Kazakh villagers sit in the dark chewing over some astounding news from the town. Someone is coming to take away their only means of survival. “It is, what do you call it, a class struggle, you see,” explains one. “A struggle with the Kazakhs,” suggests another. It is 1928, and the Communists are marching across the steppe to bring their brave new world to the nomads. “Your time of roaming is finished,” yells a revolutionary, as figures clad in balaclavas march into the village, howling like wolves, and surround the yurts where the nomads dwell. “The young republic needs your meat and cattle.”…