…late evening. The debates are over – and now I need to find myself at home. Not an easy task though. All marshrutkas are gone – and I have to catch a taxi… 

An old minivan stops near me – and the driver permits me to enter, arguing “Sairan 200” tradition. He looks tough and hard-boiled, but not old – I would’ve given him between 40 and 50 years. Facial features accurately give out the person of caucasian origin, but the language… language tries to trick me.  

He speaks Russian with big problems, every few seconds turning to Kazakh. And the foul language he uses (very often, huh) is a wonderful type of Shala-Kazakh – Kazakh words with Russian endings followed by Russian words.  

I ask him about the uniqueness of his language – and ask if the Kazakh is his native. The answer is yes. “I was raised in Kaskelen”, he tells me, – “And spent most of the time with children on the streets. So Kazakh is almost my native. But also I know Azerbaijani…” 

He stops and starts yelling from his car on a guy who was crossing the road on the crosswalk. “You, s…y (belonging to mother) p…s (homosexual), why you cross the road so fast? You are s…y (belonging to mother) u…k (illegitimate child) s…a (dog female)”.  

He stops yelling and looks at me. “What an idiot, huh!?”. I obediently nod. He continues.  

“I love Kazakhstan so much.” – he says: “My family lived among the Kazakhs – and we always shared everything. Here is my home – and I would not ever leave it”.  

After some time he notices the big billboard with a patriotic motto on it. For some reason, this billboard gives him a thought he decides to share immediately: “You know what? They say every time, USA, USA, Emirates, Emirates. Batys Kazakhstan – power! N…y (direction to men’s body part) this USA and Emirates!”.  

He seems very happy by our conversation – and says goodbye very warmly, asking me to “study hard”.