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 10^th 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 5^th 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.

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.

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.

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.