The Geographer's Library

Jon Fasman
than Leninabad.” The road ended just below the village, and Kravchuk cut
the motor. They got out of the car and began walking together, but Kulin
asked Kravchuk to wait with the car. “Just to be safe. You never know around
here, leaving a car on its own like this.”
Kravchuk nodded, looking not unhappy with the decision. “Shout if you
need me, Engineer. I’ll be right here.”
Kulin nodded, waved, and began trudging uphill. Three children came
out of the first house he passed and began shouting “Russian, Russian!
Come see the foreigner!”; by the time he reached the village center, the shouting
had stopped and he was surrounded by dark, silent, wide-eyed children.
“Assalom u aleykum,” he began, when a raspy voice speaking Russian interrupted
him.
“Why don’t you speak your native language? We can. Some of us have the
lashes, scars, and burns to prove it.” The voice had an ironic edge that
stopped just short of threatening; it belonged to a tall man with a deeply
lined face and piercing green eyes. He wore a multicolored, striped robe tied
with a sash at the waist and stood absolutely still, neither warning Kulin away
nor welcoming him.
“Thank you,” Yuri said awkwardly. He waited for the man to respond, but
he just stood silent and watchful, not changing his expression. “I wish to
speak with Porat Badhmadullaev. I understand he lives in this village.”
“He does. Hajji Porat, he is called now. He made the journey with his son
last year. Very difficult, very illegal. But if you are who I think you are, then
you already know that.”
“I’m not KGB, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m an engineer, here to find a
suitable location for a museum dedicated to Tajik culture. To your culture,”
Kulin said, trying to smile but realizing as he did that it made him look weak
and unsteady instead of warm and disarming. His interlocutor inclined his
head forward, slightly cocked, a gesture whose meaning escaped Kulin.
“Could you take me to him, please?”
The man pointed to the village’s last house, farthest up the hill, and
turned away without a word. He clapped his hands twice, and the children
dispersed. Kulin could sense eyes on him from inside the houses, but nobody
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