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pyode-luar-ke · 2 years

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carnation | part ii | poly!yautja x reader

A/N: it’s part twwoooo!!~~~ and somebody special makes an appearance!! and you learn a lil more about her!!! if you haven’t read my fics storm season and no woman, no cry, you may be a bit out of the loop, but they really aren’t necessary to read to understand. most things are implied anyhow.

btdubs, imma just say the next part is going to be the birth scene, so that’s what coming next. just a heads up for people who may be uncomfortable with that. part four (the final) will be just some newborn shenanigans and an epilogue of sorts. stay tuned lol

summary: the visitor comes with advice.

word count: 4,696

content: 18+, smut, fem!afab!reader, polyamorous relationship (F/M/M/M/M/M), reverse harem, pregnant!reader, pregnancy, girlie talks!!, discussion of childbirth/labor, mention of death, breeding kink strikes back

← part i part iii → (out now)

—

The female didn’t even introduce herself. She disembarked her ship and immediately threatened your mates.

She told Ap-tui none-too-kindly that she desired to hunt on these hunting grounds, and that she hadn’t been aware a party had already established themselves on the planet. Understandable, considering the hunting ship is cloaked, and your mates hadn’t exactly contacted the clanship to let them know where you were.

The reason being well... you.

Ap-tui and his hunting brothers, while not entirely neglecting to tell the clan matriarch and clan leader about your existence (they knew you were their oomani-di), hadn’t disclosed yet the fact you were expecting. That was a hurdle that was something of an unspoken agreement. It would be... complicated, to say the least.

The Yautja female didn’t seem to care, nor did she intend to spill secret for you and your mates. She only wished to hunt on the grounds, which Ap-tui agreed to, in spite of Th’chi’s objections. He didn’t like the idea of sharing.

He silenced himself when she threatened to remove his spine.

And then her attentions turned to you.

—

“You mated with an oomani-di?! They are so small and weak!” The Yautja female chortles, though her tone lacks any maliciousness in her words. It’s more as if she teases the males, trying to poke fun at their— admittedly— strange choice of mating partner.

The jab makes Ta’kaa stiffen, but he holds his tongue. Smart male. You don’t really want to see this absolute powerhouse rip him in half.

“She is strong in spirit. Brave and honorable enough to carry a Yautja pup.” Bokei replies, pounding a fist on his chest then pointing to you. You offer him a soft smile, patting your round belly. You carry a Firstborn Yautja pup, and it is honorable.

“Hm!” The female chuffs, and then her stare zeroes in on you. It’s different than before, when she had stared in aghast amazement. This time, her expression is completely unreadable, making you feel nervous under her intense violet eyes. You practically feel it as she roams you up and down.

It makes you protectively cover your middle with your arms. Any honorable Yautja would never harm an unarmed, pregnant female— regardless of species— but you can’t attest to the character of this Yautja. Your mates sense your unease, and Van’chaa who stands closest to you begins to purr softly. She seemingly ignores him.

“What is your name, oomani-di?” She asks, and you have to swallow with a dry throat before tentatively giving it to her. She rolls your name on her tongue a couple times, trying it out and clicking her long tusks together as she does.

“I am Ni’ja.” She stands taller, her waist length, dark green tresses swaying like devil’s ivy, their tubular lengths decorated in metals of all sorts. In particular, your eye catches a band of what looks like rose gold near her temple. It has a green gem in its center. She pounds a fist against her chest, above the twin bumps of her bosom.

You know Yautja females are similar in their anatomy to humans, but something about seeing such a... large woman feels surreal. And Ni’ja is very recognizably female, her wide hips and tapered waistline can attest to that. Though like her male counterparts, she’s incredibly muscular— You can see the power of her in the corded muscles of her legs and arms.

Briefly, you think of your own body and its lack of definition in favor of squishy flesh. Bhu’kei tells you that he and the rest of your mates find you exotic. Any thought of negatively comparing yourself to Ni’ja flies out the window.

“This is your first pup, is it not?” Ni’ja asks, crossing her arms over her chest. You pull yourself from your thoughts and nod, rubbing a hand up and down your belly. The pup inside your womb kicks in response, as always.

“Yes. It’s Ap-tui’s.” You reply softly, still wary of this visitor despite the fact she’s not attempted to maim you. Yet. You shake the thought from your head.

“No. The pup is yours. The male is only a means to an end.” Ni’ja states firmly, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of Ap-tui. To your surprise, he doesn’t respond in the way you think he’d would— a snarl and maybe a harsh quip back— instead, your mate only bows his head.

Huh, you think, glancing around and seeing your other mates are likewise morose. All of them are a relatively wide distance from Ni’ja, heads bowed and gazes lowered. It’s like her very presence is something to be revered and respected. Maybe even feared.

You think about all that they’ve told you about Yautja females, the matriarchy, and the honor and deference males must pay to females. It’s like you finally understand the culture after seeing it in action. Yautja males really do keel to the females.

“I have experience in birthing and rearing pups.” Ni’ja says, her loud voice carrying in the air. She whips her head to shoot Ap-tui a challenging glare then says, “I will remain here to hunt and teach the oomani-di my knowledge.”

It is not a question, but a command. Ap-tui only nods.

You gulp.

—

The first handful of days is tense. Ni’ja runs the camp like a dictator. You’re equal parts impressed and worried.

Eventually, your mates find themselves and start retaliating to Ni’ja. She does not take it well. Fights occur and Ta’kaa ends up with a broken arm. That’s when you decided to step in: Enough was enough.

“Ni’ja!” You bellow, and catch the attention of the seething female. She gives Th’chi’s neck one last squeeze before she drops him to the ground. Your mate coughs, sputtering for air. Ni’ja stomps up to you, violet eyes blazing, and she looks almost as though she’d

But she stops. You are pregnant. She will not touch you. She cannot touch you.

“I’ve had enough of this. Do not boss around or fight or harm any of my mates any longer.” You hiss, trying to look as intimidating as possible, though you know you’re probably failing severely. It’s tough to make yourself look scary when you’re half naked in a net suit with leaking tits and huge belly. Not to mention your balance, you nearly tip over when Ni’ja gets in your face.

“They are your males? You keep them?” She asks, mandibles clicking with thought. The questions are a bit... perturbing, but you don’t think you have much of a choice when you answer firmly, “Yes.”

Ni’ja whickers low in her throat, straightening to her full height. A thoughtful expression settles on her face, and her clawed fingers come up and scratch at her chin. You nearly grin at the almost human mannerism.

“I also keep a male. He is called Rath’ju-dha,” She ponders and you think the situation has blown over until she continues cheerily, “So I will not challenge you for yours!”

Deep down, you understand fully what she meant, but the thought makes you feel ill. It’s not uncommon for Yautja females to fight one another over mates, much like males. The difference being that Yautja females near exclusively fight for the lifemates of other Yautja females. They are the only ones allowed to do so.

“My mates are mine. This is my camp.” You say firmly, and your voice only wavers a little bit, mostly from withheld anger. Ni’ja is both infuriating and marvelous. You want to punch her in the jaw as much as you want to gush over her.

Ni’ja meets your glare with amused eyes. She takes your demand lightly, which should infuriate you more but you just can’t find it in you. All the fighting has led to you missing dinner at a reasonable time, so now you’re hungry. And your feet hurt. And the pup is kicking at your bladder again.

Ni’ja stands down with a click of laughter.

—

After your stand-off with Ni’ja, if you can even call it that, she toned down her attitude towards your mates. All she really wanted to do was hunt. The grounds were appealing to her, so she no longer lingered around the camp ordering the males around.

Your mates were not pleased whenever she would reappear after a day or two with a large catch in her claws. It didn’t help that she flaunted her kill and skinned it right in front of them. Van’chaa nearly challenged her when she gloated about the pristine whiteness of her new th’syra.

Oddly enough, the company of another female after being surrounded by so much testosterone (or whatever the Yautja equivalent is) was much needed. You hadn’t realized how desensitized you had gotten to a bunch of rowdy, unruly men until Ni’ja was there to set them straight. Her energy was also much more relatable, regardless of her different species.

And the fact she was over 9 feet tall. It’s really more the principle of it all.

She never told you directly, but part of you caught on that she might feel a similar way. From what you’ve gathered, Yautja females tend to lead even more solitary lives: Often staying away from the clanship, hunting alone, and only really having stable company if they were rearing a pup. In fact, most Yautja females only acquainted themselves with the males during mating season.

You assumed Ni’ja was much the same, though her mention of this Rath’ju-dha character had piqued your interest. Though you never got to ask her much about him, as she was always more focused on pounding the knowledge about Yautja pups,

—

“... Pups are wily and uncontrollable. Corporal punishment is necessary. Don’t be swayed from cuffing them or tugging their tresses.” Ni’ja has been droning on for so long that you’re brain’s started to ache. She went through practically every aspect of rearing a Yautja pup, from birth to early childhood and even into adolescence.

Apparently, labor and birth is virtually the same as a human’s. As is bonding with and nursing the newborn. You dreaded the idea of pushing out the big pup inside you from your very underprepared cunt, but you also wanted so desperately to hold them close to your chest. The idea of finally ridding yourself of milk in a productive way through nursing also appealed to you and your aching tits as well.

“How many pups have you had?” You decide to butt in, desperate to just change the flow of the conversation, even if it’s minutely. Your head is stuffed so full of information, you need the relief. Besides, your pup is doing flips in your womb again, so the question was definitely influenced.

Ni’ja narrows her eyes and regards you with interest. She thinks you may be challenging her on her knowledge, perhaps seeking to know the number of pups she’s born to assess if she really knows what she speaks of. Ni’ja chuffs.

“I have born 11 successful sucklings; 8 males and 3 females. Only 5 survived their Chiva. I am proud of my warriors.” And when Ni’ja said that, you could tell. Her violet eyes lit up with a passion, obviously very pleased that a handful of her pups survived long enough to become Blooded.

Even if that handful is less than half.

You wonder about her… approach to motherhood in the privacy of your head. Part of you wants to press on the other six of Ni’ja’s pups (Does she miss them? Did she love them?), but you feel that asking would be inappropriate, maybe even disrespectful. Instead, you ask about other practical things.

“About delivery... is it, like, really bad? Should I be preparing myself?” You inquire, looking down at the massive dome of your belly and internally shivering at how big your pup is gonna be when they decide to come out. The answer is, obviously, yes, but you want to hear it from the perspective of someone who’s had kids before.

“The pain is great, but ultimately unimportant.” Ni’ja waves a dismissive hand, a gesture you’ve noticed she favors, “The payoff of a healthy pup is worth it.”

When she says that last bit, something in Ni’ja’s eyes shadows. Like the shutters slam shut, if only for the briefest of moments. Though before you can comment on it, she snaps back to her usual tough, authoritative self.

“I think that’s something humans have in common with Yautja; Most mothers only ask that their baby be healthy, and that labor is worth it in the end.” You smile at her, and she chuffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Indeed.” Ni’ja rumbles, sharply dipping her head. For the first time since Ni’ja pulled you aside to start your “mothering lessons”, a silence befalls you both. It’s comfortable, though you watch Ni’ja’s firm expression be overtaken by a pensive look. Her violet eyes look... sad. Almost. Some foreign Yautja emotion equivalent.

“Always prepare yourself for the worse.” She states, and she says it like she’s admitting a confession, her voice so quiet that you almost have to strain to understand her. Ni’ja doesn’t look at you when she continues, “Paya is sometimes cruel.”

The ache in her voice is blatant, tangible. You swallow thickly, unsure of what to say or do. You know offering comfort will probably be interpreted as you recognizing her “weakness” and be met with anger, but your heart bleeds at how melancholic Ni’ja sounds.

You wouldn’t really consider her a friend, but she probably just confided something so secret in you that you feel almost honored. Yautja are not ones to speak so delicately to another. Nor are they emotional creatures.

“Thus is the rule of the nature.” You agree carefully and solemnly, shifting slightly on your pile of furs. The position you’ve sat in for so long has started to make your hips hurt. Even though you’re not looking at her— purposefully messing around with your seat in order not to— Ni’ja’s heavy gaze bores into the side of your skull.

Silence, again.

“Oh!” You jump when Ni’ja suddenly thunders, “I have almost forgotten something!”

Curious, you look back up at her and she seems to be back to normal. Her violet eyes are bright, and she lifts a hand and causes her long tresses to sway again. She points an accusatory finger at you.

“Your pup will be greedy. He will desire milk without regard for your time: Be prepared to not relinquish your breasts for weeks.” Ni’ja chortles, then leans in and pokes one of your tits, causing you to yelp and jolt back. Ni’ja seems to jump back as well, straightening to her full height in shock. Then her surprise morphs into amusement.

“So soft! Oomani-di are so weak!” And as Ni’ja begins to laugh, you do too.

—

Ni’ja takes her leave after four weeks. Over that time, you imagine she’s taken plenty more th’syra to line the walls of her trophy room. She doesn’t even say goodbye, but you manage to wake up in time to see her ship dart out from the planet’s atmosphere, then disappear as it’s cloak engages.

Your mates are elated, though they don’t say it out loud. It’s quite amusing.

By this time though, the new main focus became the fact that you surpassed 10 months of gestation. Ni’ja’s visit and occupation had really made you forget that your pregnancy is very close to nearing the end. Easily, you are further along than most human females ever get, though for Yautja gestation, you still technically have 2 more months to go.

The original plan was induction. At 10 months, the number was gaged to be a safe golden area in which the pup has stayed as long as it could in your womb, while also being safe (for them and you) to be removed. The pup would then be 2 months premature, which Bhu’kei admitted may result in some growth deficiencies later on, although he’d be completely fine otherwise.

Though 10 months rolled around and there were no new cries of help from your body, and scans revealed the pup to be still growing and with a strong quad-heartbeat. You didn’t want to induce. You could hold out.

—

“I’ve been fine for 10 months now, what’s the issue with only a couple more?” You cross your arms over the swell of your belly, trying to pry a real answer out of Ap-tui. He growls, spreading his mandibles and shaking his head. His tresses swing wild over his shoulders, metal adornments clicking together.

“It’s not wise. Inducing now would be safer.” He hisses, roughly bring the whetting stone down on his dagger’s blade, causing sparks to fly. You blow a raspberry— Childish, you know— and narrow your eyes at your mate.

“Bhu’kei said it was okay!” You crow insistently, pointing to where said Yautja converses with Van’chaa. In all honesty, that was an opinion that you had to whittle out of the resident healer as well. At first, Bhu’kei had been just as opposed to the idea of not inducing labor, but you pointed out that you were doing fine and had no new negative symptoms either.

In fact, you felt better than ever. Sure you still ached, but it was overpowered by a stronger sense of empowerment you felt. You could carry your pup for the next 2 months, you were sure of it.

“Bhu’kei is hulij-bpe and a kha’bj-te.” Ap-tui snarls as tosses down both the blade and stone. He follows the trail of your finger only to send his cousin a deadly glare. You roll your eyes, a grin that you can’t help sprawls across your face. Yautja males and their hardheadedness.

“First, be nice. Second, I have shown no negative symptoms— aside from the usual ones— this entire pregnancy. Clearly, my body can handle it.” You don’t mean to, but a very clear pout settles on your face. Ap-tui glances back at you, takes in your frustrated expression and round middle, then chuffs.

“Fine, female, it’s your decision.” He has the gall to roll his eyes at you, so before he can stand and leave, your hand shoots out and grabs a crimson tress. Fingers wrap tight and unforgiving around the tendril like appendage, and Ap-tui growls when you pull. His nerve endings ignite from pain and pleasure.

Rarely do you resort to a more Yautja method of winning an argument, but Ni’ja may have taught you a thing or two about “taming your males”. Pulling on the tresses acted as a very good persuader. You grin wider, keeping Ap-tui’s tress pulled taut.

He snarls as he’s forced to lower to his knees, glaring daggers at you. You giggle softly, stepping closer to place your other hand on his shoulder. His body heaves under your touch, his mandibles flaring as he pants. His pupils consume his blazing irises.

“Good boy.” You purr, finally releasing his tress and kissing the sloped crown of his head. Ap-tui whickers, his beefy arms coming up and wrapping around you. He marvels at how his hands nearly span the width of your back. You kiss his mahogany scales and quietly say, “It’ll be okay, y’know? I’m your little sain’ja, aren’t I?”

Ap-tui clicks his tusks together in mirth, relenting and nuzzling the column of your neck. You sigh as his mandibles run down to your collarbones, sensually grazing your delicate skin. Ap-tui, forever gracious, treats you to soft nibbles along your shoulders, then lower to your chest.

“Ap-tui.” You say his name as his long, forked tongue teases a nipple. One of his paws grabs a fistful of your ass and thigh, the other holds your waist. He secures you against him, mindful of your swollen belly, bearing all your weight for you. You grip his shoulders, then paw at his tresses, wringing your hands deeply within them until you grab near the base of his skull.

You tug, and Ap-tui roars and devolves into rolling clicks. You’ve struck the sensitive nerves at the bases of his tresses, forced him to release his dia-shui. You catch his scent and moan, eyes fluttering shut as Ap-tui begins to purr.

“Little mate.” He rumbles, lowering you until you lay sprawl beneath his muscled frame. Ap-tui clicks as he mounts you, shoving apart your plush thighs with his knees. You’re not able to look down and see past your rack or belly, but your suspicions are confirmed when the telltale stiff hotness of his cock presses against your dripping core.

Even though the session’s just started, you’re already wet beyond belief. Hell, you have been for months now. The near constant fucking and pregnancy hormones sets your body into hyperdrive with need.

Ap-tui squeezes one of your fat tits and you gasp, bucking your hips. He kneads it, careful of his claws, rolling his thumb in fast, tight circles over your sensitive nipple. Pleasure runs rampant all over your body, shooting bursts straight to your core. You wish you were able to reach around your belly and rub at your throbbing clit.

“You light my blood on fire, little mate.” Ap-tui hisses, sensing from your gyrating hips and whines that the special bud above your slit needs attention. He obliges, and his other paw dips between the apex of your thighs to press at your clit. You moan, strangled, when he presses down. Ap-tui notes that your core is drenched, your slit and labia glistening and raw and leaking slick.

He also notices your cunt bulges. You are so heavy with his pup your body strains to keep it in. Ap-tui almost loses his composure and seeds himself.

“I will take you now. You tempt me too powerfully.” Ap-tui states, and you barely process what he says when the thick girth of his cock sinks home. You wail, pussy stretching wonderfully around his length. You mate snarls, and sets a brutal pace that has his ballsack smacking wetly against your ass. He uses one hand to lift your hips and drives down.

The squelching is obscene, loud, and the yurt’s door is open to let in the nice breeze, so everyone is able to hear it. Ta’kaa is the first to show up at the door, leaning against the frame, but Ap-tui roars at him and your mate leaves. Not before flaring in mandibles in anger, however.

You wail and moan and grab at Ap-tui, fingers catching the quills on his chest, the flexing muscles of his forearms. Eyes bleary from tears, you grab a tress and pull, setting Ap-tui off yet again into a roar and rabid clicking. His pace picks up— brutal, unrelenting— hips pistoning his fat cock deep into your core. The tip kisses the gummy nodes of your cervix, causing you to shriek like a mad woman.

“Fuck! Ap-tui! Ap-tui!~” You cry his name, back arching, and you take your neglected breast in hand to toy with yourself. When your shaky fingers brush your nipple, you find it puffy and wet. You’re lactating. Your fat breasts bounce and milk is being spilled out of them. Ap-tui leans in and licks the milk away. You scream his name.

“Good little mate. Making milk for my pup. You will feed it with your swaying bosom nicely.” Ap-tui growls the dirtiest things in your ear, starts telling you how excited you breastfeeding will be, that he’d want to take you again and again whenever your milk overflows. It’s all so dirty, but so sexy. You want it. You want it bad. You’ll be a good little lou-dte kale for your mates.

You feel your orgasm approaching, steady and quickly. Your cunt shivers and clenches around Ap-tui’s cock and he feels it— Hard. He has to center himself and focus, lest he seed you before he wishes to. Ap-tui increases his efforts, thrusts like he’s fucking for his life, palming your breast and child-swollen belly, and rubs even tighter circles on your sensitive bud.

It’s enough, and your orgasm seizes you, making you see stars. Your high pitched wail resonates the walls, and carries out the door. Ap-tui keeps your high prolonged as he doesn’t relent, roaring and snarling at the sight of your squirt gushing around his cock, escaping your stretch hole each time he pulls back.

Your a mess of your own fluids, your release and milk, and after several long, drawn out pumps of his cock, Ap-tui feels his balls pull up and he roars. His spend shoots liquid hot against the opening of your womb, painting your insides with his seed. He pistons through it all, mandibles flaring and muscles flexing, all while releasing spurt after spurt of his sticky spend.

Once he’s finished, your body goes lax. Your mind is blank. All you can do is pant to catch your breath and feel the hot wetness of your cum, milk, and Ap-tui’s cum between your thighs. Some of it even splattered up onto the underside of your massive belly.

“Good little mate. Little sain’ja.” Ap-tui begins to purr, and he pulls back, cock springing from your too-tight hole. You whimper, your cunt’s been rendered raw, swollen, and sore. But the good type of sore. You almost seek more of it. Ap-tui cages himself above you, boxing you in. It’s then you realize your eyes have been squeezed shut.

You open them. Ap-tui is directly over you, his tresses fall around your face like a curtain. You blink back tears, and they roll down your temples. Your hair is plastered to your face and neck with sweat. Ap-tui purrs louder. He enjoys making a mess of you.

“Perhaps induction can be saved for a later date.” He rumbles, placing a heavy yet gentle hand on the bump of your belly. Ap-tui’s paw his warm against the drum taut skin, and you smile tiredly when he traces a stretchmark with a fingertip. The pup kicks then, and you groan softly as Ap-tui chuffs.

“I enjoy this feature on you far too much to give it up so soon.” Ap-tui clarifies, and you give him an incredulous look. He clicks in laughter, his eyes reflect mischievousness like his hunting brothers, then he shrugs.

“We like seeing you fat with pup, waddling around because you are so heavy.” He chortles as he lies down next to you, propped up on an elbow. Your cheeks warm and with some effort you manage to turn yourself onto your side to face him. You smack at his chest.

“Ap-tui!” You scold, but laughter laces your words, “Seriously?!”

“Of course.” Your mates replies simply, lilting his head and continuing, “Part of our enjoyment comes from watching your belly weigh you and breasts swing.”

You think back to all the times you’ve taken walks with your mates. It was to keep as active as you can so that you don’t lose too much strength from being too sedentary.

Even before your pregnancy, the Yautja, with their long legs and enhanced speed, easily left you in the dust. They’d often either walk slower or wait for you. Now, with you slowed to a very stereotypical pregnant waddle by the heavy baby in your womb, their intermittent waits became more frequent, and much longer.

It clicked now when you realize that they put greater distances between them and yourself just to watch your body jiggle with each step. And they’d done it, because they liked seeing you heavily pregnant.

Often, the walks ended in a quick fuck on the forest floor, where your Yautja mates would snarl and growl from above you as they took you like a dog. Their paws never leave your belly. It all makes sense.

And, God, you enjoy it too.

“Ap-tui...” You start, cheeks hot, meeting his sharp gaze with lustful eyes. Your chest heaves, breasts rising and falling. Ap-tui watches as you purposely move your arms in a way that squishes them together, creating an impressive cleavage line. His purrs drop an octave and his claws dig into the furs below you.

“Fuck me.” You command, rolling onto your back and spreading your legs again.

Ap-tui descends upon you.

—

yautja translations

Chiva → the trial of which a Youngblood Yautja is Blooded should they succeed in killing a kiande amedha (Xenomorph) dia-shui → musk, specifically that of a male hulij-bpe → crazy kha’bj-te → maniac, also means restless lou-dte kale → child maker (derogatory) ooman / oomani-di → human / human female Paya → Yautja creation goddess sain’ja → warrior th’syra → skull/s

—

(also, special shout outs to @coffee-love-alltheabove and @floralfi you both specifically asked to be tagged, so here ya go! hope you enjoyed!~ 😘)

#the predator #predator #aliens vs predator #avp #yautja #yautja fanfic #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja x human #yautja oc #predator oc

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aoawarfare · 8 months

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Episode 34 Giants of Alash Orda: Alikhan Bukeikhanov and Akhmet Baitursynov

Alikhan Bokeikhanov and Akhmet Baitursynov are giants of the Alash Orda and fathers of the Kazakh state and nationalism. Recently, we’ve been discussing how the Alash Orda, as a government and political entity, negotiated with both the Bolsheviks and the White Movement for state autonomy. Today, I want to take a closer look at the leaders themselves.

Alikhan Bokeikhanov

Alikhan Bokeikhanov born on March 5th, 1866, and was the grandson of the last khan of the Bokey horde who lived mostly in the western part of modern-day Kazakhstan. In the 19th century it was common for Kazakh fathers to send their sons to Russian schools, especially if they were from wealthy families. Alikhan attended the Omsk Technical School and then studied economics at the Forestry Institute in St. Petersburg. Before entering politics, he was part of the Tobolsk Expedition which studied the farms of peasant migrants and seems to have left a lasting impression on him.

He entered politics by joining the Constitutional Democratic Party in 1905 and became an editor for several different newspapers including Irtysh and Qazaq (which we discussed in our episode: Russian Revolution and the Alash Orda). He would try to create a Kazakh Democratic party but failed. Instead, he was arrested and fled to Samara. He and other members of the Alash Orda created an uneasy alliance with the Russian party, the Kadets, and Alikhan was elected to the Duma in 1906, before the Tsar dissolved it.

Alikhan Bukeikhanov

[Image Description: A black and white oval photo of a man with short black hair and drooping black mustache and short goatee. He is staring into the camera. He is wearing a white, high collar shirt, a black tie, and a black suit.]

When he wasn’t involved in politics, Alikhan was dedicated to his newspapers, arguing for Kazakh land rights and greater acceptance of indigenous peoples within politics. A sticking point between Russian officials and the Kazakh people was land ownership and the Kazakh’s nomadic nature. The Russians needed the land for their own people who were migrating to the Steppe for better wages and quality of life, but also believed that nomadism was the root of most of the Kazakh’s problems. If only they would just settle on the land granted to them by the Russians then all their issues would be solved.

Alikhan, along with Akhmet, argued against the Russian’s push for Kazakh sedentarism and argued for a gradual transition instead. They blamed the Russians for their lack of understanding of how the Kazakh lifestyle was a response to the climate of the Steppe. Alikhan would argue in an article in the Qazap:

“If we ask what kind of economy is more suitable for Kazakhs-the nomadic or the sedentary-the question is incorrectly posed. A more correct question would be: what kind of economy can be practiced under the climatic conditions of the Kazakh steppe? The latter vary from area to area and mostly are not suitable for agricultural work. Only in some northern provinces do the climatic conditions make it possible to sow and reap. The Kazakhs continue wandering not because they do not want to settle down and farm or prefer nomadism as an easy form of economy. If the climatic conditions had allowed them to do so, they would have settled a long time ago.” - Gulnar Kendirbai, '"We are Children of Alash...", pg. 9

He did not equate Kazakh identity with nomadism but recognized that a people could not change their culture or lifestyle overnight. Instead, he argued that the Kazakhs embraced nomadism for scientific reasons and if the Russians were truly interested in helping Kazakhs succeed, then they needed to provide the tools necessary to adapt to a changing world. He would write:

“One may compare it with the dressing some Kazakh in European fashion and sending him to London, where he would either die or, in the absence of any knowledge and relevant experience, work like a slave. If the government is ashamed of our nomadic way of life, it should give us good lands instead of bad as well as teach us science. Only after that can the government ask Kazakhs to live in cities. If the government is not ashamed of not carrying out all the above-mentioned measures, then the Kazakhs also need not be ashamed of their nomadic way of life. The Kazakhs are wandering not for fun, but in order to graze their animals.” - Gulnar Kendirbai, '"We are Children of Alash...", pg. 10

Alikhan was also a talented historian who crafted a unified Kazakh history by collecting and publishing Kazakh folklore, the history of their cultures and traditions, and shared world history with other Kazakhs through their newspapers. He engaged in literary criticism and analysis while encouraging Kazakh writers to write down their poems and stories, fearful that they would be lost if Kazakhs stuck purely to an oral tradition. Alikhan even hosted a competition for the first Kazakh novel, believing that the Europeans and the rest of the world would not respect the Kazakhs until they had proof of their own literary and cultural tradition. He also believed that Kazakhs should know about the outside world and so he focused on translating Russian and European scientific and fiction into the Kazakh language.

In 1915, Alikhan and Akhmet would travel to Petrograd to petition for the right for Kazakhs to fight alongside Russian forces in WWI and they would spend most of the 1916 rebellion trying to convince other Kazakhs to fight for Russia, believing it would grant them the respect needed for further rights down the road.

As we’ve discussed in our other episodes, Alikhan would help create the Alash Autonomy and serve as its president. He was one of the lead negotiators with both the Bolsheviks and the White Movement, relying on his old relationship with the Kadets to earn White recognition of Kazakh autonomy. When Kolchak coup established General Kolchak as military commander of the Siberian White Movement, he dismantled all autonomous states (including the Alash Autonomy). The Alash Orda would turn to the Bolsheviks, but they were similarly rebuffed. We’ll discuss the Red conquest of the Steppe in other episodes, but by the time the Bolsheviks defeated the Whites, the members of Alash Orda were forced to accept Bolshevik rule. If they wanted to remain in politics, they had to accept jobs within the Soviet administration. Alikhan returned to scientific life instead, although he was now a member of the Bolshevik party. As the Soviets strengthened their grip on Central Asia, they grew suspicious of indigenous activists. Because of his past, Alikhan was arrested first in 1926 on the charge of counter-revolutionary activity and sent to the Butyrka Prison in Moscow. He was released only to be arrested again in 1928, banished to Moscow in 1930, and arrested for a final time in 1937. He was executed on September 27th, 1937, a victim of one of Stalin’s many purges. According to historian Sultan Khan Akkuly, his last words were, “I did not like the Soviet government, but acknowledged it.”

Akhmet Baitursynov

Akhmet Baitursynov is the father of Kazakh language and literature. Born on September 5th, 1872, in the Kostanay Region of Kazakhstan. When he was 13, his father and brothers were sent to Siberia for attacking a Russian colonel who attacked their village. He attended Russian-native schools before graduating from the Orenburg Teacher’s college in 1895. He became a teacher and taught in country schools for Kazakhs for about a decade and a half before getting involved in politics. Along with Alikhan (who he met in 1904 in Omsk), he joined the Constitutional Democrat Party in 1905 and founded several newspapers including the Qazap. Also, like Alikhan, he was arrested in 1909 and exiled to Orenberg.

He helped Alikhan write about land rights and highlighting how ill-equipped the Kazakhs were to settle down, but his main focus was on language. He wrote in 1914:

“…the nationality of people who spoke their own language and wrote in their own language will never disappear without creating a person. The most powerful thing that causes the preservation and loss of the nation is language” - Dina A. Amanzholova, Kazakh Autonomy and Russia: the History of the Alash Movement, pg. 36

Kazakh intellectuals were considered about poor education opportunities available to Kazakh children and utilized the new teachings methods championed by Tatar reforms and the Jadids. Akhmet was particularly concerned about primary education and focused on resolving the lack of teaching materials available to primary schools, especially the lack of materials on the Kazakh language. When detractors picked on his paper, the Qazaq, for writing primarily in Kazakh, he replied:

“Finally, we would like to tell our brothers preferring the literary language: we are very sorry if you do not like the simple Kazakh language of our newspaper. Newspapers are published for the people and must be close to their readers.” - Gulnar Kendirbai, '"We are Children of Alash...", pg. 19

The Kazakh intellectuals resisted the Tatar clergy’s attempts to subsume Kazakh language to the Tatar language, eventually arriving at a compromise. This pressure around language inspired Akhmet Baitursynov to reform the Kazakh language, creating spelling primers, and improving the Kazakh alphabet multiple times. He created the modern Kazakh language. His books were soon used in primary schools. He also published a textbook on the Kazakh language which studied the phonetics, morphology, and syntax of the Kazak language as well as a practical guide to the Kazakh language and a manual of Kazakh literature and literary criticism.

Akhmet Baitursynov

[Image Description: A colored painting of a man with short black hair and a drooping mustache. He is wear glasses that rest on the nose. He is wearing a white button down shirt, a black bowtie, and a black suit.]

Akhmet, like Alikhan, was involved in the creation of the Alash Orda party, believed Kazakhs should fight along Russians during WWI, and helped create the Alash Autonomy in 1917. After the Bolsheviks took over the Steppe, he joined the Bolshevik government and served as the Commissioner of Population of Kazakh Autonomous Socialist Soviet Republic from 1920-1921. He left the government and returned to teaching in 1922, serving in several positions such as Chairman of the Research Society for the Kazakh Region, member of the Academic Center at the Regional People’s Commissariat, and the Scientific and Literary Commission of the People’s Commissariat of Commerce. He lectured in Orenburg from 1921-1925 before transferring to the Kazakh State Pedagogical Institute in Almaty as a professor. He was arrested for the first time on June 2nd, 1929, and sent to Butyrskiy prison. He was released to be arrested again only for Maxim Gorky’s wife, E. Peshkova, to intervene and petition for his release. He would be arrested once more in 1937 and was executed on December 8th, 1937, another victim of Stalin’s purge.

References

Central Asia: a New History from the Imperial Conquests to the Present by Adeeb Khalid

Kazakh Autonomy and Russia: the History of the Alash Movement by Dina A. Amanzholova

'"We are Children of Alash..." The Kazakh Intelligentsia at the beginning of the 20th century in search of national identity and prospects of the cultural survival of the Kazakh people' by Gulnar Kendirbai, Central Asian Survey, 1999, Vol 18 No 1

The Geography of Civilization: a Spatial Analysis of the Kazakh Intelligentsia's Activities, from the mid-nineteenth to the early twentieth century by Tomohiko Uyama

150th Anniversary of the Birth of the Leader of the Nation Akhmet Baitursynov by Zhumakhan Arynov and Smagulova Aigeri

#queer historian #central asia #central asian history #history blog #alash orda #alikhan bukeikhanov #akhmet baitursynov #kazakhstan #Spotify

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