The Day Tashkent's Earthquake Rebuilt a City (1966)

An illustrated history story from Wonder History — free to read, with narration.

The Day Tashkent's Earthquake Rebuilt a City (1966) — a history story. 10 illustrated pages, narrated, free to read on Wonder History.

The Day Tashkent's Earthquake Rebuilt a City (1966) — book cover — Wonder History
The Day Tashkent's Earthquake Rebuilt a City (1966) — a history story. 10 illustrated pages, narrated, free to read on Wonder History.

Page 1

The ground kicks at 5:23, a single brutal jolt that runs up through the cobbles like something buried trying to stand. Tiles shear off the madrasah's blue…
The ground kicks at 5:23, a single brutal jolt that runs up through the cobbles like something buried trying to stand. Tiles shear off the madrasah's blue parapet, three storeys up, and rain down onto the market awnings below, punching through canvas in puffs of dust. Zulfiya is thrown backwards off her knees from her waist-high clay tandoor, her flatbreads bouncing from their stack and rolling away down the sloped lane like dropped coins, spinning into the gutter.

The ground kicks at 5:23, a single brutal jolt that runs up through the cobbles like something buried trying to stand. Tiles shear off the madrasah's blue parapet, three storeys up, and rain down onto the market awnings below, punching through canvas in puffs of dust. Zulfiya is thrown backwards off her knees from her waist-high clay tandoor, her flatbreads bouncing from their stack and rolling away down the sloped lane like dropped coins, spinning into the gutter. She claws at the ground, scrambling onto hands and knees. Behind her a whole mudbrick wall, taller than two men, buckles and slumps sideways across the lane in a slow brown wave, filling the air with grit. Aybek, already running, throws himself at Rustam-aka as the old man staggers against his cane, and grabs a fistful of his sleeve, hauling him bodily back from the collapsing wall's reach, both of them stumbling into a stall post. Dust rolls over the square, swallowing stalls whole. Somewhere a kettle clangs down the cobbles, forgotten, bouncing between fallen tiles and scattered bread.

Page 2

The courtyard that had sheltered three generations was now a crust of broken beams and plaster dust, the carved ayvan columns toppled like felled trees.
The courtyard that had sheltered three generations was now a crust of broken beams and plaster dust, the carved ayvan columns toppled like felled trees. Aybek dropped to his belly beside a triangular gap no wider than a drainage pipe and wriggled in, elbows scraping, dust filling his mouth. Deeper under the collapse, Rustam-aka lay pinned, a painted column crushing across his legs.

The courtyard that had sheltered three generations was now a crust of broken beams and plaster dust, the carved ayvan columns toppled like felled trees. Aybek dropped to his belly beside a triangular gap no wider than a drainage pipe and wriggled in, elbows scraping, dust filling his mouth. Deeper under the collapse, Rustam-aka lay pinned, a painted column crushing across his legs. 'I am here, grandfather, don't move,' Aybek gasped, reaching to brace the splintered wood with his shoulder. Outside, Zulfiya dragged an iron bedstead taller than her own hip across the rubble, jamming its frame under the fallen roof-beam. She threw her whole broad weight onto it, heaving until her knuckles whitened and the beam groaned upward an inch. 'Now! Pull him by the sash!' she shouted. Aybek hooked both hands into the old man's rainbow sash and hauled, dragging him backward across broken brick while the beam trembled above them. Last came the mulberry cane, flung clear just as the bedstead buckled and the beam crashed down where Rustam-aka had lain.

Page 3

The ground jerked again, a second rolling punch under the gravel, and the water bowser's tap sheared clean off with a metallic crack.
The ground jerked again, a second rolling punch under the gravel, and the water bowser's tap sheared clean off with a metallic crack. Water sheeted out across the square, ankle-deep in seconds, soaking through canvas tent-skirts. Zulfiya waded into it without flinching, her hem dark and heavy, dragging scorched bricks from the rubble pile and stacking them into a rough curved tandoor, wet gravel sucking at her galoshes.

The ground jerked again, a second rolling punch under the gravel, and the water bowser's tap sheared clean off with a metallic crack. Water sheeted out across the square, ankle-deep in seconds, soaking through canvas tent-skirts. Zulfiya waded into it without flinching, her hem dark and heavy, dragging scorched bricks from the rubble pile and stacking them into a rough curved tandoor, wet gravel sucking at her galoshes. Aybek dropped to his knees by the half-built oven, cupping his hands to shield a struggling flame, fanning it with a torn flap of cardboard until it caught. Two soldiers staggered past carrying Rustam-aka on a painted bedstead, his splinted leg lashed with cloth, his cane balanced across his chest. Zulfiya slapped the first ball of dough against the hot inner wall of the tandoor, steam hissing where water met fire. "Bread first, grief later," she said, shoving another brick into place with her forearm. Rustam-aka, jostled on the stretcher, rasped, "Save me a corner piece, girl — crust end, like always." Aybek laughed despite the ash in his throat and fed another twist of cardboard to the flame.

Page 4

Steam rolled low across Platform 2, the carriage windows chest-high above the gravel. Zulfiya and Aybek braced the old man between them while two shouting…
Steam rolled low across Platform 2, the carriage windows chest-high above the gravel. Zulfiya and Aybek braced the old man between them while two shouting relatives leaned from the window frame, arms outstretched. 'Lift on three,' Zulfiya grunted, and they heaved Rustam-aka up by waist and knee until the grasping hands caught his sash and hauled him through the gap, robe catching on the frame. His cane went up last, passed hand to hand like a relay baton.

Steam rolled low across Platform 2, the carriage windows chest-high above the gravel. Zulfiya and Aybek braced the old man between them while two shouting relatives leaned from the window frame, arms outstretched. 'Lift on three,' Zulfiya grunted, and they heaved Rustam-aka up by waist and knee until the grasping hands caught his sash and hauled him through the gap, robe catching on the frame. His cane went up last, passed hand to hand like a relay baton. 'Mind the duck's head, it bites,' Aybek called, and Rustam-aka managed a thin laugh from inside.

On the next track the echelon was already unloading. Misha walked a huge iron counterweight down two bowing ramp planks, boots planted wide, beard dripping sweat despite the cold. Beside him a crate of welding rods tipped off a pallet; Oksana lunged, catching it against her knees before it could smash, the crate splitting anyway and spilling rods across the rail with a metallic clatter. "Still counts as caught!" she shouted over the hiss of the departing train.

Page 5

The tractors growl, treads chewing gravel as the steel cables snap taut from facade to engine block. Someone shouts the countdown and the whole four-storey wall…
The tractors growl, treads chewing gravel as the steel cables snap taut from facade to engine block. Someone shouts the countdown and the whole four-storey wall leans, groans, then peels outward like a slab of bark, crashing flat across the cordon in one long shuddering roar. Aybek, crouched too close with his goggles down, freezes as the dust-wall rolls toward him — and a huge hand closes on the back of his shirt, yanking him clean off his feet.

The tractors growl, treads chewing gravel as the steel cables snap taut from facade to engine block. Someone shouts the countdown and the whole four-storey wall leans, groans, then peels outward like a slab of bark, crashing flat across the cordon in one long shuddering roar. Aybek, crouched too close with his goggles down, freezes as the dust-wall rolls toward him — and a huge hand closes on the back of his shirt, yanking him clean off his feet. Misha hauls the boy backward against his own chest a heartbeat before the brown cloud swallows the street. Zulfiya's kettle, torn from its cord, spins away across the asphalt, lost in the roar. Oksana lunges sideways, slamming a sheet of plywood up in front of Zulfiya's face as grit and splinters hammer against the wood. For a long moment nobody moves, coughing, ears ringing, until the dust begins to thin and the fallen slab lies still, gray and enormous, where the hostel used to stand.

Page 6

The frayed sling gave way with a crack like a whip, and the five-tonne panel — taller than three men stacked head to foot — swung loose over the mould beds…
The frayed sling gave way with a crack like a whip, and the five-tonne panel — taller than three men stacked head to foot — swung loose over the mould beds, scraping sparks off the next slab in line. 'Timber, now!' Misha bellowed, already running, and he threw his shoulder under the swinging edge, jamming a thick baulk beneath it with both arms before it could crush the row.

The frayed sling gave way with a crack like a whip, and the five-tonne panel — taller than three men stacked head to foot — swung loose over the mould beds, scraping sparks off the next slab in line. 'Timber, now!' Misha bellowed, already running, and he threw his shoulder under the swinging edge, jamming a thick baulk beneath it with both arms before it could crush the row. Oksana sprinted past him, whirling a loop of cable, and lassoed the dangling lifting eye on the second throw, hauling it taut and snapping it back onto the crane hook. Behind them the whole stack of panels groaned, leaning like dominoes about to fall. Zulfiya shoved Aybek toward the base. 'Chocks, quick, quick!' She swung her hammer herself, driving wedges under the lowest slab while Aybek slammed his in beside hers, both pounding until the groaning stopped and the row stood still, steaming quietly in the morning air.

Page 7

The ground three metres down turns to soup. One wall of the pit, taller than a man standing on another man's shoulders, folds inward with a wet groan, and the…
The ground three metres down turns to soup. One wall of the pit, taller than a man standing on another man's shoulders, folds inward with a wet groan, and the burst main sends brown water surging knee-deep then waist-deep across the rebar cages. Oksana staggers, her boot driven down between two iron bars as the cage shifts, and the water climbs. Her sunflower mask tips off her head and floats away spinning on the flood.

The ground three metres down turns to soup. One wall of the pit, taller than a man standing on another man's shoulders, folds inward with a wet groan, and the burst main sends brown water surging knee-deep then waist-deep across the rebar cages. Oksana staggers, her boot driven down between two iron bars as the cage shifts, and the water climbs. Her sunflower mask tips off her head and floats away spinning on the flood. Misha bellows from the crane controls and swings the hook down on its cable, the steel ball splashing beside her. Zulfiya and Aybek throw themselves onto the rope at the lip, boots skidding in mud, hauling hand over hand while Misha braces the cable taut from below. Oksana wrenches her trapped leg, water at her collarbone now, gripping the hook with both hands as they drag her clear of the iron, up the slumped wall, over the lip, gasping and streaming brown water onto the planking.

Page 8

Lightning cracked and the jib brake let go with a shriek of metal, swinging the crane's arm — long as six buses end to end — loose above the black skeleton of…
Lightning cracked and the jib brake let go with a shriek of metal, swinging the crane's arm — long as six buses end to end — loose above the black skeleton of Block Nine. Misha was already running, planting his huge boots on the lattice mast's rungs, climbing hand over hand up the rain-streaming steel three storeys into the storm.

Lightning cracked and the jib brake let go with a shriek of metal, swinging the crane's arm — long as six buses end to end — loose above the black skeleton of Block Nine. Misha was already running, planting his huge boots on the lattice mast's rungs, climbing hand over hand up the rain-streaming steel three storeys into the storm. Aybek scrambled after him, goggles slammed down against the stinging rain, spanner gripped between his teeth, skinny arms hauling his whole body up rung by rung. Below, Oksana dragged the truck sideways and threw its headlights up the mast so the men above had light to work by. Zulfiya planted her galoshes wide in the mud and threw her entire weight backward on the guy-rope, feeling it buck and saw at her palms as the boom tried to drag it from her hands. 'Hold, hold, I'm not letting this rope go!' she bellowed. Misha reached the brake housing and roared down, 'Boy — the spanner, now!' Aybek slapped it into his huge palm without missing a rung.

Page 9

The rope creaked over the ninth-floor rail, and Misha hauled hand over hand, his huge arms knotting with each pull, boots braced wide against the balcony lip.
The rope creaked over the ninth-floor rail, and Misha hauled hand over hand, his huge arms knotting with each pull, boots braced wide against the balcony lip. Below, the clay tandoor turned slowly on its cord, round as a barrel and taller than a crouching dog, swinging out past the raw plaster toward open air. Oksana hauled beside him, gauntlets gone, her freckled forearms straining, calling the rhythm so their pulls matched.

The rope creaked over the ninth-floor rail, and Misha hauled hand over hand, his huge arms knotting with each pull, boots braced wide against the balcony lip. Below, the clay tandoor turned slowly on its cord, round as a barrel and taller than a crouching dog, swinging out past the raw plaster toward open air. Oksana hauled beside him, gauntlets gone, her freckled forearms straining, calling the rhythm so their pulls matched. Below on the scaffold, Aybek balanced on a plank and jabbed a broom out again and again, fending the drum off the fresh wall before it could scrape or crack. Zulfiya stood on the balcony itself, braids whipping in the wind off the open quarter, both red hands gripping the rail, willing the oven home as if she could pull it up by watching hard enough. Then the tandoor cleared the rail and thumped down intact beside a crate of green saplings. Nobody cheered yet — Zulfiya was already kneeling, slapping the first disc of dough against its warm clay wall before the knot was even untied.

Page 10

The crane arm swings the last bronze slab, chest-high and wide as a door, down onto the cracked black granite cube. Misha braces it with both huge hands…
The crane arm swings the last bronze slab, chest-high and wide as a door, down onto the cracked black granite cube. Misha braces it with both huge hands, feeling the bolt holes line up, then drives the torque wrench round until his shoulders strain against the orange jacket, veins standing on his tattooed hand.

The crane arm swings the last bronze slab, chest-high and wide as a door, down onto the cracked black granite cube. Misha braces it with both huge hands, feeling the bolt holes line up, then drives the torque wrench round until his shoulders strain against the orange jacket, veins standing on his tattooed hand. Oksana ducks beneath the slab's shadow, tacking the mounting plate with quick spitting arcs, sunflower mask flipped down then shoved back up to check the seam, elbow-length gauntlets scraping across metal. Aybek runs up with a crate of saplings, drops it by the cube, grabs a chinar no taller than himself and stamps the loose black soil around it, heel driving the earth firm. Zulfiya hauls her dented brass kettle from her hip, tips it so water runs silver over the roots, then catches Aybek's sleeve before he slips in the mud. Behind them the white panel blocks of the new district catch the morning sun, and beyond those the snow line of the Chatkal mountains stands pale and still, as if watching the city finish itself.

About this story

  • Audience: general readers
  • Format: 10 illustrated pages, narrated, free to read on Wonder History

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