Wolves, Ghosts, and the Desert

Tusuneas tells the story of the wolves to his grandson

October 13, 1999
Web posted at: 11:40 a.m. EDT (1540 GMT)

By John Fox

After the stories that Tusuneas Ahun told me, I'm not sure I want to go into the desert after all.

Tusuneas is a 50 year-old silk maker who lives with his large family on the edges of Hotan. For generations, his family has lived in Hotan and specializes in the ancient craft of spinning and weaving silk. After you pass through the mud-walled compound you enter a lovely courtyard shaded by grapevines that snake their way up wooden trellises. Both outside and inside silk is in various stages of production. We had to pull Tusuneas away from his loom to share his stories with us.

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After sitting down in the shade, Tusuneas began on a pessimistic note, "Few people remember the old stories today. They have no time for them anymore. Only work."

I persisted, knowing that everyone has a story to tell-- you just need to find the key to unlock it. Just then, his grandson ran over and jumped into his lap. "What about him?" I asked. "What kinds of stories do you tell him?"

"Oh, I tell him to be good or the wolves will carry him away!" As I pressed him with more questions a story unfolded. It began with a strange Uighur equivalent of 'once upon a time'...

On the tip of your nose, on the top of your head, a long time ago, there were three brothers who were shepherds: Ahmed, Tochti, and Mahmoud. One day their father told them to take the sheep out to pasture, but Mahmoud, the youngest, complained: "I am tired and want to stay behind." Despite his protests, his father told him it was his duty to tend the sheep with his brothers and so he went.

Once they were out and away from their parents' watchful eyes, Mahmoud refused to work and spent the whole day being lazy and sleeping in a grove of trees. Ahmed and Tochti were so annoyed with him that as the sun set and it was time to head home, they left their younger brother there to teach him a lesson.

Tusuneas Ahun is a 50 year-old silk maker living on the edges of Hotan

Night fell back at the house and there was still no sign of Mahmoud. Ahmed and Tochti went with their father into the dark desert to search for him, but he was nowhere to be found. In the grove where he'd been sleeping all that was left was his water skin and a trail of animal prints. Just then a piercing howl filled the night and the boys knew that the worst had happened: Mahmoud had been taken by wolves!

"So you see," said Tusuneas to his grandson, "you must work hard and listen to your elders, or you'll end up like Mahmoud!" The boy sat, stiff as a board with his mouth open and his eyes wide. He looked like he'd taken the lesson to heart.

Eager for more, I probed Tusuneas about ghosts. "Do the Uighurs believe in ghosts?" I asked.

"Oh yes," he answered. "We call them 'Djinn' and they are evil spirits that trick women to follow them into the desert." In traditional Uighur houses, he told me, there are no windows and the door is covered with a carpet. There is a hole in the roof that lets out the smoke from the fire, but can also let in the 'djinn.' They mimic the voices of a husband or friend and lure the women away from the house. After months the women return from the desert stark, raving mad, with glassy eyes that look like they've peered straight into hell.

Now I was starting to get a little nervous myself and finally I got up the nerve to ask him the question that I was thinking of. "Where do the people say the 'djinn' come from?"

Tusumeas walked to the edge of the patio and lifted himself up onto a low fence. He pointed at the desert dunes that shimmered on the distant horizon. "From there," he declared. "The 'djinn' are the ghosts of those who lie buried under the sands of the Taklamakan."

As I headed home to pack for our desert trek, I did my best to laugh off Tusumeas's stories, but I had to admit that his tale had gotten to me. The romance of visiting the ruins of Rawak was rapidly giving way to a much stronger emotion: Fear.

Tellin' Tales, John Fox