<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the Europeans came to see the girl, they were still na\u00efve because the driver hadn\u2019t told them yet: \u201cWhen we get there, we\u2019ll be offered strained yogurt. Folks in these parts eat strained yogurt with rose-petal preserve and that\u2019s the best. When\u2019ll we get there? In about twenty minutes, when the highway ends and we turn right. Then we\u2019ll take the first side road. It\u2019s about fifteen minutes long, after which . . . No, we won\u2019t come to the village, yet . . . but it will be closer. When we get off the first side road, we\u2019ll turn left and get on the second side road, which is twice as long as the first one, so we\u2019ll be on it for about half an hour. And then the village will be even closer. Once we get off the second road and keep going straight, we\u2019ll get to an incline, after which . . . Yes, we will be closer to the village. But not quite there . . . We\u2019ll have to go up the incline . . . If we make it, we\u2019ll reach the mountain\u2019s jaw. You\u2019d think the village would finally appear because it has nowhere else to go. And it will, of course, but not right away. If we make it up the incline, we\u2019ll reach the path that\u2019ll take us\u2014it\u2019s three kilometers on foot\u2014to the cliff, which we\u2019ll have to climb . . . It\u2019s worth the suffering . . . Strained yogurt with rose-petal preserve . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the Europeans came to see the girl, they were still na\u00efve. The driver hadn\u2019t told them any of this yet, and he wasn\u2019t really inclined to. For the moment, he was just mumbling a song: There\u2019s no one else with me in this place but God<\/em>. The car was dancing over the stones. Sometimes, when the driver braked suddenly, the passengers in the back would be thrust forward, banging their stomachs against the backs of the front seats; this would bring up the food they had eaten seven days ago. The driver warned them, pausing his song: \u201cTell me if you get sick\u2013don\u2019t vomit on my neck.\u201d The visitors took it as a joke, laughed heartily, and thought they\u2019d arrived as soon as the car turned off the highway. One of them kept steadying the camera hanging on his chest. He hoped to photograph weeping rocks and mountains cracked by the sun, to impress his technocratic countrymen with nature\u2019s ways. But when the car turned off the highway, two kilometers in, after passing over rocks as sharp as Satan\u2019s nails, the thick American tires were shredded and the passengers now had to carry the car instead of the car carrying them. And when they reluctantly got out of the car and looked at the world of stones around them and the steep incline ahead of them, they whistled in surprise and fear. They began sweating in the sun and had no choice but to push the car, ripping their shoes and pants on the sharp rocks. They were still na\u00efve because they thought the hardest part of what was left for them to do to reach the village would be going up the incline, because it was impossible to imagine a higher and steeper place than that. But . . . there was<\/em> a steeper place\u2014it had simply been impossible to imagine. So when the Europeans finally came to see the girl, they were exhausted, beaten by the rocks, shoes and clothes torn. But at the moment they were still not there. They were still na\u00efve. They sang the national anthems out of despair, encouraging each other, moaning, pushing the car, and spitting dust and stone. And when they reached the top they saw that there was yet another unimaginable, rocky incline, with rocks blacker and sharper than Satan\u2019s nails, with the glimmering, coiling vein of the gold mine between the nails\u2013and one of them cursed and wept, removing his hands from the car and beating his head. The car rolled back, almost crushing everyone else. Panic-stricken and shouting, they drove their feet against the ground, ripping their soles and heels. Red in the face from all the tension and howling foreign words, they somehow stopped the car. Even then the terrified Europeans were still na\u00efve. The driver kept looking at them with pity, he wanted to say something to comfort them and alleviate the cruelty of the stones and the sun. He said, \u201cThe sky is so close here that it rains when angels weep.\u201d Then he looked at them and added: \u201cBut that happens in October, when the mountains are covered in snow and dreams can\u2019t find their way to the sky.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the Europeans finally reached the village hidden in a hollow at the top of the mountain, they were still na\u00efve. Swallowing the sun and scorched air, bleeding and with clothes torn like the persecuted escaping from Hell, they had already lost hope that there was such a place that could be reached. As they dragged their bodies past a pile of stones \u2014 staggering, hungry, sweaty and cursing and still na\u00efve, the old men weeding behind a stone fence straightened their backs, and one of them wiped his soiled hands on his shirt and, squinting his right eye against the blinding sun and with the other eye examining the foreigners, he asked, \u201cWho are the visitors this time?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEuropeans,\u201d answered the man next to him, smirking at their tattered clothes, the cameras hanging from their necks, and their sweaty backs and legs weak with exhaustion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd where is Europe?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, thousands of kilometers away!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cU-u-uh,\u201d the first old man, who was weeding bean beds, drawled indulgently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the Europeans came to buy the girl, they were na\u00efve, because everyone knew that she\u2019d already sold her body once at sixteen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was her father who brought the buyers from Yerevan. To be precise, he brought the second buyers. The first ones came by helicopter . . . It was August when they came. The sun had burned the mountains and the peaks looked like grief-stricken souls. The small and large stones had covered themselves with moss so as not to crack and their singed skin smarted underneath the moist roots of moss. It was an ordinary summer, and the helicopter, together with its passengers, melted and dripped down on the cliffs. The father met the second group in Yerevan and brought them to the village on a lame donkey that had been attacked by a pack of wolves a few months ago and had lost its right hind hoof. The visitors took turns sitting on the lame donkey, respecting one another, granting the privilege to moan and groan to the elders, tormenting themselves, and admiring the height of the mountains, and the closeness to God. They suffered, but did not complain. They said: \u201cAt this height, the entrance is easier for heavenly beings than for earthly men.\u201d From that day on they\u2019d boast that they had taken part in the building of the Tower of Babel because they\u2019d reached the knees of God and gotten tangled in his beard. Praising nature, getting sunburned, envying those who lived in this pristine place, they arrived in the village to buy the girl. These were polite Russian men who kept kissing the women\u2019s hands from the moment they arrived until their departure. In the village, they called such men castrates<\/em>. Hiding behind trees and rocks, the village children followed the visitors and laughed at their hand-kissings, their \u201csorrys,\u201d and \u201cthankyous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The father slaughtered a lamb born in the fall (it had been coughing and might have been sick). They put the table outside, somewhat away from the scarecrow, where the sunflowers had thrust their heads so high up into the sky that the angels might have thought the birds flying around them were spies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The guests ate the steaming lamb stew with great appetite, throwing the gnawed bones to the cats gathered under the tree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhich one of your daughters are you going to sell?\u201d the Russian asked, taking a piece of lavash<\/em> from the youngest girl\u2019s hand. The host pointed his index finger at Noem, who was washing greens in the spring to bring to the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI like this one better,\u201d the Russian said, picking up some more lavash<\/em> and eyeing up the youngest. \u201cThe one you\u2019re pointing to is a bit faded and pale.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNonsense,\u201d the father disagreed. \u201cWait till night falls . . . You haven\u2019t seen such a wonder. No one has ever seen such a wonder!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Noem had known for a few months that they were coming to buy her and that she would have to get undressed. She even tried to get undressed in front of the mirror, and her mother made her do it twice in front of her brothers and sisters, so that she\u2019d get used to the idea and not make a scene in front of the guests. But she felt nervous now that the buyers were here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At around eleven at night, when the mountain exhaled the moon from its mouth, the mother came to fetch her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI feel ashamed,\u201d whimpered Noem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou have no conscience,\u201d the mother reproached her. \u201cYour father nearly killed himself going back and forth to the post office and sending letters. He spent so much money, slaughtered a lamb . . . What are you ashamed of? You have undressed in front of your brothers so many times! What\u2019s to be ashamed of?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy brothers are ten years younger than me. I see their naked bodies too when I bathe them, but these . . . a bunch of old men,\u201d Noem sat huddled on the edge of the sofa, crying. \u201cI don\u2019t need any money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t either,\u201d her mother said. \u201cBut we aren\u2019t talking about just any<\/em> money\u2014it\u2019s a lot<\/em> of money . . . You can build a church with that kind of money. What\u2019s to be ashamed of? Imagine you have gone to the doctor, say, your chest hurts or you\u2019ve broken your leg. Aren\u2019t you going to show it to him? Aren\u2019t you going to let him examine you? But it\u2019s all right if you don\u2019t want to,\u201d she said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and sighing. \u201cYour father\u2019s knee? Let it hurt. The bones get soft like chalk anyway. He has lived healthy for fifty years\u2013he can live with a little pain now . . . There are people who are born sick, what about them? We aren\u2019t fascists after all! We don\u2019t want to torture you. If you don\u2019t want to . . . although what\u2019s there to be ashamed of? Men become sexless with age like angels. And your father . . . Well, you\u2019re of his flesh. Are you ashamed of your hands, your legs, your eyes, your heart? You would\u2019ve saved us if you\u2019d agreed. We\u2019d have gone to live in the city. Everything is made for people there\u2014for their convenience. You call this<\/em> life? But it\u2019s alright, you don\u2019t have to,\u201d she stammered tearfully. \u201cWe\u2019ve lived on the edge of this mountain for a hundred years, and we\u2019ll live on it a hundred more . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Russians were standing by the door and listening to the sound of tumbling stones mixing with the breath of the mountain, greedily sniffing the air and the sky, waiting for Noem to come out from the back door of the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy God,\u201d gasped one of them, seeing the girl running through the garden, \u201cWhat a marvel!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA living moon,\u201d another said eagerly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDidn\u2019t I tell you?\u201d the father boasted, \u201cYou didn\u2019t believe me. What\u2019s the moon compared to this? They say it\u2019s artificial, made by extraterrestrials to keep an eye on Earth, while this here is all natural, created by God.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Noem ran through the rows of sunflowers and stopped near the scarecrow. The scarecrow stood proud and tall with its straw hair piercing the sky\u2019s eye, like a thorn. Its three-meter-long dress made of varicolored rags reached to the ground, hiding its body, made of boards. It had no arms because it was only a scarecrow and its straw hair was enough to terrify the birds. A rusted iron pail hung from its neck, which was now just above Noem\u2019s head. The children believed that stars would fall into the pail at dawn, but her mother dutifully cleaned it once a month, emptying the bird droppings under the trees. The girl clutched with both hands onto the scarecrow\u2019s dress gown stiff with dirt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome home, you\u2019ll catch cold,\u201d her father shouted in the direction of the scarecrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Noem pulled the scarecrow\u2019s dress. It slipped down. The girl took it from the ground, wrapped it around her naked body and walked home through the rows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The charmed men were sitting in a room, and their eyes burned when Noem entered. The oldest, with blue eyes and a beard, resembling a kindly sorcerer from a fairy tale, approached Noem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCan you lie down somewhere, say, on the couch or the table? Wherever you like.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOf course she can,\u201d Noem\u2019s father responded instead of her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPlease, go outside,\u201d said the other man, \u201cWe don\u2019t need you anymore. We\u2019ll take it from here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The father left the room and one of the men locked the door after him in order not to be disturbed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Shivering, Noem laid on the couch. The men encircled her. One of them turned off the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cForgive us,\u201d said the old man, bowing over Noem. \u201cDue to the specificities of your body, we have to carry on in the dark,\u201d and he carefully pulled down the dress from her chest. One man carefully moved her toes, another man started examining her chest, leg, and then her arm with a microscope . . . Yet another pinched her thigh, and another made a scratch near her elbow with a needle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCan you please bend your knees? The position you\u2019re in isn\u2019t convenient for us . . . we have to see everything and ascertain everything. You see, my girl, it\u2019s sacrilege for a man of my age to touch a woman of your age, but I must examine you\u2013that\u2019s my profession. We can produce any effect now with the help of medicine and chemistry. We\u2019re going to spend a large amount of money to acquire you, so we must examine everything\u201d The old man switched on his small flashlight, shining it in the girl\u2019s face, brushing her hair to the side, feeling a spot on her neck, and rubbing it with a wet cotton ball. Leaning down, he breathed on her face for a few minutes without removing his gaze from her neck, then he rubbed her with the wet cotton again, breathed on her face some more, and finally, satisfied and victorious, mewed under his nose: \u201cWonderful! Excellent!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They each approached, looked curiously at her neck, breathed anxiously on her face, not believing, and each in his own turn rubbed her neck again, slightly to the right or left of the original spot. They waited, took the microscope, and examined her cell by cell, all coming to the same conclusion: \u201cWonderful! Excellent!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then they turned on the light. Two of the scientists approached Noem, one held her arm while the other said: \u201cDon\u2019t be afraid, it won\u2019t hurt,\u201d and he pushed the needle into her vein.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere is no deception,\u201d said the blue-eyed old man, coming out of the room, \u201cEverything is all right, everything is perfectly natural . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know,\u201d replied the father smoking by the window, \u201cthe local doctor says that seventy percent of her body is phosphorus. That\u2019s why she glows like that at night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s possible,\u201d said the old man. \u201cBut it\u2019s a fact that she\u2019s a wonder.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They drank wild apple wine, sitting in the garden beneath the heads of sunflowers. The lawyer, papers and stamp tucked under his arm, kept tapping the glass to get rid of the bubbles in the young wine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy girl,\u201d he said, taking Noem\u2019s hand, \u201cregardless of what your parents think, you must know everything before signing the papers. I\u2019d like to tell you the most important things you need to know before selling yourself . . . We are Christian Armenians, after death we have to be buried in the ground and go either to heaven or to hell. There are no other options. You must know that after this transaction you\u2019ll lose all of that. You won\u2019t have a grave or a gravestone in the form of the ancient Armenian cradle and your parents won\u2019t come to your grave to burn incense for you. After death, all of your relatives and neighbors will be buried in the village cemetery, but you won\u2019t be there. After death, your body will belong to science. Scientists will study you, in order to understand why some people, like you, can emanate light like the moon does, while others can\u2019t. By study, we mean that after death you won\u2019t be buried, that they\u2019ll break your body, cut it into pieces, dissolve, decompose, boil, treat it chemically and with high temperatures. They must mutilate you, my girl, to understand why you aren\u2019t like everyone else. Do you consent to this?\u201d he asked. \u201cIf we sign the contract now, the government will immediately pay half of the sum, while the rest will be paid to your parents after your death, after handing over the raw material, so to speak. Think about it, my girl, do you consent to this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Everyone was anxiously waiting. Her brothers, sisters, and neighbors had gathered near the scarecrow, and even the cats had left the bones under the tree and joined them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA psychological study could also produce some excellent results. It wouldn\u2019t hurt to discuss that as well,\u201d one of the members of the group suggested to the blue-eyed old man, while Noem was thinking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wouldn\u2019t advise it,\u201d said the lawyer, who\u2019d been invited from Yerevan, leaning forward. \u201cArmenian women don\u2019t open their souls completely even to God . . . That\u2019s going to be an unnecessary expense\u2013a loss of time and money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wouldn\u2019t have agreed anyway,\u201d said the father, taking the plate with sliced fruits from his wife\u2019s hand and setting it on the table. \u201cDespite everything, only God may touch my daughter\u2019s soul. Humans are unworthy of that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The group of scientists left early in the morning. It was so early that the rooster hadn\u2019t called yet, but the stars in the cool mist around the mountains had already disappeared. The guests said thank you for everything\u2014for the hospitality, for the generosity, and for signing the contract.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe really enjoyed you. We\u2019re very interested in you,\u201d the old scientist said, shaking Noem\u2019s hand. \u201cUntil our next meeting! We\u2019ll be waiting . . . for your death,\u201d he joked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe will too,\u201d laughed the father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n They hadn\u2019t even spent half of that money when the Soviet Union collapsed and the ruble was devalued. Armenia declared its independence from the Soviet Union and entered into a new partnership with the European Union.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the Europeans came, they were na\u00efve because they didn\u2019t know that the Russians had been there before them. The Russians, who\u2019d come before the Europeans, came after the Ottomans. The Persians, who\u2019d come before the Ottomans, knew that before them and after the Seljuks came the Tatars and the Mongols, and even before that\u2014the Arabs, who came, it seems, after the Greeks. They had come at the same time as the Egyptian pharaohs, before the Romans, who had come before the Byzantines, who came after the Assyrians, who came after the Khuris. But even before that\u2014Noah had passed through here and he had stopped, because God himself had passed through this place. And Noah was the only one who\u2019d left something instead of taking something away. Otherwise, it would\u2019ve been impossible to know that God had passed through here. And then the Europeans wouldn\u2019t have come.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Translated by Shushan Avagyan<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n First published at Dalkey Archive\u2019s Best European Fiction 2018<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The Brooklyn Rail<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When the Europeans came to see the girl, they were still na\u00efve because the driver hadn\u2019t told them yet: \u201cWhen…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":406,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[86,84],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-771","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-english","category-translations"],"yoast_head":"\n