 Translated by H. B. Paksoy (owner of all the rights to this work) Part Three My Father's Medrese --My father's medrese comprised four buildings. He would have one hundred fifty to perhaps two hundred students. The majority of these students were dag Bashkurts, and children arriving from distant locations. They would study for four months, returning to their villages before the snows melted. Fermenting honey secretly, without letting my father know, they would hold drinking parties. They would also organize regular wrestling and dancing events during Thursday evenings. There was a very tight disciple among them. The news of bitter honey parties would not reach my father's ears, and I would not at all report them. The head, called "kadi" would be elected during fall, as soon as the medrese session began. He would be seated on white felt and raised high by four individuals, while other students would pinch, sometimes even needle him here and there with an awl, causing him to cry. But, later he would get his own back. This was the "Han," meaning rulership, tradition of the old Turks. We have later learned that the election of "kadi" in medreses was entirely a Khorazm tradition. Though the official director of the medrese was my father, the actual administration was in the hands of this elected "kadi." Not allowing the internal matters to reach the medrese owner, called the "muderris," was considered a talent of the "kadi." My father's skill was in appearing as if he had not heard of those events. In this manner, the medrese life was the mirror of our community, and its history. In it, there was not the trace of the new pedagogical system called "usul-i cedid." Except, my father had designated an assistant of his, named "Zeki Halfe," with the task of teaching mathematics and geography to those interested. He also had students who could teach Russian. But my father categorically refused the proposal by the Russian government to open a Russian elementary school next to the medrese. And even I had opened a "village library" in this medrese. The jurist Bashkurt Sultanov, sent to us as the government district commissar (zemski nachalnik), was the son of Ufa mufti Sultanov. He, like the Tatar girl Zeyneb Abdurrahmanova, who was sent as the government doctor, had studied at the St. Petersburg university. Both would visit us often, discussing politics and educational matters. Perhaps these two had also influenced my father's evolution into a reformer from that of a medieval village imam. In my father's medrese, I studied Arabic and religious lessons with him, learned Persian from Zeki Halfe and Kessaf Molla, Russian and mathematics from Sahibek. But, one occupation that pleased me most was my participation, as a standard fixture, in wrestling competitions, though allowed to the students only during Thursday evenings, were organized among our household nightly. I did not neglect the "honey parties" either. Folk stories would be recited until the lights were put out for sleep, and I enjoyed them very much. Once Again, From My Mother --Because, when I was imprisoned at Orenburg in 1918 by the soviets, and in the Turkish Republic by Ismet Pasa during 1944, deprived of all reading material, I realized the importance of my mother's influence on me, {and later} while reading the poems I had learned from her and also Yesevi's inward supplication prayer piece called "Seb-i Yelda." During the events of 1944, memories of my father were long forgotten, but my mother's image was next to me like the angel called "hafaza feriste." Sometimes, as I did back at home, I felt as if I was inhaling her fragrance. Her charm was in her poetry, full of ethical suggestions. I am of the opinion that my mother had not committed the smallest sin in her life and that she was infinitely honest with me. The Persian and Turkish poems she taught me were not confined to moralistic pieces; among them there were literary and aesthetic ones. When I later read Navai's works in their entirety, I realized that those "gazel" my mother had me memorize were select ones. I do not know who taught those to my mother. Because, the portions of his "Divan" we had did not contain them. Furthermore, the moralistic poems and stories she taught me were in the nature of a "chrestomathy," an anthology, and the majority of them were in my mother's memory. Those were mainly pieces taken and compiled from Attar, Celaleddin Rumi, Navai, Yesevi, Sufi Allahyar. During the beginning of 1957, I was in Pakistan as a guest Lahore University. There, at the home of my friend Muhammed Baqir, the professor of Persian literature, I was astonished to discover that the army commander of Haydarabad Nizam, a Bukhara Ozbek by origin, had his son read the same books and poems my mother personally had me read, realizing how widespread this educational program was among the 19th century Turks. I surmise that my mother did not know the authors of those Persian poems. I found out, only later, that they were select pieces, and that the pronunciations I had learned were correct. The contemporary Iranian ruler, Muhammed Riza Shah, during the two audiences I had with him, asked where I had learned Persian. When I responded with "from my mother," he said "I wonder if your mother was Iranian?" Because, he had noticed that my pronunciation was different than that of Bukharan Tajik. Like my father's Arabic, my mother's Persian was of the literary type, perhaps grafted onto the Kuzenogullari and Satlikogullari by the Daghestani masters since the 18th century. She had also taught me namaz "niyet" {formal resolve to perform--HBP} in Persian. I remained forever indebted to my mother for lovingly teaching me Persian, which allowed me to learn Middle and Near Eastern life quite closely, and giving me the chance to make many very good friends there. My mother knew absolutely nothing of politics. She did not look at the arriving newspapers. Except stating that the name of God may be in them, she would not permit them to be left under foot, or anything to be wrapped in them. She was very religious. She would never neglect the namaz and, like my father, would rise before dawn. Delighting in poetry, my mother's speech was very correct. She spoke corroborating her every sentence with a proverb or with the insertion of aphorisms. A Poem of My Mother's and Freud --My mother knew how to write, and while teaching her students prayers, she would write them. But, she would not write letters. However, when my father was angry with me during 1908, when I was in Kazan, she wrote one or two letters. Nevertheless, there were poems she wrote to my father. These were kept scattered in my father's books. Every now and then, the property "inci" would cause a fuss. My mother was very sensitive towards the animals she had brought from what we caled "turkun," the bride's father's house. When one of those animals was sold, without securing her complete acquiescense, she took offence to my father. Then, my father wished to marry a second woman, or, it is said, at least threatened to do so. Consequently, my mother wrote the following poem: "You said there is no other sweetheart to love/ You had not loved anyone else, have you changed/ You are the one who had tasted my ruby red lips, and the one who broke my seal/ Are you a stranger, what is the meaning of this jest? (*) {(*)} Possibly, the last two lines were quoted from another poet, but my mother had used them very fittingly. With its completely clear meaning, this poem had remained in my memory. However, until I grew-up, I had not paid attention to its reference to the sexual relations between husband and wife. In general, whether or not there were sexual relations between our mother and father would not even enter the minds or imagination of us children. Whereas they would have us read the religious instructions regulating sexual relations, sometimes they would have some of the cows mated in our presence, to prevent them becoming barren, or we would observe the birthing sheep that had been brought into the warmth of the household, during the winter, for the purpose. To us, these were normal and natural affairs. Due to that, we had memorized our mother's poem as a beautiful piece. There were times, perhaps, when my sister Sare and I recited this and similar ones. But, according to the Viennese philosopher Dr. Freud, this is not simply the case: While I was studying in Vienna, during 1935, I had rented a room on Berggasse No. 9, to be near the History of Art Seminar of Prof. Strezegovski. I knew that there was an institute on the floor below me, but I was not aware that this was Freud's Psychoanalysis Institute. One day, the landlady said: "The residents below you are complaining of your very hard steps at night. Could you wear slippers?" I agreed, but kept forgetting and the request was being repeated. One evening, the landlady said: "The Professor is asking for you." This person introduced himself as Professor Freud, said there were sensitive instruments in his institute, and, because of that, repeatedly requested that I wear slippers in my room if possible. I had never seen Freud. Except, a Syrian Armenian student, said to be working under this Freud, had given me the books by the person in question. I had read some of them, but had not liked his philosophy at all. I responded to Freud with "I am a person who had arrived from the steppes of Central Asia. I wonder if I could have my feet comply with this stipulation." Freud invited me to his room. There, I told Freud that his writings pertaining to a girl of six-seven years of age lusting after her father was inapplicable to the Bashkurts and Kazakhs, translating my mother's above poem. I stated that I had grasped the sexual allusion of "breaking my seal" in this poem only after reading Dr. Freud's pamphlets. I conversed with him several more times after that. I had analyzed the Arab traveller Ibn Fadlan's writings on the old Oghuz that their understanding of sexual relations was entirely different from other Muslims and the Arabs and had compared those writings to Herodotus' records pertaining to sexual relations among Scythians. During our second conversation, I relayed all this to Dr. Freud. I even said to him: With your conversion of psychoanalysis into your "philosophy," which is an important and interesting branch of knowledge, you are providing material to the "perverts" who unabashedly write about watching their naked sisters through keyholes. He was not at all angered by my words. He wished very much to continue our talks, but as I had moved from Austria to Germany, there were no further opportunities. The Training My Maternal Uncle Habibneccar Provided --My maternal uncle's medrese comprised seven buildings. He had over three hundred students. Many of them, quite different from my father's, studied six-seven months of the year. There were even students who continued their education during the summer. On my part, I would arrive late to this medrese {and} leave early, returning to our village. For there were duties to be performed in our village to which I had grown accustomed (for example, towards Spring, taking the animals to our forest houses, called "otar," and staying with them), which were not a part of Utek's routine; or, perhaps not undertaken during the {medrese} session. My father, too, was requiring me to return early, to look after the animals. Accordingly, I would be home by mid-March. Thus, my medrese education would last for four months at most. Nevertheless, I would continue my lessons with my father, to remedy those interrupted due to my leaving early. At Utek medrese I would learn Arabic language and literature. Though my father was quite proficient in Arabic, he knew nothing of Arabic literature. My uncle would personally tutor me in those, because I would mostly stay in his house. Since, at the time he had no children, he would treat me with care, as his own. He would also tutor other students at his home, separately. He placed specific importance on the knowledge of "beyan-u bedi," meaning Arabic rhetoric, and the biographies of famed scholars and personae. In that context, I read the book entitled "Muvattal" until I left his school. From biographies he had me read portions, from Arabic translations, of Ibn-Hallikan, Taskopruluzade, Abdulhay al-Luknevi of India; and the "Resahat," written and published by Murad Remzi, again, a friend of my father's, which is about the sufi biographies of Central Asia. I very much liked to read those biographies and enjoyed comparing this "Resahat" to its Persian original, found in my uncle's library. My uncle would tell me that I could learn fikh and kelam on my own, completely exempting me from those lessons which he taught in his medrese. And I personally avoided them. The reason for this was in the Turkish book I used to take from my uncle's desktop and read. This was a book published by the Turkish political activist and scholar Mehmed Arif Bey, entitled "Bin bir hadis." In this book, while commenting on the Prophet's hadis "O Lord, I take refuge in you from useless knowledge/skills and those unacceptable actions and worship," Mehmed Arif Bey had regarded those branches of scholasticism, such as kelam and mantik, as unnecessary knowledge that had become the curse of Islamic nations. That hadith had a very sharp influence on me. On the other hand, I placed importance on reading history books in Arabic, and enjoyed it very much. Also, Sahibek Ozbek, who had been studying in my father's medrese, had moved to my uncle's. I continued to learn Russian from him. This friend later became an officer in the Bashkurt army, did not accept the truce we were observing with the Soviets during 1919, with my permission went to Ukraine, served in the Wrangel army. Subsequently I heard that he was wounded in Crimea, went to Istanbul, and died there. My uncle was pleased that the Russians were losing the Russo-Japanese war, that commenced in 1904, began daily sending a horse courier to Isterlitamak, to collect the telegraphic bulletins. He used to have me read those. This caused my Russian to further improve and provided a reason for my taking an interest in political affairs. {In Utek} there was a tailor named Toktamisoglu Gerey. He was a person who studied and had a good command of Russian and was well read. My uncle suggested that I further my Russian with him. I studied with this person, reading Pushkin's "Pugachev Rebellion" and the poems he wrote describing our Prophet, imitating the Koran. I rendered those into Chaghatay Turkish, which we used at the time as the literary language. My uncle would carefully read those translations. While comparing the Russian poet's translation of the "Vadduha" sura with its original, he had said "though he did not translate verbatim, also added a few things, he understood its meaning better than many of our commentators." Later, my uncle had me translate Pushkin's writings concerning his family history, "The Arab of Peter the Great" and said: this Son of an Arab certainly likes the Koran. I had earlier mentioned that, when in Utek continuing with my studies, I mostly stayed in my maternal uncle's house. He had numerous flocks, sheep folds and stables. I enjoyed feeding fodder to the horse herds even during winter. In our region, the harvested grass contained dried berries in abundance. I relished picking and eating those berries from among the dry grass, watching the animals. I liked the animals. If I was not present in class, reportedly my uncle would say: he is most likely to be in the kerte (meaning stables), fetch him. I also busied myself with mathematics, and reading the books my uncle had ordered from Istanbul. While I was still sixteen-eighteen years of I age, I read and summarized works by Ernst Renan, Dr. W. R. Draper, and the German Schopenhauer on religion and knowledge, as well as those published in Istanbul, those pertaining to religion and Islamic social problems, in Arabic the works of Egyptian Muhammed Abdu and that of Ferid Vecdi and their likes. Reading the studies of Renan and Draper had more closely interested me than the refutations written against them. I acquired a desire to read their complete originals. The influence of the Turkish press caused in me an inclination to smoke. My uncle's second wife discovered the butt of the first cigarette I ever smoked, and handed it to my uncle. On account of that, my uncle beat me. Nontheless, I occasionally smoked. How I Was Spending My Summers --During spring, I used to return to our village from the medrese for the sake of our animals. This was because the fodder prepared in summer would be depleted by March. In the forest we would cut the branches of a tree called "yila," bring back and feed those to the animals. We would take the animals out for grazing, at spots where the snows had melted. We, ourselves, would gather the wild potatoes, called "sarana," and other certain roots, found where the snows had cleared, cooking and eating them. I preferred remaining alone with nature and animals to the medrese. I would attend on horseback, in turn, the farmers' festivals called "Saban Toyu" of the Tatar villages, during the first half of April; and traditional festivities of the Bashkurt villages called "yiyin," towards the end of May. At times I would enter the races with our horses, observe the wrestling competitions, and even personally participate in the youth matches. We would be occupied with the affairs of the honey bees beginning at the end of April. Containing over one hundred hives, our bee garden, called "Umartalik," was in Qarli Bulek, four kilometers away at our old yayla and burial site. There was also located the "Alacik," the yayla house, as well as the "izma," the building used to store the hives during winter. We also had hives placed among the branches of large trees, and these and the "suluq," the hives carved into pine tree trunks, were meant to attract new swarms. Those [suluqs] were completely scattered over an area of one hundred kilometers in length. In April, there was the task of cleaning and placing beeswax in those "suluq," some of which were inherited from our grandfathers, to prepare them for occupation by wild swarms. I undertook those tasks with my nephew Nur Muhammed and my friend Ibrahim Kackinbay. Ibrahim's family had as many suluq as we had. Simultaneously, our horse herds (generally comprising four unbroken herds) would already be at the yayla. After our lands and pastures were confiscated by the Russian government and added to their treasury, our people had to abandon the yayla life; [this occurred] a long time ago. Except we had "Han Yeylevi" next to our village houses, and the "Alacik" at the yayla of the "Qarli Bolek" mountain. On the other hand, our animals had not at all abandoned the yayla life. They would leave, without needing any permission or such from us, to Mesim and Ak-Biyik yayla at the beginning of every April. They would stay there until fall. Those yayla were the property of the "Alagoyan," that is, belonging to the village of the aforementioned Ibrahim Kackinbay. The agriculture and life of the Misers in our village was more regulated compared to ours. They planted plenty of cereals, grew vegetables, kept their animals in the village year round in sheds called "abzar," (*) {(*)} sold their crops, made a good living. The agriculture of our two urugs, as I had explained, would consist of two "skirtfulls" of corn, our animals would spend the winter in open pens, known as "kerte," a loan word from old Iranian languages, and not come to the village but spend the summer in the yayla. Consequently, we would not devote much time to agriculture or for constructing animal pens. While our family's horse herds were at the mountains during the summer, I would be their herdsman. I did not at all like the crop growing business. To me, it was a pleasure to reap fodder grass for the animals, but grain harvest (using a sickle), requiring excessive bending, was a torture. I could not do it. All our business was in the forest. The forest "Aygir olgen," once belonging to our urug, that had been confiscated from us by the Treasury, was thirty five kilometers from us. Every year the Treasury would allocate to us a portion of that forest to cut some wood from that location, and we would take that load to the market and sell it. Also, we would have linden tree barks unravel in running water, separating its fibers called "Salabas" and market it. When all that was completed, until fodder grass reaping time, I would go after the horse herds to "Ak-Biyik" yayla, take care of them, feed them salt, drink the kimiz prepared by the womenfolk, visit others to drink kimiz, participate in the games held at the yayla. In June when the sheep slaughtering time, called "Teke zamani," arrived, my father, and sometimes my mother, too, would join me. We would stay with the families taking care of our animals. The most delightful time of the season was spent performing the task called "Bilemqarav" in beekeeping. This comprised inspecting, on running horseback, the "suluq" hives carved in the upper parts of the thick pine tree trunks, to determine whether "free swarms" had occupied them, or, observing how well the reconnaissance parties leaving the wild bee colonies accepted those hives. However, each of those "trees" belonging to us was located on a mountain or in a riverbed, and despite riding on best of horses, it was only possible to see ten-fifteen of them in one day. I used to perform this "Bilemqarav," taking approximately fifteen days every year, with my friend Ibrahim Kackinbay. Ibrahim Kackinbay --Ibrahim, two years my senior, was the son of "Alagoyan Basi" village imam Semseddin Kackinbay. Semseddin, whose height was close to two meters, had served alongside with my paternal uncle Veli Molla, who also was very tall, in the Bashkurt cavalry Regiment and participated in the Syr Darya campaign of the Russian army against Khokand, under the command of the aforementioned Major Yusuf. Like Veli Molla, Semseddin also knew Arabic, Persian and Russian well. Both were thoroughly cognizant of Chaghatay literature, especially with the writings of Ahmet Yesevi, Navai, Sufi Allahyar and their likes. Among Burcan Bashkurts, the seyh Seyyidoglu Abdullah and this Semseddin Kackinbay were very cultured individuals. Both had spent time in the Syr Darya region. They had brought the culture of that area to Baskurdistan, like our neighbors Major Yusuf Karamis of Maqar village and Bekbulat Molla of Sayram village. They also were in possession of Arabic and Persian manuscripts. Among Semseddin Molla's books, there was one containing the versified story of two youths, named Mihr and Musteri, who were very close friends. Molla would liken me and his son Ibrahim to this Mihr and Musteri, reading some poems from that book. During 1958, in Washington {D. C.}, I saw an excellent copy of that work, adorned with illuminations, at the Freer Museum. Semseddin was having his son Ibrahim educated at my father's medrese. Like me, Ibrahim had learned Arabic, Persian, along with Russian, and knew the last one better than I. Compared to our {family}, the Persian and Bukhara culture had a stronger influence on his. Ibrahim was extraordinarily handsome. He was a very intelligent youth with a thin and elegant body. Our clothes, long silk sashes, called "belbav," heeled boots; breastbands, buckles, kuskun, stirrups, girths of our saddles; our saddles themselves, with their "pommels" and "backs" decorated with inlaid silver by itinerant Daghestani jewelers; our belts and even our whips, were identical. Ibrahim's mother had those made for us, and had woven our sashes with her hands. I would spend time with Ibrahim during the winter, upon my return from Utek, and during the summer, in the months of May, June and September, when I used to stay with them. After his father's death, his mother had Ibrahim married, stating she was left all alone. Thereafter, he always regretted not having been able to continue with his studies, and that he was compelled to tend to family wealth, which was considerable. His horse herds were held in high esteem. They were called Sulgen variety. Ostensibly, according to myth, their mares were impregnated by stallions emerging from the cave and lake found near the village of Sulgen. Ibrahim had presented me, as a gift, with one of his best running horses and a mare. After the arrival of this mare, we felt proud that "noble species" had entered our wild horse herd. Though Ibrahim interrupted his {formal} education, he maintained his love of reading. He truly read widely. Among his favorites he enjoyed reading in Russian, Lermontov; in Persian, Attar and Allahyar; in Turkish, Navai and "Muhammediye." Very cordial letters were exchanged between us. These letters used to arrive in longish thin rolls, in the style I later observed in Bukhara. Often these letters were embellished with popular poetry or quotations from old literature. I recall one instance. Despite the falling snow, two of our herds did not return to the village or the stables. I wrote to him, requesting his help to pursue the missing herds from his direction, while we would be searching from ours. In his response, rather than plainly stating "of course I shall," he wrote a piece in the following manner: "A human should regard his friend a sultan, and himself a slave/ His friend a spirit, and himself a body/ If the friend were to ask for his bork {fur cap}, one must be prepared to present his head/ And if asked for his life, be ready to give it up." (*) {(*)} In fact, he searched the mountains for several days with his servants, some eighty kilometers from us, finding our herds, escorted them all the way to our village. Summer life of the Bashkurts may appear lazy, but when it comes to tending to the animals, forestry, beekeeping and military matters, no trace of laxity can be found. Ibrahim was a prime example. They had roamed the mountains for days, running on horseback for perhaps two hundred kilometers. Ibrahim's father had him memorize many portions from the works of Navai; Yazicioglu's Muhammediye and the divan of Kemal Ummi from Ottoman literature; Attar and the divan ofHafiz from Persian; and the verse hikemiyet section of the "Nuzhetul-Arvah" named book, which was very popular at the time of Timur.I had not read that last work. Later, during 1913, upon arrival inBukhara, I sought it out and repeatedly reading it, recalled Ibrahim. Afterwards I saw copies of these works containingminiatures. Semseddin Molla owned a few manuscripts in Persian, but there was not enough time to determine what they were or what happened to them. Ibrahim and I would recite versified sections from classical Chaghatay literature during kimiz parties, and when we would become intoxicated, switch to popular songs. My friend Ibrahim played innumerable airs on the Bashkurt flute called "Quray." His voice was, to the highest degree, high pitched and clear. Since he enjoyed hearing the echoes of the melodies he sang, he would ascend up Takya-Susak mountains, facing other ranges, sing and play the flute. There, when at the Yaruv and Karaagac yayla, the Kackinbay [urug] would play a game requiring the participants to pick-up a whip from the ground, on running horseback. Those who could not pick-up the whip would themselves be struck severely with a whip; the individual running away, to avoid being whipped, would throw a whip to his pursuer. If the pursuer could not catch the thrown whip in mid-air, then he would be whipped. Ali Shir Navai relates a similar horse pursuit game in which he himself played during his youth with a Rumi (meaning, Anatolian) Turk named Sari-Tula: "If I and Sariq Tula would get underway together/ Without noticing mountain, plain, plateau, occupied place or desert/ Freeing my arm from a torn shepherd's cloak/ Let him run away, I giving chase; he pursuing me, I getting away." (*) Ibrahim would always recite these poems. There was also the tradition of young man and girls chasing each other on horseback. Reportedly, in the generations before us, those young man who could not get away would be whipped by the girl; and, in return, if the girl could not get away, the young man had the right to kiss the girl. A girl named Urqiye, a relative of Ibrahim was a participant in those games. His wife "Ak-Gelin" would be in the gallery. In our village, in my youth, our elder sisters Muhiye and Kulsum were no less accomplished riders than their male counterparts. But, influenced by the Tatar settlers in village, who themselves constituted a community overly affected by the Islamic culture, a little reservation entered amongst us with respect to women. On the other hand, those traditions were still alive here and there among the Burcen. When I would catch-up up with Urqiye, she would behave as if she was addressing the horse underneath her, recite the song "Kara Yurga" taken from old dastans "It would neither have the rider lady kissed nor have her embraced." (*) In this poem, the word "bikec," referencing "daughter of the Bey" was used in the same meaning as "mademoiselle." But, the Kackinbay would pronounce it as "Bikecni," instead of "bekesti" as it would be among the Bashkurts. Probably, the popular poetry they recited, called "quba yir" was under the influence of the Nogay dialect. I only realized that later. During those chases, I sometimes caught up with Urqiye, grabbing hold of her wrist, but would not kiss her. Because, among our generation, it was not done. The elders would laugh and say teasingly that they used to kiss, therefore so should I. At times Urqiye would catch-up and whip me. Then, "Ak-Gelin" whould shout "tear away the skin of this Tatar." Because, according to Tatars we were Bashkurt, to the Burcen, Tatars. Among the family of the Kackinbay, the best of kimiz was drunk {during summer}, and the honey wine was consumed in the fall, after moving to the Alagoyan tamagi kislak, known simply as "Idhma," where the Alagoyan river met Ak-Edil river, and very lively dances was performed. The namaz would never be abandoned, even when drunk. It was not conceivable to find anyone not observing the fast during the Ramadan. My love of dastans, national games and races were inculcated by my elder uncle Veli Molla and this Kackinbay. Ibrahim's mother, who was as capable as a man, and his wife were literate, being the daughters of Mollas. My Other Friends --During my youth, my most intimate friends were my nephew Nur Muhammed of our village; Aziz, the son of an Imam from the neighboring Makar village; and, Emir Qaramis (Karamishev), son of the Russian primary schoolteacher Muftaeddin. Nur Muhammed did not continue with his education. He and I together would undertake forestry business, look after the cattle, hunt, and when the winter set in, go hunting rabbits on skis. Aziz, who also had authored some works, was a very intelligent and poetic young man, studying simultaneously in the medrese of the Troitsk seyh and the Russian school. He was studying in the medrese of the Troitsk seyh along with Mecid Gafuri, who had later become famous. Both would go out to the Kazakhs during the summer as teachers, returning in the fall, and stop to see Aziz on their way to their villages. Though Aziz had a greater poetic talent than Mecid, he perhaps did not have a published work. On the other hand, two small poetry collections of Mecid were published. I met with this lame poet (probably during 1907), before he and Aziz had visited us [which they did] several times later on. Both would recite their own poetry, my father and mother would greatly enjoy that. At that time, Mecid had read his poems with the content "Bashkurt used to live in independent communities along the banks of Idil and Dim rivers, foreigners arrived and enslaved them," which was later published. Mecid was my senior, probably by eight or nine years, and Aziz, I think, by five. On the other hand, Emir was my junior by two years. Despite that, he had facilty in poetry and recited the verses of Mecid and Aziz from memory. Later on, Emir embarked on a Russian education and studied in a military school; [and] finally, among the military units which we had established in cooperation with him, he became the commander of the first cavalry regiment during the 1917 national movement, before commanding a division. Members of the Karamisev family, to which Emir belonged, comprised educated individuals. They held officer rank in the Bashkurt army of the 18th-19th centuries, and occupied the post of "kanton (banner) chief," also serving with my maternal great uncles, as mentioned above, under the command and administration of Major Yusuf. They had abandoned nomadic life, but their village civil affairs were regulated. Their homes were whitewashed, surrounded with gardens, containing fruit {trees}, especially apple. Major Yusuf had published, in Russian, works pertaining to the statistics of the Syr Darya village life and the social life of Kazakhs. Among the members {of this family}, the one closest to our family, and to that of Kackinbay, was one aged and wealthy individual named Omer Haci. In the past, when Baskurdistan was autonomous, he had served as the chief of kanton, had seen Turkey and Hejaz. He was the closest friend of Zeynullah Isan of Troitsk. One member of this Karamisev, named Ahmed, had gone to Germany many years with his mares and wife, to make kimiz for a member of the Emperor's family. Consequently, he had learned some German. He would speak to us about the beauty of Germany, show photographs, meaning he would conduct German propaganda. But we best liked Karamisev's father, the Russian teacher Miftah. Later, many of them had taken positions by my side, in the military and civil administration, during the Baskurdistan independence movement. My other close friends were Bekbulat Hazret, Nuri Muezzin and Osman Haci Ilyasoglu families from the villages of Sayran and Arlar, to the south of us. They had performed various duties during our national movement after 1917. One such person was Abdullah Kanton Ilyasov, whose name shall be encountered again. My Father's Troitsk Trips --The imece (ume) [community work], my father would organize at the end of {each} July, to harvest grass of the pastures at Iraman, was a delightful affair. The majority of the villages of our tribe's "Elciktemir" branch would attend, many animals would be slaughtered. This had the character of our family festival. When this was complete, my father would leave to see his friends and seyhs. This trip would be terminated with his visit of Seyh Zeynullah in Troitsk, who was his pir. On the way, there would be banquets, at their yaylaks, with his friends and sheys belonging to the urugs of Karagay, Kipchak, Burcen. There learned, religious, even political matters would be discussed. On the way back, my father would stopover at the villages of Mehdi and Emin, there visiting with his friends among the Muslim Kazakh tribes of Tungevir, Tungatar, Tamyan and Katay, who considered themselves to be descendants of the Chora Batir of the dastan fame. This trip would last a month and a half. I joined three such trips, which were repeated every year, mainly to look after the horse and the carriage. Each trip had contributed positively to my intellectual development. The 1904 trip coincided with the Russo-Japanese war, the 1905 with the Russian revolution, and the 1906 had taken place at the time of the Russian "Duma" struggles. I did not at all like mysticism. I despised those seyhs I considered hypocrites, though I respected the individuals I regarded to be models of sincerity, ethics, virtuousness, including Mollakay Abdullah Hazret, Kulbakti Abdulhannan Hazret and my father's pir Zeynullah Hazret of Troitsk. |
