VAKIFLI.com

Talin places teatcups from a milking machine onto the cow’s udders.

Having washed her hands after milking cows, Talin is ready to go inside to prepare a meal for her family. She was concerned about her spontaneous posture being interpreted as a glamour pose.

As the milking machine hums and the cows let out low loos in her direction, Talin Kartun, 39, works tirelessly. She leans down to scoop manure then lifts the heavy shovel high to toss the contents out of the narrow window. Her muscles bunch with the effort. A bead of sweat trails down her neck.

She stops to lean against the shovel and drag a forearm across her forehead. She is the picture of exhaustion. She pushes absently at the lime green kerchief knotted around her curly black hair before taking the shovel in gloved hands to continue her scooping and tossing. The scrape of the shovel blade against the dirty floor, the scoop and toss, scoop and toss, mixes with the dull purring of the machines to create a rhythmic, soothing sound. The cows that stand behind her twitch their tails.

After setting the shovel against the wall, Talin squats to examine the teatcups attached to each cow’s udders. One of the cows kicks off the machine, which flies over to hit her in the arm.

“Donkey head,” she says, rubbing her bruised skin.

She picks up the fallen teatcup, removes the remaining ones from the other cow and puts the milking machine away. She steps outside the low-slung building to toss hay at the two calves standing near the door.

“Naughties!”

Then she grabs a pail heavy with feed and clucks for the chickens to follow.

“My husband loves animals,” she says after strewing bits of grain and corn on the dry grass.

In their relationship, he buys the animals, and she takes care of them. It is hard work, but she doesn’t seem to mind; it is love, she says.

“We married when I was just 23.”

Talin was born in Vakıflı, but immigrated to Armenia when she was 7. As an adult, she returned to the village with her mother, also a native of Vakıflı, and was swiftly set up with Ohannes Kartun. The courtship was brief, and for the young woman, bewildering.

“How can you get to know someone after a month anyway?” she asks.

They had their engagement ceremony, and Talin and her mother returned to Armenia to prepare for the wedding. One year later, they came back to the village. Talin has never left since.

16 years later, she has three children, the first born just 10 months after her wedding day. They share her delicate features and slim build, and her daughters, Eliza, 15, and Silva, 13, look to be as lovely as their mother.

“I don’t want to push them hard [to work],” she says.

With her husband frequently on the road as a truck driver, Talin takes on the bulk of the responsibility at home. She’s teaching her daughters how to cook, how to take care of animals, how to make jams and jellies and sauces, but she doesn’t want to overwhelm them.

“I want them to concentrate on their studies.”

She rubs her hands on dirt-streaked jeans and strides toward the house. She pulls off her rubber boots and slips on sandals. It’s almost dinner time, and she needs to start on the cooking. Her work never stops.

“These are the life conditions,” she says. “What can we do?”

Talin Kartun brings feed to her two calves. She also has two milk cows and several chickens.