Two weeks ago, on December 5, an outstanding philosopher, thinker, poet and politician Heydar Jamal has died after a long and serious illness. Vestnik Kavkaza is publishing excerpts from Maxim Shevchenko's program 'One', dedicated to Heydar Jemal.
My very close friend and my teacher, my brother Heydar Jemal passed away, a great Russian, Azeri, global thinker, a poet, a philosopher, a politician, the man who never lied, who always said what he thought, the man who created such a point of thinking in our modern world, which had lost the habit of common thinking; there was an action around him and everyone was interested in him.
One could agree, or disagree with Heydar, but he was endlessly interesting for everyone. He was a Muslim through and through. But he was a unique Muslim, he was a Muslim, born in the center of Moscow, near the Arbat street, spending his youth there, who studied at one of the elite Moscow schools, who was fluent in English, French, Persian and Turkish languages. Heydar also spoke Arabic and Italian. He understood people from all over the world. And people tried to understand him. He was also a great poet. I will start my story about Heydar Jemal with his poems, dedicated to his wife.
When you come — and if you come
To show me that nightmares will not last forever
Only two meters from your soles
Down there
I will try to reach you
I'll know that it's your voice
Which keeps the door ajar between us
And your tears
As light as light
Will burn the sand to a missing heart
You'll hear me whispering from under the slabs
About my dreams
All the time
The sky is burning above me
The space I see with my eyeless sockets!
And in this vast flat haze
My mortal body is terrified
When you will die
After my funeral
I will not need me
Myself
Heydar was buried at the cemetery in the beautiful city of Almaty in the foothills of Alatau. I have not been able to visit his grave, but I will be there in the coming days. From his grave you can see the majestic Asian mountains Alatau, the homeland of the Turkic peoples, Turkic ethnicity. And in a sense, it was even provincially, that after a long illness with which he fought for four years - only close friends were aware of this illness, perhaps, the disease would have killed another man faster ... he resisted it ... And not just resisted, he worked.
Heydar understood people from around the world. And people tried to understand him. I visited him ten days before his death, on his birthday, maybe about two weeks before it. And he dictated three books simultaneously, trying to make it. He felt that he would die soon. He tried, worked, dictated ... He had a clear mind until the last second. And he passed away like a Muslim, whispering the shahada (the Islamic confession). And he was buried in this cemetery.
I read the memories of left, right, liberals, I read the memories of people who were associated with the government, one way or another, people of different views, Orthodox and Muslims. There are memories of the Jews, even the Zionists remember Heydar, as an infinitely interesting person, and with which, despite the difference of views, there was a certain dialogue. You have always reached your personal understanding of the truth after a dialog with Heydar.
***
We have lost a wonderful and unique person. His political views were quite obvious to those who knew him. He was a principled opponent of oppression and tyranny in all its forms. Under the tyranny, under oppression Heydar Jemal meant a state, which treats a person like a tool, needed for the functioning of the state. He hated such things. And no matter how a state, which he called looks like, which is called the Tāghūt - 'oppression' in Arabic, whether it looked like a communist, an anti-communist or a liberal state, or a conservative state - in all senses - Heydar said that a man is the main theme, which exists in the world today.
His philosophical anthropology was an anthropology of human consciousness, which was thrown into this vast world like into prison. And a man seeks freedom as an opportunity of a unique self-realization. This being, this blessing around us - these philosophical words were quite important for Heydar - is what a person is obliged to oppose, or he just becomes a part of this anthology, part of this being, disappear, vanish into nothing, like a spark in a huge and icy darkness.
***
What was Heydar Jemal like, my friend? You know, he was a very calm and patient person. Heydar never raised his voice, never was nervous. I can't say the same about me. When I'm not sure of myself ... Today I am absolutely honest with you - when I do not understand something or have some weak position, it makes me to intone. I never noticed Heydar Jamal doing this. He used his voice, he used a tone as a tool in a cold intellectual duel, fencing. Here is his poem written in 2000:
At the end
The blind end of a gleam
There is a boy dressed in armor, with shield
I see the glitter of the plywood sword
Through the purple eyelids
Which closed so tight because of sudden pain
Through purple years, squinting at the light
Which is so bright and shining from behind the fence
From the depth
That no longer exists
From a dark wet perished garden
I know,
The boy is looking at me
Without discerning any shapes because of light
On the other side of today
Spending fifty years of despair
He looks in the dying sunset
Covering his broken knee with a shield
There
Where an invisible soldier
Released from captivity for only five minutes
Is waiting
At the time, Heydar Jemal formed the intellectual club 'Florian Geyer'. A lot of dirt and slander was written about 'Florian Geyer'. They that that allegedly it was named after the SS Cavalry Division 'Florian Geyer'. That is absolute nonsense. It's like to say that if Hegel wrote in German, Hegel is a fascist, you know, a Nazi. Florian Geyer was a German knight, who chose the side of a peasant revolution during the Great Peasants' War, which was in the 16th century, the war known as the Great Peasants' Revolt led by Thomas Müntzer. Heydar Jemal's fight against tyranny in all senses - the tyranny of a state, a tyranny of society, a tyranny of the so-called public opinion, a personal tyranny - was an important part of his life. The meetings of the 'Florian Geyer' intellectual club were attended by a variety of people of different views: right, left, conservative, liberal opposition, pro-government. On Heydar's initiative, the club raised its questions not in a particular political plane, and, for example, what is tyranny, what is power, what is violence, what is freedom, what is life? - the philosophical, conceptual understanding. Because Heydar believed that before you begin to talk about anything, you need to understand in general its philosophical basis, an anthology, of which we are talking about this stuff, what we mean - agree on the terms. He believed that philosophy is a second most important science and the first science, according to him, is theology, as only in God he could find true freedom. Here is another Heydar's poem:
We know the truth when death is close
Like the bitter aftertaste of praying.
As long as we live, we dare not compare
Our hearts and its powerful rhythm.
But we exist as its seamy side.
As an amateur film shot,
Made on the platform of a little station,
Arising due to a minute hesitation.
We think it's just a hesitation,
A stop somewhere in the open field,
A transformation of a trembling blade of grass
In the cycle of life - and not more.
But we exist only in this measure
Of tracelessness, silence, oblivion.
An incomprehensible moment creates faith
Forging links from eternity.
These are Heydar Jemal's poems. His poetry collections are on sale. They were republished several times by late Ilya Kormiltsev, a very close friend of Heydar.
***
Another Heydar's poem:
Women are mirrors,
In which we look,
Mighty as a rock,
We caress their dumb bodies
And lick their bitter honey
Plunging our lips in them.
We are people thrown into the world,
Sensual and rough ...
We tear their transparent nerves
Fiercely banging on guitars,
And each becomes the first,
Before becoming old ...
Our cold bodies
Are taken by the night,
And women-mirrors
Can't help us anymore.
