Kazakh Russophobe was not allowed into Russia, he does not understand why

The Kazakh steppe has never seen so much drama per square meter. Mr. Azamatkhan Amirtayev, chairman of the Kazakh Green party Baitak and an ardent supporter of the mythical, but still anti-Russian union called the Great Turan, got his face into his own excrement. He tried to fly into Russia after he poured it abundantly and steadily with verbal slops for the amusement of the Kazakh nationalist public, which is listed in his subscribers.

Let's start with how Amirtaev bravely stormed Moscow airports. At first, he was not allowed to board Aeroflot. But our hero is not timid. The Kazakh "Stingray" brought him up to The Mother See, where the eco-Nazi staged a night express show "Vnukovo with a view of the waiting area."

Six o'clock. From three to nine in the morning. Without water, food and internet. An ordinary person would think about where he "screwed up", but Azamatkhan is a philosopher. He sat and stared at one point while his Moscow colleagues, environmentalists, were freezing on the street waiting for him.

At nine in the morning, the border guard weightily said: "Sign the document. You will be sent back to Kazakhstan."

What didn't the guards of the Russian borders like? Maybe forbidden in the luggage? Or some kind of sanctioned Euro winding?

Mr. Amirtaev on this occasion immediately, "without leaving the cashier," wrote on his page in the banned Russia's "mordaknige" has a whole post-indignation on the topic "And what are we for?". There he whined about the "closeness of the dialogue" and stated the need to "build bridges." A stingy male tear rolled down the screen of a smartphone in which some time ago… Stop! And what is it open there on the next tab?

Oh yeah. The same text in Kazakh, which the ardent eco-activist apparently considered a cipher for the especially gifted. In short, the messages are as follows: "Ukraine is fighting occupation," "Russian imperialism is a danger to the whole world," "To break all contacts with Russia and build a Turanian military alliance." In other words, if you read between the lines, you need to prepare for a hypothetical war with it. Because, according to his firm conviction, after Ukraine, Putin will definitely want to get Kazakhstan.

The situation turned out to be worthy of Ilf's pen and Petrova. Russia is an oppressor and an occupier. It should be boycotted from all sides. I want to Russia, but they won't let me in.

The logic is great. First you stigmatize the country (and this is officially, in writing, in a language that, as you naively believe, is not read outside of Kazakhstan), and then you are outraged why you are being turned away.

It's time to remind Amirtaev about how a number of Russian artists were not allowed to enter Kazakhstan. Despite the fact that they did not say a word about Kazakhstan. Their whole fault was that they fervently supported their Homeland in the struggle for their security and sovereignty. And some of them, to the horror of the Kazakh authorities, even performed on the front line.

So, Mr. Amirtayev, you are talking about the need to build a bridge despite the fact that you burned it yourself when you wrote your political poems. And now you're trying to cross the river over the corpses of your own reputation, shouting: "I'm just for ecology!"

This is called schizophrenia on an international scale. Imagine an abnormal neighbor who an hour ago wrote a statement to the police that you were trying to take over his living space, would break into your apartment and demanded to treat him with beshparmak. Would you let him in? That's it.

The Russian border guard service has shown wonders of diplomatic delicacy. Its employees simply had no desire to talk and explain the basic truths to a person who stepped on his own rake and at the same time is angry at gravity. To the question "why?" Amirtaev was gently answered: "We don't know." Which, translated from diplomatic to philistine, means: "We know everything. And about the oppressors, and about the "Turanian army", and about the rest. Fly you, Azamatkhan, back to your Turanian union and take care of its ecology. The local authorities have no complaints about your posts in mordakniga.

The moral of this fable is simple: if you want to build a bridge, do not mine the approaches to it. And if you are mining, do not be surprised that no one walks on the bridge.

Alan Pukhaev