Uzbeks

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… Let me tell you a story.

In the second year we went to cotton. To that Boka district. To a kolkhoz on the outskirts. These are the places that look like our Surkhan oasis: at every step the cliffs grow. It was as if the garden had planted a young reed with a stem. The place is very narrow. It's a place where cattle graze and children play!

My dear, I told him the place he liked, the place he liked: he likes places like that!

So, after a while, the village begins. Twenty or thirty flats should stand. The roofs are muddy and the walls are muddy. When we arrived, the whole roof was covered with hay, it was raining, and the hay was yellow. Young children were sitting on top of some of them.

When they saw us, they shouted. Poor… Our car stopped on a rocky street. The teachers agreed. They turned us from here and lowered us to the ground.

We were to be housed in a brigadier’s unfinished porch building. The paint is simply straw plastered. There are no window frames. Zah Zakh. It was no different from the usual… barracks. Among the children, there were many older than me: some had graduated from the army, some from the technical school… We, now like you, had just finished tenth and were about to enter the university. It should be noted that in terms of literacy, we are no less than them, and sometimes we would reach a height: anyway, after graduating from high school, we will enter the right institute. Knowledge is still fresh… Also, as you know, from the active readers of the fireplace library, especially the fundamental library.

But we also have shyness. Anyway, it's our village, right? Probably a factor as to why they're doing so poorly.

No? E! What would you do if he put you in that house? Would you blow up the stove from the steam room in the kolkhoz office? Would you like to come? No. What would you hold instead of a window? Full… Where did you find it? That's it…

We had a course called Forest. Novcha, a thin young man. He did not go to university for three years. He brought tomatoes and onions to Siberia and sold them. If you hear of his adventures on the train, hee larda In mature kids! Our commissar was also a young man named Azimjon. Nukul read Hemingway with Remark and said, "Our writers are liars." Me? Of course, I was against it!

So we settled down. We laid straw on the ground and spread a tent over it. Then we wrote the bed.

They also found a teapot and a bucket.

It was late. You know, it’s hard to sleep the first night. Latifa used to say, "The gentleman you see, the gentleman you know."

As the children immediately took over the net, the sides, I was touched by the place in the doorway, I did not know if the door was open at night, when I woke up in the morning, my nose was stuffy.

Heavy, dark clouds rolled in the air, but the cotton field at the foot of the hill was clearly visible. Out of the second harvest. The buds shed their leaves and turned yellow.

Leaning on the porch pole, I began to watch: the mulberries at the edge of the cotton field. Those mulberries… Here and there a flock of squirrels flies. On the other side of the mulberry tree was a tall gray building. It was as if a bucket was boiling in front of him, and a red flame was coming out of his trumpet.

Then I saw a lonely hut by the stream, which separated us from the cotton fields so low. Its roof is also covered with hay. There are sparrows on the haystack: rotten esa On the bank of the stream, a Karakalpak classmate, yes, that's Saparboy, is running around in a T-shirt.

I went downstairs to wash my hands.

"Yechin." Run. Do physical training! Said Sapar.

"Oh, my pussy is coming out," I said.

Then I saw that the hut was a house where people lived. I, I didn’t know, didn’t think it was an oppression, I wondered. It has a small window.

In front of the house, you know, there is a cobweb.

A woman is knitting a shawl, beating it with a large stick and throwing the yarn back and forth between the layers. Slowly I approached him: this scene is also close to our hearts, dear!

Sensing the ghost, the woman lowered her handkerchief over her forehead.

"Hello, dear, sister!" I said.

"Come on, brother," he said. - Welcome… Are you well settled?

- Yes, thank you. Very well settled… Do you live in this house?

"Yes," he said. "It's gone!"

"Will you take care of the cattle?"

- Yes, the collective farm gave me a herd.

"A herd!" Oh, you don't hear those words in Tashkent, my dear. That's how I suddenly fell in love with them.

"A goat or a sheep?"

- Mixed.

When I look, there is a long black hole on the other side of the house.

It is surrounded by twigs. I walked slowly. The smell of qi… Ha-ha-ha! I looked at the black man: while he was milking seventy or eighty small cattle… For some reason I thought that even here people know only cotton. Now, because of the cattle, the cotton looked a hundred times better to me. On top of that the air is soft, the cotton is washed, moist. The leaves and stems are yellow. Clear, clear water is flowing in the ditch… Oh! At that time, the water in Boka was clean. Chemicals were also rarely sprayed, in my opinion. But I didn't pay attention to these aspects.

So I came to a corner of Surkhandarya.

At that moment, one by one, the children began to come down from the house, from our bed, rubbing their eyes one by one. Some joined Sapar and went for a run. Some went to the cotton fields. Ormon aka came to the woman who was weaving.

"How are you, sister?" Hormang!

- Come on, brother… You came and did zap…

"Yes, now, can we help you?" Is there green tea? From the dry.

"Yes, yes." She dropped her skirt, dropped the comb, and went into the hut. Old lace-up boots on her feet, long hair at the ends. The faded jacket is wrinkled. Soon he was carrying a piece of newspaper with a jar. He handed the newspaper to Forest and leaned the jar over it. A handful of tea spilled, Forest:

"Yes, thank you," he said.

- If necessary…

"We'll ask again if necessary."

"All right, uncle." Hey, cotton, cotton… Look, you too left school and left your parents. Find blessings. Thank you…

"Now you have to dial!" - said Ormon aka… - Yes, how much is a kilogram of cotton?

"I don't care if it's ten cents or five cents."

- E! Probably not! Said Ormon aka. Then he laughed. "They must know our writing?"

- Yes. He knows.

- Well… Are you from somewhere?

"No, we're locals."

"Do you have any other plots?"

"No, uncle." That's it… The paint is good. We are three souls. Your nephew went with his father… He says he will be a shepherd. There is still time. Where do you drink tea?

"Tea?" Hm, today in bed now… Then let's think again.

It's as if I'm describing Ormon aka as a bitch now. No, in a sense, he was right: he thought of us, anyway.

Then we went to pick.

When the sun rises, my nest is yellow and shining. We wear skirts around our necks and walk like a herdsman going to the kitchen. Oh, my friend, I also like to walk on wet paths when I'm on a day like this!

The squirrels play on the hill. Wet leaves are wrapped around your feet. Occasionally, steam rises from the threshing floor. Did you see? The cotton swab will burn. If you sleep for a long time, the smoke will also go out.

We sweated that day. Shame is harder than death… I sweated a lot. But the nose did not open.

On the way back, a pot was boiling on the side of the hut. Now Azimjon aka went to the cauldron and sniffed:

"Soup," he said, looking at us.

"Well," said Ormon aka, "the pot is small."

"Come on, come on."

"Don't hurry, sir!"

Out of the house came a young man with a bushy beard and a chubby face. They rushed in as if to suppress the rain, and saw us one by one.

"Welcome, welcome!" Oh, welcome home!

"Let's wash first," said Ormon aka. Is your nose over? He asked me. As long as your medical center is in the center, this is Kamchatka.

"Well, it will be found." There is a cure! He put on his boots and entered the house, staggering as if he had fallen off his feet.

Then he took out a garden ituzum.

"That's what they'll do if they tie it around their throats," he said.

- That's it, that's it! I said. - It will be a little.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Said Ormon aka. "I'll need it again."

I took my dog ​​and came to bed. I look at it: this plant is familiar too! Darling, we had a momo split too. Our grandfather was an old woman who had been called an "enemy of the people" for giving hay to the invaders' horses, and who had lived a single life to feed the remaining eleven. Leaving them to be created one by one, our monkey stayed with the father…

That old woman used to treat our throats like that. When the tongue came out, he dried and crushed the white rose and sprinkled the powder. It was as if we hadn’t seen anything.

In our warehouse, they used to hang it on wooden stakes from such orchards.

We also hung a nail on the wall. Then we took a handful of the fruit, tore a piece from the edge of the gray skirt, and crushed the fruit and lifted it to our throats.

The next day our eyes opened wide and we went out to pick.

We have no fields behind the huts behind the tea pot, where we picked cotton. There were tiny sheds everywhere. The ground was muddy, the walls were swollen, and there was dirt playing around it, and there were many traces of mice and rats.

We would sometimes go into huts like that and relax.

I, myself, loved to swim in places like that. Near such sheds, of course, there would be a ditch, the banks of which were lined with reeds, and the thorns in the reeds bloomed red and yellow, and we were the only spectators.

Sometimes watermelon and melon stalks would come out of the branches. Of course, there would be a twisted, twisted hole. But if you crack it, the taste will break the tongue. Oh, my dear, it seemed so to me, a poor student! Otherwise, what's so sweet about a comb that's just started? Balli, man is not so capricious: you have to be content with everything bor

And in my skin, you know that your stomach is not always like the stomach of a full-bodied lamb.

It is now fashionable to denigrate cotton, calling its labor the hardest labor. In a sense, it really is. But the romance during the harvest!

Remember the mornings! Cuttings with moist soil. Remember that in the distance, the dust of the chariot rising from the road, running from the horizon to the rays of the rising sun, turned into a golden dust! On top of that, even then, he said, “I am doing the greatest work! I am fighting for the national pride of Uzbeks! ” - you think. If one of your friends is more playful, picks less cotton, and looks like an enemy to your eyes…

When you see a beautiful, slender girl with silky fingers pierced into the pelvis, bleeding, tied with gauze, and now barely typing, “Oh, city mother! Shade, shade! ” You would say inwardly.

Yes, first of all, I’m talking about myself! Or can I finish my story? Mayli…

Embarrassed, I reached the bed in a daze. I have to get up the next morning and go out to pick. Rain, snow - a penny in front of the cotton!

I washed my clothes and put them in the oven to dry a bit. Then, on the advice of a wise friend, we put it on and said, "It'll dry in bed."

The next day is a disgrace.

"You are very delicate, poet," said Ormon aka. Calling delicate, dreamy people ‘poets’ has since become a picture.

… Saparboy - that Karakalpak guy was close to me… This guy:

"Stay, I'll pick up two aprons for you," he said. Two cotton aprons - this is world labor! That means bending at least two or three thousand times. How much harder it is… I was heartbroken and didn’t know what to say to him. My head was spinning and my stomach seemed to be burning on its own. Azimjon aka also put his hand on my forehead:

"Stay." Not allowed. John is needed, too. See how realistic people are.

I stayed. The children left. The same was the condition for the patient who lay in the house: he had to sweep and clean the place. I swept the house to get rid of Birato. I also cleaned the porches. As I walked back to the back of the building to dump the rubbish, I saw a scene.

At the edge of the cornfield, under the cover of a wild broom, an eleven-year-old boy leans his arms on his knees and looks away. On the other side, a yellow dog is lying under the straw that has fallen on the cotton wall.

Curious, too, I went to the boy. Then the dog snarled, jumped, and jumped over the wall. After the raft, he bit the puppy like a fist and jumped over here. He puts it on the ground and licks it. He lay down again.

"Is that interesting?" I said.

The boy was startled. His face was dirty, and his earlobe fell on his forehead.

"Yes," he said anxiously. - This is a street, children cook… I take the child to the yard, it takes him to the nest. Isn't that good?

I sighed.

"Whose son are you?"

Mankind is curious, huh? What does it matter to me who he will be a son to?

"The brave shepherd," he said.

"Yes, do you have an order?"

"No," said my uncle. "Eshimboy has an order." But the sheep are scarce…

And the young children knew those machinations.

"It's all right," I said. "Your father will too." Botirboy is an excellent shepherd. Ah, are your houses behind that wall?

- Ee! He said, laughing at me. - Ana-ku! When my Father gave you my dog, I was looking out the window… Need more? Your eyes are getting teary!

- No. "I have a dog," I said. "Do you have any brothers?"

"My brother is dead." The midwife said the old woman was born prematurely. He is dead. We came buried. It was small.

"Shoot," I said.

Ever since I came here, I have seen the living conditions of the woman and her husband: the woman wakes up before dawn: milks the cow, watches her husband, and then weaves a cobweb. he falls into the cotton field on the surface: he puts a sack upright until evening. Even at night, the light from the lone window in their hut shines along the stream until dawn.

Ormon aka and Azimjon aka, three or four more children drank their tea and once or twice shared their meals.

Thinking about these things, I thought, "It's hard work, maybe the child has left."

You know, my dear, that we are helpless with our eyes open: you have also seen a farmer, a cotton grower, living in such strange huts. Of course… But wouldn’t we admit it? What a fool we are!

Repentance, we were ashamed to admit it. We also hid from someone.

Take your time, here’s the thing: do you think this thing is just out of fear?

I have a suspicion. You know the poor Uzbek, he treats guests without eating them…

He hides his poverty. Is it interesting? However, the poor man becomes accustomed to his situation. He does not hide. Ours for some reason… As if he was very rich and suddenly became poor: so it seems to me that he is trying to hide it with regret o'Maybe there are other reasons that we do not understand?

The boy's name was Abduqadir.

We came to the porch together.

"Don't touch the dog," I said. "Your house is good for you, and yours is good for him."

"Bad kids are kidnapped here." He will sell it, 'said Abduqadir.

"Who does he sell it to?"

"He's selling it." One farmer bought six puppies.

"Are you studying?"

- In the fifth… We go to school in the afternoon. Hey we'll see later.

- What happens to reading?

"Stop it!" He laughed. - We will go to cotton next year! I still pick cotton. I'm picking up my sister… A book? I read. There is a Robinson Crusoe. One paramedic left. Last year… He came to see my brother… I cried. Then he gave me this book. Good book!

My dear, I read the same book at the age of the same boy. You too…

How close is our biography?

Am I prolonging my story? Where are you going in a hurry, darling? You just have to be more discriminating with the help you render toward other people. Reliving those moments, huh?

Those memories purify a person’s heart. Also, this breast, which is full of thoughts of fisk-u fujurga, unnecessary mine damage,… Smoke.

So Abduqadir and I became friends.

Our girls were also standing in the barracks behind Tutzor. As two of them were ill, the doctor came. When he saw me, he gave me what he called analgin-panalgin.

I slept hard for three days.

It must have been the fourth day, when I went out on the porch, and the Brave Shepherd fell down with a watermelon under his arm. That afternoon the air was clear and the day was much hotter.

In the evening I finished sweeping the house again and sat down on the porch. Abduqadir picked up a half-eaten watermelon and began to cook.

He brought a watermelon himself…

"To you." Yeng, - he said. "My father gave it to me." My sister said eat… Then when you enter the house in the evening.

"I won't eat." Thank you. "I'm full," I said.

- No. You don't eat! He said, as if fighting with me. "You're sick." This watermelon is good.

"I won't eat."

Abduqadir got up, put the watermelon on the ground and ran down.

When the children returned from the harvest, the brave shepherd came out and told us to go home:

"Come on, brothers." We made soup one afternoon. Thank you. You don't have parents here…

"We can't fit in your house," said Ormon aka.

"If we are open-minded, we can fit in," said the shepherd.

"Twenty of us!"

"Otherwise, guys, ten of us will be guests today." After ten! Said Ormon aka.

They took me without leaving.

It was a room that could barely fit four people. Brick oven in the corner. Elegant. But the tea stain, the oil spilled. The floor is covered with two layers of palos. An estimated load on the net. Narrow blankets were placed. We got stuck.

The brave shepherd smiled and set the table with joy. Put the double-covered bread. He sprinkled a plate of white blood. Then he sprinkled raisins with two handfuls of jiida. Then he poured green tea into a large teapot.

Two plates of rice were gone until the hash-pash. Then they started drinking tea.

I… didn’t know how to sit. I'm not cured of the disease, it's also caused by whimsy… But I used to eat a loaf of bread.

This family was a poor family.

"Yes, the cotton is on its feet, too." Said Ormon aka. "Are you gathering?" Ha-ha-ha! This is the Uzbek custom: to have a child…

"Yes, our fathers did," said the brave shepherd. "Your sister is married." We passed El. There is a cost to a wedding…

"But we are being deceived, shepherd!" Our daily work does not cover our food. It costs ten cents a kilo. Now ten pounds is harder than death.

"Yes, we can bear it now, uncle." Cotton ourselves, government ourselves.

"Hey, I don't understand that!" The woman was watching me.

"That brother didn't taste anything," he said. "Or do they ignore us?"

"Oh, why not?" My fire went out. - Myself, this…

"Hey, he has no appetite," said Ormonjon aka. "Otherwise, he'll be afraid to eat!"

"Yes, I have no appetite," I said.

I wanted to get out faster. Ormon aka's words and questions touched my heart… What? E, darling, do you think you don't understand me? Yeah yeah! My brother Ormonjon was right…

There is another side to the matter: we ourselves have not had enough to eat. One of them was carrying half a kilo of sugar, the other was stealing, someone was stealing meat from someone's bowl. Someone you can catch.

N-What if I don't have to? May I extend my hand? Put that down.

Brother! In those circumstances, you would not have behaved differently from me!

That's right, I didn't go back to their house. The shepherd speaks, the wife says, the son calls. I say yes. I would like to have a massage.

I looked bad at the children who came in and out of their huts and dried their tablecloths. Gradually, I began to sympathize with them as well.

Then, something happened that you can't even imagine.

It started to rain continuously. We were without food for two days. Even so, many children were in debt.

Gradually, our ambassadors developed a habit of roaming the streets of the village: at night they brought dozens and fifteen watermelons at a time.

The next day there was a quarrel at the headquarters: someone complained that a thief had broken into his yard…

That's when we started learning about theft.

But the biggest theft… was a hurricane at night. At one point, the door slammed open and a brave shepherd appeared.

"The cattle ran out!" Help! I didn't know what frightened the sheep and goats. We went out in search of the others. There are a lot of dogs on the village streets. Maybe the wolf was around? It's raining buckets… E, we've been looking for a lot. We went out and found some sheep and goats in the cotton fields, five or six in the streets, and in some houses.

The shepherd lights a lantern at the door and his eyes glaze over. Nuqul says thank you. His wife applauds. The boy is happy… But not a single lamb was found.

"I'll find him myself." You rest now… If I find it, I will slaughter and fry one of my two sheep for you, - said the brave shepherd.

"Let's have some meat, brother!" Said Ormon aka.

We went back to bed. Now, if I say I'm out of breath again, you'll be annoyed.

Well, let's just say that five or six guys had a bad cold that night.

It was two or three o'clock, and I woke up with my breath back. The door was ajar, and the wind was howling. I pulled from the bottom, it opened again. What a pity he endured. I know I jumped up and grabbed the handle, someone pulled the door open. I'm here. I was scared. Then I opened the lang. Azimjon aka was standing.

- Ee! Go to the garden. "Put something on you," said the man. When I threw the coat on my shoulder, there was a young wrestler named Ormon aka, Mirzagalib, standing by the column.

Mirzagalib is also older than me, he has the nickname "Chairman", he is careful, he puts cotton in his ears at night, saying that "the shore is coming".

Azimjon aka slammed the door:

- Come on. There is talk. That's all there is to it.

"But it's a flower," said Ormon aka.

I followed them on my way. Ormonjon aka stepped forward. The rain was calm, but the wind was blowing, signaling cold days, it would open the tops of our outer garments and beat itself on our chests. Now the dogs' voices are also muted.

We were going back from the side of the road - the side that brought us to the village.

We walked a long way. My breath opened up a lot. Once or twice:

"Where are we going?" I asked.

They did not say. And then… I was happy… Yes, it's a pleasure to rush somewhere with some mysterious work in the middle of the night!

Hey, the village is left behind… As I said at the beginning - we came to the gorge as if the cliffs were planted in the garden. A couple of dogs met him on this side and ran away.

 We are following Ormonjon aka. In some places the reeds were burned: the smell of damp ash was noticeable.

The damp ground squeaks.

Alkissa, we went to a place where the reeds grew like a man, like a fork. Then I heard a lamb moaning helplessly. But I still didn't know what was going on, what was the purpose of this trip. Eventually, we went to the reeds and Ormonjon aka lit a flashlight. After a moment, we were standing on top of a black, wet lamb with its legs tied and laughing, its eyes gleaming and barely making a sound.

"Good," said Ormonjon aka. "I was afraid of stray dogs." "Ergashvoy, you know cattle, can a dog eat lamb?"

"Such things will happen," I said. "But whose lamb is this?"

- Ours… Ours now. Mirzagalib, start now! Here, my knife is sharp, but don’t hit the bone.

I'm so tired!

"Hey, are you going to kill that?" - Depman.

- Bor. Hey, look at the road from there!

"No, whose is it?" Maybe kolkhoz, maybe… E? Isn't it Botir aka's lost lamb?

"Oh, what can I tell you?" Said Ormonjon aka, holding his shoulder and turning back. "Go now." We saw him take the side of the kolkhoz! Kolkhoz… Damn your father! It will starve us! If a hero loses a lamb, he will not starve to death!

- After all, honesty…

Would these guys be brought up with this job? No! I was just hating then, screaming out of helplessness.

That's right, I took a step or two towards the village. But, apparently, I was afraid to be alone among my classmates, to hear a thousand and one scoldings, apparently.

I also realized that even though I didn't realize it, these guys weren't happy about their fullness, and even though it wasn't a nail-biting excuse for them, it was comforting to me, self-deception - it was one of them. .

So even though I hadn't eaten a piece of that lamb, I was still an accomplice to the theft.

My uncle Ormonjon and my uncle Azimjon were afraid of me for a week.

I just stopped talking to them. What you say?

Yes, they were slaughtered there. Mirzagalib slaughtered. They scratched his skin and scratched his head until he said hash-pash. Then they burned a ball of reeds and cooked the liver in the cave and ate it.

I said I didn't eat. I lost my appetite… After a while: "I hate you all!" I stepped aside. Then I waited.

Well, you didn't go to the shepherd and tell him. Then I left. I went to bed…

I'd like to cry, please. I felt sorry for Botir aka and his wife. Then I felt sorry for our guys too… Yes! I don’t know when they went to bed. But they ate the meat fried for three or four days. No… The girls ate in bed. Now, they weren’t in heaven either, darling.

You writers are whimsical people. When you say a good person, you mean a person who is as white as milk and as calm as music. However, cows are not alive: they are, in my opinion, just an idea. Ha-ha-ha. Your statement is similar to the "Code of Ethics of the Man of Communist Society."

If the code is out, then people will follow it: some think it will be like in the brochure. These are nonsense.

Days passed.

The snow began to sparkle… Our walks in the mountains, as you know, at such times, were now a fairy tale. In the cold, we would pull out the cotton of the torn torso as if it had been soaked in water.

Yes, the two men were pushing the rope to one side and pouring the belly of the cotton. Then we would go straight into the yard. We were collecting "white gold". When this frog landed on the "white gold" skirt, it was born and became like a fist. It's too wet.

A? I don’t know how to dry it out. But I saw him sleeping in a room or two.

Then the cossack dialing begins.

Now, our dear ones: Ormonjon aka, Azimjon aka, Mirzagalib, and their comrades - all of them would get stuck in the shepherd's hut until it was a little cold, or if the tank didn't boil in time.

The shepherd and his wife are happy!

We were now lonely. No, I never went in. How do I get in!

Listen to this oil.

We were going back. You know, no teacher, no brigadier says such a day… I still don't understand why. Maybe they think it will cool off from my skin?

But the funny thing is, kids know it anyway. The brave shepherd also knew. The day we left early, they arrived with their wives. To bed… I must be worried about something, anyway.

"Hello, come, guests!" Said Ormon aka.

My uncle Azimjon ordered the children to make bedding. The brave shepherd served and bowed again, as if we would not see him face to face if he did not enter.

"That's what the brothers said." Miz If you do that step by step. Behold, your sisters are begging. '

I'm done.

"How can that be?" Said Ormonjon aka. "It would have been different if your lamb had been found."

"Yes, we didn't look good that night either," said Azimjon aka. "We're a little embarrassed."

"Oh, my brothers," laughed the shepherd. - We were embarrassed. Do you believe us? Now, let's not talk too much, brothers. Lamb found account. A, wife? Hey, we found it in Shoditoqay. Ul-bulni… We imagined it ourselves… He said that it was a hunt for dog food… Now, if you say that we will be happy, you will be a guest of our suffering…

Then he said that they, too, would no longer go out to pick, but only to pluck cotton stalks and sit at home and sniff.

"There are two Greeks in our village," said his wife afterwards. "We got a bucket of water."

Wondering, darling? I'm amazed! Of course!

They sat in the hut for a while that night, having fun. It continued outside as well. I would lie down to put myself to sleep. When the guys came and turned on the light, I was sitting right in front of them.

Many were in the mood. It's hard to believe the man in the mood, but… ha-ha, that's what you thought: remorse… E, one put, one took, one put, one…

Apparently everyone's mouths are on that meat. I remember a call from Azimjon aka:

"We're stupid!" Said Engrab. "We're deliberately stupid." What kind of Uzbek are we? They can be called Uzbeks. What did you say, Ormonjon?

"We're very upset," murmured Ormon aka. "But life itself forces a man."

"He's not forcing them!"

"Why not?"

"Now, maybe we'll raise some money?"

"If so!"

Then they talked about me again. One, unaware of his voice, stood up:

"Even if you step into this Ergashvoy!" He said. "I look worse than a dog." He's been laughing at us for a lifetime. Wild…

"Don't worry," said Ormonjon aka. - Such people are alive…

I’m not telling this story to praise myself. If you ask him for fat, I am now five times worse than them: I will not eat my right. I don’t call any authority person… Shu-shu. Now we all have our eyes open…

Yes, the next day it was raining. It's like raining in the mountains!

Buses lined the street. The heads of the young men are in heaven. Finally, back to the university auditorium! I was standing on the porch. My bag is next to me. I would like to thank this brave shepherd and his wife. I loved them so much though!

Yes, they did.

- Welcome! Thank you very much, Ormonjon! Said the brave shepherd. - Azimjon, to you… To all of you. Look, you lived like you ate a raisin in forty… We couldn't appreciate you.

He shook hands with everyone and turned away when he left me. Then his wife began to say goodbye. I nodded as the pack reached out to me, giving me the tips of my hands and saying goodbye.

Trembling, I walked over to them.

"Botir aka, sister," I said, "I love you very much." "Don't be upset."

"No, you don't love us," said his wife. "You hated it from the beginning."

"True, brother." You didn't like us, 'said the shepherd. "Those guys are different."

"I respect you very much."

"Nonsense," she said.

"Yes," said her husband.

Abduqadir was lying down and staring at me. That's right.

So what do you see here, what do you conclude? I saw here the simplicity, the breadth and simplicity of a simple Uzbek.

Believe me, when I got on the bus, I would look out of the cold window at the stork and cry: for the generosity of these Uzbeks, in spite of all difficulties and poverty, their instincts of extraordinary, legendary hospitality were not narrow. I cried with joy in my heart, because it remained as it was.

Sorry, our conversation was about "Uzbek character". There is truth in the great stories you tell. But it was just a simple story of mine, my dear. So the effect of this on me is absolutely fragmentary.