On Loving Your
by Samid Aghayev (born 1981)
A Short Story
Translated from Russian
by Arzu Aghayeva and edited by Betty Blair.
Azim was sitting on top of a
pile of scrap metal, his canvas work gloves under him. The workers
had left for lunch. But since he had already eaten the cutlets1
that he had brought from home, he looked out through the open
door towards the river with its green water and reeds, and to
the fields beyond, and the peaks of the distant mountains. It
was snowing - as it can snow only in the subtropics. Huge snowflakes
were floating down lazily as if trying to decide whether they
wanted to go back up again or not.
Azim was smoking. Through the puffs of smoke, he could make out
a figure of a man who had entered. He wasn't tall, nor was he
young or shaven. He wore a jacket over his sweater and galoshes
but no overcoat. Azim's attention was drawn to the thick-knitted
socks in which the man had stuffed his cheap striped pants.
The man looked around and approached Azim, muttering a greeting.
"They say you can buy a gas heater here, right?"
Azim nodded reluctantly.
"Big problem," he said. "Big demand."
"What's the price?"
"Depends on the demand," noted Azim, finishing his
cigarette. "Sometimes they're expensive, sometimes cheap."
"May I take a look?" asked the visitor.
Azim stood up and went to the corner where a gas heater was lying
behind some equipment covered with clothes.
"Does it heat well?"
"Very well. You can heat anything on it. A kettle will always
stay hot. You can even cook on it."
"How much is it?"
Azim coughed. Saying the price had always been a problem for
him. In reality, Azim was doing everything just like others did.
He bought the heater pieces from the scrap metal man and made
heaters, which really were not of lesser quality than the other's.
But when it came to saying the price, he would always get embarrassed
and say less than he intended to. His price was 25 rubles; others
sold theirs for 35 but, actually, he had only managed once to
sell it for 25. And then after loading the heater into the trunk
of the client's Zhiguli2, Azim had returned to count the money
only to discover that he had been shortchanged three rubles.
"Twenty-five," he said firmly.
The buyer took a pack of Avrora cigarettes3 out of his pocket and offered one to
Azim. Azim didn't smoke cigarettes that didn't have filters,
but he didn't dare refuse and take out his own cigarettes. He
didn't want to offend the man. He lit the cigarette, tasting
the bitterness on his lips.
"Khan Kishi," said the man, introducing himself. Azim
bent his head ever so slightly so that Khan Kishi would not see
him spitting out small pieces of tobacco that had stuck to his
"I work close by here," Khan Kishi began, "as
a tractor driver of MTS [Machine Tractor Station]. I drive repaired
tractors in our section. The salary is low. Of course, if I worked
in the field, I would get much better money, though the wages
there have also decreased.
Khan Kishi gently slid his palm over the heater.
"Good thing. I've been thinking of getting a heater for
quite some time. My family is freezing. Does the State provide
any heaters? No. If only I had money, I would buy it immediately.
I wouldn't even bargain.
Azim felt a lump form in his throat. As if sensing it, Khan Kishi
looked at him, sadly: "Yesterday, they promised to pay us
in advance and give us the 13th.4 But they didn't. They said there was
no money in the bank. Otherwise, I would buy it. But I don't
have enough moneyIt's so cold at home; the kids are freezing
and there's no use counting on the State for heating. We hardly
have any gas coming through."
He hung his head.
Azim had paid five rubles for the parts, plus he had to pay three
rubles to the craftsman for covering up that he was doing this
work on the side.
"How much money do you have?" Azim asked.
Khan Kishi searched in his pocket and pulled out two crumpled
five-ruble notes. Azim shook his head and lit up a new cigarette.
Khan Kishi slapped his hip pocket and then searched the inside
pocket of his jacket and produced another five-ruble note: "I
just remembered," he said, "my wife gave me this to
buy sugar. So?"
Azim finished his cigarette, suffering under Khan Kishi's begging
eyes. In frustration, he extinguished the cigarette butt with
"OK, take it," he agreed.
"Can I have the cloth as well?" the tractor driver
asked. Azim gestured resignedly. Khan Kishi carefully wrapped
the long-awaited heater in the cloth and headed out the door.
He was limping a little under the heavy load.
"Seven rubles is also money," Azim rationalized, as
his eyes followed the figure of the man.
"Our man came," announced
· · ·
"He came, my son," said the mother happily, holding
her sewing in her hands.
"Good evening," said Azim. He took off his jacket and
headed to the table. His sister brought a washbasin. With the
jug, she started pouring warm water on his hands. His mom was
looking at them contentedly.
Azim could just as easily have washed his hands with cold water
in the washbasin in the yard. But this was their ritual - woman
taking care of breadwinner. Everybody got a lot of pleasure from
this: the women who were tired of living at home without men,
as well as Azim, who suddenly felt himself a grown man.
Before dinner, Azim would usually take out his earnings and share.
And this also became a small family ritual.
"Not much today," Azim said, "I got a poor client
and took pity on him and sold for a cheap price."
"That's all right," his mom said. "You did right
in the sight of God."
Azim nodded as he started to eat.
"What's this you've brought?"
Khan Kishi unwrapped the cloth.
"It's a gas heater, a very good one. The kettle will always
stay warm; you can cook on it."
"Was it expensive?"
"Yeah, they just rip you off. But what to do, I had to pay
"A bit expensive," his wife said, shaking her head.
"But that's OK, woman," Khan Kishi boasted. "I'm
rich today. I got an advance, plus "the 13th" - 200
rubles in total. Here you are, put it aside."
The woman took the money and started counting it.
"But you've got only 165 rubles here. Did you pay for the
heater out of this money?"
"Do I have to give you a report? Whatever I've brought,
just say thanks and give God the praise."
His wife didn't say anything. She wrapped the money in a cloth.
Three times she pressed it to her lips and forehead.5
Then she hid it in one of the bowls in a niche in the wall just
below the ceiling.
"Do you want to eat?"
"No, I was just at the chaykhana [tea house]. I had a little
something to eat and drink there."
Khan Kishi went in to see his sleeping kids. He kissed them and
headed off to bed.
"So, did you pay for the heater out of this money?"
his wife asked in a sleepy voice.
"But did I have any other money?" Khan Kishi noted
ironically, snuggling up to his wife.
Cutlet is a traditional dish, made with ground meat and seasonings,
shaped something like flat, oblong hamburger.
Zhiguli refers to a popular Soviet-manufactured car.
Avrora cigarettes are very cheap Soviet cigarettes. Khan Kishi
wanted to show that he was very poor.
13th refers to the Soviet period when the government used to
pay something like a bonus, equivalent to a month's salary.
People kiss objects as a gesture of respect. For example, they
will pick up a piece of bread that has accidentally fallen on
the floor or ground, often they will place it on their forehead
and kiss it three times. Thus they show their respect to things,
which are considered sacred - especially products made of flour
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