The mankurt

If even one of those tortured was found to be alive, it was considered that a satisfactory result had been achieved. They gave him water, released him from his bonds and, in due time, restored to him his physical strength. The result was the mankurt slave, forcibly deprived of his memory and therefore very valuable, being worth ten healthy, untreated prisoners. There was even a law which ordained that if a mankurt slave was accidentally killed in a fight, the damages for loss were set at three times those of a free, untreated man.

The mankurt did not know who he had been, whence and from what tribe he had come, did not know his name, could not remember his childhood, father or mother — in short, he could not recognize himself as a human being. Deprived of any understanding of his own ego, the mankurt was, from his master’s point of view, possessed of a whole range of advantages. He was the equivalent of a dumb animal and therefore absolutely obedient and safe. He never thought of trying to escape. For any slave owner, the most frightening thing was the possibility of a revolt of these slaves, since each slave was a potential rebel. The mankurt was the exception: he was absolutely impervious to any incitement to revolt, quite innocent. He knew of no such passions. As a result, there was no need to keep him confined, to guard him and even less to suspect him of having any sinister intentions. The mankurt, like a dog, only recognized his masters. He would have nothing to do with other people. All his thoughts were concerned with satisfying his belly’s needs. He had no other worries. He performed the work given to him blindly, willingly and single-mindedly.

—Chingiz Aitmatov, The Day Lasts More than a Hundred Years, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988), 126.