sacred water – added ashes of otter fur, mixed it with ush, a birch mushroom – so that no evil spirit touched the baby. Then they noisily bathed the newborn. Their little granddaughter was there, poking at the newborn.

«Hey! What a daughter we have. She can be a friend to our granddaughter! Now I'll prepare the Khanty cradle and lay her down. She'll swing on the cradle rope of my children,» Levne wiped the baby, and laid her in a birch bark cradle. An ancient capercaillie ornament scraped up on the head of the cradle provoked a healthy sleep for the baby.

«Sleep soundly, and the capercaillie will guard your dreams. Grow fast, and may the happiness of my children be yours.»

Grandfather already tied oblong wooden cradle rings to the ceiling beams, sighing, pleased with the new family member, and exclaimed once more:

«What a child the Mother Goddess gave us!» He shook his head in admiration.

«Go to the Russians again tomorrow,» the hostess asked. «They will now live in the village, down there, near the filling litter, they make the dugouts. Give the woman that was helping in birth this knife,» Levne took out a household knife with a wooden handle from a sheath decorated with fanciful ornaments, «let Pukan anki be a midwife for our girl. And give this cross to the second woman who helped her, ask her to be a godmother – Pern anki,» she took out an old dark cross drawn with inscriptions from her patterned tuchan. Once upon a time, her mother gave this knife before she died, and her mother got this cross from Levne's grandmother.

The days when strangers began to come to the Khanty lands and forced the people to accept the faith of others had been long gone. The cross was attached to this faith. They have a legend why the Khanty adopted Christianity. «They say that there are three gods living in heaven: the Russian God, Tatar Allah and the Khanty Turam. They visit each other. They sit at the same table, drink tea, treat themselves. Together they think how to help people on earth. One day Turam came to visit Allah. They ate a large cauldron of mare meat, drank tea, spoke, finally Turam began to gather home. How to let a guest go without a gift? Allah decided to give him a horse. Turam thought: „What shall I do with this horse? How will I feed it? There is only moss in the tundra“. But he couldn't refuse a gift in order not to offend his friend. He tied the beautiful white animal to his reindeer sledges and drove home. Next time, Allah and the Russian God were visiting Turam. They stayed, ate frozen fish and deer meat, drank tea, and then were going home. Turam also made presents to his guests. He decided to become relatives with Allah, and gave his younger sister to him as a wife. He decided to give the Russian God a little land. Turam had a lot of it, and he did not have time to go round his lands on the fastest-legged deer in a year. The next time, Turam went to visit the Russian God together with Allah. They drank braga, ate delicious food, spoke and then started to gather home. The Russian God took out a small cross from the sacred corner and gave it to Allah. The Tatar God was offended. He turned around and, without saying goodbye to his friends, he left. Russian God turned to Turam, thinking, and said: „My friend, accept the most expensive present I have in my house!“

Turam thought: „Why do I need his holy cross?“ He thought back and forth, drank more than one cup of tea, and then remembered: „They say that dark forces are afraid of his cross. I gave the land to the Russian God, and lots of evil spirits crawled out from the swamps, haunting the outskirts. I won't put his cross on my neck: I'll put it in a sacred chest, and if I need it, I'll scare every creature. „He accepted the gift of the Russian God and rode home on the swift deer. He's still here. He worships his idols, his holy land, water, every blade of grass, bows to a tree, and scares the evil spirits with his cross“.

That's how the Khanty live. They don't forget to bow to their gods and keep the cross».

«I'll ask Khutline,» Levne said thoughtfully, «to be the mother of Altam anki, who was carrying our girl». She needs to be in public, and her heart will quickly melt. And her husband will return someday.

She took the cradle and hung it on the patterned wooden rings that her husband tied to the ceiling beams. Anshem iki shook a capercaillie goiter toy to attract child's attention before it fell asleep.

«Kaltashch Anki is looking at us. A newborn should have five mothers. The first mother will be the goddess herself. The mother goddess will be offended if we don't dedicate the child to her – the baby will often get sick,» Levne, the main mother, muttered joyfully.

«Great Nye gave us joy – a daughter. Everything must be done according to customs. Let her grow and enjoy life.»

They cradled the child, and the girl immediately fell asleep in a warm Khanty cradle under joyful conversations.

The next day, Anshem Iki found two women who were making a dugout on the settling hill. Pulling out a female knife with a wooden handle from his bosom, he tried to put it in the thin fingers of the one that was taking birth. Seeing the knife in the hands of Anshem Iki, she shied away. Grabbing a frightened woman by the wrist, he forcibly put the gift in her hands:

«Be the midwife for my daughter, Pukan anki.»

The new midwife, puzzled, examined the knife with a simple handle nested in a birch bark scabbard. Decorated with branchy ornaments that spoke of something unknown, the birch bark warmed her palm with the yellow sun. Then Anshem Iki pulled out a dark cross from his bosom. He turned to the woman which was now the friend of his daughter Pukan anki, and caught the hand of a beautiful woman. Trying to escape from strong male hands, she screeched with fear. He put a sacred cross in her palm:

«And you, my daughter, be Pern anki – the godmother.»

Then he turned calmly and went towards his village. Women did not understand a thing, they stood and looked after him. Then the godmother raised her hand to throw out the cross. Then she stopped, and started hiding it feverishly.

«Why did he bring this? What shall I do? After all, they will put me in jail if they see the cross. Maybe I shall bury it in the ground?» Her heart tightened in fear.

The midwife also examined her knife, then said:

«He probably brought us presents for the girl. You can't throw it away, but you need to hide it. Wait, I have a good piece of birch bark here. Let's wrap it up right there, in a conspicuous place, near the dugout, and bury. We'll find it when good times come.

„Will good times come?“ The godmother sighed bitterly.

„Don't you worry, girl! Be sure they'll come, don't even think about anything bad. Soon everything will be fine and we'll be taken home.“