Good morning

by Sultanbek Arzikhanov (Uzbekistan)

I didn't expect to find Uzbekistan

When at six in the morning I woke up , I said goodbye to everything in my room. I left the house .I mentally bid my farewell to the courtyard. When I walked to …, I saw that not one soul was in the place.I stood where I had first smoked.I put on a less dirty ground my black backpack which was full of clothes .Yawning, I squatted and drew the zipper of my cloak.The autumn wind blew on my thick hair and brought me into a melancholy state. A dog’s bark somewhere echoed the entire deserted street. Strangely enough ,I felt relaxed. I was already accustomed to the smell of sweat.On the bus several of my female groupmates embarrasedly smiled and laughed at the jokes.And then they turned their heads to look at the window through the bodies of other students.They were hoping that the ride would end soon. After some time I wanted to pee.After an hour, I could no longer endure.I asked the driver to stop the bus.And the other two buses also stopped.They decided it was time to pee for everyone. To the left went the girls, and to the right- the boys.I had to walk half a mile to pee, because we were in a desert with nothing but sand.Only the winding desert and the buses helped to obstruct the view of peeing females with their pants down.However, most of the boys tried to identify at least something.But they saw nothing but faded silhouettes. We arrived late. After, there were quiet lonely steps. It was a very moonlit and cool night. A few hundred meters were still left to the home and we sipped a soda while slowly pacing. There was no hurry. In the morning… I went into the garden to satisfy my need. Cool air penetrated my lungs and slowly awakened my body, which told me that a morning was a morning and I had to eat. Thomas, the owner of the house, left the chicken house. - Good morning, Alex. - Good morning, Mr. Thomas. I washed my hands and sat down at the table, which was already set. I took out bread and poured my tea. Surprisingly, a yearly cotton company was not what I expected it to be by far. A scheduled and well structured day was something that could work for me. At that time those thoughts of mine were very comforting. On the third day in the village, my first shift came. So,waking up to the loud melody of the alarm clock, I bitterly threw off my warm blanket and pulled on as much warm clothing as possible and felt a faint shade of comfort. Left the house putting on slippers to the garden ,on a cold autumn morning. What was good in the village was the freshest air of the forest. The bad thing was that you had to get up at 5 in the morning ,before light and dawn ,to chop wood and branches. You need firewood to heat water in a heater just to wash your face and make tea. It was pretty cool even for autumn.Every third day I would cringe from the cold outside the bed, but still after a couple of minutes there I would feel a will or intention , something that which was a rare guest in me . I chopped wood for half an hour with a heavy master's axe with a homemade wooden handle. Then I also collected smaller and drier branches so that a flame would break out more quickly. I had some notebooks which I had dreamily dragged with me in the hope of studying and by the end of the cotton picking season to fill it. By half past six, hot water was ready just like the table was set for a quick breakfast, because seven o’clock meant that everyone should go the fields filled with cotton , where we picked them until evening. Days passed, I returned back home , fresh and rested. I continued my routine life with gratitude to mind-resting outing to the village. However , I had to work there, a change in my life was very welcome.