Simana’s Diaries

Simana’s Diaries – 14 – Yelbegren

Days had passed. That night, the camp was silent; even the silence seemed to be searching for its place.

The faint howls of jackals

in the distance mingled with the crackling of the fire; it was as if the darkness were breathing, emitting sounds from within itself.

Simana was sitting in front of her tent. In her hand was a bundle of herbs wrapped in birch bark; in her lap, the small prayer stone given to her by Başkam… As her fingers lingered on the stone’s rough surface, she looked up at the sky. The moon—that familiar, cool face—began to fade slowly.

A murmur spread through the center

of the settlement. The women bowed their heads. The men gathered their children close. Whispers seeped through the wind:

“Yelbegren…”

“It’s here.”

“The

dragon is in the sky… It’s swallowing the moon.”

The Altai people knew:

Yelbegren was a celestial spirit resembling a dragon. It devoured the moon because the moon was sacred. And darkness envied the sacred.

When

an eclipse began, the camp would fall silent. They were even afraid to pray. Because words, at times, fed the darkness.

But Simana stood up. She looked up at the sky—not with fear, but with a sense of recognition.

It was

as if this darkness were not appearing before her for the first time. It was as if this moment had been walking toward her for a long time.

At

that moment, a child’s forehead was burning. And the tribe turned their eyes toward Simana.

No one said “come” to her. But everyone pleaded with their eyes, averting their gaze. Simana heard this.

In her chest, words that had gone unsaid for years had accumulated; like snow piling up in a tree hollow, heavy and silent. That night, they would be spoken for the first time.

She looked up at

the sky. And the words someone had whispered one night, before the fire went out, poured from her heart:

“There is

Ülgen…

He reigns on the highest throne in the

heavens.

In the quietest moment

of the night, he speaks, hiding behind a breath.

You hear

him not with your eyes, but through silence.”

“There is Mother

Umay…

She gathers

her tears to her breast and wraps them around the children’s sleep.

If

a baby smiles in its sleep, it is because Umay has become its breath that night.”

“And Erlik…

He waits silently beneath

the roots.

He is not darkness; he merely reminds us of the cycle of return.

He is regarded not with fear, but with respect.”

Simana heard these three names for the first time. She had heard them before; that night, she understood them.

Ülgen would breathe life into her prayers.

Umay would bring softness to her hands.

Erlik, for his part, would bring not death, but fearlessness.

She touched her

fox necklace. The wood sank into her warm skin.

It was

as if the fox had closed its eyes; her thoughts fell silent. Only one feeling remained within her:

“Go through the door now.”

She

slowly stood up. She didn’t take her drum.

Tonight, he would summon the spirits without a drum.

He approached

the fire. He closed his eyes. And he spoke the first word. It was not a prayer; it was an intention.

The

second word followed; it was not a spell, but a request.

Then the third… the fourth…

Simana’s voice was gone

now.

The

fire had taken her tongue; it was scattering it into the sky along with the smoke.

That night, Simana prayed like a shaman for the first time, feared like a little girl, and passed through the door like a spirit.

And at that moment, the moon began to reappear before everyone’s eyes.

The light that

Yelbegren could not swallow split the black face of the sky.

In a

distant tent, the child took a deep breath.

Simana sank to the ground. This collapse was not a fall born of exhaustion; it was a weight she had carried for a long time finally finding its place.

The

next morning, the child awoke without a fever. The silence in the camp this time stemmed not from fear, but from gratitude.

Simana looked at the wind. And deep inside, she heard a voice coming from a place she would never return to. It was the recollection of a promise long since made. Now, everything was just beginning…