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English Ўзбек
There were even rumors that members of Nazarbaev’s family had tried to overthrow Toqaev. Ҳатто Назарбоев оиласи Тоқаевни ағдаришга урингани ҳақида миш-миш тарқалди.
The last presidential election in 2019 led to a surge in interest in vote monitoring among youth, a phenomenon that authorities apparently failed to foresee, as a rash of alleged electoral violations helped fuel protests against the vote that handed Toqaev the presidency. 2019 йилда бўлиб ўтган президентлик сайлови давомида ёшлар орасида овоз бериш жараёнини кузатишга қизиқиш ортди. Сайлов давомида қонунбузарликлар кузатилгани иддао қилинди, натижада норозилик намойишлари бошланиб кетди.
Earlier in the week, the organization’s Almaty office suffered an extended power cut that other offices in the same building somehow managed to avoid. Ҳафта бошида ташкилотнинг Олмаотадаги офисида электр таъминоти узоқ муддатга узилиб қолган эди. Қизиғи, айни бинодаги бошқа идоралар бу муаммога йўлиқмаган.
Monitors will face fresh restrictions next year, when parliamentary elections are expected to be held, thanks to legislative tweaks raising the barriers for accreditation that will enter force on January 1. Қозоғистонда кейинги йил парламент сайловлари бўлиб ўтади. 1 январдан кучга кирадиган янги қонунлар туфайли сайлов кузатувчилари янада кўпроқ тўсиқларга дучор бўлишларини кутиш мумкин.
But there is a catch -- presidential terms are now a whopping seven years long, the same grace period granted to top decision-makers in democracy-free locales such as Equatorial Guinea, Syria, and Turkmenistan, to name a few. Аммо масаланинг бир жиҳати бор – президентлик муддати эндиликда етти йилга чўзилади. Шу ўринда айтиш жоизки, Экваториал Гвинея, Сурия ва Туркманистон каби демократик бўлмаган давлатларда мамлакатларда президент мана шунча узоқ муддатга сайланади.

It was the last of Morganson's bacon. In all his life he had never pampered his stomach. In fact, his stomach had been a sort of negligible quantity that bothered him little, and about which he thought less. But now, in the long absence of wonted delights, the keen yearning of his stomach was tickled hugely by the sharp, salty bacon.

Моргансоннинг томоғидан сўнгги бекон* тишлами саримойдай ўтиб кетди. У ҳаётида бирор маротаба ошқозонини бундай сийламаганди. Ошқозон Моргансон учун эътибордан холи ва уни кам безовта қилувчи нарса эди, ўзи ҳам ошқозон масаласида кўпам қайғуравермасди. Лекин ҳозир узоқ очликдан сўнг тузланган бекон бўлаги нафсини қондирди.

At the end of fifteen minutes he had the pipe part filled. He lighted it from the camp fire, and sat forward on the blankets, toasting his moccasined feet and smoking parsimoniously. When the pipe was finished he sat on, brooding into the dying flame of the fire. Slowly the worry went out of his eyes and resolve came in. Out of the chaos of his fortunes he had finally achieved a way. But it was not a pretty way. His face had become stern and wolfish, and the thin lips were drawn very tightly. Ниҳоят, орадан ўн беш дақиқа ўтгач, Моргансон мундштукни ярмигача тўлдира олди, холос. Уни гулхандан тутатиб олиб, адёл устига ўтирди. Мокасин кийган оёқларини оловда тоблаб, ҳар бир ютум тутундан лаззатланганча тамаки бурқсита бошлади. Чекиб битиргач, заифлашиб ёнаётган гулхан алангасига ўйчан тикилиб қолди. Аста-секин кўзларидаги хавотир қатъият билан алмашди. Бошига тушган мусибатдан қутулиш йўлини ахийри топди. Лек бу осон йўллардан эмасди. Моргансоннинг башараси шафқатсиз ва ваҳший тус олди. Юпқа лаблари янада жипслашиб, қисилди.
With resolve came action. He pulled himself stiffly to his feet and proceeded to break camp. He packed the rolled blankets, the frying-pan, rifle, and axe on the sled, and passed a lashing around the load. Then he warmed his hands at the fire and pulled on his mittens. He was foot-sore, and limped noticeably as he took his place at the head of the sled. When he put the looped haul-rope over his shoulder, and leant his weight against it to start the sled, he winced. His flesh was galled by many days of contact with the haul-rope. Энди оёқни қўлга олиш лозим. Моргансон аранг қаддини ростлаб, чодирни йиғиштиришга тушди; ўралган адёлни, товани, милтиқ ва болтани чанага жойлаб, барини арқон билан боғлади; кейин қўлини оловга тутиб, қўлқопини кийди. Оёқлари зир қақшар, чананинг олд қисмига ўтаётганда оқсоқланаётганини сезди. Елкасига арқон ташлаб, чанани жойидан қўзғатиш учун бор кучи билан тортди-ю, беихтиёр оғриқдан букчайиб қолди: адоқсиз йўлда арқон елкаларини шилиб юборганди.
The trail led along the frozen breast of the Yukon. At the end of four hours he came around a bend and entered the town of Minto. It was perched on top of a high earth bank in the midst of a clearing, and consisted of a road house, a saloon, and several cabins. He left his sled at the door and entered the saloon. Йўл Юконнинг муз ўзанидан ўтарди. Тўрт соатдан сўнг дарёнинг бурилишигача етиб олди, айланиб ўтиб, Минтога кириб келди. Моргансон чанани ташқарида қолдириб, қовоқхонага кирди.
In the morning, as soon as he got up, he drew on his mittens, pulled the flaps of his cap down over his ears, and crossed through the cottonwoods to the Yukon. He took his rifle with him. As before, he did not descend the bank. He watched the empty trail for an hour, beating his hands and stamping his feet to keep up the circulation, then returned to the tent for breakfast. There was little tea left in the canister--half a dozen drawings at most; but so meagre a pinch did he put in the teapot that he bade fair to extend the lifetime of the tea indefinitely. His entire food supply consisted of half-a-sack of flour and a part-full can of baking powder. He made biscuits, and ate them slowly, chewing each mouthful with infinite relish. When he had had three he called a halt. He debated a while, reached for another biscuit, then hesitated. He turned to the part sack of flour, lifted it, and judged its weight. "I'm good for a couple of weeks," he spoke aloud. "Maybe three," he added, as he put the biscuits away. Субҳи содиқда Моргансон қўлқопини кийиб, қулоқчинини бостириб, Юкон томон йўл солди. Елкасида милтиқ. Бугун ҳам пастга тушмади. Нақ бир соат кимсасиз йўлни кузатди, қизиш мақсадида депсиниб, кафтини кафтига уриб турди. Кейин нонушта қилгани чодирга қайтиб келди. Тунука қутидаги қуруқ чой ҳам оз қолибди, беш дамламга етади. Декчасига бир чимдимгина чой ташлади. Бор-йўқ озиқ-овқат захираси ярим қопчиқ ун-у оғзи очилган қутидаги хамиртурушдан иборат эди. Моргансон печ устида нон пишириб, шошмасдан нонуштага ўтирди. Ҳар бир луқмадан лаззатланиб тановул қилди. Учта нонни паққос тушириб, тўртинчисига қўл чўзди-ю иккиланиб қолди; қопчиқни кўтариб салмоқлаб кўрди. “Икки ҳафтага етади”, – деди овоз чиқариб ўзига ўзи. Кулчаларни нарироқ суриб: “Балки, уч ҳафтага ҳам етар”, деб қўшиб қўйди.
Again he drew on his mittens, pulled down his ear-flaps, took the rifle, and went out to his station on the river bank. He crouched in the snow, himself unseen, and watched. After a few minutes of inaction, the frost began to bite in, and he rested the rifle across his knees and beat his hands back and forth. Then the sting in his feet became intolerable, and he stepped back from the bank and tramped heavily up and down among the trees. But he did not tramp long at a time. Every several minutes he came to the edge of the bank and peered up and down the trail, as though by sheer will he could materialise the form of a man upon it. The short morning passed, though it had seemed century-long to him, and the trail remained empty. Кейин яна қўлқопини кийиб, қулоқчинини тушириб, милтиқни елкасига осиб, қирғоқнинг юқори томонига кетди. Бировга кўринмайдиган панага ўтиб, атрофни кўздан кечирди. Баданига совуқ ўтмагунча бир неча дақиқа қимир этмай ўтирди; сўнг милтиқни тиззасига қўйиб, кафтларини бир-бирига ишқаб қизитган бўлди. Санчиқли оғриқларга оёқлари дош беролмай қолди. Энди қирғоқдан йироқлашиб, дарахтлар орасида у ёқдан-бу ёққа бориб кела бошлади. Бироқ бу тентирашлар узоққа чўзилмади. Ҳар беш-ўн дақиқа орасида Моргансон қирғоқ лабига келиб, одам қораси кўринармикан, деб диққат билан разм соларди. Қанчалик бениҳоя туюлмасин, қисқагина кун тун билан алмашарди. Йўл эса ўша- ўша хилватлигича қоларди.
Each day grew colder. Four biscuits could not keep up the heat of his body, despite the quantities of hot spruce tea he drank, and he increased his allowance, morning and evening, to three biscuits. In the middle of the day he ate nothing, contenting himself with several cups of excessively weak real tea. This programme became routine. In the morning three biscuits, at noon real tea, and at night three biscuits. In between he drank spruce tea for his scurvy. He caught himself making larger biscuits, and after a severe struggle with himself went back to the old size. Кундан-кун совуқ забтига ола бошлади. Гарчи Моргансон босиб-босиб игнабарг дамламасидан ичса-да, эндиликда тўрт дона кулча билан бўш қоп тик турмасди. Кунлик тановулдаги кулчаларни олтитага кўпайтиришига тўғри келди – учтаси саҳарликда, учтаси кечликда. Кундузи бир тишлам ҳам нон тишламасди. Суюқ, лекин қайноқ чой билан чекланарди, холос. Орада зангилага қарши игнабарг дамламасидан ичиб турди. Кунлар шу тарзда қувлашмачоқ ўйинини давом эттирарди.
On the fifth day the trail returned to life. To the south a dark object appeared, and grew larger. Morganson became alert. He worked his rifle, ejecting a loaded cartridge from the chamber, by the same action replacing it with another, and returning the ejected cartridge into the magazine. He lowered the trigger to half-cock, and drew on his mitten to keep the trigger-hand warm. As the dark object came nearer he made it out to be a man, without dogs or sled, travelling light. He grew nervous, cocked the trigger, then put it back to half-cock again. The man developed into an Indian, and Morganson, with a sigh of disappointment, dropped the rifle across his knees. The Indian went on past and disappeared towards Minto behind the out-jutting clump of trees. Бешинчи куни йўл жонланди. Жануб томонда қора нуқта кўзга ташланди ва у борган сари катталашаверди. Моргансон ҳушёр тортди. Милтиқни шай ҳолатга келтиришга тушди: стволдан ўқни олиб, ўрнига янгисини жойлади. Тепкини сақлагичга тушириб, қўлқопини тортиб қўйди. Қора нуқта яқинлашавергач маълум бўлдики, у ҳинду экан. Моргансон тараддудланиб қолди. Тепкини кўтарди ва яна сақлагичга туширди. Моргансон ҳафсаласи пир бўлиб, милтиқни тиззасига қўйди. Ҳинду ёнгинасидан ўтиб кетди ва дарахтлар орасида ғойиб бўлди.
As the nights grew longer, his periods of daylight watching of the trail grew shorter. Once a sled went by with jingling bells in the darkness, and with sullen resentment he chewed his biscuits and listened to the sounds. Chance conspired against him. Faithfully he had watched the trail for ten days, suffering from the cold all the prolonged torment of the damned, and nothing had happened. Only an Indian, travelling light, had passed in. Now, in the night, when it was impossible for him to watch, men and dogs and a sled loaded with life, passed out, bound south to the sea and the sun and civilisation. Тунлар узайиб, Моргансоннинг кундузги навбатчилиги қисқарди. Бир сафар кечаси қўнғироқчаларини жаранглатиб йўлдан чаналар ўтиб қолди. Моргансон бу черков жоми монанд садоларга қулоқ берганча минг ўкинч билан нон чайнаб ўтирди. Содир бўлаётганларнинг бари унинг истак-хоҳишларининг чаппаси эди гўё. Изғириннинг дўзахий азобларига дош бериб ўн кун сабот-ла йўлдан кўзини узмади. Бироқ барчаси зое кетди. Фақатгина бир ҳинду ўтиб кетди, холос. Энди эса, кечаси, пойлаш зарур бўлмаган паллада одамлар, итлар, чаналар ғизиллаб ўтишмоқда ва улар жануб томон, денгиз, серқуёш ўлкалар, тамаддун ўчоғи томон йўл олишган эди.
So it was that he conceived of the sled for which he waited. It was loaded with life, his life. His life was fading, fainting, gasping away in the tent in the snow. He was weak from lack of food, and could not travel of himself. But on the sled for which he waited were dogs that would drag him, food that would fan up the flame of his life, money that would furnish sea and sun and civilisation. Sea and sun and civilisation became terms interchangeable with life, his life, and they were loaded there on the sled for which he waited. The idea became an obsession, and he grew to think of himself as the rightful and deprived owner of the sled-load of life. Пистирмада кўзлари тўрт бўлиб кутганча чаналар борасида шундай хаёлларга борарди. Чаналарда ҳаёт деб аталмиш неъмат бор эди, унга аталган неъмат. Унинг вужудидаги ҳаёт сўниб бораётибди. Гоҳида чодирга ташриф буюрган ўлим аскарларини қувиб солмоқда. Чалақурсоқликдан мажолсизланиб борар, сафарни давом эттиролмасди. Кўпдан бери кутаётган чаналарда унинг тириклик шамига аланга бериши мумкин бўлган егулик бор эди. Чаналарда яна муллажиринг ҳам бор эдики, улар денгиз, қуёш, тараққиётни ваъда қиларди. Денгиз, қуёш, тараққиёт – буларнинг барчаси тирикликнинг манбаи. Бу фикр унга тинчлик бермай қўйди ва аста-секин ўзини ҳаётбахш неъматлар ортилган чаналарнинг хўжайинидай ҳис эта бошлади.
Then there came a cold snap. The temperature went down and down--forty, fifty, sixty degrees below zero. He had no thermometer, but this he knew by the signs and natural phenomena understood by all men in that country--the crackling of water thrown on the snow, the swift sharpness of the bite of the frost, and the rapidity with which his breath froze and coated the canvas walls and roof of the tent. Vainly he fought the cold and strove to maintain his watch on the bank. In his weak condition he was an easy prey, and the frost sank its teeth deep into him before he fled away to the tent and crouched by the fire. His nose and cheeks were frozen and turned black, and his left thumb had frozen inside the mitten. He concluded that he would escape with the loss of the first joint. Аямажиз бирдан теварак-атрофни исканжага олди – ҳаво қирқ, эллик, олтмиш даража нолдан пастга тушиб кетди. Гарчи Моргансонда термометр бўлмаса-да, бу ўлкаларда муқим яшовчилар каби у ҳам ҳаво ҳароратини теваракдаги аломатларга қараб аниқлай оларди – сувни қорга сепганингда вишиллашидан, изғириннинг бутун баданингга ниш санчишидан ёхуд иланг-биланг ўрлаётган ҳовурнинг шитоб-ла музга айланишидан, баъзан қиров сингари чодирнинг дағал матодан тикилган деворларига инишидан. Қирғоқ юқорисидаги пойлоқчилигини ташламай у аёз билан бесамар олишарди. Совуқ унинг вужудига қилич тишларини ботириб олаётганди. Бурни ва ёноқлари совуқдан қорайиб кетди, сўл панжаси бошмалдоғининг биринчи бўғимидан воз кечавериш лозимлигини қўлқопни ечмаёқ тушуниб етди.
His frozen thumb gave him a great deal of trouble. While watching by the bank he got into the habit of taking his mitten off and thrusting the hand inside his shirt so as to rest the thumb in the warmth of his arm-pit. A mail carrier came over the trail, and Morganson let him pass. A mail carrier was an important person, and was sure to be missed immediately. Моргансон совуқ олган бошмалдоғидан хавотирланарди. Қўлқопини ечиб қўлини қўлтиғига тиқиб олиш одат тусига кирди. Йўлда кўринди. Моргансон уни ўтказиб юборди: хат ташувчи анчайин таниқли шахс, ғойиб бўлганини билишса, Моргансонни дарров қўлга туширишади.
The next morning circumstance eased its grip on him. As he started to come out of the tent he saw a huge bull-moose crossing the swale some four hundred yards away. Morganson felt a surge and bound of the blood in him, and then went unaccountably weak. A nausea overpowered him, and he was compelled to sit down a moment to recover. Then he reached for his rifle and took careful aim. The first shot was a hit: he knew it; but the moose turned and broke for the wooded hillside that came down to the swale. Morganson pumped bullets wildly among the trees and brush at the fleeing animal, until it dawned upon him that he was exhausting the ammunition he needed for the sled-load of life for which he waited. Эртасига тақдир унга мурувват кўрсатди. Тонг саҳар кулбадан чиқибоқ тўрт юз ярд нарида юрган буғуга кўзи тушди. Моргансон илкис томирларида қон тезоблик билан югургилаётганини ҳис этди. Кейин эса вужудини тушуниксиз мадорсизлик эгаллади, томоғи қақраб кетди. Ўзига келиб олиш учун бир зумга қорга ётиб олди. Кейин милтиқни тўғрилаб, буғуни аста мўлжалга олди. Биринчи ўқ нишонга тегди, бунга ишончи комил. Бироқ буғу юқорига, тепалик томон чопиб кетди. Моргансон ғазабланиб, дарахтлар орасида лип-лип кўзга ташланаётган ҳайвоннинг ортидан кетма-кет ўқ узаверди. Бу ҳол токи у ҳаёт-мамоти учун зарур бўлган ўқларни ҳавога учираётганини англамагунча давом этди.
He stopped shooting, and watched. He noted the direction of the animal's flight, and, high up on the hillside in an opening among the trees, saw the trunk of a fallen pine. Continuing the moose's flight in his mind he saw that it must pass the trunk. He resolved on one more shot, and in the empty air above the trunk he aimed and steadied his wavering rifle. The animal sprang into his field of vision, with lifted fore-legs as it took the leap. He pulled the trigger. With the explosion the moose seemed to somersault in the air. It crashed down to earth in the snow beyond and flurried the snow into dust. Зимдан кузата бошлади. Буғунинг йўналишини белгилаётиб, ўрмон ичидаги ялангликда қулаб ётган қарағайни пайқаб қолди. Хаёлан “қочоқ”нинг йўналиш чизиғини тортаётиб, буғу айнан шу қарағайнинг ён-веридан ўтади, деган тўхтамга келди. Яна битта ўқнинг баҳридан ўтса ўтибди-да. Қалтироқ қўллари билан милтиқни маҳкамроқ сиқиб, қарағай узра бўшлиқни нишонга олди. Буғу олд оёқларини кўтариб сакраган кез Моргансон варанглатиб ўқ узди. Буғу ҳаводаёқ жонсизланиб, қорга қулади.
He felt hungry. The dull, monotonous ache of hunger had now become a sharp and insistent pang. He hobbled back to the tent and fried a slice of meat. After that he smoked two whole pipefuls of dried tea leaves. Then he fried another slice of moose. He was aware of an unwonted glow of strength, and went out and chopped some firewood. He followed that up with a slice of meat. Teased on by the food, his hunger grew into an inflammation. It became imperative every little while to fry a slice of meat. He tried smaller slices and found himself frying oftener. Ошқозони боз сурнай чала бошлади. Муттасил давом этаётган золим очлик чидаб бўлмас майлга айланди. Қўналғасига етиб келди-ю бир бўлак гўштни қовуриб еб олди, кейин қуруқшаган шамадан тўлдириб, нақ икки марта мундштук бурқситди ва яна бир парча гўштни паққос туширди. Сўнг ўзида ғайриоддий куч-қувватни ҳис қилди. Ташқарига чиқиб шох-шабба йиғиб келди. Шундан кейин яна гўшт бўлагидан баҳраманд бўлди. Гўшт нафсини қитиқлар, егани сари иштаҳаси очиларди. Моргансон ўзини тия олмас – дам-бадам гўштга қўл узатарди. Кичикроқ бўлакни кесмоқчи бўлар, лекин қўллари ўзига бўйсунмасди.