Monday, December 08, 2008

Police as Leverage

My landlord is a bad landlord. He is not mean but he is, in my estimation, irresponsible. So I don't like him, because he is my landlord.

 

He is 20 years old. Obviously, he didn't purchase the flat himself but the parental powers that be decided that he should run it himself. After he reduced the price from $US 300/mo to 250/mo on the condition that I pay for 3 months at once, I paid in cash. He missed our meeting the next day and sounded miserable and barely awake at 12p when I called him the next day, it was becoming clear that my annoying landlord was an unusual sort of annoying landlord. The long and the short of it is that for about 2 weeks I arranged some 10 meetings at which time he was to provide me with some pretty straight forward furnishings. He would agree and never show up. The wasting of my time was irritating as was the lack of furnishing. Yelling at him after some of the more ridiculous periods of irresponsibility left him murmuring an insincere apology, of the sort I am sure his parents have heard about a million times. I was exasperated. 

 

I disengaged. The more energy I put into the landlord the worse off my life was. I bought the furniture and paid outstanding bills, figuring that I will renegotiate once I have some leverage (i.e. when rent is due, in February).

 

I related my experience with my landlord to locals. All agreed that he sounded pretty lame and often were a little embarrassed as I was a foreigner and all. They situation needed to be rectified, respect for me regained and the dignity of Kyrgyzstan preserved. The solution offered by many was interesting and one which never would have occurred to me.

 

I should make him pay bills, provide promised furnishings and generally not be a recluse by telling him that if he does not do so that I will tell the militsia (police) that my landlord is not paying taxes. I did not sign a contract upon moving in, though I asked if that wouldn't be a good idea. And for the most part people do not pay, or significantly underpay, their taxes.

 

This solution was not much help for me. My visa status was flocculating between legal, semi-legal and not-so-much legal during the time. And arguing with officials may be fun if you speak the language but my Russian and Kyrgyz are not quite there. Suggesting a crime that I cannot prove and insinuation are sections we didn't cover in 3rd year Russian at UW.

 

I stopped volunteering information about my situation to other people and things got better when I stopped dealing with the landlord. But since then my friends at the bazaar have had an interesting experience that brought up the militsia as an instrument of extraction rather than as a force for order.  

 

I've only received the following story from the side of my friends. It only reflects my one-sided understanding, not Truth.

 

My friends were coming home one evening. Some neighborhood acquaintances were hanging out around a bottle of vodka. They had been there for some time. The drinkers asked my friends for a cigarette, then if they wanted to drink. My friends don't drink and don't smoke. The drinkers asked my friends for money. When this too was denied they started pushing. A fight started. My friends won and apparently threw in a couple of blows for good measure.

 

The instigators of the assault threatened to write a "declaration" to the militsia. They had a few bruises and stuff on their faces and the right to self-defense does not include the right to throw a few extra punches after you have won I guess. Also, as a rule it’s not so nice to get the police involved in matters such as this. The police earn an official salary of no more than $US 50/mo. They use their position to earn significantly more. A "good living" in Bishkek is estimated at about $1000. Very few militsianiri (police officers) fail to provide a good living for their families.

 

My friends came to me. I am the rich American friend who uninvolved in the local community significantly, I won't cause them shame or trouble or other further problems. The silence was bought for around $150. I wasn't happy about helping out in this situation but their friends and I figured that I was not in a very good place to weigh the situation. When in doubt it seemed better to help the friends.  The situation was of enough concern for the guys that they slept outside at the dacha at the foothills of the mountains for the night of the incident.

 

What I found of interest here is how the mechanisms of the state which are theoretically intended to regulate and organize society (tax collectors and militsia) were viewed as mechanisms for extortion. The social capture of these basic capacities and duties of the state indicates that frequently people view the state as a reliable tool for resolving social disputes in their favor. It does not rule from on high, but rather can be fairly manipulated for advantage in a petty dispute. This is not the sort of civic engagement that international actors are pushing for.

Update

For the last month or so, I have been focusing on a few things and neglecting the writing and research as a result. The projects are necessary but not much to talk about. First, I've been studying Kyrgyz pretty extensively. That is going pretty well except that I don't get to reinforce it on a daily basis as much as I should because my work has been in English. I've been working on a little promo film for the Alpine Fund. It’s been a great learning process, but if working efficiently tends to be repetitive then learning seems to be tedious. Every technical aspect of the production had to be learned by myself and my lovely partner, Christina. How to get the video off of the camera, which chord to use was the first problem. Then we discovered that the program and computer we had set up were not going to cut it. So then we had to struggle again to find a good program for my Mac. We got a deal on Final Cut through Christina's University connections back in Switzerland. Normally this program is around a thousand dollars... almost as much as the HD Canon video camera or the computer. Crazy. So we finally got that delivered via randomly traveling friend from Switzerland. Then we had to figure out how to work the very powerful/complicated program. Every solution we came to becomes old news as we used the tools and stuff constantly. But it was constant manual reading and delays. The final kink came in getting the program off of the computer as a self contained file. For some reason there are tons of settings, and no real guide to how to figure it out.

 

It looks like I can see the edge of the woods now though. I have learned a lot about making amateur films, perhaps never to use the skills again.

 

In addition I have been trying to get a visa from the Kyrgyz government. After running all over town trading letters of interest for letters of support and working my way up the university signature food chain I finally turned all of the paperwork in... Only to have it referred to a committee. I was supposed to find out on the 4th of December if I can be in Kyrgyzstan, instead I will maybe find out next week... officially a month since my visa expired. Normally I get a smug sense of satisfaction out of my frustrations in knowing that the US does it better. But when it comes to immigration and visas I know that is not the case.

 

The English classes are going well. The kids generally are lively and eager learners. I am running into a familiar problem at the street shelter/community center where I teach. The kids on random days pretty much just don't show up. Then there are like 15 of them the next time. We tried to implement a complicated but fair system where they would each pay the equivalent of US $2.50 for a month and then we would give them .25 or each time they showed up... thus incentivizing attendance with significant but not over the top fiscal constraints. The sublime plan ran into problems on day 2 when no one remembered to bring the money. So then just a couple of kids paid and it was hard to keep track of who paid... blah blah. The kids sort of amble around the place too and I immediately shied away from keeping kids out of class. Also my assistant, an intern from the Alpine Fund was to do the accounting but his attention to detail is underwhelming.

 

In other news, I found a bomb-shelter punk/folk/hip hop venue/bar that is pretty great. It’s full of lesbians and young people making out, which is a nice change of pace. Most of the bars here are either really cheap (plastic chairs and plastic tables) or really gaudy. The sorts of cozy but real places are tough to find. It is fun to find a place where people let their hair down, or stick it up in pointy shapes. The mosh pit or "slam" is not as friendly as back home, however

Monday, November 24, 2008

Absenteeism

Things are well on the whole in Kyrgyzstan. I've been a truant writer because I have been running around trying to get a visa together, as well as attempting to put a promotional movie together for the Alpine Fund. In addition, I have been getting a couple of English classes going. So the last three weeks have been all about getting the kinks out of stuff. In a lot of ways this made life a bit tedious and frustrating. 

Getting a visa is all about getting enough stamps and letters and submitting the right bit of paper to the right person in exchange for the addition to another piece of paper. The offices are in different parts of town and whenever you don't fall very clearly into a bureaucratic slot, no one really knows what the answer is... my 'language tutored independent social research' definitely does not fit well with the program of needing to have all sorts of papers and such from a university to get a student visa... but a tourist visa and a business visa don't fit either. I finally cleared a major hurdle on Thursday when a seemingly random official in a seemingly random office looked at my papers, made me fetch another letter from someone, looked at my letters again and then signed one of the papers. Then I gave my papers to a functionary and was informed that a decision as to my status would be rendered by committee in two weeks. The  ability of a signature to cut through all the red tape definitely leads to corruption. 

I learned a lot about corruption at the universities and among officials here in the last couple weeks (honestly, through conversation, not personal experience). Its a fascinating dance and its really screwed up. I hope to collect the tidbits into a coherent mass soon.

In other news some of my friends at the bazaar are in danger of having their houses bulldozed. Some of the local women leaders are pressing for a solution with a judge. They seem to be under pressure from powerful figures who have arranged to have their power shut off for as many as five days at a time. 

So I am eager to start learning more about that situation tomorrow.

With random computer troubles, visa limbo and uncertain english class attendance behind me, at least for now, its nice to be back to doing work that feels like it adds up to something.

Sorry for not writing much, I plan to have more to write about, and not just gripe about, soon.


Friday, November 07, 2008

Ditka's Power Has Dwindled

Obama's election was the first time I felt really happy, deeply soulfully happy, about a political contest. No doubt the burden of reality will push elation aside quickly. But a great moment is a great moment and I've been happily savoring this one. 

The view of the election from Kyrgyzstan is interesting. Most people don't know very much about Obama's biography but are happy that he one. He noted for being black... unfortunately in Russian the term "Niggr'" still gets tossed around casually, though of course the cultural context is totally removed from the history of repression, hate and abuse in the US. The translation carries only moderate derision.

So most people are in favor of the new president. This opinion is basically based on a naive belief that a new president can "stop" the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. These opinions uninformed by the fact that Obama campaigned on a promise to escalate military involvement in Afghanistan. But I have little doubt that if they were as informed as most Americans that they would come to the same conclusion. Much of the reaction is fairly typical Russian-esque ambivalence.

Coverage of the election results on the news cycles out of Moscow was given little more time than the average news story and as stuck in between a nasty car accident in Moscow and a folk dance.

Unfortunately the poor coverage of a historic and triumphant moment in American history (irrespective of political orientation) was matched by very poor US coverage of the Russian response. As you probably heard, the Russians announced they would move missiles up to the Polish border in response to the US missile shield. What was not mentioned is that Medvedev offered a refreshingly sober assessment of the state of Russian democracy/governance. 

"In our days, at the new level of development, Russian society confirms its adherence to the democratic values of the constitution. On the whole, it has embraced democratic habits, practices and procedures. Unlike in the recent past, our citizens no longer associate the democratic structure with chaos, powerlessness or degradation. New Russia has proved its ability to fulfil social obligations and ensure economic growth, guarantee citizens' rights and demand law abidance, and successfully fight terrorism and external aggression.

Now it is not a question of whether democracy can exist in Russia, as it used to be not so long ago, only 15 years ago. It is clear that democracy can exist in Russia. This is obvious and nobody is arguing with this. The question now is about the way Russian democracy should develop in future. I believe that Russian citizens are much more ready for free enterprise, professional as well as social and political, than at the beginning of the reforms, enterprise without state guardianship. More and more people are relying on themselves, first and foremost. They believe that their personal success and consequently the success of the whole country, depends on them. This is why it is not only possible but necessary to increase the level of trust in society. (Applause)

Meanwhile, state bureaucracy is still - as well as 20 years ago - going by the same mistrust of free people and free enterprise. This logic prompts it (bureaucracy) to make dangerous conclusions and take dangerous steps. Now and then bureaucracy makes life a nightmare for business - what if they do something wrong; it takes the media under its control for them not to say something wrong; it meddles in the election process - for people not to elect somebody wrong; it pressurizes courts for them not to bring in wrong verdicts, and so on. (Applause) As a result, the state machine is a major employer, the most active publisher, the best producer, as well as its own court, party and its own nation, in the long run. A system like this is not al all effective and creates one thing only - corruption. (Applause) It gives birth to mass legal nihilism. It contradicts the constitution, puts brakes on the development of innovative economy and democratic institutions. A strong state and omnipotent bureaucracy are not the same thing. A civil society needs the former as a tool to develop and support order, to protect and strengthen political institutions, while the latter is mortally dangerous for it. This is why our society should develop democratic institutions in a calm, persevering way and not putting it off.

Democratic institutions, which have been created in the past few years, and, let's be honest, on an instruction from the top, must take root in all social layers. To do this, we need constantly prove the viability of democratic order, and second, entrust more and more social and political functions directly to citizens, their organizations and self-governing bodies.

No, the state must not renounce responsibility for its sphere of authority and we must act pragmatically, soberly assessing risks, but action is really needed."

So, there is more hope for Russian domestic politics than is typically reported in the US. Also, the Russian perspective on US policy is biased but not fundamentally rooted in any enormous lie. Its fun to have an adversary and always politically and market-wise (news coverage) expedient to paint an antogist as fundamentally irrational and baseless. It is also not constructive over the long term.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Wedding!








The Pictures are not working. Here are a few.

The invitations were sent last week, but everyone had known the date and location for at least a month already anyway. I ended up included in the select group of about 20 close friends and family that would accompany the bride and groom all day. For us, the day started at 9am at the apartment of the couple. There were about 6 guys at the apartment hanging out, watching some TV, snacking on a spread of food prepared by the bride’s younger sister and good friend. After some food and pleasantries, all the guys headed outside here we decorated the cars of the wedding party. Having a caravan of cars drive around with the wedding party is a fixture of weddings in Kyrgyzstan. Each car is festooned with ribbons and balloons. The car with the bride and groom is topped off with some flowery decorations of white flowers and lace. Driving from one place to another, the cars beep their horns pretty much constantly and flaunt traffic laws (which are, by US standards, barely heeded as it is). The bride and groom, of course, ride in style. In this case a new Mercedes, driven and “owned” by a 21 year old. His father’s job was a “secret.” The bride and groom are free to associate all day long. In fact, socially, they are often considered married before the ceremony, especially if the wife is pregnant.

Around 10am we headed for the registratsia (registration). The registratsia is the actual ceremony. Usually a smaller group of closest relatives and friends are invited. The happy couple had picked a popular place for the ceremony, the registration center near the center of Bishkek. For an outsider, it is an odd place. The architecture is Soviet, the idea of being registered with the government as married is fairly Soviet (the Soviet’s pushed this as a fitting alternative to religious wedding ceremonies) but it presents itself, and is seen to be (and therefore is), romantic. It’s probably pretty clear that I would consider this place to be very romantic myself. I just want to make my bias clear.

When we arrived the parking lot was already full of limousines and other finer autos decked out with ribbons and balloons. Going inside the first thing in front of you is a large grand staircase leading to large high doors. Clearly that’s where the procession does down. On either side of the staircase on the second floor one can look over a railing onto the stairway. Underneath these on the first floor is a bridal dress shop and open, unused space. Everything is faux-marble.

When we went inside the wife and maid of honor stepped aside into a small room. As the rest of us waited a freshly married couple emerged from the large high doors and made their way down stairs. They posed for some photos with family and friends and such before politely being ushered out the door. The building photographer let us know that we should get the bride and start. While someone fetched the bride, everyone except the parents of the couple, the best man and maid of honor and the couple themselves made their way to the overlooking area on the second floor by a side stairwell. Some classical music began from the house speakers. The procession made its way up the stairs. We followed them into the main room.

The center of the room was cordoned off from the guests. Our photographer tried to cross the boundary and was immediately put into place once more by a security guard dressed exactly as a security guard. The ceremony was conducted by a woman dressed traditionally, though semi-casually (some of the traditional outfits get elaborate). Her role was well rehearsed though by no means monotonous. She spoke about all of the happy and good things in store for the couple. The couple was asked to light a torch from a flame in a sort of cauldron, about the size and shape of a birdbath. They held the torch together and this signified their love. While classical marriage music played from the CD near the speaker, the ceremony conductor gave the equivalent of the “I do” speech before asking the parents if they protested the marriage. Then they put the rings on each other’s hands before signing the papers. Having signed the papers (the best man and bride’s maid serving as witnesses) they were pronounced man and wife. We all applauded and more classical music played us out of the room.

This time everyone used the side stairway as the previous party wrapped up their picture taking on the grand staircase. Then we started taking pictures and they kindly invited me now and then to join in a picture of the bride’s side of the family. From this point on I played the part of photographer because my camera is pretty good and it kept me from feeling awkward as the only person I knew beyond introduction was the bride.

We took more pictures outside of the building. Then we drove about 3 blocks away to the Great Patriotic War memorial (a staple of any Soviet inhabitance, its size and grandeur proportional to the size of the community). There we took more pictures and the toasting began. They asked me to give a toast but I didn’t really understand what was going on. (I thought they were insisting that I have a second glass of champagne, and in my defense, the word ‘toast,’ pronounced exactly as in English, was never uttered). The father and brother in-law of the bride had already given toasts. As the video camera rested for an awkwardly long time on me, I went through some denial and dread before coming to terms with the situation. Panicked, I stuck to English which at least the bride and the brother in-law would understand. Next time I’ll be prepared.

After more pictures and toasts, we released a couple of white pigeons which was pretty fun. We all piled back in our cars and headed for another park where still more pictures were snapped, this time just friends as family rested up for the big night ahead. The bride and groom filmed a funny little video that I only caught the tail end of about the groom finding the bride in the park. It was getting towards 12 or even 1 and everyone was starting to get hungry. Such as it was, however, we were running behind and had to skip lunch. We had another park to attend to.

This next park was “Manas Village.” The government built the park in 1995 to commemorate the 1000th Anniversary of the Manas epic (think the Oddessy and the Illiad combined but not like Aenis… more like 10 times longer and way more central to people’s national identity). The park is full of little concrete landmarks and bits of Kyrgyz nationhood. Overall, it’s an alright park. Guarding the entrance are orphans who refuse to let you pass without paying them. Such is their right according to the traditions of Islam. But its gotten to be a little too profitable and fun what with half the wedding parties in Bishkek coming to the park. We made more toasts. Vodka was introduced nefariously by the younger brother of the groom.

We headed for the place of the reception, about 40 minutes outside of town and nearer to the relatives. By now the driver was well-tipsied. I wish I had been more so as we swung into the oncoming lane and passed fully loaded trucks on the right shoulder around bends in the middle of villages.

The last leg of the wedding journey was roughly equivalent to a reception. About 200 friends and family gathered at a cafĂ© in a village on the outskirts of Bishkek’s orbit. At one end of the rectanglar room sat the bride and groom, nearest to them were seated the elder relatives. Further away was the closer family including parents, siblings, aunts and uncles. Near the “back” friends and cousins sat next to the speakers and open space. All evening long relatives would give toasts and pass along well wishes for the new family. Awaiting us was a huge spread of food.

An MC introduced the new couple who made their way down the length of the room accompanied by more classical wedding music and showered with gold coins tossed by a grandmother. Almost as soon as they had reached the table, the toasting and happy wishes began. The toasting roughly followed the seating arrangement. The eldest began. Everyone basically repeated the same fond hopes of wealth, happiness, health, and a large family. Their were no funny stories about the couple or much variation away from this theme but the sincerety of the speakers was touching. The couple stood each time they received a blessing. With some 200 people at the reception, the speaking occupied at least 3 of the 6 hours of the reception. Often the parents stood near the speakers in acknowledgement as well. It was remarkable to see so consistent and strong a public demonstration of respect. It also appeared by to quite onerous for the family and couple who already had had such a long and emotional day.

As the MC called up a group of people to wish the couple well, the musicians/DJs (two guys with a keyboard, a soundboard and a pair of microphones would play music while they made their way to the speaking area. The music and the shuffling past row upon row of spectator reminded me of the Price Is Right. After the group of friends or relatives had offered their best wishes, one would remain. He or she would then sing a traditional Kyrgyz song. The musicians would try to find a tune and/or beat on their keyboard that matched the song. At least half the time the match was poor. The singer either had to distort the song to try and make it fit the synthesized music or ignore the back tune such that two distinct tunes and tempos were going at once. Despite the unfortunate use of the keyboard, it was great that people sang old songs in front of friends and family. The willingness to sing mirrored the willingness to dance. The young and old tore up the rug during much appreciated interludes from the speeches. It was during this singing and dancing that the couple was somewhat free to sit down and eat, though much of this time was taken up thanking the speakers face-to-face, accepting presents and socializing.

I sat at the back amongst the cousins. I knew it was trouble as soon as I saw where I would be seated. A couple of young mothers with 1 year-olds were the only element diluting the mass of 20-something men. Surrounding 20-something Kyrgyz men with more 20-something Kyrgyz men creates a positive feedback loop with the negative outcome of drinking a lot of vodka. In this case (and in most others), bad vodka. This sort of unfortunate social reinforcement can be seen at work among politicians of political bodies, bureaucrats in bureaucracies, fraternities full of frat boys and musical festivals full of dirty, dirty hippies. I employed all my favorite preventative measures: I complained about stomach issues of late (true), said that I don’t like vodka (also and increasingly true) and I ate lots of food all night. At 12a I managed to walk away from the wedding in a straight line. When I got back home I drank a little water as cure and woke up feeling fresh and fine.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Tash Rabat



The view of the Caravanserai and the mountain opposite it. Tash Rabat after a snowfall.
More pictures here.


There are some 4-5 posts in a row I just put up. I brought the laptop this time as I was in a town.



The mountains between Kyrgyzstan and China where Tash-Rabat sits are tall. The start from a high elevation and get taller and bigger. It was clear that this place is a shade apart from the rest of Kyrgyzstan when I spotted the first herd of yaks. Everywhere else is cows, horses and sheep. These highlands are home to horses and yaks.

Tash-Rabat is a recently restored caravanserai (rest point for travelers). It dates to about the 10th century, back when Buddha was all the rage and Muhammed’s followers were still struggling to set up shop. It survived the centuries in relatively good order because it lies some 15km off of the main pass from Kashgar tucked into a modest mountain-rimmed tributary valley.

From the outside, it doesn’t look very big but inside there are more than a dozen rooms and it could easily sleep 150 men. There are rooms set aside for sleeping, gathering, cooking and even a few pits more that 3 meters deep to serve as dungeons. The central room has a high dome and some of the old finish work has yet to crumble off the side of the walls.

The caravanserai now attracts many visitors during the summer. It is one of the best-preserved caravanserai and is located in a pretty location. It is highly attractive to travelers who like to get off the beaten path.

Animal Bazaar


There are no Ponies at this Animal Bazaar

The town of At-Bashy (meaning horse head or horse person), like so many towns in Kyrgyzstan, is situated at the base of a broad mountain valley. It lies on the road north from Kashgar to Naryn and on to Bishkek. As a result, it receives a great deal of Chinese truck traffic hauling goods to bazaars and warehouses in Bishkek. The traffic seems to have a minimal effect on the town. The only gas station I saw (and I traveled the main in and out of town) would have been hard pressed to pump gas for a big rig. The gas was actually pumped into a bucket and then funneled into the tank. Along the road a few trucks making on-the-road repairs were scattered here and there but otherwise the trucks passed through in huge volume but with little social or economic impact on the town.

As the name of the town portends, the economy of the town revolves around the rich animal husbandry made possible by the fertility of the broad valley’s pastureland. Though the town only contains a few thousand people (whereas Naryn has more than 50,000) it is home to the central animal market of a large region (including Naryn, some 60km to the North). The animal bazaar is easily more than twice the size of the bazaar dedicated to people’s material needs and it is impressive. Sheep, cows and horses change hands by the many dozens (horses) and hundreds (sheep). A good sheep sells for around US$ 100, a horse for around US$ 1,000 and a cow for around 500 (I could be off on the cow, the horse and sheep stuck out better in my mind). I am not sure why, but chickens and donkeys were not to be found at the bazaar.

The organization of the bazaar is fluid. Which is to say that from an outsiders perspective, there was none. Once things really got busy around 9am there was little room to bring in new animals at the animal entrance. So herders (all men and boys) tried, and invariably eventually succeeded, in forcing their animals into the selling lot. This is something of a spectacle to behold as cows and horses are accustomed to large open pastures and do like to be crowded into large chaotic places. Trucks full of animals beep and budge their way through the herds. Their owners whip them to make them go one way and occasionally someone else who wants to get through whips them to go another. I quickly learned to avoid the more crowded areas. I am just not acclimated to frightened horses pushing this way and that. The sheep are not a problem. They are scared too but more much easier to control and docile.

Despite the Chinese domination in manufacture and, to a slightly lesser extent, trade of many good both the animal bazaar and the ‘regular’ bazaar were completely filled with Kyrgyz with a Uighur or two at the animal bazaar. The trucks and trucks as well were all old Soviet models. It was quite astonishing to see so many goods literally wash right over this town without leaving much of a trace. The very goods brought through the town seemed to circulate back to it as the same unheard of Chinese brand names in electonics (Sparrow televisions anyone?) and simple cheap goods were available here that one sees everywhere else in Kyrgyzstan.

I met my driver who was to take me onto Tash-Rabat. With a sheep in the trunk and my things in the back seat we left the stress and excitement of the animal bazaar behind and headed to the highlands.

CIS, Soldiers and the State

Recently, Kyrgyzstan hosted the meeting of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) heads of state. The CIS is composed of all of the former Soviet Republics, except for Georgia, which withdrew after the election of Sakashvili (sp?). I happened to be looking for my visa support company near the center of Bishkek the day of the arrival of the various heads of state. In the center of Bishkek is located the Belii Dom or White House, the capital building of Kyrgyzstan.

Traffic was blocked on the main thoroughfare through the center. Police and army privates spaced about 10m apart lined both sides of the street. A couple of officers or sergeants monitored the area and occasionally yelled orders or reprimands to soldiers but overall, discipline seemed pretty lax. It was a cool day. Too cool to be comfortable with only the light jackets they had on but not cold enough to warrant a winter coat. The soldiers slouched, paced at their post and generally looked listless and bored. A few people greeted them, asked questions about directions or what was going on, younger men cracked lighthearted jokes about the soldiers’ unenviable duty. The soldiers chuckled and took part in the levity. Some who were stationed out of the line of sight of the officers wanders a few meters to one side or another to chat with their neighbor. Many ate sunflower seeds. Much to the irritation of the officers, civilians J-walked right toward the Belii Dom right between soldiers, unimpeded.

I watched news coverage of the summit in Naryn. The production quality of the state television news is not outstanding. For this occasion they brought up the seal of the CIS, a welcome to the leaders of the not-quite free world, and an image of Kyrgyzstan and Russia’s flags next to each other and a little blurb about friendship. Each image was displayed in Kyrgyz as well as Russian. The peak was that each time they changed images they played a garish military/state orchestra crescendo. The effect was akin to watching the “We’re back from commercial effect” for the Olympics or Monday Night Football again and again. They went through the rotation in both languages at least 3 times.

What followed was video snippets of Bakaev, the President of the Kyrgyz Republic, shaking hands with each leader as they disembarked off the plane. There are 10 states in the CIS and each hand shake was accompanied by the music. The most important leader is, of course, Russia’s head of state. This time Medvedev attended. Bakaev shook Medvedev’s hand with exuberance while Medvedev smiled meekly and looked a little bored and a little uncomfortable.

The day of the summit, I met a couple of soldiers in taxis. The first was the taxi driver that took me to the bus/share-taxi station headed to Naryn. He was my age and had just quit the army last year. He had been in the army for a few years and even completed the military academy. He would have stayed with the army but the pay, even for low-ranking officers, was meager at the equivalent of $US 100/month. He now earns $US 1,000/month driving a taxi. He works most everyday but on his own schedule and can take the days off that he wants. “I go where I want, when I want and take order from no one.”

The next soldier I met accompanied me to Naryn in the share taxi. He was a special forces captain. He had been with the army for almost a decade. He’s trained with Turks and had some contact with the Americans and Russians stationed at their bases in Kyrgyzstan. He even went to Iraq with some anti-Kurd Turkish operation in 2003. Many of his comrades have been trained at some special forces officer school of the US army, apparently in Texas. His English was quite good and he was clearly a straight-shooting clear thinker. We spoke about the US election, language policies in Kyrgyzstan (moving away from Russian in official settings), and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He was more sympathetic and supportive of US “peacekeeping” (to use his term) in Afghanistan than most people that bring up the subject. He was not much of a fan of the US Iraq War, but he thought that it was not just a oil grab. Kyrgyzstan has received a lot of support for its special forces since the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan’s incursion into the South of the country in 2001-2. There have been no incidents since that time, but anti-terrorist/insurgent operations remain the focus of their training.

Outside the Belii Dom, one of the bored privates looked around with disinterest. His eyes came to rest on a poster with tear away tabs. WORK! It read. He glanced around to see who was watching, took a couple steps to his left and tore away a tab which he placed in his pocket

Spirituality in the Wind


The storm approaches.

My last full day at Song Kul was Eid, the last day of Ramadan. Eid is celebrated in Kyrgyzstan by going from house to house as a guest among your neighbors, friends and family. At each house you are served a meal of a single dish with tea ad bread. Everyone takes a turn at hosting.

It’s all so simple now and it was all so confusing at the time. I did not quite get the whole “we are going to eat dinner on 6 different occasions back to back until the 5th house. At each house we would sit, the hosts would graciously offer me the seat of honor, or the seat next to the seat of honor, and then I was encourage by all 10-12 people in attendance to eat, eat, eat. Unlike the two previous feasts I had attended, this one did not feature any vodka. After each sitting, before moving on to the next residence, we prayed Usually one of the tow older men did this, though on one occasion a man of my age recited the verse and did an outstanding job. The verse, as with all verses in the Koran, was in Arabic. When to tow older gentlemen undertook the recitation, it appeared as if they were going through the motions, mumbling Arabic-sounding words in between a few key phrases. The young man clearly had studied, trained and practiced. His Arabic sounded like the genuine article, though my frame of reference is practically non-existent.

On this day, the only day in which everyone I the community needed to walk about outside for longish period (some of the houses were over a kilometer away), winter’s first unquestionable storm raged. The wind blew hard, we had to lean into it to walk effectively. The visibility was about 20ft at times. It must have been really blowing because only about 2-3 inches of snow actually accumulated on the open plains where the families had set up their boz-uii.

The religiosity of the occasion stood in distinct contrast to most of celebrations and customs I took part in at Song Kul. The day I arrived was cold and windy, bouts of chilling rain rolled through now and then. This weather persisted for the next four days, with some variation: sometimes the sun came out but the cold brisk wind remained, sometimes the wind died down but the rain picked up. All of the men worked outside, so this weather was disagreeable (maybe this had something to do with the light work load and constant gaming and drinking). For my host man-figure, the weather rendered his contribution to the home, fishing, unworkable.

So on the fourth day, we had a feast. We went over to a neighbor’s house after breakfast and before lunch. The men had a few shots over conversation about the Kyrgyz contribution to Gengis Khan’s conquests. With a bottle of vodka spent, it was time to move on. The women came out of the boz-uii, we gathered in a semi-circle and my host woman-figure leaned over to me to explain that now we would kill a sheep to make the wind stop blowing. One of the men spoke to us, and perhaps the wind, that this sheep would be killed so that the weather would calm, and everyone could work again. We gave an “Omen.” The Kyrgyz complete a prayer by saying “Omen” and wiping the face with the hands from top to bottom. This is done at the end of every meal.

Two of the men took the sheep into a cooking tent. While everyone else watched they slip its throat, collecting the blood in a plastic dish which would soon contain all of the unwanted bits and organs collected for the dogs. The sheep shuddered some, once the blood had largely drained it twitched a bit, even after the neck was broken. A moment or two after the neck was broken they began cutting into the sheep. The women dripped towards the tent. The men watched and assisted the process when appropriate. A blow torch was used to cook the head, fore-limbs, the liver and some savory bits that served as appetizer for the guys.

On Eid there was no ceremony before preparing the sheep. It was simply waiting for guests when we arrived. Some men had butchered it before the visiting started and the woman of the home saw to the cleaning of the intestines, their stuffing with fat and the boiling of the meat.

Everyone talked and drank tea for quite a long time. The day was rich with conversation as the same 10-12 people gathered at each residence for at least an hour for a meal and just talked and maybe played a little backgammon. We ate and ate and ate some more. The next day I departed back to Bishkek and I couldn’t touch a bite of food until after sunset.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Men, Women and a Bit About Bridenapping

As is often case in well-organized well-intended efforts at liberation, the Soviet campaign to free women from the bonds of tradition resulted in the freedom as well as the responsibility to earn a wage while maintaining the home. Feminism is a dirty word in Russia as well as in many of the Russified areas of Central Asia.
In more rural areas, gender practices have maintained stability. Men go out and work, women stay home and work. But economics and social expectations have brought dissatisfaction to this arrangement as well, for somewhat different reasons.
There was not much in the way of monetarily productive work in the periphery where I stayed Kyrgyzstan. Most of the families had herds grazing on the shores near the encampment. Once the animals had been accounted for, perhaps moved to a new area, occasionally a sheep selected for a feast, there seemed to be little to be done of much productive value. So the men played cards, a less-complex local version of backgammon, hung out and, on some days, stepped out frequently to share a bottle of vodka. All of the men smoked. Accompanying the men, but not participating, were a few youngsters from the area, not enrolled in school for whatever reason.
The women, meanwhile, could take no rests on account of the unprofitability of their work. Food had to be prepared, dishes washed, houses cleaned and tidied regularly. The women also rarely, if ever, partook in any drinking. On one occasion, during a non-religious feast, a couple of the young wives drank a shot of vodka along with the husbands. “It helps when eating mutton,” they explained as they encouraged me to drink and eat up. I obliged and obliged again.
The main house duties assumed by the men were slaughtering and butchering the sheep (though the small cuts and cleaning of organs was done by the women) and getting water.
I ended up spending more time with the women at home as I studied written Kyrgyz and grammar. Also I could not figure out the card game they played with a half-deck (we have this home too but I still don’t know it) and drinking vodka all afternoon most every afternoon held little appeal. Their take on their role amounted to resentful resignation. This was more strongly communicated to some of the female tourists that visited. The women did not like the fact that the men drank, but they understood it and could offer no happy alternative activity. They didn’t like having to work all day while the guys hung out with their friends but again saw no workable alternative
Resignation to ones fate, and making the best of it, was something of a theme. Many, if not all, of the women at Song Kul entered into their marriage by being bridenapped.
In more rural areas of Kyrgyzstan it is common for a man to get a wife by bridenapping. Usually they meet incidentally though sometimes he may be enogh impressed with her reputation and appearance to be smitten and decide to make a wife of her. This is done by taking the girl, usually between 18 and 23 years old, off the street and bringing her back to your house. Once she has arrived at the house, the family of the husband is often there. The wife to be is put in a room and not allowed out but offered every amenity and show of hospitality possible. Once she has stayed a night in the house of the man, it is socially taboo for her to do anything but marry. If she does not, it is highly stigmatizing. Virginity, or at least the social perception of virginity, looms large.
Bridenapping in Kyrgyzstan is not without controversy. It is very rare among the well-to-do in Bishkek and much less common among the middle and lower classes of the capital city. People are aware that bridenapping is “traditional” and “not modern.” Sometimes it is aped by well-established couples before marriage for a romantic show and in acknowledgement of tradition. Some of the most outspoken defenders of the practice are often older women, often who were bridenapped themselves. The recently abducted bride and her husband live with the husband’s parents and family until the younger brother marries. The new wife takes on the responsibilities of taking care of the household. The mom may still help out, but the bulk of the labor goes to the young bride. They point to the fact that a higher proportion of marriages which began with bridenapping stay together for life – about double the percentage of voluntary marriages(what Europeans and North Americans would consider normal).
The women at Song Kul talked about how you have to stay with your husband, even if you don’t really love him, and make the best of it. Families are very strong in Kyrgyzstan – beyond any doubt the unchallenged core of society. So marriage is about kids and family. Happiness comes not from romance or from an outstanding husband-wife bond, but from seeing lots of kids grow up. One of the first questions one exchanges in meeting someone new is if they are married and how many children he/she has. Being married is good, not being married leads to questions about when and to whom or what sort of person you will be married. Having more children is a good. Being middle aged with only one or two kids is acceptable not will not receive any accolades.
The hostess said the bit about staying with your husband regardless of how you feel in front of his mom. She nodded her head in thoughtful agreement. There was little joy at the prospect but security in knowing that this is how things are done and that happiness and fulfillment come with hard work and time.
There is much to be said for skepticism of the fairytale of endless romance constantly repeated and transmitted by European and North American cultures. I would not say that bridenapping is necessarily the answer, but it might be a good start.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Safe and Sound

A couple of people emailed me to make sure that I was no where near the earthquake.

I am fine, the quake was about as far away as it could be while still occur.

The NYTs describes Kyrgyzstan: "Kyrgyzstan is a destitute, landlocked mountainous nation of around five million people."

Nice.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Kyrgyz Hospitality

Day 1, Lamb 1.


Hospitality in Central Asia is served in legendary proportions. There are a number of wonderful cultural rituals and cues that I was honored to participate in during my time in Song Kul.

Probably the most obvious difference, and one which is well known to those who study or frequent the region, is attention to seating arrangement. Traditionally, a meal or tea is taken around a circular table, or gathered around food arranged on floor level. The guest of honor is always seated opposite the door so that the comings and goings of visitors and passing food will not disturb the guest. The guest/guests of honor are typically someone who has traveled from far away to be there, the eldest male or occasionally someone of particularly high esteem such as a doctor or mayor. Everyone is seated basically according to his or her age (which corresponds directly to esteem). If a woman is more elder than a man, then her seating takes precedent but ties go to the men. The host and, especially the hostess, seat themselves near the stove so that they can refill drinks and offer food.

During most of my time, I occupied the seat of honor or sat directly next to it. I was very touched and a little uncomfortable at the gesture as sometimes I was have a century younger than oldest guest and a good 10 to 15 years younger than a number of the other men. But despite the fact that my stay lasted far longer than a single meal or gathering, each time we ate a meal with others the hosts insisted on that seating arrangement.

Not every meal was formal. When simply eating a lunch with the family that I stayed with at the lake, the seating was not so important. The woman who cooked the meal, however, always positioned herself between the stove and the dining area.

It is a custom among the Kyrgyz that hosts must be generous and show no restraint in offering food. Thus whenever one eats a meal as a visitor, one is constantly encouraged to eat. “Eat up!” “Here.” “Take it!” To stop the food from piling ever higher the guest says with friendly firmness that she has finished. I found that after saying I was done there was usually a short pause for evaluation. If the host thought I was just being polite, then the effort was rejoined. If I really did seem full, conversation moved on.

Eat up! Nothing goes to waste.

Kyrgyz drink tea out of piyala, small bowls, always drinking and passing with the right hand. We drank a lot of tea. It’s the preferred way to hydrate throughout Central Asia and Russia. One of the more successful Soviet campaigns was aimed at improving health by encouraging everyone to always boil the water. Until relatively recently tap water in many areas was not necessarily safe, so boiling water for tea was a good way to deal with the health issues in a more socially subtle and delicious way. As with food, as soon as the piyala had been emptied of tea the hostess offered to refill it with a “[Please], drink tea.” The vessel is only filled about 2/3 full. Filling it all of the way indicates that the host would like the guests to leave.

In the mountains, as in many rural places in the US or elsewhere, the families were at times a little reserved. At times no one would start a conversation and people seem unsure during non-customary moments how much one should try to talk to the outsiders/tourists. But people on the whole were very welcoming and warm, especially during meals. They also appreciated my sad efforts to converse in Kyrgyz. Almost all outsiders, if they speak any local language, speak only Russian. About half of the folks on the lake spoke Russian even more poorly than I do and I think they liked the idea of people learning their native tongue.

On to Song Kul



Boz-Uii on Song Kul at Sunset


Kyrgyzstan’s climate is similar to that of the Northern Mid-West. The summers are long and warm, sometimes hot but rarely unbearable. Spring and fall are dramatic seasons of change and pass fairly quickly. Winter is long and cold. Conditions occasionally attain severity of Arctic proportions. Winter usually arrives in October and settles in during November.

I had about 10 days set aside for the first portion of my rural language and cultural emersion. To make the most of the time, I decided to stay somewhere high and pretty. Song Kul, a large lake situated between large mountain ridges was suggested to me by the good people at CBT who suggest these sorts of things. Song Kul is typical of many adventure-tourism destinations in that it is famous for being outstandingly pristine and remote. This pristine remoteness is not to be missed, so anyone in the area with the means makes it a point to get there for a visit and soak in the isolated beauty for herself. Most of the National Parks in the West of the US present a similar paradox. Also like many National Parks, Song Kul often seems to be a “preserve” in name only. True, there is no heavy industry, but locals use the entire preserve to graze herds. The lake supports a few local fisherman. Cars and trucks traverse the preserve to move people, goods and dismantled yurts, boz-uii in Kyrgyz. CBT has 5 or 6 member families living on the Northeast shore of the lake. Most could accommodate about a dozen tourists on a given night. In peak tourist season in Kyrgyzstan, the wilderness leans heavy toward industrious rustic retreat.

Fortunately, I arrived late enough in the season that relatively few tourists, whether from Bishkek or abroad, ventured a visit.

With so much time on my hands for a single location, I elected to arrive on horseback. I have had lots of opportunities to backpack, and I thought I would try something different this time. After a day wasted running back to Bishkek to work on (or around) visa issues, we set off. My guide was Altynbek. He graduated a little over a year ago from the National Univerity in Naryn. During the tourist season he stayed busy and did pretty well for himself as an out-and-easygoing guide with a solid command of English. But before winter, he would be moving to Bishkek where a competitive and arduous job search awaited him. On a side note, this country has amazing potential for skiing, and it would help even out the irregularities of the tourist season, but the necessary investments in infrastructure are just not there.

We got a ride to a town higher in the mountains and closer to Song Kul than Koch Kor, the tourist starting point in the area. There we ate lunch and rented horses. Then we rode.

We followed a valley drainage up into the hills. The climb was gradual and for the first couple of hours we took a road. We passed farms and pasturelands pretty much constantly. Now and then we met traffic coming the other way: a kid walking toward town, an old man on a donkey-drawn cart, a Shepard moving his flock, a herder on horseback, meandering cows and a gigantic Soviet truck taking people and supplies high into the hills.

It was very picturesque. We didn’t talk much in good cowboy fashion. Altynbek knew that I was trying to keep to Kyrgyz, and my deficiencies for making lazy yet dynamic conversation were painfully clear from the start. So most of the time we said nothing. Then when I asked him about a word or a phrase we launched into a half-hour long session of new words and phrases. It was overwhelming, but being otherwise indisposed, I was surprised at how much of it stuck.

Sticking to Kyrgyz was a pain and certainly undercut most any sort of potential for comradeship between us (that and the fact that I was another tourist). We could have jabbered back and forth in English about this or that, or maybe in Russian, but instead we just kept it to the basic necessities of communication. These are few and far between when the only real task is to follow the other horse.

We left the river valley for a ridge that took us higher into the mountains. Then we skirted mountainsides until we came to a sort of mid-way point on a pass that was fairly flat. Even high, in parts of the mountains that looked like they could be nothing but cold, lonely and generally foreboding all winter, there were houses and animal pens. Each was of a different size. As with most truly functional rural agricultural dwellings, everything was in a state of falling a part and being repaired or abandoned. Some places looked like they could only hold a durable couple. Others were large enough that a small family and perhaps a relative or two in need of some employment could live comfortably. I was surprised to see year round dwellings at 10,000 ft. Until recently this area was pure jailuu, summer pasture. The people and the livestock moved to warmer, safer, more nutritious locations for the winter.

Our first night we stayed with a couple and a Russian helper in his 50s or 60s. Most Russians stick to the capital and a couple of larger town in the north. To see one in such a rural area, and living with a Kyrgyz family is unusual. They had a permanent dwelling of metal and concrete about 200 yards from their cluster of boz-uii. When we arrived I was greeted with a “hello!” A Belgian couple I had briefly met in Bishkek at my host-family’s guest house greeted me. It’s a small small world on a lesser-developed country’s tourism circuit.


First Night's Locale

We ate well. We sang songs. Being a camp counselor really came in handy for that. Then we went to bed. Their guide was a 21 year old female from the same university and department Altynbek had graduated.

So they chatted and messed around with each other’s cell phones long into the night. With less money and less space and no traditions of “privacy” or “personal space” people in Kyrgyzstan are much more inclined to go about their business in a shared space. Rather than the burden being on the active to rein it in when others are trying to engage in a peaceful activity, the presumption is that sleeper/reader/quiet activity-er will adjust. This runs pretty much complete against every notion of fundamental consideration for others held by cultures from Europe and North America. Its one of those cultural differences that you know is relative and all about perception, but is tough to swallow when you want to go to sleep.

The next day we got up and over the pass and headed down to Song Kul. By this point the horses were happy to be headed down hill for a change and I was more comfortable. So we ran a lot. That was exhilarating. And, boy, do I have a ways to go before being comfortable on a horse (physically or mentally).

We reached the lake on its Northwest shore. We stopped for tea and lunch with a couple of families that herded in that area. Shortly after we pulled up all the men came one by one out of the boz-uii. By the time we left many could barely stand. Fortunately there were donkeys to lean on.

The most hilarious character was an older man who traveled around the lake in his old Lada and sold basic goods to the people that lived there. The basic goods were mostly cigarettes and vodka for the men, candy for the kids and vegetable oil and vegetables to the wives. He was the first person in the area to really open up to me. It was nice to have a local really want to have a conversation with you. This silver cloud had a dark lining. He was wasted so whatever I might have otherwise been able to understand was obscured beyond even Altynbek’s ability to understand. It is my understanding, however, that if I stay in Koch Kor that I can stay with him. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

Altynbek and the Merry Gentleman Trader

We ran the last 3 kilometers in a little more than an hour. The horses were just as pleased with the flat as they had been with the downward slop.

The highlight of all this was seeing horses on the open range in such a breathtaking location. They just look at home up there, over here in Central Asia. It’s really gorgeous. Anyone who harbors distaste for horseback riding should give it a shot in big country of dry grass on rolling hills at the feet of snowy peaks beneath an expansive open sky. When those planets align, tshe day is auspicious for horse riding.

In conclusion, horses are indeed more photogenic than sheep
As we headed into our final destination the sun disappeared and the wind picked up.

Friday, October 03, 2008

Koch Kor, Peace Kor

Koch Kor is a town of a several thousand people located between Bishkek and Narin. Like most cities in this incredibly mountainous country, Koch Kor is nestled in a large valley situated between towering mountain ranges the higher peaks of which reach around 15,000ft. In these mountain valleys the soil is excellent and agriculture and livestock production prospers.

Koch Kor is not a major trade destination but huge volumes of goods pass through the town. Koch Kor sits along one of the country’s main highways leading from the capital to the Togurt Pass and onward to China’s Kashgar. My share taxi passed many nearly identical trucks along the road. Each was white with black Chinese symbols painted along the sign. Near Bishkek along the road leading to the city’s Dordoi and Osh bazaars these trucks were lined up for more than a mile on either side of the road. I am not sure why, but the volume of traffic was truly impressive. The only place that I have seen that compares is the ports of Seattle and Tacoma. These ports probably move more goods on a given day than the truckers on their way from Kashgar to Bishkek, but the cargo is never so apparent and visible as it was here as we drove past truck after truck delayed on the highway.

Koch Kor hosts an organization called Community Based Tourism Kyrgyzstan CBT-Kg . This NGO is dedicated to connecting tourists inclined to a somewhat grittier itinerary with locals who live somewhat gritty lives in astoundingly beautiful location. The goals of the organization are three fold: to increase the standard of living of the member families, to preserve traditional cultural through tourism and to preserve the natural environment. The Kyrgyzstan version of CBT is based upon previous successes in Nepal and Tibet.

The organization accommodates travelers who do not speak local languages and appreciate the security of working with a well-established business but want their money to go to average families, rather than businessmen in Bishkek. Locals get assistance getting involved in the tourism industry. The prices work great for everyone involved: $20/day includes transportation along rough mountain roads, a guide/translator, three homemade authentic native meals, and a place to sleep. The money then gets divided amongst the driver, guide/translator and host family. Each of whom earns a good local wage. Travelers get cheap, authentic and feel morally upright. Locals get sound sustainable income and can continue living a more traditional way of life.

There are a couple of faults or deficiencies. For travelers that want a well-polished experience, CBT may not be the best fit. All of the guides/translators I met (perhaps 5 in all) were current students or recent graduates of a Kyrgyz university. Their service seemed to me to be precisely adequate. Every need was met but there was something lacking that was hard to put my finger on but I think it boiled down to a lack of experience/confidence. Often there was little communication about what was going to happen. When people are in a new place and have no idea what is going on, it generally puts them at ease to give them a little heads up of what to expect and a couple little tidbits to help people appreciate what they see.

On the other side of the equation, it was unclear to me if CBT offered much in the way of growth opportunities for locals. The income sound and well distributed but seemed limited to the low-budget adventure traveler. That’s a good market to have cornered in Kyrgyzstan but it might be nice to offer a more polished experience for a shinier price.

I am using CBT to improve my Kyrgyz. The families live in places where Russian is not spoken and there are few, which is to say no, distractions from working on the language. I stayed at a local guesthouse in the town before heading off for the final destination – Song Kul, a large lake high in the mountains well. Several families fish and herd on the shores of the lake. Though there is a road, I had plenty of time on my hands, so I elected to get there on horseback. That took 2 days. I had another week at the lake.

I had a night in Koch Kor before taking off. I stayed with a family that runs a small guest house and hosts a Peace Corps volunteer. The volunteer had just started in on her second year on site. She was in Koch Kor as a health volunteer. The health program is brand new to Kyrgyzstan. Peace Corps volunteers are among the few foreigners I have met in Kyrgyzstan who speak Kyrgyz well and almost no Russian.

Her efforts and achievement sounded familiar for Peace Corps volunteers. The first year was frustrating as the language skills were still falling into place. With no familiarity with the local social landscape, choosing a project that effectively integrates with local needs and capacities is tricky. The first effort made was to place garbage cans around the town. People frequently complain of the omnipresence of garbage in Kyrgyzstan. Whenever one finished a wrapper from a piece of candy, it’s thrown to the ground. The bottles, pieces of paper and other assorted refuse fill the gutter and litters the streets and sidewalks. The effort to get garbage cans stalled out pretty quickly as local official could not agree about who would collect the garbage or how the service could be paid for.

The second project, informed by the experience of the first, was smaller and much more successful. The volunteer organized an effort to pick up trash along the shore of Song Kul. She went through CBT, which thanks to its tourism business has many contacts at the lake. She received some funding from a grant for publicity, new outhouses and small garbage cans. On the appointed day early in the tourist season foreign tourists and local residents of Song Kul partnered up to clean the area. They picked up a lot of trash (maybe a ton or so) and everyone enjoys the upgraded outhouses. The cans showed up late and will not be delivered until next season. There is still plenty of litter in the area but a sustained effort has to start somewhere and hopefully some follow though will help improve habits, rather than simply reset appearances.

Another project was completed with the help of the American Embassy. Each US embassy and ambassador has a set amount of money to be used for discretionary spending in the community. The embassy budgeted money to bring over a former NBA player to do a day or two of basketball clinics for local kids to promote activity and sports. The volunteer needed a project and the embassy needed someone with local connections to facilitate the clinic. So the embassy spent thousands of dollars flying a rich athlete half-way around the world so that kids that had never heard of him before could learn how to dribble. The embassy also funded the purchase of basketballs. In a country where kids often only get to go to school for half a day because there are not enough teachers or supplies for a full day, spending thousands of dollars on an NBA player and basketballs seems like it’s a lot more about the USA than about people in Kyrgyzstan. The volunteer was also not especially pleased about the basketball gig. Better than nothing, true. But an excellent example of the American government sucking at seeing the world from any perspective besides our own.

For this school year the volunteer is planning to organize and present a tooth brushing clinic at local schools. She also hopes to arrange a funding for a meeting room to be jointly used by CBT for training its local members and for local health professional meetings/seminars. Its odd to hear, but currently there is no such suitable place in the town.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Off to Naryn

There I am, happy as a clam with some tipsy security folk. The dashing young lass on the left and her family came to the bazaar with me.

I have done a lot of work on the bazaaristan blog, so check that out. Also A LOT of photos on http://wandersponders.blogspot.com/ with captions too.




Things have been great so far and there has been lots to do. I am taking off for the less central areas of the city tomorrow.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Bazaaristan

I set up the research oriented blog: bazaaristan.blogspot.com. For now, I think I am going to put those entrees here as well... Until it gets to be a little more robust I don't think it makes sense to seperate the two.

I met with the director of CBT and will be staying in the Naryn region from Monday the 22nd of September until the 31st of October. I will have a short time back in Bishkek from the 4th until the 6th so that I can vote and meet a volunteer for the Alpine Fund at the Airport. Here is the bazaaristan post. With luck, I'll get a few more up in the next couple days. Pictures too, must have pictures.

There is a meat and cheese bazaar near my residence in Bishkek. It’s tough to know what specialization a bazaar has until I have been informed. Standard stalls which sell everyday foodstuffs, drinks and occasionally cell phone minutes as well as kiosks which sell papers, pens, and other everyday generally disposal items are the irreducible constituents prerequisite for any neighborhood bazaar. Mister Uzgunbek, the patriarch at home and Professor of Environmental Engineering, claims that this will all be gone – overrun by supermarkets. When I ask, why he explains simply, “Because that’s capitalism.”

He has a point. Though the pressure has often come from the state, not from sudden submersion in capitalism. Modern state leaders from Ata-Turk to the late Shah of Iran to contemporaries in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan have viewed bazaars as an anachronism. These “uncivilized, unsanitary” representations of the pre-modernity must be overcome if the nation is to achieve dignity and autonomy on the world stage.

In actuality, one would be hard pressed to find a more robust example of capitalism in action anywhere in the world. Bazaar offer conditions of near perfect competition. Sellers of the same products are situated directly beside one another. The buyer and seller can come to a price which is suitable considering the quantity and regularity of purchase. It is, however, difficult to levy taxes reliably on goods which change in value with each transaction.

Business at the meat and cheese bazaar has apparently slowed over the years. On this Saturday about 2/5 of the stalls stood vacant. Still, every neighborhood hosts a mini-bazaar of some kind in Bishkek. And the overall activity does not seem diminished.

We shopped for a while. It always seems to take longer than necessary. This is due largely to the haggling posture taken up by Mister Ozgonbek’s wife, Anara. The family with whom I live is middle class in a land of rich and poor. They own a car, but it’s a Soviet Lada. They seem to have everything that they need but everything in the house serves a purpose. As I said, the father is a professor; the daughters work in tourism. Service jobs in a material economy.

Anara scrutinizes every stall and each potential purchase with an intense interest muffled with a well rehearsed air of total ambivalence. There is a great deal of looking at each item, picking it up, prodding it and then, scowling delicately while asking questions she already knows the answer to: “Is this any good? Is it fresh? It supposed to have this inconsequential potential defect?” Then she attempts to arrive at a price. Sometimes the posturing goes beyond where I comprehend the search for some leverage over the price. After purchasing a large quantity of bottled water, but before I had carried the bottles away, she noticed some small bubbles in most of the bottles. In a slightly accusatory tone she told the shopkeeper that she wanted NO gas. Surprised by the problem, the shopkeeper assured her with audible exasperation that despite the appearance of bubbles, there was no gas (“Look, when you squeeze it, it’s soft. No gas.”) Anara was unconvinced but was willing to risk it if there could be a slight price reduction. No dice. “Look, they are non-gas, if you don’t want them, leave them here and take you’re money.” So we did.

We bought the same number of bottles at a comparable price not long thereafter. And as we walked back to the car Anara said in order to explain, “We need the ones without gas.” The first batch were clearly gasless in my opinion but the haggling at the bazaar is about more than empty posturing. The only explanation for Anara’s cold feet is that she plays her hand close to her chest. None of the other interactions/transactions at the bazaar carried the odd incredulity of this example. Still, the air of skepticism and disinterest was heavy from the start of each approach.

That seems a long way to go for a seemingly pointless story, but it struck me for some reason that I have not put my finger on. I certainly do not see that kind of practiced posturing in a supermarket. What really grabbed my attention was Anara’s steadfast belief in her position in each case. I believe that if I asked her hours later why she did not just save time and buy the first batch of bottles, she would have replied that, as she already said, it was because the bottles had gas.

This reminds me of observing a politician at work. Each stance and word is calibrated by a keen sense of advantage. The entire argument expounded is too broadly sympathetic, too utilitarian to be honest. But the conviction with which the message is delivered remains remarkable. And, when they do their job well, it seems that they believe their own constructions are inherent and true. They articulate the truth. They would never dare to create it.

This somehow gets at something that draws me to the bazaar. It is laden with a very everyday kind of politics, rich in dynamic social interaction. The supermarket is straightforward transaction. The bazaar is veiled intention. People live and believe in these minute interactions, rather than simply going through the motions.