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Screen reader
Screen reader
There is a Manyrak mountain near Zaisan, in Eastern Kazakhstan. Visiting people are amazed: what a strange name? And there is no diva here. Every word has its own story. And there is a legend about this mountain. It is not in vain that Mount Manyrak received such a name.
A large Kazakh family once roamed in these places on fat pastures. Everything happens in life: joy, sorrow, good and bad, but one day such a disaster befell the Kazakhs, which can not be worse. Hostile tribes descended on the steppe, began to beat peaceful nomads, ravage villages, steal herds. The elders gathered for a council, they thought: where to find salvation? One road is to the mountains.
They folded yurts, loaded camels, gathered herds and flocks, and set off. The climb was steep. On the way, a sheep ran out of strength, began to lag behind and fall to its knees. Voices boomed: – What are we going to do with the sheep? We cannot delay. Wait for that – the robbers will notice the caravan.
The shepherds say:
– It is necessary to carry a sick sheep to the mountains in turn on his hands. She won’t go on her own.
Then one bai attacked the shepherds:
– Are you out of your mind? Death threatens the whole family, and you take care of the black sheep. Let’s leave it here, let it die. We would like to hide behind the pass as soon as possible!
He was a noble bai. They listened to him. Yes, they ruined themselves. The nomad ascended to the pass. The fugitives placed cattle in a safe shelter and with a cheerful soul began to prepare for dinner and overnight. At that time, at the foot of the mountain, enemy detachments raced on horseback, looking for profit. They had already galloped past, but suddenly they heard: somewhere on the slope, a sheep bleats plaintively.
Where would a sheep come from in such a desolate place? They stood up in their stirrups and listened: again and again came bleating from the mountain, full of anguish and anxiety. The robbers turned their horses and raced towards the animal’s voice. Soon they saw an abandoned sheep and a caravan trail going to the pass. With a wild howl, the rapists burst into the shelter of the fugitives, and innocent blood flowed down the rocky ledges. No one of the family was left alive.
Many years have passed since that time. The names of the dead people have long been forgotten. And the memory of the terrible event is kept only in the name of Manyrak Mountain – “Bleating sheep”.
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