Back in Bishkek, back to the States

July 31, 2013

My initial plan was to return to Bishkek on Saturday, July 27^th. I’d reserved a bed in the Sakura hostel for the 27^th-30^th way back in June… but, this being Kyrgyzstan, a wrench was (of course) thrown into my carefully laid plans. This particular wrench came in the form of M., an American undergrad student who, fresh off a year in Russia and a month in Tajikistan, was spending a week or so in Kyrgyzstan before returning to the US. His local Kyrgyzstan travel arrangements had been made through The London School. His plans were to spend Thursday night at the Beach Camp and then return to Bishkek on Friday night. Logically and logistically, it made far more sense for me to return to Bishkek with him on Friday night than to have The London School arrange separate travel for the both of us. Of course, the problem was that Sakura was packed. I had a bed reserved for Saturday, but there wasn’t space for me for Friday. We were too late in the planning stages to arrange a homestay through The London School (such as the one where M. was staying), so I ended up spending the night at the home of the director of The London School… where Aliman and Murat from Toguz Bulak happened to be staying as well. (The director is, I believe, the aunt of their mother.)

In the morning, after a nice, late breakfast, I made my way to Sakura. When they’d said the place was packed, I’d had no idea just how packed. There were only two dormitories when I first stayed there back in May. In June, they opened a third dorm. All of the beds in all three dorms were full, as were all of the private rooms. And the floor on the third floor. And the rooftop patio. Considering the solitude in which I’d spent the previous two months, it was all a bit much.

I had four full days to spend in Bishkek, although I admit that I did very little. Most of the Bishkek folks whom I know had left the sweltering heat of the city (and it was boiling – in the upper 90s, sometimes topping 100F – every day I was there) for the cool air and waters of Issyk Kul, and the temperatures made wandering about the city a challenge. On the one hand, after having spent the entire summer being cold, this was quite a welcome change in temperatures. On the other hand... it was bloody hot. I didn’t even carry my DSLR with me most of the time, as it was simply too hot to lug around something of that size. Yeah. Of course, as the hostel was not air conditioned, I spent a good amount of time in “expensive” (by Bishkek standards) restaurants with air conditioning: curry at The Host, rabbit at У Мазая, Khachapuri at Mimino, pizza at VEFA, and a calzone at Cyclone. (Cyclone has the best hot chocolate in the world, but as I was so hot by the time I got there, I couldn’t bring myself to order it; I had one of their milkshakes instead.)

Curry at The Host

Khachapuri Adjaruli at Mimino

'Hunted Rabbit' at У Мазая

The remains of my calzone at Cyclone

I didn’t just eat my way through four days in Bishkek; I had errands to run, too. I had to return my borrowed laptop to The London School, complete with the audio recordings of myself which I had made for them, tape-scripts, edited texts, and photos of my volunteering experiences. In turn, I finally received my stipend (haha). I then spent most of said stipend mailing home the large box of gifts from host families and students. I also finalized my souvenir/gift buying, and even braved the heat to wander around the city (albeit with my point-n-shoot). I also managed to get a really great haircut at a place not too far from the hostel. And that was it, really.

As you can see, the weather was gorgeous. But sweltering, absolutely sweltering.

A really lovely haircut, by a very nice woman... who I must admit was horrified by how long I'd gone since last dyeing my hair. Bishkek and the villages are really different worlds.

At 1:30am on July 31^st, three French tourists (who had been among the masses at Sakura) and I left the hostel and headed for the airport. Checking in at Manas is definitely a lot easier without four cats! I did, however, see an elderly gent traveling with two small dogs – good times. I arrived in Istanbul at 7am local time, and got to sit through a six hour layover. There was actually a later flight out of Bishkek, but I would have had less than an hour to catch my flight to the States. I hadn’t wanted to miss my connection, so I settled for six hours of mind-numbing boredom. M, on the other hand, chose the latter flight. He and I were supposed to be on the same flight from Istanbul to New York, but he didn’t make it in time.

And that’s it, the end of my summer in Kyrgyzstan. I leave you to contemplate a video I made showcasing how - despite New Zealand's attempts to convince us otherwise - Kyrgyzstan is indeed Middle Earth. You have to click here to download it; YouTube won't let me post it as they say it's a copyright infringement.

Religion in Kyrgyzstan

July 23, 2013

Kyrgyzstan is a predominantly Muslim country. As a result, one of the first things that people in the US typically ask me about my life in Kyrgyzstan is, “Do you have to wear a headscarf when you’re there?” Um, no. However, after more than a week without washing my hair, I generally do wear a headscarf; no one wants to see my greasy, unwashed head. Traditionally in Kyrgyz villages, a headscarf is indeed worn by the women. However, the Kyrgyz headscarf is not a hijab. It’s more of a bandanna than anything else. As the more conservative Saudi strain of Islam gains more of a foothold in Kyrgyzstan, hijabs have started to crop up here and there – but for the most part, it’s the Kyrgyz bandanna-scarf or nothing. Foreign women are not at all expected to wear a headscarf – unless, of course, they want to.

Women of Toguz Bulak 
Women of Bar-Bulak
Women of Bar-Bulak

One of the few women I saw wearing a hijab

OK. Now that we’ve gotten the scarf issue out of the way, let’s look at the other ways in which religion affects the people of Kyrgyzstan. As I said before, Kyrgyzstan is a majority-Muslim country. Similarly, the US can be considered a majority-Christian country. Now, I’m sure that if you’re an American, you know quite a few folks who self-identify as Christians – and who may even go to Church regularly – but for whom religion has little effect on their lives. Meanwhile, if you’re from (or have spent time in) the American Bible-belt, you’ve probably met the sort of Christian for whom every facet of his/her life revolves around the church, and who will want to talk religion – and conversion, if you’re a non-believer – with you at any possible moment. Like Christianity in the US, Islam in Kyrgyzstan runs the gamut, although in my experience there seem to be far more folks who identify themselves as Muslims, but who don’t think about religion all that much in general, whereas there seem to be only a few on the ultra-serious end of the religion spectrum.

The mosque of Toguz-Bulak The mosque of Bar-Bulak

Bishkek, the capital, tends to be filled with self-identified Muslims who believe in Allah and Muhammad and the Koran, and who celebrate the major Islamic holidays, but who don’t really think about religion all that much. I’ve met many Bishkekers who self-identify as Muslims, but who smoke, drink alcohol, have pre-marital sex, don’t keep halal, wear short skirts, and don’t cover their hair (the last two applying to women, obviously). Outside of Bishkek (especially the more rural the area), women typically don’t smoke, have pre-marital sex, or wear short skirts, although all but the most strict Muslim women don’t drink alcohol. Most rural women do, however, cover their hair with the Kyrgyz-style headscarf. Some rural Kyrgyz men do abstain from vices on religious grounds, but smoking and drinking in particular are very common.

My host family in Toguz Bulak self-identified as Muslim, but they were not an overly religious bunch. Other than at the forty-days memorial service for Rakhat’s father, I never heard them pray other than a quick ‘omin’ at the end of a meal or before a sheep was slaughtered. They never spoke of religion. The call to prayer would come and go and neither they (nor anyone else I witnessed in Toguz Bulak) responded in any way. My host ‘parents’ did not drink alcohol themselves, although many of their relatives did. Additionally, they operated a private store from which they sold vodka to the locals. And you might remember the great pleasure they seemed to derive from getting me plastered. So, religious, but not overly so.

In contrast, my host ‘father’ in Bar Bulak was the local imam. On our drive from Toguz Bulak to Bar Bulak, he brought up religion, assuming that I was a Christian: “So, what are you – Orthodox, Catholic, or Protestant?” Me: “Um… I’m not anything.” Him: “Oh. I guess you just haven’t thought about it yet. You’re young and probably very busy. You’ll think about it more when you’re older.” I thought that was kind of an odd thing for him to say to me, considering that he and I are the same age, but that was it. That was the extent to which the local village imam and I discussed religion.

Now, there were definitely signs that my host family in Bar Bulak were religious (other than Kuban being the local imam): they sent their eight year old son to a month-long Muslim summer camp, Rita and Aidai would don hijabs to pray – not necessarily five times a day, but roughly – although they only wore them for prayer (the rest of the time they wore Kyrgyz headscarves), Kuban and his son wore Islamic skullcaps, they kept halal, they didn’t smoke or drink alcohol, and fasting during Ramadan was very important to them. And… that’s really the extent to which I witnessed the practical effects of Islam on their lives.

(As a side note, Kuban’s call to prayer was always very beautiful and moving. He usually did it through the loudspeaker at the village mosque, although he didn’t always make it there. Sometimes the call to prayer went out from our backyard or from the yurt camp by the lake. I really wanted to record him, but somehow that just seemed too intrusive.)

Interestingly, Kuban’s family is not overly religious. Most of his relatives live in the city of Balykchy, which is half an hour or so away from Bar Bulak. As such, I saw many of his relatives quite a few times during my stay. One of his sisters told me, “You know, Kyrgyzstan isn’t that strongly a Muslim country. It’s funny that you came here and got stuck with a fanatic like Kuban.” She said this quite jovially. And it was funny, because he’s a far cry from what I would consider a religious fanatic. I mean, once during dinner we watched an Islamic sermon on TV. When it was over, we watched the last hour of Miss Congeniality. Anyway, when I lost my voice, another one of Kuban’s sisters told me that I should come and stay with her, as what I needed to cure my sore throat was a shot or two of vodka, and I wasn’t going to get that from her brother.

Meanwhile, while Kyrgyzstan is predominantly Muslim, there are a large number of Christians who live here as well. Despite the dwindling population of ethnic Russians in Kyrgyzstan, there are still quite a few Russian Orthodox believers in the country, especially in Bishkek and Karakol. There are quite a few Christians of other denominations in Bishkek, although few are ethnic Kyrgyz. Ethnic Russians, ethnic Koreans, and ex-pats make up the bulk of the Christian community throughout the country. Additionally, I have met quite a few local people who, like me, are simply non-religious. I’ve even met a small handful of Kyrgyz folks who are anti-religion in general. As far as I am aware, while there have been inter-ethnic tensions and violence within Kyrgyzstan, there has been little to no inter-religious tension or violence. I believe that it is illegal to come to Kyrgyzstan for the purpose of proselytizing, but if you simply come as a member of any faith – or of no faith – you should not expect this to cause you any problems whatsoever.