In 1963, I missed my homeland and went to Türkmenistan via Moscow. At that time, I met with another person who had known my father closely. My fate gave me a surprise, and I met a friend of my father’s from the military after 18 years.

It happened like this. At that time, the Aşgabat-Moscow train would wait for some time at each station.

There are some people who do not like train travel. However, it is a particular pleasure to enter the world of ideas and to get to know new places.

The conductor on the train was Çary Aga, who was from Yalkym village near Aşgabat. He was a courageous and hard working Türkmen and we met on our way to Türkmenistan.

Human beings are different from each other. Some people you feel close to, you want to meet and know them better. Sometimes you see a person and decide to stay away from that person. I learnt something certain about Türkmen people in my early chilhood, that Türkmens like to be asked questions. Çary Aga was a curious man:

“My nephew, some people feel uneasy if you ask a few questions. They say, ‘Who are you, a prosecutor or a judge?’ Our Türkmen said that humans know each other through speech, animals recognize each other through smell. We had a very big village but it disappeared during eras of the civil war and the Bolsheviks. When repression increased, many people fled to other places. If you ask carefully theTürkmen population was fairly small, and each and every one always knew one the other, a fact which is well-known.  

I learnt that Çary Aga had known both my father and grandfather.

“Dear Saparmyrat, you should only be surprised if you meet someone who did not know your grandfather, Annanyýaz Artygy. There was no one  who did not know Annanyýaz Artygy in Gypjak, Gökje, Bagyr, Herrikgala, Yalkym and Büzmeýin. Annanyýaz Artygy was an able man who used to invite others to eat at his table. They sent your grandfather into exile in 1932 since he had a private place and shop and had workers working on a salary.

The reason that I know these facts in detail is that my mother and uncle were neighbours of Annanyýaz Aga.”

“Çary Aga, did you meet my grandfather?”

He smiled with pleasure.

“We had so much in common. I met him in many different places, village, markets, town center, you name it. Once I took two bags of barley and went to the city. I was very young. At that time, on Sundays, the city was very crowded and it wasn’t possible to find a place for donkeys, horses, camels and vehicles. At that time we did not have vehicles that we have now and there were a limited number of Türkmen in the city.

I was walking with my bags and there was a poor man in front of me riding on a donkey. The idle young people of the city were hitting him with sticks and he was close to falling off. The poor man was not sure what to do and was shouting and cursing at the kids. Their parents were on both sides of the road and were watching heedlessly the kids’ attacks. A man wearing a special black Türkmen hat (silkme telpek) came rapidly and ran into the street. He began to whip the people 

standing heedlessly around and these people ran away because of the sharp lash of the whip. Then an old man said to the crowd:

--You struck the right people, Türkmen, you struck true. If a child does something wrong, then his parents are guilty.

--Yes, Dear Saparmyrat, I remember when your grandfather Annanyýaz Artygy became chief of the village for the second time. When my father heard this he said:

-- The people of Kıpçak did not do the right thing; the government did not arrest people like Annanyýaz Artygy since they are rich! The goverment is afraid of Türkmens like Annanyýaz Artygy.

Fate brought him a bad day in August 1937 when he was accused of committing a crime. He was declared an enemy of the people and sent to death row in prison. Your grandfather knew that such an end would come. But he did not refuse the ordinary people’s demand.

Dear Saparmyrat, when your father entered the city both young and old would look at him. He rode his horse with pride. He was very good looking and created a very good impression. He was like a beg or han. He always looked for the goodness in others but these kind of people were annihilated in the Stalin era.”

Çary Aga walked around for a while and directed a train out of the station. He came back to my side.

“Our relations were good with your father. He was three or four years older than me. I was living in Yalkym near Aşgabat and used to visit my uncle frequently. They sent your grandfather into exile in 1932. If they would send even your 53 year-old grandfather into exile, no one could feel safe. His 

friends advised your father Atamyrat to move to another area. He moved to Kerki city in this way, where he worked as a teacher. Later he lived in the village of Gökdepe from 1935-36. In 1937, he bought a house in Aşgabat and settled there and began to work there. At that time we were really close friends. Saparmyrat, I remember your father’s face; he was always a pleasant, attractive, forward-thinking, patient and fine-manly person.”

I did not led him go on but asked: “When is the last time you saw my father?”

From 1941 onwards we fought against the German invaders in the same troop. Another day I will tell you how we saved our country. There is no such thing as a sweet war and, indeed, in this bloody war, there were times we won and times we were defeated. In 1943, near to Wiladikavkaz in North Ossetia after an intense battle, we were taken prisoner by the enemy. The Germans were trying to control the situation and shouting to each other while holding the automatic weapons. Russian soldiers were collected in one place after throwing away their weapons. There were five of us from Türkmenistan, four Türkmen and a Russian. At that time, a friend of ours, took out a piece of tobacco and wrapped it with old newspaper. We were taking it in turns to smoke it. When the cigarette came to Atamyrat, there was a Russian on his right, and a Türkmen friend said ‘Atamyrat do not give it to the Russian. The Germans are going to kill us now. Give it to me and I will have a smoke before dying.’

‘No, friend, this friend also fought with us and put his life in danger to save the country. He should smoke when his turn comes. There is God and we should not lose our hope even to our last breath.’  

Then a German began announcing something over a loudspeaker and another translated into Russian, ‘Line up” and over a hundred captured soldiers lined up. Then they announced:

“Any communists present, step forward”.

In front of the line, there were German soldiers with automatic weapons at every ten paces. All of a sudden I was startled when a Türkmen near to me said: ‘Can’t we push forward that Atamyrat who gave the cigarette to communist?’ (implying that you prefer giving cigarette to a Russian rather than to us so you are also like him, a communist then, so you should step forward)

They grumbled: ‘Now do you understand who you should have given that cigarette to?’ A German soldier who had heard and seen this event came running up and then they took away Atamyrat by poking him with their guns, fifteen paces away to the edge of a hollow. Then, having gathered several more men, in front of our eyes, they executed them by shooting them by a machine gun and threw the dead in the hollow.”

Çary Aga added, ‘May Allah full their graves with Divine Light’ and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief taken from his pocket. He looked at me quietly. No, he made no mistake; there was no tear in my eyes. He did not see my sadness. He guessed that I had not believed what he had said. ‘My son, at that time Hitler ordered that whenever the German soldiers took a communist captive from among the Soviet soldiers then they were to execute them there and then. There was permission for the exchange of other captives for German captives. I, like all the others, benefited from the exchange of prisoners and I returned rightly to my homeland,” he said and again stared at my face.

“Çary Aga, thank you very much for what you have said. These are matters of fate,” I said and I stared out of the window of the train. Through the window it looked as if grey sand was flowing past. The train passed Türkmenabat and went on towards the Repetek Desert. It was as if my dear father, straight and brave, was visible in front of my eyes in his last appearance to me. Moreover, his pure thoughts: “No, I do not die. I have three young sons and their beloved mother, my Gurbansoltan, living in my homeland and they are my descendants.” His words were in my ears.

I am pleased with the fact that neither my grandfather nor father left any inheritance to me. In fact they left me instead something as valuable as a great inheritance. Everybody who knew my father and grandfather praised them: “Your father was a very great man.” Like this, they extolled and glorified them and these expressions filled my heart with joy. What greater wealth can there be than that?

(35-39.)