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.
