I passed over to Genghiskhan all I knew about the oriental martial arts and the history of ninja . He was so keen on karate that he even gave up drinking and smoking.
A made a load which he hanged up to his feet and ran in the morning and in the evening. After running he beat the sack filled with sand. He started calling me Master and, as a sign of respect, he now used the polite form of address ("you" instead of "thee").
So we had made friends. Salima was overjoyed. We were happy that we had managed to prevent the ne'er-do-well son from going astray.
But one day our joy was overshadowed again. Genghiskhan took to the bottle again. He had broken loose, so to say. We asked him about the reason but he wouldn"t answer. "It"s useless" - he said.
But I found out. He happened to have fallen in love with the daughter of the filling station attendant Bairam who sold petrol at Pump 3 in the district center. When the attendant saw his daughter with Genghiskhan he got angry and said:
- If I see you with my daughter again I will teach you a lesson, you son of a bitch.
Genghiskhan hit Bairam for the abusive words But the former"s bodyguards beat Genghiskhan black and blue.
I took that act as a challenge. I was so angry that I nearly went mad. I took my bike with an imported handle bar and the empty tires and, settling myself on the saddle like a knight on a jade, I said:
- Farewell! I am gone! The trumpets are calling! If by morning I do not come back, remember me kindly! Remember to attend my grave every spring on Memorial Day. It will be a pity if my burial pace, remains sad and solitary, dug up by hedgehogs from all sides, while other graves will be attended by the near and dear of the departed person, and if my grave doesn"t have any greenery, not even nettle or thorns, while other graves will be covered with tulips and roses. I will show Bairam how to abuse the honor of my Salima! I shall take revenge! And you, Genghiskhan, continue my cause! Salamu aleikum!
I finished my farewell speech, and rattling with the wheels of my bicycle without tires, like an ancient Egyptian archer in a chariot, I made my way towards the district center where Bairam sold gasoline.
On seeing me Bairam started kidding:
-Welcome to our gas station, Mr. Azhnaby! I am sorry, what petroleum suits your imported car- 93 or 76?
I answered:
- Oh thank you very much. We will first check the petroleum, ok?
- And who on earth are you to do the checking? - Bairam asked.
- I am a laboratory assistant!
-Ah -a-a, laboratory assistant, are you? That"s interesting... And how are you going to check your wretched domain? Maybe, you"ll smell it? Or gulp a glass? Don"t be ashamed, we have a good brand. It makes one feel dizzy!
- Ye-e-s, ok! - I said.
Our conversation made the drivers roar with laughter. Some of them held their bellies like people suffering from stomach ulcer. As if continuing the comedy Bairam called one of his attendants.
Urman, bring two liters of gasoline. A laboratory assistant has come to us from the USA. Let him check it. He brought the gasoline in two dirty buckets and passing them over to me said:
- Drink it, Mr. Laboratory Assistant, gurgle-gurgle. Whisky with soda! Oh, sorry, it has slipped my mind. You Americans, too, drink it on ice. Just a minute. Excuse me. There you are.
The drivers were laughing, tears in their eyes. Baron went on scoffing at me.
. . - I should have known, you westerners, drink sipping, in a civilized manner, using a straw. I will correct my error quickly. For once, instead of a sipping straw, he put a hose into the bucket. I took off my shirt and put it into the bucket, to moisten it. Then I took the shirt and walked up to the pumps. I threw down my shirt, withdrew a cigarette lighter and raised it over my head. Out of fear, Bairam turned pale and shrieked:
- Hey you, what are you doing?! Don"t you see I am kidding? .
The drivers, fearing there would be an explosion, stood motionless, like dummies made of cardboard.
- Hey, Bairam, little boy - I said - will you bring that bucket here? Be quick! I am serious! I am a kamikaze! .
- You should have said it at once. I thought you were an Uzbek man. Gamarjuba, Genozwali! You have a nice name - Kamikaze. I have a friend. He, too, is a Georgian. His name is Marmelaze. By the way, is he a relative of yours?
- What are you talking about you, stupid fool? Kamikaze is a bomb and a man. He explodes a certain site and dies in that explosion. Don"t pretend. Go and bring the bucket with the gasoline - I shouted.
Bairam"s comedy turned into a tragedy. He stood like a tragic actor. The drivers" faces looked- like burnt out bulbs.
I was ordering about like a film producer. At last our tragic actor took a bucket and came up to me. He was so scared that his hands and legs were shaking. I told him:
- Now drink the gasoline! We"ll see how strong it is. You may drink it without ice! You are a taster to-day. Be quick! Do you hear? Drain it!
Bairam took a mouthful of the burning liquid, and his face was distorted with disgust. I shouted:
- Well, how is it? Tasty? Do you want some more? Why did you offend my son and insult my wife?
- Bairam went down on his knees and started begging my pardon. Now somebody must have called the militia and the operative force officials from the oil-station arrived. They started negotiating with me. Bairam offered me $1000 US in exchange for reconciliation. I refused and said:
- Who do you take me for? I am an honest laboratory assistant. I don"t take bribes, I"ll be dammed!
At this point there came a loud voice from the group of militiamen and oil-station officials:
- Stop it, laboratory assistant! Let us sit down and discuss all the questions on the spot!
Now some figures in black camouflage flashed. As far as I could see that it was an attachment of Emergency Force of Militia. I lit the cigarette lighter. Everybody stood motionless staring at the burning lighter. I shouted:
- Take away the Emergency Force, or else I"ll explode the pump! I"ve got nothing to lose!
There came a command for the Emergency Force to withdraw.
I went on crying:
- All I want is justice! The gasoline refiller has insulted my spouse and hurt my son! I want Bairam to quit work at the oil-station.
- We give you the word of honor that he will be fired and never work along this line! - the voice from the loud speaker said.
Bairam crawled up to me on all fours and started kissing my boots.
- Pardon me, please, for goodness sake! Forgive me, Mr. Laboratory Assistant!
At this point something incredible happened, and the men of the Emergency Force fell on upon me. I jumped back and said:
- Is that what you want? Now get it!
I threw the burning cigarette-lighter down on the ground where my shirt soaked with gasoline lay. On seeing that, the Emergency Force men dashed towards the cash desk. There came a voice from the place where the drivers, officials and operative militiamen were standing:
- Lie down!
All those standing on the site and beyond jumped into the ditch filled with water, hoping for rescue. Bairam, too, ran and jumped into the dirty water. I looked around and saw that my cigarette-lighter was still burning but my shirt was not. I picked the lighter and placed it against the shirt to make it take fire. But it suddenly went out. I tried to do it several times but alas, each time it died out. A few minutes" later people started raising their heads in surprise seeing that the gasoline was not burning. It turned out that Bairam had mixed the gasoline with water or something. Those lying on the ground got up with a sigh of relief. The men from the Emergency Militia Force arrested me and put me into the car, handcuffed. As we started, I thought:
- That"s all. They will sentence me to life imprisonment. But it appears that there is justice on earth. Subsequently, they thanked me for the disclosure of the crime committed by Bairam and freed me with apologies.
I was free now. Salima and Genghiskhan came to meet me. I tapped Genghiskhan on the shoulder and sang the following lines from a popular prison song:
Cabman, dear, take me away,
I am free as the wind to-day...
Northern wind! The Central Prison,
The attorney died this season.
Karate (空手?) or karate-do (空手道do?) is a martial art developed in the Ryukyu Islands from indigenous fighting methods and Chinese kenpō. It is primarily a striking art using punching, kicking, knee and elbow strikes and open-handed techniques such as knife-hands and ridge-hands.
In Japanese history, a ninja (忍者 ninja?) - a warrior specially trained in a variety of unorthodox arts of war. These include assassination, espionage, and other martial arts.
The Kamikaze (神風 common translation: "divine wind - suicide attacks by military aviators from the Empire of Japan against Allied shipping, in the closing stages of the Pacific campaign of World War II