Jan Amany - Okzhetpes

Text copyright © Jan Amany, 2019

Illustrations copyright © Aigul Khakimzhanova, 2020

Copyright © Aspandau Publishing House, 2020

Design copyright © ARTQRAFT, 2020

Soaring through the sky is the Eagle. Every day, the people of the aul notice it and, squinting at the blinding sun, they look up, raising their heads to the azure sky. Whatever happens, the smooth flight of the Eagle bestows upon them a sense of safety and peace. Many years pass and yet… the Eagle soars through the sky.

The aksakals say that an admirable woman once lived in their aul: her temper was gentle, her eyes were kind, and her hair was long. She carefully braided them each morning, and in the afternoon, her son played with a jingling shashbau that decorated her braids.

The baby loved sleeping cuddled against his mother’s shoulder. He slept so deeply that neither the cry of the children nor the barking of the dogs could wake him. He was the apple of his mother’s eye. But then he was gone.

The mother looked for him restlessly. Once she discovered that her son was swallowed by an unforgiving mountain lake, she could not bear the grief. She passed away. And with her last breath, an eagle flew into the sky. People believed that the inconsolable mother had turned into a majestic bird. Every time a child cried, the Eagle appeared by his side and did not leave until the tears on the baby’s cheeks dried up.

No matter how many years pass, people see the Eagle in the sky and are assured that it will protect the aul from harm and ill will. With the Eagle watching over them, no child will cry, no mother will grieve.

Aksakal Doszhan, a good and honest man, had many stories to tell. Living in his native land for all his life, Doszhan learnt its fables by heart. His narration of the legend of the lake and the Eagle was filled with particular warmth: he sincerely believed that Otkyrkoz was not an ordinary eagle.

The story of the Koksu lake was also one of his favorites. People of the aul revered the lake that lay high up in the mountains. Aksakals said that the lake was once a deep gorge, which got transformed by an earthquake. It was so blue that it merged with the sky, leaving one guessing where the lake ends and the sky begins. Only the wind could give out this secret. With the breeze, light ripples appeared on the water, revealing the line between the sky and the surface of the mountain lake. For the clear blue water, people called the lake Koksu.

Sometimes, when the heat of the day fell, the youth gathered around aksakal Doszhan’s dastarkhan, ready to heed to the stories of their aul.

Doszhan ata had a dog, a smart Kazakh Tazy hound called Alapar. Without his trusty companion, hunting to the aksakal was joyless, and the yard seemed empty. Doszhan ata used to call up his dog and, gently stroking its withers, begin his narrative.

“Not every aul is lucky enough to have a mosque and a school. We are fortunate, my dears. However, if it were not for one eagle and Alapar, we would have led different lives… Back then, I was young, full of spirit, and eager to learn everything about the world around me.

“Once I woke up longing to see the mountain lake, listen to the birds chirping and breathe in the fresh air of the lake. So, I called up Alapar, mounted my horse and rode up the mountain trail. The sun was so bright that I had to cover myself with a cap. Lowering the hood over my eyes and looking out from under it, I noticed that all of a sudden Alapar became agitated and started whining. The sun disappeared behind the clouds, and the whole sky turned dark. My horse neighed loudly, and a grave feeling consumed my heart.

“‘It is going to rain,’ a thought slipped my mind, when I heard someone flying over me. The flapping of the wings became louder and louder. I had to hurry. I pulled the bit, and my horse galloped. ‘My dog is here with me, and I’m not so scared with Alapar by my side,’ I thought.

“I turned off the path into the forest, my heart beating frantically in my chest… But I found no salvation there: I was not able to find a way to move on, and the forest around seemed unfamiliar. I shrank, hiding my head between my shoulders, and wondered, ‘I’m not that old to forget the road.’ Desperately, I was trying to calm myself, taking one deep breath after another. Then, I looked around and noticed a mountain lake in the distance. I realized that I had arrived at the lake, but at its unfamiliar shore. Dismounting the horse, I followed Alapar through the forest.

“By the time we reached Koksu, the sun had reappeared, and the day was bright once again. However, the lake, so well-known from the times of childhood, was hardly recognizable. Curly clouds reflected in its water, like in a mirror; the rays of the sun sparkled and shimmered like precious stones… I was overwhelmed by the beauty around me and stood there charmed by the lake. Suddenly, the nearby trees rustled, and the thundering noise of the wings sounded so close that it was impossible not to turn back. Even Alapar looked around… It was the Eagle.

“We call her Otkyrkoz – ‘sharp eye.’ Otkyrkoz is genuinely one of a kind. She flies not only in the daylight but during nights as well, although eagles usually avoid hunting in the dark. ‘Why did the Eagle come to me? It can’t be an accident,’ I thought to myself. ‘This has to be a sign of something important. I believe in it with all my soul, like my father and my grandfather believed that spirits protect our village from bad and evil…”

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