We decided to take a walk to find Alta's mother. We walked along with our shadows at dusk. The sunshine still felt warm. A few kids were stepping in the large shadows of the fences, looking like they were walking on a wood bridge. Nature did magic to our eyes.
Smoke was coming out of some houses. The herding farmers must be almost finishing their day’s work and about to return home for supper.
At the hills of the mountains were waves of thick birch trees, presenting themselves in yellow-brownish shade in the setting sun... Along the way, there were a few dry tree branches with blue ribbons tied around them.
The houses became bigger as we walked along, away from the centre of the village. When we walked pass a huge two-floor building with an European-style balcony on the top floor, a garage downstairs, and a metal gate, Alta pointed to it and said to me: ‘It’s the governor’s house.’
‘Who? Who’s the governor?’ I asked.
‘The politician my father’s campaigning for,’ she replied.
As we walked closer to the mountain where Alta’s mother was herding, their daughter called out: ‘Grandma! Grandma!’
‘I am here!’ she shouted back. I couldn’t see anything or anyone in that distance.
A few minutes later, I saw three sheepdogs. Then a few cattle. Finally I saw a woman appearing. She looked strong, walking against the wind as she came down from the mountains.
When she was a few yards from me, I saw that she’s probably in her early sixties. Amazing strength. ‘We have ten cattle,’ she told me. They would be making a living from the diary products that they make.
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