Post-Election Conclusions

If you're really, really curious, then you should just parouse all the headlines on the eng.24.kg website for July 23-25. For the rest of you, here's the short version:

Voting started at 8 am; apparently at some polling stations people were lined up to vote. As the day continued, reports of "voting irregularities" started coming in from all directions. This was a surprise to the CEC (state election committee) since it declared the vote would be "free, fair and transparent" from the start, and a surprise to foreign journalists like myself in that we assumed the Bakiev regime had enough time to rig this thing in such a way that elections observers - who are only in country for 3-5 days - wouldn't be able to see them doing it.

In order for a Kyrgyz election to be valid, 50% of all registered voters must cast their ballot. Since only 1/3 of the Kyrgyz population is registered (and some people lost their registration status after voting for the opposition in the 2007 parliamentary campaign), this isn't as infeasible as it sounds. However, the official statement that 40% of all voters had cast by noon seemed to be stretching it, with at least one - as possibly many more - instance of polling stations opening their doors with pre-filled ballot boxes. There were lots of Zombie Voters (my term, and proud of it - citizens who've been dead, often for years, who still manage to vote Bakiev), and an as-yet unconfirmed number of double-voters. One wry joke of the day involved a middle-aged man who voted opposition in 2007, and was complaining that this time he wasn't allowed to vote. Another man suggested, "oh, you voted, maybe more than once, you just didn't know it."

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Election Wrap-up

After many hours of waiting and lots of big talk, nothing really happened, which isn't such a bad thing.

As the election day proceeded, there were more unofficial reports of fraud from both sides - one district in the south had its entire vote eliminated when the ballot boxes arrived at the polling station pre-filled (opposition, Ak Jol, and foreign observers all agreed to just dump them).

As the day progressed, there was big talk from Atambaev and Nazarliev about joining forces and making a protest march on the Central Election Committee offices. Technically, they were already planning to have a victory celebration, and just announced that instead it would be a protest rally (as it obviously always had intended to be).

I went to the site, gorky park, and observed about 1 dozen bored police officers (mostly women) just sitting around. As time passed and it grew darker (gorky is not well lit), the making-out couples trailed off, and it became apparent that one small cluster (maybe 30 people) sitting in the dark might not be entirely social. About an hour after the march was supposed to start, someone came up and started speaking to the group. They huddled around him, then, rather casually, dispersed in several directions. Speaking ot one of them on the way out, the "agitation" was apparently cancelled.

My journalist friend at Opposition HQ said they were all pretty disheartened. But to be honest, this opposition hasn't been very impressive.

With gorky a bust, I went to the main city square, Ala-Too, but it was absolutely business as usual. Ever since the president installed new fountains, benches and gardens in teh square in early June, it's been a popular family spot every night, even until pretty late. Tonight, it was no different. Children eating icecream, young people holding hands, and old people chatting on the benches. Extremely chill.

I did hear some disturbing reports of voter fraud - it's not a surprise that the election was rigged - at all - but general concensus was that the president was savvy enough to do it all ahead of time and not in fron tof the international observers he brought in to confirm it.

Apparently not.

The OSCE will publish its official report of any violations it witnessed this afternoon, and I'm curious to see exactly how itwas graded. People here generally think Bakiev would winn a fair election, but that hasn't stopped rampant fraud from his supporters, which tends to inflate a realistic 70+% into the kind or ridiculous figures that were common in the Soviet era.

In one instance I heard of, an entire region shredded their tallys and just created new numbers when it was apparent that Atambaev actually won. If this had been reported, they would have all lost their jobs, so the OSCE observers were asked to leave so that the numbers could be "reconsidered."

Pretty blatant, but not directly Bakiev-induced. Indirectly, yes.

Thanks for paying attention to Kyrgyz Politics. Somebody needs to.

Bishkek Election Update

For those actually interested in following the insanity as it happens, here are some bit-by-bit items:

+ Start with some good background info, courtesty of Radio Azattyk:

http://www.rferl.org/content/Kyrgyzstan_Opposition_Cries_Foul_Ahead_Of_Election/1782221.html

+ More deep background and longer article, only for the really curious:

http://www.eurasianet.org/departments/insightb/articles/eav072209b.shtml

+ President Bakiev publicly declares he will allow no "destabilization" efforts during the elections. I.E., any protest of the results will be seen as a coup attempt, and treated accordingly:

http://eng.24.kg/politic/2009/07/21/8578.html

+ A good look at what happens inside the polling stations, and what the official party line of the incumbents Ak Jol party members is:

http://eng.24.kg/politic/2009/07/23/8594.html

+ According to Kyrgyz law, more than 50% of registered voters must vote for any election to be valid. That seems unreasonable in a country of such vast low-population areas, and general political apathy. But consider that in Bishkek, a city of over 1 million residents, there are only 338,000 registered voters (and a full 221 polling places for them to vote).

Here is the vote figure by Noon:http://eng.24.kg/politic/2009/07/23/8597.html

+ Bakiev has been very forward about allowing Western Election Observers into the country this year, but the Central Election Committee (hereafter CEC) still keeps a tight rein on exactly which Western observers make it through. The Helsinki Committee (a respected OSCE affiliate) just learned today that they have been denied:http://humanrightshouse.org/Articles/5042.html

+ This is Really interesting. The perception of Bakiev as an almost-all-powerful autocrat lead many to speculate that shortly after his re-election, we would see parliament pass an amendment changing the 2-term limit set in the Kyrgyz constitution. But not so, says Bakiev himself, on the day of voting: http://eng.24.kg/politic/2009/07/23/8596.html

+ Then there's this - according to the Bishkek Election Committee (state org), opposition campaigners are demanding to check voter's passports at polling stations. This type of ID-checking is illegal for non-authorized (state) officers to request. So, just to be clear, the first accusation of voter fraud actually goes against the oppositon:http://eng.24.kg/politic/2009/07/23/8598.html

So far today, I've visited a few polling places, and everything seems to be genial. Citizens come and go on lunch breaks, and it's all very casual. There is no intimidation at the polls, nor even a very strong police presence (contrary to the predictions of veteran democray agents here). But I'm only seeing downtown Bishkek, which is guaranteed to be the whitest of the white gloves in this process.

I'm heading back out now - don't expect too many more updates. This isn't Iran, I'm not much of a journalist, and I don't even know what you call Twitter-bytes (there is some controversy).

But I'll do what I can to share with you the (potentially) interesting developments of this generally uneventful day in Kyrgyz politics.

Bishkek Election Primer

Today is the big day. Kyrgzy Presidential Elections.

For those of you who haven't been soaking this up for 2 months, here's the rundown:

Kurmanbek BAKIEV - the incumbent, he was elected President in 2005 following the "Tulip Revolution" that saw peaceful mass protests force the former president (and soviet-era leader), Aksar AKIEV, into exile in Russia. Since taking over the presidency, Bakiev has committed all the sins for which Akiev was ousted - gross nepotism, private ownership of state industries, centralization of power, and increasing repression of opposition and media figures. His campaign posted, billboards, and TV ads have slogans like, "Bakiev: Real Presient," or "Bakiev, of course."

To be honest, most Kyrgyz I've spoken to think Bakiev is good enough, or to quote one, "he's the only candidate with presidential experience." Touche?

Almazbek ATAMBAEV - the lead opposition figure, Atambaev is a knotty puzzle. He was formerly a Prime Minister for Bakiev, but resigned in protest following the heavily-rigged 2007 parliamentary elections (in which his Social Democrat party got slaughtered by the president's Ak Jol party). He's not technically a candidate from any official party. He registered as an independent, and then a collaboration of minor parties came together and named him the candidate for their "United Peoples Movement." In the last few days, he's become Very aggressive, speaking publicly about where his "victory celebration" will be held after the voting closes - it is generally acknowledged that he has a snowball's chance in hell, making this all the more puzzling. Some think he's trying to setup a protest/coup. I've never seen more than 300 people at an Atambaev rally, so I just don't see that happening.

Jengishbek NAZARALIEV - despite looking unfortunately like a chubby Mussolini in his prolific campaign posters, Nazaraliev is actually a wealthy and well-respected doctor and beneficiary. He's built a hospital, and campaigns loudly on the premise of "100,000 questions" he has for Bakiev about his poor governance, and "8 ideas" Nazaraliev has to improve the country. He would technically be considered the 3rd most-likely candidate, making him, to keep the above analogy, an icicle in Satan's crotch.

Tamir SARIEV - He entered the race along with everyone else, passed the televised Kyrgyz language test that knocks out 2/3 of all candidates, and has generally been pretty quiet. He's a successful Kyrgyz businessman by virtue of owning the Tien-Shan Legend bottled-water company. It has been widely rumored that he's running as a way to make money. Basically, the tacit agreement is that if you don't make too much of a fuss in your campaign, and don't be too hard on the president, then nobody really looks too hard at where your campaign funding goes after the election. This is generally accepted as true for all candidates, not just Sariev. I mention it because he has been especially quiet, and very business-savvy. He did found his own political party (Ak Shumpkar) to validate his candidacy.

Toktaym UMETALIEVA - she is the chairwoman for a major NGO consortium in Bishkek, and the only woman in the race. If elected she would be the first female president of Kyrgyzstan. But that's not actually such a huge thing. While having a woman president might shake up Kyrgyz society just a touch, in all the Post-Soviet countries women are active in the workplace, involved in politics, and successful in business, simultaneous with some stereotypes, sexism, and illebral social structures. If she got elected, it just wouldn't be as earth-shattering as Obama in America, but it would be unusual. Of course, that won't happen. Her platform is basically that she wants to show that a woman can run for president (not actually be one).

Nurlan MOTUYEV - I haven't heard anything from this guy but quick one-liners about how Bakiev isn't so bad. He declined a radio debate with the president (no offered to any other candidates) because he had no policies that he disagreed with the president about. He has no posters, and as far as I can tell no campaign, though he did comment (to Radio Azattyk staff) that he thought "Bakiev is being very patient. If I were him, I would arrest any journalist who writes such things about me." When a candidate thinks the incumbent is the ideal president, I'm not sure how much of a 'candidate' he remains.

So the gist is, this is a one-horse race (Bakiev), with a loud pony (Atambaev) wandering around the track, and a few geldings watching from edges, happy to be out of the barn for a bit and enjoy the fresh hay.

It should be said that the "democratic" coup that toppled Akaev in 2005 wasn't anticipated either, but I must say that any chance for dramatic change today is exceptionally low. Still, the thunder Atambaev is putting out suggests there might be lightning somewhere, but I just don't see it. There is a sizeable opposition attitude in Kyrgyzstan, but it has nothing to do with any of these Bishkek-based politico-elites. The south of this country (Osh region) is becoming more and more swayed by Islamic hard-liners, who are taking notes from Taliban refugees. Islam in general holds more sway down south - and that's not a bad thing. Most of the mullahs and imams are very moderate, and generally encourage people to avoid politics all-together (that's not such a good thing). But Taliban and Taliban-influenced Kyrgyz and becoming more vocal. That none of the presidential candidates represents these religious opposition movements only demonstrates their lack of actual grassroots support, and the difficult situation of a "democratic" system which excludes the opinion of a considerable percentage of its citizenry. Imagine if the US electorate had to choose between Republicans and Libertarians. Or Democrats and Green Party. My point is, when a huge chunk of people don't feel like they have any political recourse or representation, eventually, cutting them out of government could cause some trouble.

But not on an election day that they don't even care about.

That's the primer. Polls opened at 8:00 am this morning, and close at 8 pm. If anything's going to happen, it will be tonight. Tomorrow the OSCE gives its report about the degree of election freedom/fraud. It should be interesting to see how much they're able to uncover.

For a more professional look, and some good perspective, check out this article posted today in the New York Times based on a recent visit by several NTY journalists to Bishkek - they actually got an interview with Bakiev, which is pretty remarkable, even if he didn't say anything interesting.

23 Hours in Osh

The second city of Kyrgyzstan is Osh – not to be confused with the common Tajik word for plov – which is located in the South of the country among the lush and densely-populated Fergana Valley.

The Fergana region, which includes important fragments of the modern Tajik, Uzbek and Kyrgyz republics, is the true heart of Central Asia – the seat of all its historically important politics, the location of its most famous surviving architecture, and the source from which emanated some of the greatest intellectual developments of the 11th to 13th centuries, including the birth of modern medicine and the translation of then-obscure Greek philosophy, to say nothing of the rich contributions to Islamic exegesis, poetry, etc.

Osh itself can lay claim to an ancient heritage, being a major stop along one of the several “Silk Road” caravan routes from China to Iran, and later Syria, but in relation to the capitals of Samarkand, Bukhara, Khiva, or even Kokand, it was a second-tier urban center, if not at times even a marginal one.

Still, in comparison with the modern capitals of Bishkek,Tashkent, Astana and Ashgabat – none of which existed even 200 years ago – it’s mere existence for almost a millennium lends considerable cultural credibility (or gravitas).

But Ferghana is a melting pot, and always has been. That made life especially tricky for Soviet “ethnologists” when they tried to divide up the former Russian Imperial governate of Turkestan into smaller ethno-republics. Their solution – laudable in theory more than in practice – was to conduct a census, assemble a tremendous amount of quantitative data, and then create – from scratch – political borders based on the “revealed” majority ethnic groups. In some parts of Turkestan, this made sense. Big clusters of almost exclusively self-identified “Kyrgyz” lived in the eastern Tien Shan bordering China. Load of people who spoke a variety of Uzbek dialects lived along the Syr Daria river.

But Ferghana was a melting pot. Non-Iranian ethnic Persians (now “Tajiks”) often spoke Uzbek. All Kazakhs were known – to Russians – as “Kirgiz” until the 1920s. And what of intermarriage? Or how about the dozens of other smaller ethnic groups in the region, like the indigenous Kara-Kalpacks, the immigrant Cossacks and Tatars, or the displaced Uighurs?

The Soviet solution was threefold:

1) To simplify data collection, individuals could only choose 1 “ethnicity,” and this must be chosen from the list of “approved” ethnicities compiled by Soviet ethnographers.

2) Borders would be drawn with great attention paid to the majority ethnicity, even when this required neighborhood-by-neighborhood divisions, or “enclaves” – islands of one ethnicity within a different ethno-republic, but governed by their “mother” country.

3) Whatever the flaws, once the ethnicities and borders were established, they were law. Some details could be appealed, but the system, and the right of the Soviets to define the people and the land, was irrefutable.

There were some obvious blunders. Samarkand and Bukhara were bastions of Tajik language, culture, “ethnicity,” etc., not only historically, but contemporary with the census. But giving these major urban centers to the Uzbek republic was much easier, and had the double-advantage of nullifying the strong Tajik families that had traditionally controlled them. In return, the now-miniscule Tajik republic was given a bizarre arm of territory stretching north, then crookedly arching East into the fertile Ferghana – of course, it was entirely populated by Uzbeks at the time.

So the region has never been clearly demarcated – borders remain in dispute, and political boundaries in no way correspond to borders of ethnic inhabitation. As a result, in the post-soviet era, there are many ethnically Uzbek citizens of Kyrgyzstan, Russian “Kazakhstanis” (to differentiate them from ethnic “Kazakhs”), etc.

Osh today is a city of 60% ethnic Uzbek population, and a strong number of ethnic Tajiks as well, to say nothing of the other state-less minorities. In theory, the result of this is that Osh feel more “Central Asian” than Bishkek or Dushanbe – or so the common sentiment is among my American acquaintances. Having spent a whole 23 hours in Osh, I’m still not sure how much I buy that. Dushanbe certainly had a lot of Persian/Iranian connections, but I don’t think it was “Little Tehran.”Likewise, Bishkek is closely linked with Almaty, itself a strong tie to European Russia, but must still feel tremendously different, if not foreign, to the average Muscovite. I think it’s all just as “Central Asian,” but this term – as a general way to describe the similarities of the region – is of decreasing value as the 5 republics differentiate themselves further with each passing year.

So – other than ponder Soviet Nationality Policy, what did I do in the few hours I spent in the ancient city of Osh?

After another hop over the mountains on a trusty old AVN-20(?) twin-prop, this on sporting a sleek 50s kitchen décor to compliment its two non-functional Samsung flatscreens, I arrived in Osh at 1600 hours with my new travel buddy, David, a journalist formerly with the NY Times and now a semi-freelance specialist on the FSU (former Soviet Union), based out of Kiev.

David had a car and a guest house arranged, and I was not about to argue. We later went out for the largest skewers of Shashlyk I’ve yet seen, and foolishly ordered two each. Along with a crazy room-temperature crab/corn/cucumber/mayo “salad” and a few slices of very fresh watermelon (Ferghana is known for it’s melons), I was more than stuffed. We made it back to the guesthouse by 2230, and I elected to call it a night. The main event was still ahead tomorrow.

After waking up at 8, showering, and being treated to an enormous breakfast (sweet rice porridge with cheese-covered French toast) David and I parted ways. He actually had work to do. I got to be a tourist.

Lonely Planet has been a good friend to me in my travels, but the Central Asia book was last updated in 2007, and suffers some annoyingly outdated info, as well as poor, or at least confusing, editorial choices. For example, the Lenin statue does show up on the LP map of the city, but it doesn’t make the list of “Sights and Attractions” as would usually be the case for a public work of historical interest. Albeit, every major city had a Lenin Statue, they are all more or less the same, and the further the USSR fades into history, the less interesting they (presumably) are. Certainly, LP didn’t offer any encouragement for tourists to bother with the Osh-Lenin.

As it happens, I was in the area anyway coming from the South of town.Plus, I’m always curious about when the Lenins show up – usually after being removed from their former places of glory. Not so in Osh.

First, it’s the biggest Lenin statue I’ve ever seen. Anywhere. Ever.

I know the Eastern Europeans have been more proactive in destroying – rather than relocating – lots of their Lenins, but I made a point last summer of checking out the post-Sov museums, statuary parks, etc. And it’s fair to point out that I haven’t yet actually been to Russia, which may or may not reverse my claim. But for now, I’ll affirm that the Osh Lenin dwarfs the best I could find inTallinn, Warsaw, or Budapest. And it hasn’t moved an inch. There is stands, its back still to the river that bisects downtown Osh, and his eyes locked on the huge Osh regional administration building – the capital of Osh oblast (state) as well as city – his arm outstretched in a gesture of either forward progress (“Onward Comrades!”), or oblique ownership (“All of this is Mine!”).

It was pretty spell-binding, even though the once-thriving kiddie-park around his base is now closed and fading. I should point out that virtually even Stalin statue has been gone for decades (his birthplace Georgia is one conflicted exception), but Lenin has managed to hang on, usually as a lesser-saint in the new Nationality pantheons; still an important figure as the Central Asian states rebuild their history and identity.

My next stop was the main event – Suleyman-Too (“Solomon’s Throne”) – the large mountain the rises steeply from the heart of Osh and is rumored to have been a sacred mountain described in the Qur’an (and I think also in the Talmud/Bible).Regardless of historical fact, it has been a site of pilgrimage for centuries, and was just this summer dedicated as an World Historical site by UNESCO.

Geographically, the “throne” is an oblong rise with 4 separate, irregular peaks running down its length from East to West – something like a battleship profile. Scattered around the base of the throne are a variety of attractions with a variety of attractiveness. The small, non-descript mausoleum and neighboring mosque are on the lower end of the scale, while the Dom Babura shrine at the peak and the various museums are of considerably more note.

I started at the “Historical Museum.” For a 50 som ($1.10) entrance fee, I was treated to displays (in Russian) about the geology, climate, and agriculture of the Osh region (oblast). Past the natural history wing, I roamed through a hall which began with prehistoric tools and “Neandertal” sketches, and wound its way over millennia up to the present. Some of the more impressive displays were the working Kyrgyz textile loom, or the selection of Kyrgyz handicrafts such as clothing, hats, and the famous felt rugs that adorned the inside of every Yurt, and are now adapted as pot holders, car seat covers, etc. It was pretty strong on semi-modern (18^th-19^th century) artifacts as well, including several well-preserved Qur’ans, a bizarre array of weapons suspended as if in a spider web, and all the pottery shards required to make any museum of antiquity feel self-important. The Russian/Soviet section was not as impressive as the very similar “National Museum” in Dushanbe, but it did have some unique trinkets. A model of a Kyrgyz-made battle tank, a soviet-era record player, and a traditional Kyrgyz ornamental wood carving featuring Lenin and the Heroes of the Revolution, rather than the usual Manas heroes. It even had some recent trinkets, like photos of all the Kyrgyz MPs from theOsh region, or a great display on the first Kyrgyz in space (from 1997).Best of all, it even has one or two sentences in English for every exhibit, ranking it a solid A- among Central Asian museums.

In front of the “Historical Museum” is the 3-storied Yurt (at left). I took a peek inside, and not surprisingly it was a large open area, covered in carpets, and featuring more handicraft displays. I decided to pass on the tour of the interior, leaving me no excuse to further put off the hike to the summit.

For those of you diligent enough to read every post (and god bless the both of you for your patience), you may remark on the proximity of this endeavor to my recent “glacier hike.”I returned from Ala-Archa on Saturday night – bruised and exhausted.Sunday I did very little. Monday I flew to Osh. Tuesday I went to Suleyman-Too. To whatever degree my legs will eventually recover, it had not made much progress by this point.

Luckily, the Suleyman-Too summit is a well-traveled path, and as such is made considerably easier by a long series of cement stairs. This makes the step-by-step process of ascent less stressful, but nothing can nullify the altitude. The lack of any flora above knee-height does not reduce the experience of being an unfortunate blob of brownie-in-the-baking.

At the top is a nice summit with a huge Kyrgyz flat, decent views of the Osh cityscape (not the most interesting in the world), and a small temple originally built in the 14th century, and since destroyed and rebuilt at least twice - most recently in 1980. It's called Dom Babura ("Babur's House") after its original constructor - Babur, a local king who dedicated it upon his ascension to the throne at age 14. Now, it is a place for making prayers, and for some discrete graffiti on its tin roof. In addition to this little temple, many religious Uzbeks and Kyrgyz tie pieces of cloth to the bushes all over the mountain - one for each prayer.

At the top of Suleyman-Too, I saw perhaps the most remarkable/unusual sight last - a kyrgyz photographer wearing an Oklahoma City Thunder jersey. For those of you not familiar with the name (even I took some memory jogging), this is the "new" NBA team relocated to OKC just last year and formerly the Seattle SuperSonics. After the New Orleans Hornets left their short stay in OKC, the city, which has survived for decades with minor-league champs like the Blazers and the 89er/Red Hawks, was apparently thirsting for more professional basketball.

I didn't know anyone had actually bought Thunder jerseys yet in OKC - let along Osh. Is there some bizarre exchange program I don't know about?

On the back side of Suleyman-Too is the "Historical-Cultural Museum," which deserves a much better shake than Lonely Planet gives it. Sure, it's a soviet-era museum that was created by literally dynamiting the heck out of the holy mountain to carve a giant cave and then affix a giant metal scar over it. In the end, it actually looks pretty cool, but manages to be about as sacrilidgous as possible. Inside, where it's wonderfully cool by the way, are displays of the major "cults" historically active in the region. This includes displays like models of Zoroastrian burial chambers, Fire Worshiper temples, Shamanism totems and clothing... and the Qur'an. In typical Soviet subtlety, the "superstition" of Islam is shown to be just another of the invented beliefs of the pre-soviet primitive population. That the museum continues to operate with this basic assumption in the heart of the Fergana valley is testament to how lasting an effect "scientific" categorization can have.

Running along the south base of the throne is an old Muslim cemetary (there is a strong preference for mountains and other elevated place for these - I'm not sure why), and even more exciting - construction of a new Mosque! As I've said perhaps too much, there aren't a lot of mosques in Kyrgyzstan relative to its population, and while Osh certainly has Many more than Bishkek, they do tend to be small and unimpressive. The new mosque (I couldn't find a name) is about 80% completed, with its magnificent double-dome in place, and one of its 4 minarets already completed. It's an ambitious project, but it says a lot about the growth (or resurgence, if you prefer) of more traditional (though not necessarily fundamental) Islamic practices in the area. It's also the first time I've ever seen a mosque mid-construction.

For lunch I passed a place advertising itself as the "California Café." The selling point was its combination of the Californian state flag (bear, star, etc) and the Kyrgyz national flag. No idea what the back-story is here, but the prices were good, the salads were all named after hollywood celebrities (I had the "Angelina Jolie" - chicken, tomatoes, vinegar, corn and lettuce), and they even had "vegetarian fajitas" on the menu. I was skeptical, but also curious. In retrospect, it was more like they made a mexican veggie stew, and just rolled it up in what were honestly not-bad tortillas. The salsa was more like spicy Ragu, and the sour cream was rather sweet, but as far as Osh goes, it was a hit.

I had two stops left before I had to catch my flight back to Bishkek. First, just out of curiousity, I visited a site my map called "Yak-40." This was much more literal than I anticipated. I thought it might be a statue, or some dedication to the aircraft that made up such a large % of soviet commercial air traffic. Instead, it was just a decomissioned Yak-40 sitting in the middle of a park. Not raised in the air, not in some sort of "action" pose. Just parked on the grass, as if awaiting it's clearance to taxi. The absence of engines, and our 8 km distance from the actual airport were the only things disproving that assumption. The tail-number still bore the CCCP designation (which, by the way, is pronounced "S-S-S-R", not "Cee-Cee-Cee-Pee" - - silly Cyrillic), and the Aeroflot logo still has the hammer and sickle at its center.

Next and last on the check-list was the Bazaar, which stretches across both sides of the river for about 1 km. Most of this is the usual bazaar fare - don't fool yourself into exotic visions of spices, silk, handicrafts, and goats - it's mostly adidas, DVDs, cheap jewelry, simple pattern dresses, and leather belts. At the south there are some "souvenir" shops that sell the more traditional Kyrgyz and Uzbek hats, carpets, slippers, etc. At the far north is the "business" end, where they make hardware supplies and sell more useful homemade workboots, etc. In the middle is consumism fluff, and a decent food market selling fresh fruits, vegetables, and melons as well as recently-slaughtered meats and mass-produced toiletries, candies, etc.

Having gotten my fill of "color" as the ex-pats unfortunately refer to any activity outside the US embassy or the established ex-pat bars, I snagged a taxi and was, for all intents and purposes, done with Osh.

And it was just about right. It was hot, and I hadn't been drinking enough water. I could have stayed longer in Osh, but there weren't any more "highlights" to check out, and after 2 months in Bishkek, my craving for more cultural experiences like greasy bazaar food or getting lost in back alleys is at an ebb. for now.

I would have liked to check out one of the operating mosques in Osh, and made some attempts to find one, but all in vain. Maybe next time.

Another AVN-20 flight, and I was back in Bishkek, headed immediately for the Radio Azattyk offices to finish some work before my mentor, Gulaiym, took off for Moscow.

Only a few days left, and I still need to get to Issyk Kul and give Bishkek the formal tourist treatment. It almost makes 23 hours in Osh look like a reasonable schedule.

Almost.

Manas Ordo

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my travels to Talas over the weekend brought me to exactly one tourist location: Manas Ordo.

It's an odd place for a variety of real, imagined, historical, and strictly political reasons. Something like a fusion of the Acropolis, Mount Vernon, and, I guess... Turin?

First the backstory, then onto my actual visit:

Manas is the epic hero of Kyrgyzstan, and serves as a unique cultural identifier (the two things separating Kazakhs and Kyrgyz, as far as I can tell, is flat vs. mountainous terrain, and a strictly-Kyrgyz attachment to the Manas epic), and also a unifier (prior to Manas, the "Kyrgyz" recognize themselves as many disparate and warring tribes, much like the Caucasus of the 19th century; after Manas, they have all called themselves "Kyrgyz"... the historiography here is shaky. I'm not suggesting this is actually what happened, but it is the official version that I've heard many Kyrgyz support).

But Manas is not a "Folk Hero" or a "Myth" - he is an Epic hero in the literal since - he is the protagonist of a long prose narrative. More than that, he is perhaps the most epic hero on the planet in that the epic of Manas is enormous, even by epic standards. The total of 500,000 lines is hard to comprehend, but for perspective, consider that it is 20 times longer than the Odyssey & Iliad combined. It beats the heck out of Gilgamesh, and is even longer than the Mahabarata, making Manas the longest (known) epic in the world. Ever.

And it's still a "living" epic - very much unlike the other examples. It is still recited (either in episodes or in week-long full-renditions) by Manaschi, professional epic reciters, who chant the poem in a lyrical style, but without musical accompaniment. There are many professional "lesser" Manaschi, who know only a few episodes, but only a few "Great" Manaschi, who know the entire epic, and are celebrated as national heroes, and occasionally even international celebrities.

The Manas epic has been transmitted orally since its composition (which some place as early as the 7th century, and others as late at the 15th - whichever is true, it also makes it a very Young epic), before finally being written down as last as 1885 (in truth, there was not much of a formal written Kyrgyz language prior to the mid-19th century).

Let me admit here that I have not (yet) read the Manas epic. It has been translated into English and is available in at least 2 versions. Perhaps I'll tackle that by the time I'm 30...

The story (from what I understand) is pretty standard epic-fare. A hero unites his people, defeats various local antagonists, and ultimately dies (heroically) and bequeths the challenge of continuing his efforts to his heirs (the succesive generatiosn after Manas actually make up 2/3 of the epic).

And here is where Manas Ordo (and I) come into play.

Manas Ordo is loosely translated as the "Throne of Manas," which seems to indicate both a seat of governance, but also an elevated place of observation. The title refers specifically to a small hill jutting up in the middle of a flat valley surrounded by receding chains of mountains. From this position, one can see a great distances down the valley, and also survey clearly (there are partically no indigenous trees in Kyrgyzstan) all the mountain slopes surrounding it. Speaking militarily, it's not the most defensible position - but Kyrgyz military tactics were never based on sedentary fortifications. These are horse people - to fight they needed open terrain, good intelligence of the opposition's movement, and an ability to watch their flank - all of which Manas Ordo provides.

From this strictly military classification, Manas Ordo took on greater symbolic value as the burial place of Manas after his fall. The bottom of the hill served as a cemetery for some time, but even this story is complicated. Like the misleading joke about Grant, no one is burried in Manas' tomb - actually, it's completely empty. Accordig to the inscription on the monument (destroyed centuries about but reconstructed in the late 1800's), it is the burial sight for the daughter of a local Khan - perhaps this is so, or perhaps as legend goes, the inscription itself is a ruse to throw off the enemies of Manas (mostly Chinese, who did actually defeat him) and not let them desecrate his remains.

From the late 1800s through the Soviet era, Manas Ordo was a hill, an old cemetery, and that was about it. It's located some 30 km outside the small town of Talas, in the far NorthEast of the country, making it technically more accessible than much of the otherwise mountainous terrain, but also making it very remote to most Kyrgyz.

Nonetheless, it did develop a small cult following, and the mountain was seen as a holy site, with occasional pilgrims coming for good health, fertility, etc. despite the attempts to mute such supernatural attachments by Soviet authorities.

In 1991, the Kyrgyz Republic became a soveirgn state with virtually no warning, and absolutely no political, economic, or social preparation for what that would entail. The full story of how the various Soviet Republics became actual state governments is a fascinating one, but one that will have to wait. For now, it's important to note that, in lieu of any other reason for considering itself a "nation" (in the ethno-cultural sense), Kyrgyzstan turned the "heritage" knob up to 11.

In 1995, Manas Ordo (state park/monument/cultural site) was built and commemorated on the (rather conveniently discovered) "1000th anniversary of Manas."

This new site included an enormous statue of Manas on a tremendous elevated pillar surrounded in a landscaped circle by more-than-life-sized bronze statues of his 40 loyal generals/warriors/advisors. The circle, which is at the bottom on Manas Ordo proper, leads into a path that takes visitors to various sites of "traditional" Kyrgyz culture including cooking, textile-making, etc. The path continues to the site of the "Manas Grave" itself (pictured at right), in all its reconstructed glory. Besides the mausoleam sits an enormous bolder - supposedly one of the ones that Manas himself lifted with his bare hands.

A path snakes up from the mausoleam to the top of the "Ordo" hill itself (below left), where one can catch your breath and enjoy the same sweeping view of the valley that for so long guaranteed the victories of Manas.

The journey is complete only at the foot of the hill, where a small but elaborate (dare I say, even Elegant) museum chronicles the life of Manas in miniature scenes accompanied by archaeological evidence of proto-Kyrgyz settlements and artifacts such as 18th-19th century swords, ornate horse saddles, and Chinese rifles. The entire museum interior is wrapped in stylistically-consistent murals depicting particular Manas episodes, and the heroes of the various pre-Kyrgyz tribes. Actually, it has Many similarities to the Museum of National History in Bishkek, which gives the same soft-glow treatment to the broader Soviet history - including wall-to-wall murals and larger-than-life bronze statues.

Interestingly, the similarities don't stop there. Being at Manas Ordo park is like being in any park in Bishkek. The landscaping is the same, the irrigation ditches are the same - even the tiles that line the sidewalks are the same. I was struck by this, and asked my accomplice Eleanora if these were used all over Kyrgyzstan?

"No - only Bishkek and Manas Ordo."

Puzzled, I asked why this was. "[They are the] only 2 big government projects"

And that's Very much what Manas Ordo is - a Big Government Project. Building on the epic that is one of the few uniquely Kyrgyz identifiers, the Kyrgyz gov built a shrine to its own imagined history, encouraged pilgrimages and elevated the religious aspect of the location, and reinforced Manas Ordo as a symbol of Kyrgyz nationalism, patriotism, and the positive future ahead.

14 years later, Kyrgyzstan has not fulfilled the many promises of its early independence fervor. There have been moments and areas of tremendous progress, and others of disappointments and even reversals of objectives. Whether Kyrgyzstan paints itself as the "Island of Democracy," the "Switzerland of Central Asia," or the "Home of Santa Claus," all of these glib descriptors ring hollow in the face of actual state policies and the failures of political, social, and economic development.

It's hard to fault a people who endured 60 years of repressive Russian chauvenism for wanting to reclaim some national pride - regardless of how well- or ill-founded such pride may be - but equally it's troubling to marvel at the manicured Manas Ordo surrounded by rural poverty, which seems to be the only "sustainable" situation in the Kyrgyz state (it's economic and political policies are self-acknowledginly non-perpetuating).

So what is the power of myth/epic? What is the cost:value ratio of national imagination? How much effort will a government with nothing to lose go to build a foundation of glittery sand?

But let's not keep the lens on poor little Kyrgyz. The experience of being at Manas Ordo would be well considered in comparison with a trip to the Alamo. Both are historical to some extent, though much more famous for the legends and half-truths that surround them. They both have a bearing on patriotism that is entirely artificial - When an American shouts "Remember the Alamo," they're really advocating for Texas separatism from Mexican political control, not some Western amalgam of "Live Free or Die." And they do build a certain currency, even cultish orthodoxy, around unknown, or even disproven "facts." No one knows how Davey Crockett died (one eye-witness account says he surrendered, then was shot; most movies/paintings depict him leading a final charge against the entire Mexican army). Likewise Manas may or may not existed, but the myth has overtaken even the Epic, which is a great case-in-point for anyone who studies myth and epic, or for most of the rest of us, who assume the two terms to be interchangable.

I enjoyed my time at Manas Ordo; it was interesting. But I would reiterate that what Manas Ordo gives one an insight into is NOT kyrgyz culture, heritage, tradition, or society. It doesn't even really give much of an insight into the Kyrgyz literary/epic tradition. More than anything, it is a demonstration of political power applied to its own self-substantiation. The fact that it is so thinly veiled, and thus easily perceived, from the heights of Manas Ordo, is an irony I'd like to pretend the Manas of my imagination would savor.

States and Stats

A quick update to a few of my earlier posts. Following the very small "protest" in Ala-Too on June 30, today the opposition finally began its Bishkek campaign. Nothing overwhelming, but with just 20 days until the "election," the first signs of the main opposition candidate, Atambaev, showed up in the form of posters around town.

As with the earlier Nazaraliev (minor party) posters, these are exclusively confined to light posts, electic boxes, and public walls - in short, (free) public spaces. This contrasts with the incumbent Bakiev campaign, which involves more than a dozen major billboards around town and posters (just a red background with the name "Bakiev" in white) placed in home and shop windows. It pays dividends to show one's personal support of Bakiev, just as it is less risky to put Atambaev posters on things no one owns.

A few other tidbits made public by the (often pro-government) new agency 24.kg:

Kurmanbek Bakiev (incumbent, Ak Jol party)

Current spending: $341,000 [how he got so many billboard & TV ads for this price is a mystery]

Total budget: $826,476,744

Almaz Atambaev (opposition)

Current spending: $104,384,534 [he must have spent this outside of Bishkek]

Total budget: $104,702, 325

Toktaym Umetalieva (only woman in the race, just for contrast)

Current spending: $5,100

Total budget: $14,465

The Freedom House ranking of Democractic "progress" is also an interesting, if rather blunt, analysis. It notes that in 2008, Kyrgystan received a score of 5 for Political Rights and a 4 for Civil Liberties, both on a scale of 1 (Free) to 7 (Not Free).

Other 5-4 countries include Uganda, Thailand, Nigeria, and Lebanon.

The full report is here. The opening graphs (pie chart of Free/Partially Free/Not Free countries in the world) are hilarious.

According to these rankings, Kyrgyzstan is a "Partially Free State," though more recently (June 30), Freedom House for the first time classified the Kyrgyz Republic as an "authoritarian state," which is a far cry from the more common "island of democacy," or "most democratic in Central Asia" tag that often gets affixed to Kyrgyzstan by Western countries looking to do business with it.

the June 30 report was a mid-year assessment published by Freedom House including a fascinating breakdown of different elements (still on the 1-7 scale). The combined figure gives Kyrgyz a 6.04 ranking (anything over 6 qualifies as an "authoritarian state"). This is actually the first year Kyrgyz fits this definition (mostly in the 5.90s previously), thanks in large part to a slight up-tick in suppression of the media in 2009.

It's a short read (with a great table of data), so if you're actually interested, check this out:http://www.freedomhouse.eu/images/nit2009/kyrgyzstan.pdf

The important thing to note is that the numbers don't change AT ALL before/after the supposed "Tulip Revolution" of 2005. The President changed, but the government structure, degree of political rights, and civil liberties didn't waver one iota.

and for comparison, here is the neighborhood:

Uzbekistan (27 million people): 6.89

Turkmenistan (5 million people): 6.93

Takikistan (6.7 million people): 6.14

Kazakhstan (15.5 million people): 6.32

Russia (142 million people): 6.11 (first time Russia's over 6 since 1999)

So to reiterate: Kyrgyzstan is a country of somewhat open civil liberties, but very closed political operations. You can more-or-less do or say what you want, so long as you do not endanger the political status quo.

Still, I have a lot of problems with the basic assumptions of these reports, especially the insistance that countries must always be moving along the linear axis of "more" or "less" democratic - that's just not the case. Most countries (including the US) are varying degrees of semi-democratic, and they fluctuates in a very 3-dimensional space, often changing, but not often affecting their relationship to such a limited "free" vs "not free" criteria.

Most US citizens didn't want to go to war in Iraq (or to be less contentious, polls regularly show that most US citizens have wanted public healthcare for more than a decade). But the government "of the people" hasn't reflected this demonstrated public will. According to Freedom House, that's Democracy.

Conversely, the majority of Kyrgyz probably do want Bakiev to be president, even though the system doesn't really allow them to choose, and so this reflection of public will is called "Authoritarian - Not Free."

The reality is murky, and the loaded terminology of Freedom House and other "Democracy Promotion" agencies, chief among them the NDI, only exacerbate the misleading assumptions.

Tomski jana Geeyarrii

I owe you all a more thorough explanation of Kyrgyz TV - at my flat I only get local analogue broadcast, not satelite or even local Cable channels. These 15 channels are about 50% all-Russian, with the other half part-Russian.

Surprisingly, Russian MTV is one of the Broadcast channels, offering the latest music videos by Kanye West and Russian metal bands, as well as Russian-dubbed Scrubs, South Park, Sex with Tequila, etc.

The selection includes Russian Soap Operas (which are just as dramatic as their Western counterparts), a couple pretty good comedies (the Russian MTV show about a German family and the daughter's live-in Turkish boyfriend is shockingly interesting), BECTI (Russian CNN), and local channels which peddle in local news, Kyrgyz feel-good scenery montages, and international (mostly American) cinema.

I've been compiling a full list of the movies I've seen (in Russian) since my arrival a month ago. I don't have the full list with me today, but rest assured I'll post it soon. The current best representation of the extremes it covers are Thelma & Louise and the Dark Knight. Runners up are Babylon AD (may you rot in hell Vin Diesel) and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (I heart Jim Carrey).

They also air some classic American cartoons, like Tom & Jerry (the episode featured at right is "Texas Tom," with the hero in spurs & 10 gallon hat rolling an enormous cigarette to impress a barbi-figured feline), Bugs Bunny, and Roadrunner. This is especially interesting because for me, and I believe several generations before me, these characters ARE major cultural icons, whereas sometime in the past 20 years that ceased being the case. In America I can no longer talk to kids about their favorite cartoon characters, yet here, in Central Asia, 10 year olds still know who Tom & Jerry are.

It's also fascinating because here they don't retroactively apply the same PC filter that determines which classic 'toons I could watch as a kid. Jerry in Black face. Early Mickey Mouse. Some of the racier Speedy Gonzales shorts. All the racism and latent superiority that was an inherent part of American culture at the time of these cartoons' creation, and which we've subsequently tried to mask or bury, if not necessarily erase, is on full display on Kyrgyz broadcast TV.

This means I not only get to see familiar (cartoon) faces, I get to see some of the episodes that will never be on American TV.

Not getting too sentimental, but am I wrong that these classics are just that - American Classics? It saddens me that future generations won't have the minimal-dialogue, classical music, simple slapstick, always-cheer-for-the-underdog pop culture background. Can you even buy this stuff on DVD? Could you force your children to watch Tom & Jerry even after it's no longer available?

Would it make sense? Take "Texas Tom" - I get it, sort of, but I'm sure it would have been funnier for kids more familiar with the Lone Ranger/ Davey Crockett/ John Wayne phenomenon. Surely in the post-Bush era, "Texan" has a cultural baggage that is different than the spurs-and-six-shooter image.

I'm not attacking modern cartoons - in fact, I think a lot of them are great, both those targeted at kids and especially those that are not (can I get a Hazaah for the return of Futurama!).

But there is nothing quite like the classics - then again, if the classics are no longer relevant, are they worth propagating, or reducing to museum archival fare?

Talkin' 'bout Irrevolution...

Today I went with a few other young Azattyk reporters to cover a "flash protest" by a youth movement in the central Ala-Too square. My Kyrgyz/Russian being non-existant, and my friendly co-reporters having only basic English, it was difficult for me to comprehend what I was walking into. I wasn't about to miss "Youth Protest," but their nonchalance on the way there tipped me that this might not be the Bastille.

Ala-Too square is the center of downtown bishkek. It's located immediately next to the Kyrgyz White House (which is the President's office and the Parliament building) and across from the National History Museum. As recently as 6 months ago, the square was extremely well defined by its geometry. It was a giant concrete square, surrounded by buildings on 3 sides and the main road on the third. And that was it.

June 1, the "New Ala-Too" was opened, featuring enormous LCD-colored fountain jets, splashing pools, benches, and a maze of gardens snaking across the square in geometic flourishes. It's very vibrant, and has become a favorite social destination every night at dark, when the government sponsors a small fireworks show there.

My more paranoid American friends have noted how the new gards cut the once-open square into many smaller areas with limited transit between them. Said one, "It sure is a lot harder to assemble a large group of people with fountains and flowers in the way." Ala-Too was, notably, the site of all the relatively few large-scale protests that have occurred in Bishkek since 1991, including most importantly those surrounding the "Tulip Revolution" of 2005 which brought the current president Bakiev to power.

I tried to ascertain what, exactly, this protest was protesting, and the best answer I got was that it was pre-emptively protesting the upcoming election, which it is widely assumed will not be open, fair, or accurate, despite the presence of some 12 international observers from the OSCE, SCO, and other IGOs.

When we got to the square, it took some looking around. We finally found the group, unsure if it was a protest or a school field trip. Ok, they weren't That young... at least, not most of them.

They all wore white shirts with different politcal affiliations or slogans, including one person who was there representing the current majority Ak Jol party. I got the impression white was not so much the color of protest as the color of cheap screen printed t-shirts.

It was an opposition protest, so most present were supporting the main opposition candidate, Atambaev. The t-shirts with his stylized face in blue (at right). I thought were a good counterpart to the Moussavi and Obama trend.

All told, I would estimate the crowd at about 50 people, though I'm notoriously bad about such estimates. There were at least 20 journalists present, jockeying for photos or sound bytes, and they swelled the crowd noticeably.

Almost immediately the protest attracted police attention. There are always police in Ala-Too, making either a very safe place, or a potential tourist trap. Instead of confront the group directly, police just started gravitating toward the group from all across the square. Once about 6 officers and patrol men were around, one officer approached the group and asked if they had a permit.

The group did not - in fact, the need for a permit to hold a demonstration was only recently passed, another good election run-up legislation.

The officer lightly suggested that without a permit, they could not protest, but the crowd basically said they were going to anyway, so the officer drifted back to stand with his cohorts.

This exact scene repeated 3-4 more times as progressive more veteran/bolder officers joined the group. One finally stepped into the center of the protesters and explained that Ala-Too was a place for resting, not a place for action (as it was translated to me).

The lingering question: Where Was the place for action?

There was a sum total of 2 chants, and no marching. Mostly, it was milling about smartly in opposition regalia with placards and holding a protest - however loosely we define the term - in contravention of the law. Toward this end, it was successful.

A few of the protestors engaged the police in debates, one even had a copy of the Kyrgyz constitution (which specifically guarantees the right to assembly), though obviously the new permit law was made explicitly to override such a legalistic argument.

One student brought a komuz (essentially a 3-stringed Kyrgyz lute), which surprisingly added a very Hippie Granola air to the proceedings.

When it was all over (that is, after the police asked for the 5th or 6th time for people to disperse, and the crowd finally decided to mosey off), they stopped for a group photo by one of the new fountains.

It was an interesting experience more for what it wasn't than for what it was. The young people involved were enthusiastic, and one could tell they were ideologically quite fierce in their opposition to the political status quo. But they weren't spoiling for a fight, nor were they beyond having a few good laughs at some jokes from the various police officers who approached them, and were never especially stern.

Without being too harsh, it may be fair to say that this was a "democracy vacation" for most of them. Don't read too much into such term - all I mean is that they took 30 minutes (total) out of their regular lives of political frustration (but not Too much of it) and went to Ala-Too, put on a white t-shirt, told the police they had a right to be there, and then quietly disbanded, returning to whatever they were doing an hour ago. They took touristic photos of their "trip" and left with souvenirs (t-shirts, stickers).

I'm not sure if this was a demonstration of defiance by the "people," or just a clear indication of how little public discourse is still considered adventurous by the participants (it certainly isn't considered much of a threat by the "establishment.")

It was also interesting to watch the police response. They were immediately at the scene, either in small clumps or spreading out around the periphery. It seemed they were very interested in being present, to show that this was something worthy of their attention, but they really didn't do much to stop it. They asked people to go away, then did nothing. They suggested other places would be better to protest, but again did nothing. They spoke of the protest permit law, but didn't enforce it. Even going so far as to call this "light pressure" might be too far.

likewise, the media response was interesting. Cameras and video cameras were all over the place, with at least 4 different people interviewing individuals and police officers. The photography was informative - they were all up in the crowd, getting close-in face shots. This wasn't an attempt to "identify" the protesters, it was a recognition that from afar, the protest didn't look like anything more than a relative's graduation party. Only up close did it look... interesting. News-worthy.

There will be more such events as the Kyrgyz election grinds closer (vote day is July 23), but I don't expect them to get much, if any, more contentious. The main opposition candidate still hasn't made an appearance in Bishkek, and the t-shirts at Ala Too today were the first sign of his campaign I've seen since the season started June 18. In Bishkek, which has a significant number of opposition people, the public images availble are all-Bakiev, all-the-time.

More as it happens.

Kyrgyz Cuisine

Food choices in Kyrgyzstan are quite plentiful, but not especially diverse. It closely resembles modern Turkish food for obvious reasons (the Turks migrated to Anatolia around the 11-12th century from the Central Asian region), but the time interval and isolated evolution of tastes causes some important distinctions.

Traditionally, the "Kyrgyz" people, like their virtual twins the Kazakhs, were mostly nomadic, but it's more helpful to think of them as glacially-mobile ranchers than as an on-the-go Winnebago society. They took up semi-permanent residence in large felt-covered huts called Yurts and stayed in one location for a long season. When the season changed, they setup a semi-permanent settlement somewhere else.

What this means for cuisine is that they had access primarily to their own livestock, but also to crops they could grow quickly in small plots, which grow naturally, or that they could trade for - Central Asia was, afterall, the nexus of the Silk Road.

It is interesting that, some 400 years after the Silk Road all-but unravelled, and 150 years after Russian conquest, the radically reconfigured (and categorically created) "Kyrgyz nation" of urbanites and sedentary shephards continues to define itself by these lingering, and at times imagined, "nomadic" traditions.

Food is one such instance.

Here are the primary dishes of Kyrgyz cuisine, which are universally simple to prepare, rich and savory, and widely available in other international cuisines, despite the local insistence of the distinctiveness of the "Kyrgyz" variant

Shashlyk

There is nothing fancy about Kyrgyz Shashlyk - it is meat on a stick, roasted over charcoal. Unlike the more colorful examples from elsewhere around the globe, Shashlyk (which is refers to the unikely-Kyrgyz version of a kebab) does not involve any vegetables. It is chunks of marinated meat (usually beef or Lamb) sometimes interspersed with chunks of fat. It is usually served with raw sliced onions, herbs (cilantro?), and vinegar. I still cannot get anyone to tell me what the difference is between Kyrgyz Shashlyk and Kazakh Shashlyk, but I've been assured it is "totally different." I remain skeptical. These can be sold at fancy restaurants, or just by solo Shashlykiyya's (shashlyk cookers) along the roadside. Around $1.50/skewer.

Pilaf

An absolute mainstay, in Kyrgyzstan it's called "Pilau" and is a very static creation meaning rice cooked in oil then in a broth with slices of lamb and usually cooked carrots. There might be some boiled onions involved. This stands in great contradiction to my understanding of Pilav from back home, which was essentially any assortment of meats and veggies that was then cooked with rice. Various different nationalities claim their own "style" of pilav, but mostly this is just about the different ingredients, which within each country, are unalterable. Asking for pilau in Kyrgyzstan without carrots, for example, is wildly absurd. You can get pilau at restaurants, but I've found it more likely to be served at family gatherings (apparently, you don't go Out to just have pilau).

Manti

To date, this seems to be the most beloved of all Kyrgyz food insofar as every Kyrgyz I've met has either asked if I've had Manti, or tried actively to get to me to eat it. Don't let me paint this the wrong way - Manti is Not the "Haggis of Kyrgyzstan" - it's just steamed dumplings. That doesn't sound so bad, right? Even better, they're filled with meat (again, the lamb/beef differentiation is harder than one migth think) and grilled onions. But here's the drawback - "good" Manti also requires the presence of an equal 1:1 ratio of meet and boild fat chunks. Worse yet, the boiled onions, which are good, have the exact same color and consistency as the fat, so when you bite into a big chunk of something, you're never sure quite which you're getting. The general slimy-texture (sorry Dim Sum fans, it's true) of steamed dumplings does nothing to cut down on the queasy reaction I get from the liquid grease and solid fat stuffed inside. They're usually sold at restaurants in bunches of 5 (which is a lot of Manti), positioned surrounding a lake of ketchup.

Samsa

Like much of Kyrgyz cuisine, the Samsa has a very direct connection to its cousin, the Indian Samosa, with one important difference: no veggies. Basically, a Samsa is the same thing as a Manti, but it's exterior dough is shaped differently, and it is fried (sometimes baked) rather than steamed. On the plus side, this dramatically decreases the slime-factor, but you still have an onion-or-fat minefield lurking insidiously inside the yummy crust. These are sold on the sidewalks for the unbelievably low price of 20 som (50 cents) a piece.

Laghman

Thank goodness for Dungans! This small "nationality" within Kyrgyzstan (off-handedly called "Chinese Muslims") are recognized as being distinct from Kyrgyz, but this particular dish is ubiquitous at Kyrgyz restaurants throughout Bishkek. It is hand-rolled noodles (no idea if they are wheat- or egg-based) with Lamb, onions, and various herbs and spices. It can be cooked in a broth to make a sort of irregular noodle soup, or it can be stirfried. Either way is super-good, though as with much other Central Asian cuisine, both usually involve the addition of a touch more grease than is "necessary."

Sharma

One of the two quintessential Kyrgyz fast-food options, "Sharma" is a derivation of the Turko-Arabic Shawarma, meaning "turning," in reference to the style of cooking in which a big pile of meat is put on a verical pole and cooked outside-in as it rotates in front of a flame. The cooked, exterior, is cut off and served while the next layer cooks fresh. The name is somewhat ironic in Kyrgyzstan, where I have yet to see a working constant-rotation cooker. The final product includes shaved meat (usually chicken, sometimes beef), french fries, shredded lettuce, and slices of cucumber and tomatoe slathered in mayo and ketchup, then wrapped up in a paper-thin (and universally stale) burrito-like pancake. More Moo Sui than Tortilla. It's tasty, but shockingly un-filling for all its girth. Hard to argue with, though, as a $1.20 (50 som) lunch-on-the-run.

Gamburger

the primary alternative to Sharma, the "Gamburger" is a hard nut to nail down. It's trying-to-be-a-hambuger-bun suggests this might just be a case of lost in transliteration, but the shawarma-style beef interior is a long way from a burger patty. Add the same cucumbuer, tomato, mayo & ketchup, and suddenly the differentiation comes down to just the packaging. Bready-bun, or flimsy wrap. There are a few stands that sell "Hamburgers," which are the same thing as a gamburger, but with an actual ground-meat patty, but these remain few and generally more upscale (franchised chains vs. mom&pop stands). A little pricier at $1.30 a pop.

And that's pretty much it. There are a variety of salads (pick 2 uncooked veggies, add vinegar), and a few other national foods I've yet to try, but these are the big ones, and it must be said, make up the overwhelming majority of "Kyrgyz Cuisine."

As for diversity, Bishkek is decidedly the internationl hub. Indian, Chinese, Russian, and even a rare Korean, Italian, or "American" - burgers or pizza - are around if you look hard enough. I saw an ad for an "American/Mexican" restaurant, but the menu wasn't tempting enough to even give it a fair shake. Perhaps I'll change my mind as the summer wears on.

It should also be said the above is a decent look only a "City Kyrgyz" food. I don't have any idea what they eat in the villages and countryside, though I'm willing to bet it involves a fair amount of pilau, lamb-everything, and more gristle than I've consumed in my entire life.

In short, the food is much better than my Estonian/Serbian experience. People here eat real food, but it does tend to be real heavy, and most of it didn't spring forth from soil. I do actually know 2 ex-pats in Bishkek who are staying vegetarians while they're here, but so far I've only seen them eat french fries and carrots.

Apparently the "wealth" of veggies I see at the markets now (exclusively as follows: cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, onions, eggplants) declines to practically nothing during the winter months. According to one coleague, "it gets old eating the same canned meat and bread for 6 months."

Another recent admonishion from a guy traveling the countryside: "I haven't had anything to eat but Snickers for 4 days."

Cost: 23 som (50 cents) each.

Why wait?