Юлия Эфф

Юлия-Эфф-300x276Hello to everybody. I’m from Kyrgyzstan.

I think, the biggest my creative success is the making (together with my friends) of the only Kyrgyzstan’s  literature forum - tvorchestvo.kg.

I have already taken two times in OCBF and this is the third one. This time I’m with a series of stories “Notes of the half-psychologist”. It’s rather nonfiction, there are some real facts and peoples in stories, some scientific documentation, just a little bit - to seem to be clever (joke )); and some imagination details. It’s just literature experience for me.


Тranslation of the passage from a series of stories “Notes of the half-psychologist "

Ripples in the water (short version for video)

I wish a man can foresee the unexpected after-effects of his/her own actions. At least those of them, those are closely connected with Ecology or Relatives’ destiny. Perhaps, in this case the human being would lose his/her desire to lye, to litter, to damage anybodies things.

When we come into Social World, we sign a contract with our society to follow the lows for our sake and our self-preservation. But even that fact can’t make us thinking about whole humanity. We think only about our own comfort, we don’t want to be hungry, be cold, we just want to do less and earn more – we never things of other.

Here is “Youth” Park and its three ponds calls as “Soroka” (from aryk, irrigation ditch / channel (in Central Asia) - author).

I haven’t been here for a long time. Once we came here to fish and swim. Our footwear was down at the heel, our hands were all in the goose flesh. Greenish water smelled of algae but being nice…

All three ponds were dug volunteers from Czechoslovakia about 50 years ago for the future Generation relaxation and nowadays they are all neglected, rushy, dried out.

I can’t imagine where the old sad rounding two ponds weeping willows, take essential moisture from. All three ponds were dried out by different reasons but with general one – human carelessness.

 Waste water from buildings near First pond turned cute reservoir with water hyacinth into dirty marsh. The Second pond still has bright three-stage diving board. This place outlived several leaseholders, ten swimming seasons for people category that hadn’t chance to go to Black Sea or even local Issyk-Kul Lake. Nowadays pond’s bowl is full of rocking bulrush. The third pond has been recently drained. Greedy and unpretentious bulrush immediately occupied this barren land and hid dirty traces, having remained after three preliminary years of summer holidays. But the bulrush became powerless in the faces of sheep and goals grazing here.

So the ground’s revealing the polluted history of human beings - plastic bottles and cellophane.

 I came to my friend living near the ponds and we went to places of our childhood joy time desiring to revive light-hearted memories. The third pond has been shallowed so much as some booted guys caught small fish using their net in this marsh. Twenty years ago we couldn’t dream of such impudence fishing by unpretentious way from a shore.

But the history of this pond is not so much example of nature carelessness as bright display of the broken windows theory and its butterfly effect. I mean violating the rules which were solecized before you did, “ Why do others do that and I may not?” The human being can be well brought up at home, school or Institutes – however he/she will break when an opportunity offers until the State authority will begin to work. The broken windows theory works similar in any invent: bad example is the most actual for us…

Let me come back to drained pond. One year ago one schoolboy death became a reason of draining. He contended with his classmates for swimming across the pond. After lessons they defied walking route, undressed and jumped into water not paying attention on a table “NO SWIMMING!”. September cold water together with water-plants forced one boy to go to pond’s bottom. Boy wasn’t rescued.

That’s truth, every year some people drowned in this fish kingdom, in general they were drunken homeless men or just drunken ones eager for relaxing. Sometimes the children drowned while their Parents were selling goods at the market. Only fool and weak ones lost their lives. But clerks or businessmen never did. As if it were London’s East End, “Soroka” region was for workers, beggars and homeless people.

 My friend’s children study at the same school where died boy did, so little by little all details of that accident arised in our talk. The story was discussed for a long period.

 My comrade was telling:

– Well… Pressmen came, interviewed some persons, pupils and their parents being there… My wife was waiting for our Son at that time… And later, in the evening we watched sponsored reportage… Well, according it School Director was dismissed.

 - For what kind of reason was she? For dereliction of duty?

 - Yes, she didn’t guard the child. Do you see that sight “No swimming”? It happened right there…

Fiend showed to opposite shore and we walked to white buildings with red letters.

Journalists ( who were the friends of dead Elmar) did their work nattily but on the run. Hurry leaded to some faults in facts: the school address was wrong, the scene of death wasn’t actually the same as well as Elmar’s surname was called incorrectly as if they hadn’t had any time to check boy’s birth certificate.

“ We demanded this pond’s enclosing from Director!” Boy’s Grandmother was crying but she had never been at school before that sad accident, she lived far away in the village.

The journalists was businesslike in front of camera pointing to the ponds; the Grandmother was weeping with sorrow; dead boy’s fair classmates were shaking with their heads negatively on the question, “No-o-o, our teacher didn’t see us off!”

My friend explained:

 - You see, those boys lived in another side from school so they didn’t lie – they just be taken by journalists for required viewpoint. And my wife contrary opinion was cut…

 The story looked like true detective novel. Suddenly it was seemed to me that in a fit of anger my friend forgot sunken boy as if it hadn’t been that short children life. I asked my friend why he was sorry for the Director, the pond but not for the kid; and why he felt hurt himself.

Friend answered with vexation:

– Yes, you’re right, I do feel hurt. What do you think we, the parents, are living for? We do meet and see off our children. Think please, if you don’t watch your own children, will strange woman do that instead of you? That boy was two years elder then my Son was. That boy’s Parents were living it another place instead being together with Son. They just entrusted their younger child to his elder Son’s care. Elder ones was it the age of 18. Nobody told about this fact. We persuade the Director to sue Parents for libel however she was in sympathy with Parents’ grief and nonsuited.

My friend went on and on… And I began to understand him. After scandal the Director discharged from school. She had been hard working from dawn to dusk there for many years, at first as a teacher, head teacher, Director… She had been just a piece of school world which was unfairly broken. No merits were taken into account.

Parents didn’t admit their guilt and shifted the blame onto school, didn’t correct their reportage mistake. Colleges together with other parents asked higher authority to restore the Director, a fortiori, the Director did the same… But “gods” (from Education Manage Centre- author) decided that they knew the situation better…

 So the Ship cracked. Everyone who has belief in justice lost it. Thereupon several experienced teachers followed the Director’s suit and right now my friend wanted to transfer his children to another school…

My comrade is an inhabitant of a high-rise building. Somebody “broke a window” in it, damaged lift button, made a graffito, threw the garbage out to the play ground. The chain reaction happened as it was after the ripples in the water after thrown stone. The efforts of many people were brought to nothing – from Czechs having improved this district till school staff so as education process. It's a great pity that the boy became “the stone” having been thrown into water and I pity everyone and everything hit against “the ripples” after that…

The friend’s meeting turned out sorrowful. It left a nasty taste in my mouth. I even understood that the third pond’s history had touched me too – my childhood memories were like impure. No pond – no more chance to be back into my past…

I thought again and again, unraveling a tangle of ideas. This story is only one from among similar ones. Perhaps the third part of our children is brought by their brothers and sisters up. What kind of experience can brothers/sisters teach? What to expect from young generation? What will it get from the eldest one?

Mankind must learn to draw a conclusion from its own or another's actions. Otherwise there won’t be any heritage for posterity or posterity itself cannot be at all.

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