Cameyah

The river taught me to how swim. As a child we would go there in evenings on hot summer days and soap up our bodies to then rinse them off in the water. It used to scare me a little. I would insist on wearing shoes while swimming, yet I would always loose one of them and get frustrated. See, I never wanted to feel what is on the bottom of the river. I was worried about the small things, creepy, moving, spikey things. My love for the water was complicated and confusing. I absolutely loved it and always needed to be in it, swimming. I was also absolutely terrified about what I could possibly find in it, step on or drown. I always felt that there is something else out there that can take me. At anytime. That is why I would always bring the extra unnecessary things: Shoes, swimfeet, goggles, floaties, you name it. I never wanted to swim somewhere alone, yet if I had to, I did it. There is this moment when you are completely terrified and totally alone, you have the option of quitting or k

My language has the sweetest sounds, no other language has. It tastes like your favourite stew on your tongue, only my people can cook. My motherland has a hard outside and a soft inside, just like the shell of a nut, only a nutcracker can break. My hometown is the city of blacksmiths, close to the Altai mountains, home to the shamans and the unknown terrains. Where 4 countries meet and have a dialogue. My people are nomads, farmers, survivors, taught not to smile, but to overcome. My people can not be judged by the corrupt dictators running our beautiful land, but by the beauty we treasure and hide from the outside. My land has catlike-like creators, giant predators - who move gracefully through the tundra. Studying cultures for decades made me appreciate my own, now more than ever. I am here thanks to the people who came before me. The men on tall horses in the savanna have cleared the way for me.