Global Voices Online

(…) It was late as we journeyed home from the station. Daniyar rode on ahead. The night was magnificent. Who does not know these August nights with their far-off, yet so close, gleaming stars! There was one star: it seemed frozen round the edges, its icy rays sparkled as it looked down from the dark sky in surprise at the earth below. I gazed at it as we rode through the canyon. The horses, eager to be home, trotted briskly and gravel crunched under the wheels. The wind from the steppe brought the bitter smell of flowering wormwood, the faint aroma of cooling ripe wheat, and all this, mingling with the smell of tar and horses' sweat, made our heads light.
From Chingiz Aitmatov's Jamila (online version)

Passages like this have drawn me to Central Asia long before I actually went there. They have instilled longing and a feeling of freedom in many people. Thanks to Chingiz Aitmatov, Central Asian traditions, lifestyles, myths - but most importantly - a transcendental Central Asian “feeling” became part of Soviet culture, known and celebrated beyond the borders of the former empire.

Chingiz Aitmatov died on Tuesday this week, at the age of 79. With him, Kyrgyzstan loses one of her (if not the) most famous sons and one of the most important Soviet-era authors. Jamila and The Day Last More than 100 Days belong to the best books I have ever read in my life, and his bibliography is long enough to discover his work for a long time to come.

The blogosphere is grieving. (more…)