Petropavlovsk in northern Kazakhstan. I go in the morning in the tram standing on the back floor, full of people, not to push. Next to me is a Russian boy with a backpack behind his back, looking like a five-six-year-old. Directly in front of us, you want or don’t want, and the eyes rest on the rear glass of the tram is glued to a paper plaque of approximately the following content: "Kazakh tylinde soyleu- bzdin asmmattik paryzy" and below the inscription is already duplicated in Russian: "To speak in Kazakh - our common civil duty". And at the very bottom of the plaque of blue paste, many times wrapped in letters is attributed: "HUY". The boy studies the tablet for a long time, then breathes, gets a pen out of his pocket, sketches the word "HUY" and carefully pulls out "CAT".