There are women in the Yakut villages.

I recently visited Yakutia and met an interesting woman. But in order. I needed to get to a large manufacturing village, located five hundred kilometers from Yakutsk. Due to the specifics of production there for many years lived mostly moved from different parts of the country, Russian-speaking. You could wait for a day or two when a car from the organization arrives, or get to your way, on a local route taxi. I chose the second, I don't like to wait, and the exotics wanted. I called a taxi service tonight. “All, I recorded, tomorrow around nine the car will come, wait.”
At nine I was already gathered and stood on the street near the entrance with things. Half an hour later I started calling on the phone. “The taxi? On which side? Towards the Peaceful? You know, our car broke, but we transferred your order to another company, wait, it will come.” “He’s going, he’s going, you don’t worry, he recently came to us for a trip.” Close to noon came an old minibus, UAZ-Buhanka, and we went. We were driving fun, the bus was full, except me, everyone else was Yakutia, they usually say so. Good, benevolent people, when they spoke to everyone, they tried to speak Russian for me, they switched to Yakut, only when they were talking to each other.
The asphalted roads ended ten kilometers from Yakutsk, and the "foundations of federal importance" began. The schedule? No one knew that word. We turn past the indicator to a village. Here suddenly one of the passengers remembers: "Let's go there, I promised a relative to bring a barrel!"We go to the village, throw a blue plastic barrel on the roof, tie it, go on, in the middle of the road in another village we unload. “Will we have lunch?” “After ten kilometers there will be a dining room, there we will stop.” And for sure, a dozen kilometers right in the woods on the slope alone stands the dining room, where we stop. We ate and went on. “Interesting, and the mushrooms are gone?” “That’s the time.” “This is the right place, let’s see. Driver, brake!” and we all run through the forest together in search of mushrooms. No mushrooms are seen. It was dry, it hadn’t rained for a long time. No matter, they will go. We went further.”
With us was a young boy, who for a week left the city to hunt. Suddenly right in front of us on the road jumped out, stopped and began to look at us with its big eyes. The bus stopped, everyone whispered: “Deliver, get the gun!” the boy got the box, pulled out the gun and began to collect it. Then he used the bullets, scattered them, began to hurry to pick the necessary ones. Finally, he charged his gun, opened the door and began targeting. The women closed their ears. Until this moment, Kossula patiently waited, but even her patience broke, she turned and jumped into the bushes. There was a hopeless shot.
We went further. Soon the driver stopped, “Give the gun!” something black flashed in the bushes. “The Tether! He ran there.” A man with a rifle ran after a teterev. A couple of minutes later, when he had already escaped behind the slope, from under another bush nearby, the tetherers came out, looked at us, ripped off and went to the other side. Whether he had already made a circle and returned, or did not go anywhere at all, and all this time was sitting nearby.
As soon as the trees appeared among the woods, local, Yakut, cows and horses grazed on them. Low, mocked, dull and bumpy, they led a free way of life. No shepherd has been met, the animals are there on a free, independent pasture.
Something I was fascinated by the description of the road... We arrived in the village about midnight. I said goodbye to the others, the bus went on, and I went to the hotel. The manager was a nice middle-aged yakuza. We have talked. During the conversation, I suddenly noticed that she often translates to Ukrainian. Half a year before that I was in Ukraine, I traveled on the motives of the Quartet and in the movie “What Men Talk about” on the Moscow-Odessa route with a stop in Kiev, some fragments of phrases still remained, and I said something similar to Ukrainian. She wondered, “Oh, so you understand the language?” But just a little...”
It turned out that she married a Ukrainian and in her youth went with him to a small town in Ukraine. They lived there for ten years, but the husband was a geologist, and the children had to be educated, so they decided to return to Yakutia. The Ukrainians are still there! Therefore, she was the head of the local Ukrainian land.
It was very unusual in a Russian-speaking village in the depths of Yakutia to hear from the Yakutsky – the leader of the Ukrainian diaspora, an invitation to see what national numbers they are preparing there: “Come, listen, how the savages sleep at us!”

Mother of Siberia (c)