ONE DAY

Munavvara USMONOVA

ONE DAY

It was May then. My partner and I went on vacation. Our father-in-law (peace be upon him) tells us:

– Come to Tajikistan during your vacation. You know, when my father left the country as a grateful exile, he went to those lands and settled down. I have blood brothers and sisters. Your grandfather’s hoki is also there. I went a lot. They said that if you, being the eldest children of the family, take care of everything, the ties of kinship will not be broken even after us.

We left with our gifts and prayers. We settled in the yards where our grandfather lived. Our livers were very happy to see us. Every day we had fun visiting an uncle’s or aunt’s house. One such day they brought sweets from the shop for breakfast. Since I was a bride, I must have been polite, there was a dessert left on the table for me. The neighbor’s mother, who was leading the guests with a warm blanket in one hand and her grandson in the other, hugged us like old dear friends. «I will eat cake,» I said to my grandson, who cried. After breakfast, we went for a walk to the side of Hisar under the guidance of our uncle Gofurjan. Even if we walked, we walked a lot. My son, who was sleeping in my arms (he was three years old at the time), suddenly started vomiting in a fit of rage. After a while, my life partner, then our uncle... We barely made it to the «Ambulance» department in the district center. It didn’t happen. In particular, my child’s condition began to worsen. When we reached the internal medicine hospital, which is located among the hills, both my child and his father were unconscious. Whether the condition of our host had improved a little, or he was afraid of the condition of his guests, he went into town in search of medicine. Either I don’t know the language, or I don’t understand them, I can’t explain... Only one nurse explained the situation to me because she knows Russian. He said that the condition of the three-year-old boy is very serious, that the temperature is not coming down because of the poisoning, and that there is no hope for the boy to survive. No one could hear me when I said, «The husband is very busy.» It’s midnight, either my child is not allowed to see me, or my boss. I was torn between two grasses, two roads, two countries. Our uncle is also late. (There were no mobile phones at that time) Later I found out that when he went to the city to look for medicine, he heard that everyone in his family, including the neighbor’s child, was in the hospital, and he became a stranger to them. It’s midnight. Locusts are chirping, dogs are howling... and I am not myself. I have no one, nothing in mind. Only behind the window of this hospital where the lights are on, my child is dying. Even if he calls me, they won’t let me in. Ayajon, it’s enough to say. Everyone understands this word. Then I run and hug him. My partner is in another part of the big hospital... I couldn’t say where my child is, where my wife is. I am standing in the place where that light fell. When a nurse appears through the small window of the door, I run: «Shut up, kid... don’t say anything!!!» A woman came to me near dawn. Dressed in a pleated black satin dress. He has long hair, beautiful eyebrows and eyes... He looked at me and said something. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand, I put my head on his shoulder and cried. «Baby... baby,» I said, pointing up. He poured me tea from a thermos in a black bag and held a piece of bread. I didn’t eat, I gestured. He sat me next to him and began to roll the bread and put it in my mouth. Every now and then he patted my head and wiped the tears from my eyes.

Then he knocked on that window. He went inside. After a while, the nurse led me by the hand. One of my heart was telling me to run and hold your child in your arms, and one of my heart was telling me that if you come in now, they will wrap your arms around you and hold your hand. I entered trembling. My child was pale but breathing. I fell before I could... That warm palm caresses my head again. When I opened my eyes, that woman in a white robe and a white cap was looking at me worriedly. She looked like an angel, not a woman. After two or three days, my child opened his eyes. His father stood up. But I was in trouble. «We’ll take it home,» I said. The doctors did not allow it. The head of the department is still a woman, her name is Lobar. I wrote a receipt at night. I wrote thank you, I wrote a prayer... I put it on that woman’s desk. Also my ears... The next afternoon at the airport someone grabbed my hand in the control corridor. That warm palm again. He caught my wits in my hand. There was also some medicine. We grew up. How many roads we have traveled, how many good and bad days have passed by us. I leaned on many people when they fell down, I held my hands and patted the heads of many women. Anyway, it seems that I could not find the reward of the woman who held my trembling body in her bosom, made bread with her hands and drank hot tea that day, that night, in that country. His goodness was equal to the heavens. When I go on vacation, this year I will definitely look for that angelic woman... I will rub her warm palms on my eyes, «YOU ARE MY SISTER...» I will say.

Translator - Madinabonu Makhammadrizoyeva