for many in the Bikin valley, it is a factual description of their reality.
Denis Burukhin summed it up bitterly: “In Sobolonye, you go into the
taiga for a week, come back, eat what you’ve got, and then it’s back into
the taiga. What kind of life is that? It’s no life at all.”
A century ago, many Russians lived this way in the Far East, and most
natives did, too. Then, there wasn’t an alternative, but the expectations
for what life can and should be have changed radically in the past twenty
years. Under communism, there was room, albeit strictly controlled, for
aspiration, and there was a State guarantee of basic security in terms of
education, employment, housing, and food. But most of these assurances
disintegrated after perestroika. Replacing them, along with crime,
alcoholism, and despondency, were satellite dishes offering multiple
channels that allowed you to see just how far behind you really were.
Nowadays, in many parts of the world—not just Sobolonye—it is
possible to starve while watching television.
Neither Denis nor Andrei saw the village as part of their future, but for
now, this was their lot and they focused on those things over which they
had some measure of control—namely, their traplines. In spite of recent
events, both boys kept their faith in the tayozhnik’s dictum “If I don’t
touch her, she won’t touch me.” Shortly after Markov’s funeral, they
went back up the Takhalo with the horses, figuring that if the tiger was
around the animals would scent it and warn them, and that together they
could handle whatever came next. They weren’t the only ones venturing
into the forest that week, and there may have been an element of bravado
to their casual demeanor. They were young soldiers after all, skilled with
guns and brimming with testosterone; they knew these woods like the
backs of their hands, and hadn’t Denis survived Chechnya? Traveling
through the forest, as tall as giants on their shaggy, steaming mounts,
emboldened by all that heat and power between their legs, these two close
friends may have said to each other the same thing Markov said to his
fretting wife: “Why should I be afraid of her? She should be afraid of
me!” Either of them would have relished the opportunity to avenge
themselves against the tiger that killed their friend and neighbor.
But their parents felt differently. After the boys made it safely back
ron
(Ron)
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