From the autobiographical book “Gardens and Wastelands»
We were faced with the fact that someone was walking around our tents, although we knew that there was not and could not be a soul for tens of kilometers. We went out and saw paths appearing that didn’t exist before. These paths ran, winding among the stones to rest against the rock and disappear into it. Someone was pulling on the ropes of the tents, we could hear the creaking of footsteps.
Zhigalkin, on edge, said:
- If someone is joking like that, then I really don’t recommend it. Whoever crawls along the wall of the tent, I will stab through the tent with a knife, regardless of anyone or anything.
But it was also hysterical, because it was clear that no one would joke like that. At some point, nerves passed. Mitya and Dugin were in the same tent. Their screams woke me up. I looked out… And we were all armed: we had high-quality forged knives under 30 cm each. And then, in the middle of the night, there were screams. I got up, although I really didn’t want to, because I just fell asleep, and it was cold, drizzling, and raining. I really wanted to stay in a state of oblivion, but I had to get out of a warm sleeping bag. I took the knife, looked out and saw Mitya and Dugin on their knees. With wild screams, they groped in front of themselves with lanterns, clutching knives in their hands. They called me, not Sergey(Zhigalkin).
In the morning we told Dugin that the following night he should take a sleeping bag and spend the night at the wild animal cemetery. To test his courage, he would have to stay about a kilometer away from our parking spot and spend the night in the open air. There was a huge clearing among the rocks with several hundred different skeletons and skulls with horns. Animals came there to die. It was a strange creepy place, covered with white bones. Sometimes a lone vulture would fly up, pecking at long-dried mummified scraps of meat. Exactly like in the movie “The Manuscript Found in Saragossa” For some reason, we left Mitya alone, although he also screamed like a madman. Dugin went, spent the night there, returned in the morning angry as hell, sat down, not talking to anyone.
The first crack in his attitude towards me and Zhigalkin appeared then. From the very beginning, Dugin really didn’t like Tajikistan. Neither the atmosphere nor the mood — nothing. Every little thing got on his nerves. When we caught a ride and were traveling in a truck with a somewhat criminal crew of power line pole installers, our relationship(with them) became strained. We bolted from that truck, running away, and Dugin screamed:
- This is Asia! This is Tajikistan!
Although it was a team of moonlighters from different places in Russia. I tried to explain to Sasha(Dugin) that these are just some chavs, and from Russia, that there are no Tajiks among them. But Dugin could not be persuaded — he did not like Tajikistan.
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From the autobiographical book “Gardens and Wastelands»
G. Dzhemal, 2021