The Spirit-Wrestlers by Philip Marsden

Author:Philip Marsden [Marsden, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-007-39711-2
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 1998-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

To counter Viktor’s Cossack claims on the ancient world, I sought out an Adygei archaeologist.

I found Adam Kerashev in more traditional surroundings – on the fifth floor of a Brezhnevite apartment block. The block stood among a phalanx of others. At their bases were children scrabbling in the dust, men tending rows of tomato plants and women beating carpets.

Adam Kerashev was a great enthusiast. He wore a woollen hat throughout the morning and sat on a sofa with his leg stretched out along the cushions. He had injured it in the mountains but retained, in his upper body, the lively movements of a spaniel.

‘You ask about deer. All over the mountains you will see these standing stones, in Russian “alyeni kamni” – the deer stones. They were totems for warriors.’

But about the Cossacks’ claim to be indigenous he was dismissive. ‘The Cossacks are migrants. The Adygei people have lived in this area since the earliest times.’ He pointed to a glass-fronted cabinet. ‘Look at that.’

I slid back the glass doors and pulled out a photographic print of a circular design.

‘This motif was on a plate I dug up last summer. It is inlaid with the teeth of wild boar. This is our pantheon. Here, you see the rays spreading out over the plate – this is the sun, always the central part of Adygei faith. Next, the earth. Then the trinity. And fourth is this, which is a representation of Alexander.’

‘Alexander the Great?’

He nodded.

‘And Islam?’

‘The Adygei became Muslim for political reasons. But at our heart we are mountain people, and mountain people always worship what they see around them.’

Wincing, he adjusted his leg on the sofa. ‘We worship not only the sun and the peaks but the copper-age barrows. Even until quite recently, the Adygei used to conduct ceremonies at these graves.’ Adam gave an animated version of the ceremonies. ‘The people would stand outside around the pile of stones and, in secret, the chiefs would send a little boy into the shaft. He would crawl in, like this’ – Adam slumped down onto the floor – ‘and cry out. All the people would look at the stones and think it was the soul of the dead one. The boy howling: whaa-ah!’

His wife came running in from the kitchen. ‘What… Adam, get up from the floor!’

Adam slunk back to his convalescence. He sat there contrite and thwarted. Last summer he had found dozens of new mounds to dig, and had spent several months preparing to excavate them.

‘But it’s hopeless! How is a man to go digging in the mountains with such a leg?’

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