Hug to someone today … to show them that you care!

Today is one of those funny little holidays that originated in the United States – although the idea seems to be catching on and I see from a Russian site that it is now considered to be an International day – Hug Day, (National Hugging Day or International Hugging Day).

It’s a totally artificial, secular “holiday”, the creation of one man – the Reverend Kevin Zaborney, a psychology graduate – who launched the idea back in 1986 and it was included in Chase’s Annual Events, (a special diary or almanac that lists special events such as this … which was originally published by a Mr. Chase but which has since been bought and is now published by McGraw Hill), partly, I suspect, because there was apparently a family connection with the original publisher.

The idea was simple: to encourage encourage people to hug members of their family and their friends …  He had noted that

• there are supposed to be real benefits, (both, psychologically and physiologically), from physical contact … hugging and even simply holding hands … such as relieving stress and the harmful physical effects associated with it; lowering blood pressure and heart rate.  Furthermore it is thought that physical contact – hugs – can help to improve the immune system and thus decrease the risk of heart and other diseases – it’s a sign of affection and support: “we’re here for you” … but that
• many people are embarrassed to show their feelings in public and refrain from physical contact and outward shows of affection, Americans in particular, and this was reinforced in 2003 when a study revealed that, on average, the French spent about three times as much time in physical contact with each other than the Americans …

Anyway, as the saying puts it, “from small acorns mighty oaks grow” and, although Zaborney is on record as saying that he expected the idea would “fail” it seems that the idea has caught on and been adopted in several other countries … although I don’t think it has has received much attention here.

The “official” website commemorating the day – yes, there is an official website and the phrase National Hugging Day has actually been registered as a Trademark – has a greeting text in eight different languages.

Apparently the date, 21st January was chosen – not exactly at random but because it falls more or less half way between the emotional high spots of the Christmas and New Year holidays and the holiday which symbolizes affection: St. Valentine’s Day ..a period seen as a dark and emotional wasteland.

I am reminded of that other “artificial” holiday which supposedly commemorates the “most depressing day of the year”: Blue Monday - created to simply boost sales for the tourism industry.

I think it is fair to say that although there may well be benefits to be gained from personal contact, hugging  holding hands or even a “high five”, there are a few provisos.

For a start, some of the research seems to indicate that the strength of the accrued benefits may depend on who is maintaining the contact … the closer the relationship, the stronger the positive effect.  That’s not to say that hugging a stranger can’t also be beneficial … just that the benefit tends to be stronger when it is given by a loved one

Secondly, in this day and age when we are almost conditioned to find such outward public displays of affection uncomfortable, they can be misinterpreted and unwelcome.   Calls for “Give us a Hug” or “Group Hug” can make others feel uneasy.

I know that , myself, am pretty standoffish when it comes to public displays of affection … I tend to turn around and walk away when someone calls for a “group hug”.  Personal Space is important to me and I am reluctant to enter into more than formal physical contact such as a handshake. In that respect, I am probably a lot worse than the average American

That’s a bit of a problem here  because there is very little notion of “personal space” here in Kyrgyzstan.  It could be a result of the fact that large families (several generations) tend to live together in confined spaces – be it a small apartment or a yurt.  This might help foster family cohesion and spirit, but there is very little of what we would consider “privacy”.  Very few children, for example, have their own room. Growing up “cheek by jowl”, as it were, tends to have an effect on the way that people interact with one another.

Different societies have developed different techniques of handling such issues.  James Clavell in Shogun, for example, writing about Japanese society in the sixteenth century, describes how the people internalized their thoughts and emotions, developing an inner life or personality, and constructing a formal system of rules to govern their behaviour as techniques to help them cope with this lack of privacy.

People tend to stand much closer to their interlocutor here than they do in the West.  A Westerner who tries to maintain the standard “comfort zone” of 60cms of “personal space” will be in for a surprise … as they back away from the person they are talking to will move close – to close the gap that opens up.  At first glance it appears an aggressive move – but it isn’t … it is perfectly natural and customary here .. but it does take some getting used to.

Take the perfectly ordinary handshake.  A Westerner will stand their distance and extend their hand … the two participants will grasp hands and pump up and down somewhat perfunctorily and then let go.  Here on the other hand, the other person will come and stand quite close … take the proffered hand and after the perfunctory pumping, hold on to it – often – especially in the case of a younger person, they will lace their other hand over their heart as they are talking to you.

Much more disconcerting is the tendency to take hold of your arm with their free hand rather than placing it over their heart … and they don’t let go while you are talking … it’s  sign of respect and a way of showing that they are giving you all their attention … but it can seem aggressive – especially if they have already had a little to drink.  I always have remind myself to keep calm when trying to extricate my hand, or simply asking if I can have my hand back, will they please let go!

And, please don’t forget, I am a man … apart from the fact that men rarely shake hands with women, the rest of what I have said about the lack of personal space still holds.  Its is perhaps most noticeable in the bazzars and spermarkets, (the aisles in the supermarkets are incredibly narrow with barely space for single file traffic yet alone passing-by someone who is busy perusing the goods on the shelf), and on public transport . (which tends to be crowded at the best of times.  It’s not quite as bad as the Tokyo metro with people employed to squeeze people through the doors so that they close, but people do stand/sit close to each other … and think nothing of it) … despite all the implications, risks and opportunities that this might offer for pickpockets and bag slashers, petty thieves, bag snatchers and muggers.

Indeed, people may brush up against one another, bumping into one another and unless they know each other, (in which case they would probably greet each other and may even stop to pass the time of day), they may continue on their way as if nothing has happened … no apologies offered – but then, none are usually expected unless it was a serious “bump” and someone may have been hurt.

People are not “afraid” of physical contact in the same way as in the West – young people, for example, can be seen walking holding, hands, arm in arm, one arm around the shoulders, shaking hands with almost any acquaintance they meet on the street, possibly hugging when they meet, or sitting arranging each other’s hair.  It can be a sign of respect, such as grasping and holding on to someone’s arm when you are shaking hands, or an expression of friendship, camaraderie – but not necessarily anything more, (and it’s especially important to remember this if the two happen to be of the same gender !) … it doesn’t have any erotic or sexual connotation

… but then again, in the West, a hug doesn’t necessarily have sexual connotations either.

One of the really nice things about this holiday is that it is not really commercial .. oh, I am sure that some entrepreneur will have worked out a way to make money out of it, but what does a hug cost? …  apart from the physical and emotional effort.  So, why not commemorate International Hugging Day with the people you care for … and, go on – be a devil …  give them a hug.

"Please sir, I want some more" - "Dagy ichine salyp beresizbi" not "Dagy solyp beringhzchi"

When it mes to learning Kyrgyz, I have an interesting little problem.  Because I don’t take proper lessons and only dip n and out of exercises every now and again, my knowledge of Kyrgyz vocabulary and grammar is very haphazard.

As a result, I am not really surprised when I come across a word that I am sure I have met before … but simply cannot remember what it means … or when I want to say something and start fishing around in my memory banks to see if can fish it out.  In fact there are a lot of words which I ought to know because I do use them from time to time, but I still find myself having to dredge through the depths of my memory …

I know, for example … that Jok means No, but I always seem to have trouble recalling the opposite … that is, the word for Yes … for the record,  it’s Ova.

I have n trouble with some of the numbers: ece for two (as in Ece Naryn – a village just outside the city and called “Naryn 2″ to avoid confusion); besh for five, (as in Beshbarmack,  five fingers – the archetypal dish of Kyrgyz cuisine … and Beshkempir, five grandmothers – a sort of informal village council which traditionally decides certain social questions such as the adoption and care of orphans); djety for seven, (as in Djety Oguz – SevenBulls),  on for ten (as in On Archa – Ten Junipers, or On Korgon – Ten Guards) … and so on.

I know how to say Thank You, (rakmat and that chon rakhmat means “Thank you very much” or “Thanks a lot” … without the sarcasm), and that eshti kemiz is the equivalent of “You’re welcome”, or “It’s nothing”, or “Don’t mention it”.  I try to make a point of using these words when and where ever it seems appropriate; for example, when shopping.

The other day I was out shopping and when I went to ask the shop assistant for something, I realized that I couldn’t recall the word for Please.  As it happened she was fluent in both Russian and English and so I was able to rephrase my question without exposing my ignorance.

It seemed such a basic word … not just a “nicety” but an important word that I should be using several times every day …  so, when I got back home I started going through the phrase books … and, to my amazement, couldn’t find an entry for “please”.  So, I started asking around.

It was really interesting. Virtually everyone had to stop and think … one girl, (a Kyrgyz girl, a friend of Andrei’s), after a ten second gap, reached for her mobile phone and rang her mother … and there ensued something like a ten minute conversation as she explained the question.

Eventually, however, everyone seemed to come up with the same answer: “There isn’t one.  We don’t really say that.” (!)

It’s not a sign that the Kyrgyz are rude in any way.  On the contrary, etiquette is very important in Kyrgyz society.  As one of my interlocutors explained it to me … “There is no word for please because it is dealt with in the grammar – the word endings.  You don’t just say, Berseng (“Give me that”), you say Beresizbi , ( “Give me that, please”).

To be fair, I have since come across two words which one Kyrgyz language manual translate as “please”: Suranych, (Сураныч), and Otunuch, (Отунуч) … but I am told that they translate as “request” as in I have a request … and as one of my friends, Calvin says … “I have never heard it used.”

____________________

For some reason – Comments are closed … but I received the following information via Twitter:

“true! but actually instead of a separate word, we use suffix “-chi”, e.g. “berchi” – “give please”.”

and via Facebook:

“”no problem” may best be rendered as “ech nerse emes” or “echteke emes”"

Using a frk "European style" ... Yes!, there are other ways to transfer from the plate to your mouth!

The other day I came across an article on a travel website about “Food Etiquette From Around the World“.

It appeared to be a “filler” article … one where the editor has a space and needs something to fill it and so turns to one of his (her) staff and asks for 500 words on something.   In this case, the author, (a travel writer), collected together various quirky bits of advice drawn from places as diverse as Chile, France, Italy, Korea, Mexico, Russia, Thailand, and “the Middle East, India and some parts of Africa”, as “a quick guide” to some of the “oddest food related faux pas” that can be committed when traveling abroad – and not necessarily in strange exotic locations.

I am sure that, if there had been a bigger space to fill, she could have come up with 750 or 1000 words … all that would be needed is a little additional research.

The advive included: don’t refuse a drink in Russia as it is likely to offend your host, because offering someone a drink is a sign of trust and friendship; and when in Korea, if an older person approaches to refill your glass then, as a sign of respect, it should be held it in both hands whilst the liquid is dispensed.

On the subject of drink, she also told us that in Italy cappuccino is never drunk after noon – as it is thought that the creamy mass will upset the stomach and ruin the rest of the day – Espresso, however, is OK.  I expect that the owners of Bishkek’s blossoming Caffeinie, (Coffee Houses, like the ones that Samuel Pepys used to frequent – literally, I suppose, Cafés, although there are other words used for this – especially Cafeteria), are glad that that particular foible hasn’t migrated here.

Fascinating though all this is … “it’s hardly”, as they say, “Rocket Science”.

The majority of the tidbits on offer, (pun intended!),  in the article concerned handling food.  In Thailand, for example, the use of chopsticks is considered “tacky” and although a fork may be used for eating stand alone items that are not part of a rice-based dish, it shouldn’t be used for transferring food from the main dishes to your mouth.  The “correct” thing to do is to use the fork to push food onto a spoon.

In Mexico, you shouldn’t use cutlery to eat Tacos … it is better to use your hands … but in Mexican Restaurants in large swathes of the globe, that would mean your right hand as your left hand is associated with “bodily functions” and so considered unclean, (Sorry about that if you happen to be left handed), and there’s a distinct problem if it’s in Chile – because apparently you should touch your food with your hands … it’s considered bad manners and “not in keeping with European culture”.

That last one struck me as particularly odd … as I was under the impression that Chile is part of South America.  It seems to speak volumes about Chile and Chileans.

I suppose the “civilizing” effect of European culture is to be felt here in Kyrgyzstan as well.  Table manners are important and, as in Korea, respect for elders is an an important feature of life – and not just at mealtimes although these would rovie the most obvious example of the patriarchal hierarchy at work.

I said “patriarchal” because the traditional Kyrgyz nomadic family would usually consist of at least three generations living together in a small community, or ail (the equivalent to a village).

Mealtimes were organized on a strict hierarchical system.  The aksakal – literally “white beard” – who was head of the household was considered to be the owner of all the family property – and for the nomadic Kyrgyz, that was primarily the livestock – and his authority was absolute.  His eldest wife - the baybiche would direct the work.  She was the supreme authority in all matters relating to household management and domestic tasks – objections against her instructions were not allowed and she was subordinate only to her husband.

The members of the family would sit in a strictly established order, the head of the household in the most honoured place, opposite the entrance to the yurt – unless, that is, there were guests … in which case he would surrender it to them.

His sons, sat to his right, in accordance with their ages.  The Baybiche would sit on his left, and his daughters sat next to her, and then came daughters in law in order of precedence of their husbands. The youngest wife of aksakal sat next to the pot and guided the food distribution and the wife of the youngest son had to serve the contents of the cooking pot onto a wooden dish (chara). This dish was given to the youngest wife of aksakal, so that she could cut the meat into smaller pieces and then put it into small dishes (tabak): one was for aksakal, baybiche, the eldest son and daughters of the head of the family and another dish was given to the rest of the sons and their wives.

In fact, it went further  in that at a toi - a celebratory feast or festival – when an animal was slaughtered, butchered and cooked, different parts of the animal were strictly allocated according to this hierarchy.  In the classic case, the head of a slaughtered sheep is presented to the most honoured, (eldest), guest along with the sheep’s eyes.  (That’s one reason I am never too keen on being an “honoured guest”).

Among the other pieces of useful advice, the author told us about the different foibles relating to the use of cutlery around the world.

We sometimes forget that this is a relatively new development.  For a long time and in many cultures – eating with your hands was the norm and the only implements people needed were a knife for cutting and, perhaps, a spoon for dealing with liquids … although a bowl could be just as easily lifted to the lips as a goblet could.

The fork seems to have made an appearance in Roman Byzantium some time around the fourth century – and although it traveled through Italy sometime around the first millennium, but it took time to be adopted by the general population, (it seems to have been used mainly by the merchant and upper classes by 1600).  Northern Europe was more resistant – one Englishman describing it as an “unmanly Italian affectation”.  (!)  The use of the table fork for eating did not become common in northern Europe until the 18th century and was not common in North America until the following century.

The Chileans might not approve of using your hands when eating – I wonder how they cope with the concept of “finger food”, but the Mexicans clearly understand that some foods are meant to be eaten with your hands.  It’s not just Taco’s but, (as an Englishman of certain age), I can’t help but that Fish and Chips are not only meant to be eaten walking down the street, plucked by the fingers out of a packet wrapped up in yesterday’s newspaper – but they actually taste better like this.

Here in Kyrgyzstan, Manti and Samsa are meant to be held … not cut up on a plate with a knife and fork.  There’s even people who claim that Plov, (pilau), is better eaten with the fingers, by the handful – but I am not sure how that is best achieved.    The archetypal traditional Kyrgyz dish, Beshbarmak, is also meant to be eaten by hand … after all the name means “Five Fingers”.

As an aside: One of my favourite schoolboy jokes tells of a family one day having guests visit for Dinner and when all is ready they all sit down at the table for the meal.  The youngest son of the household, little Johnny, reaches across the table for the ketchup, bread, or at least something … and an exasperated Mother, embarrassed at her offspring’s display of a lack of table manners asks, “Johnny, Don’t you have a tongue in your head?”.  To which the wisecrack responds, “Yes, but my arms longer.”

Now, humour is extremely difficult to translate and not just in terms of language but also in terms of culture. Although I have tried telling that joke here, it always seems to fall flat.  I suppose that could be a result f my translation skills, or a difference in the type of humour that people here tend to appreciate … or it may simply be because the scenario is one that people don’t recognize.

These days, it seems, many families rarely ever seem seem to sit down together for a meal – and I understand that is as true in the West as it is here.

One reason for this, here, might be down to a lack of a designated “dining space”.  Some families have a home that has what could be termed a “dining room”, especially those in houses in what is euphemistically called “the private sector”, but for families living in apartments, space is usually at a premium and setting a room aside to be used just at mealtimes would be considered a luxury.  Most families sit at a table in the kitchen, (which is usually a small room and although it means that food arrives on the table piping hot, fresh from the stove, can make for cramped conditions and present difficulties for the “chef”).

When there are guests, then a dining table is set up in the main “living room” – known here as the gostinaya – “guest room”; a room where guests where are received.  This is a slightly different concept than that encountered in the West where a “guest room” is the bedroom set aside to accommodate visitors who come to stay.

The table is set up against the divan on one side and with all the serviceable chairs in the apartment pressed into service and placed around the other sides.  This means that for some people the table is set at an appropriate height, but it’s possible that it might be too low whilst, usually, for those on the divan, the table surface is a little high which can make serving yourself and eating a little difficult.

As it happens, I don’t have a Dining Table in my apartment – not in the kitchen nor in the gostinaya.  Actually, that’s not quite true … I do have a table that could serve as one, but it has a computer on it and it serves as a desk.   I suppose that if I actually needed to, I could take the computer down and use the table … but, as it happens, I rarely have dinner guests, so it has never proved necessary.

As I said, most families have a table in the kitchen, so why don’t I?  Well, my kitchen is so small and narrow, that a putting in even a small table would have meant having to sidle sideways every time someone wanted to get past it … and that would be extremely difficult to achieve if anyone was actually sitting there.    As a result, I decided to erect a “breakfast bar” along one of the walls – it limits the number of people who can sit at … side by side, but takes up much less of that valuable space … and, anyway, it’s enough for me.

Beckham's Mohican hairstyle, which he adopted in 2002.

One day, a few days ago, I went out shopping … and on my way back to the office I saw a sight that had me, (metaphorically at least), kicking myself.  How many times have I said to the kids: “take a camera with you … you never know when you might see something you want to photograph”?   Now, here I was – “hoist by my own petard” …  there was something you don’t see very often, begging to be photographed but I didn’t have a camera with me.

Walking just a few steps in front of me was a thickset man wearing a white, t-back t-shirt (sleeveless, much narrower in the back than the front, designed to expose the shoulder blades with the armholes cat back to a narrow strip of material covering the spine … a style favoured by sportsmen, for example, when working out in a gym).  In wasn’t his costume, however, that attracted my attention.  Rather, it was the the fact that the sides of his head were completely shaved leaving a well defined Mohawk, (or Mohican)  hairstyle – the crop of short hair styled into a long thin triangle, tapering to a point just above the top of his spine, (similar to that adopted by David Beckham ten years ago).

Then there was the fact that that one his  exposed shoulder blades sported an elaborate tattoo.

Stylized tattoo

As I said, you don’t see this sort of thing every day, although in the seventeen years I have been here I have seen a growing tendency for people to seek to express their individuality in such ways.   Once I had gotten over the initial surprise, I caught myself wondering if he was connected with the Manas Transit base.  It’s unlikely, with that particular look,  that he was a serviceman, but there are a number of civilian staff working on contracts in a variety of different capacities … given his build, I thought, he could easily have been one of them.

On the other hand, I noticed that he was talking intently on his mobile phone – and I caught the odd word in Russian, so I came to the conclusion that maybe he was a local. Another option might have been that he was a holidaymaker, stopping over in Bishkek on his way up to one of the resorts by the side of Lake Issyk Kul.

Whatever, he started me thinking and brought back all sorts of memories.

Although it was the hairstyle that initially caught my attention, the tattoos were the more provocative.  We may not see many Mohican’s here, but we do see quite a few tattoos.  Unlike the ships, flowers and scrolls saying “Mum”, (or “Mother”), I have seen some eagles and big cats such as panthers – but the most popular designs seem to be stylized, sweeping, swirling patterns.

There are a number of places where it is possible to get a tattoo, at least here in Bishkek, and I have seen a number of hairdressers advertising the service.  On the other hand, I know one or two people who have decided to have a go at “do-it-yourself” … although, I gather that it was quite painful and their advice to others would now be, “Don’t … Go to a professional!”.

Some of the kids told me a few years ago that they wanted to get a tattoo.  They were mixing with a crowd of young people, (“emos” and “rockers” – and, yes … I know that those two don’t normally go together), several of whom had already got tattoos.  Whern I was asked, “Can I have a tattoo?”, I had to respond that it wasn’t a question for me … they had to ask Mum … at least, that is, until they were old enough to take their own decisions.  On the other hand, if they wanted my advice, then … well, I told them about John.

John  was one of my pupils back when I was teaching Maths in the UK.  He could be a surly boy but, on the whole, he was OK.  One day he looked up from his work and asked me: “Sir, if you had a son, say 14 years old, and he wanted to get a tattoo, would you let hem?”  You’ve guessed it – John was 14 … and I was fairly sure that this wasn’t just an idle question.  I said, “No, probably not”, and as I expected, he immediately came back with “why not?, it’s a free country and it’s his life … if he wants it, why shouldn’t he?”   “Weeeellll, Yeeeessss,” I said, but felt that I had to say just a bit more in justification …: ” he is, after all, just 14 … and if he still wants to go ahead when he’s older, say 18, then OK – it’s his life, so why not …  but, as he’s just 14, his parents still have a responsibility to try and make sure that nothing happens that he will regret later on … and there are a number of other points to bear in mind … it can be painful, there are health risks, (although that shouldn’t be a problem with a properly trained, professional tattooist), and the fact that tattoos can be difficult to remove … “.  I am not sure whether I convinced him, but in place of a tattoo he later appeared with a piercing and an earring.

I felt that there were all sorts of other things I could say … about how tattoos sometimes have negative connotations, (for example, being used for identification in the concentration camps);  how they might look good, freshly drawn on a young, firm body, but look quite different after many years when the inks have faded and the body has changed shape and firmness; how what seems appropriate at one time of life for a body decoration might not seem so appropriate at another time, (it’s not like changing one set of clothes for another as fashions change – or that Mohican hairstyle … the hair will grow back … look at David Beckham’s changing styles over the last decade) … so the choice of subject is very important.

Incidentally, There was an interesting story about tattoos in the news this week.  Apparently, Mrs. Jerri Petersen, an American who works for a hotel chain in the UK, had been nominated to be one of the Olympic Torch Bearers.  She says that she had long considered having a tattoo but wan’t sure about what to have emblazoned across her body, but the honour was something special and, she thought, was sufficiently unique as to merit commemoration in this way.  At first she was very happy with the result until someone pointed out that the tattooist had made a mistake … Olympic had become Oylmpic. When the mistake was pointed out to the artist, she was apparently distraught and straight away offered to correct it – but Mrs. Petersen decided to keep it as it is … in a way, the mistake makes it more unique – more special.

You’ll have gathered by now that, personally, I am not all that keen on tattoos.  I understand that in some cultures, (and sub-cultures), they are important for identification and status as well as for cosmetic or decorative purposes, but I don’t belong to such a culture, (even though the words Britain and Briton are derived from references to the designs that the originally Britons painted on their bodies).  On the other hand, if others such as Justin Beiber, David Beckham or John, want to have them, then I have no problem with that, although I probably wouldn’t choose to have a tattoo, myself.

Anyway, the kids listened to the story of John, and fortunately, that seemed to settle the question – at least until last summer.  When we were up at Issyk Kul, just off the beach was a kiosk where an artist would draw a pattern for you on your body … but it wasn’t a proper tattoo; just a a drawing in ink which would wear off after a while … say a couple of weeks.   Two of the kids decided to give it a try … and spent a few days showing it off … but once it had finally faded away … that was the end of the story.  It was a case of:  ”Been there … Done that … now what?”

For the record: … here are some other references to tattoos here in Bishkek from other some blogs which you might find interesting:

• Tattoo in Bishkek | Life in Kyrgyzstan
• It Seemed Like A Good Idea: An Eastern Odyssey: Tattoos in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan
• Bishkek Frunze is Dead tattoo - I am having trouble loading this page and so not sure if this post is still live …

The Bright yellow Dandelion flower

Over the years I have often been asked about cultural differences that I have noticed between life in Britain and here in Kyrgyzstan.  It is one of a bank of questions that people ask: How long have I been here?, What brought me here in the first place?, What kept me here? – Why did I stay?, What do I miss from the UK?, What changes have I seen over the years? … and so on.

Sometimes, being asked the same questions over and over again, I try to “ring the changes” and think of new and different answers, and the mischievous part of me tries to think of unusual angles.  So, the other day, in answer to the usual question I was pleased when I managed to draw perplexed looks when I replied “Dandelion and Burdock”

Dandelion is the common name given to the Taraxacum family of flowering plants, (strictly speaking it’s a genus of the Asteraceae. family), which are found as worldwide.  The  name is derived from the French dent-de-lion, (meaning “lion’s tooth”).

A Dandelion "clock"

In the West we treat them as weeds, that is an plant growing where it is neither valued nor wanted and often considered a nuisance. Back in the UK we used to loathe these plants.  The distinctive flat crenelated green leaves would sprout erupt from our lawns, sprouting the hollow tubular stems that seeped a milky white fluid and topped with the bright yellow flowers.  These  flower heads  would mature into spherical “clocks” which contain many single-seeded fruits called achenes, each of which is attached to a pappus of fine hairs, which are dispersed by the wind over long distances.  It was a childhood game to take one in hand and see how many times one had to blow to clear the stem of all the seeds.

We would try to eliminate the weeds from the lawn – but no matter how hard you tried you always seemed to be fighting a loosing battle.  If you tried to dig them out, then if you left the tiniest sliver of a root in the ground then new growth would erupt.  You could buy special weed killer to pour on the leaves which would eat away at the stem and down into the roots – but the gardeners that I knew thought that this “cure” was almost as bad as the “illness” itself.

Here, on the other hand, Podsnezhniki, as it is known locally, is welcomed.  I remember the shock I felt when I saw it carpeting the flower beds in the main square and around the main government buildings.  It is grows everywhere without any special planting or care, and it thought of as a beautiful plant providing bright displays, in much the same way as the rampant and uncontrollable Gorse on the hillsides of my youth is a treasured decorative shrud surroung government buildings in Canberra, (Australia).

As it happens, Dandelion is a plant with many beneficial properties.  It’s deep reaching tap root will bring up many nutrients to the benefit of shallower rooting plants; it adds minerals and nitrogen to the soil; it attracts many pollinating insects and it is even known to give of gasses which aid fruits to ripen.  The plant is edible, (although it might induce allergic reactions in some people), and has many culinary uses, rich in some vitamins, (A, C and K),  and minerals, (such as calcium potassium, iron and manganese).  Although the leaves may be bitter they are sometimes used in salads and the roasted roots are used to create a “caffeine free” coffee.  It has been used over the centuries as a folk, herbal medicine.

It is also one of the main ingredients in Dandelion and Burdock, a traditional soft drink which has been made in Britain from medieval times  and is one of the bases for root beer.  I well remember buying bottles of “pop” – Vimto, Orangade, (the Fanta or Miranda of my youth), Lemonade, (which is nothing like the lemonade which is available here, but closer to the present day Sprite or 7-Up), and Dandelion and Burdock.

Burdock Thistle

Which brings me to the second ingredient – Burdock, a Thistle.  The prickly heads, (burrs), open out with bright mauve flower,.  They are caught easily onto clothing and fur, (and, as such, were the original inspiration for velcro), which was important for seed dispersal.

Like the Dandelion the plant is edible, although the roots resemble that of Deadly Nightshade so some caution is needed.  The roots can be used as a vegetable and immature stalks resemble artichoke.

As with Dandelion, it has a place in traditional medicine and herbalists prize it as a diuretic and for use in treating burns.

The Thistle is, of course, the national flower of Scotland, but it grows here as well.  It is sometimes found in the city but it doesn’t really adapt well to city life, and Chertopolokh, (as it is known here), thrives better in some of the alpine valleys such as Issyk Ata.  I am sure, however, that it and where it does grow in the city it wouldn’t meet the same fate as that met by a Thistle growing in my garden in London.  One summers day an Australian visitor was looking around and admiring the results of my handiwork and offered to help.  Little did I suspect what was to happen when I accepted the offer, but when he came to the Thistle, so ingrained was the view that it was a weed that, without thinking, he simply grabbed hold of it and pulled …

Here, although there is a growing trend to try cultivate pristine show gardens, fortunately it is still in its infancy and the overall tendency is to allow plants to grow, blossom and beautify the urban landscape in a “natural” patchwork rather than a contrived planned and perfectly executed plan, where the grass has been “combed” so that there isn’t a blade out of place.

Lepioshka - typical flat breads of Central Asia

A few years ago a client gave me an anthology of writings on the subject of Food.  Although I don’t think I would have picked it up in a bookshop back in the UK, it proved to be quite an interesting read with a variety of stories and anecdotes: buying a goat in Africa, meeting a cannibal in the south seas, the American visiting a Japanese restaurant for the first time and mistaking the finger bowl for a bowl of soup … and so on.

As with any anthology, the quality and interest of the different pieces varied and there was one that I found particularly disturbing … it was written by an itinerant, (a tramp), about how to survive on scraps.  He described how he would search dustbins and often find good food – tasty tidbits which had been thrown out even though they were still perfectly edible; possibly simply because they had passed the “Best before” date printed on the packaging … ignoring the fact that the products had not actually spoiled or ”gone off”.

Now the idea was not particularly appealing, although I well remember being intrigued coming across a recipe for “Garbage Soup” when looking for something to cook for a vegetarian friend who was coming to dinner.  Despite the name, the ingredients weren’t necessarily plucked out of the garbage can … although most people, including me, would have thrown them there without a second thought.   The Chef recommended making a soup from the peelings from potatoes, carrots and other vegetables.  The one proviso was that the vegetables should have been thoroughly washed beforehand, nut as they are perfectly edible and contain considerable nutrients, he said, there was no reason to throw them away.  Despite being intrigued at the time, I have to admit that chickened out and settled for something far more mundane.

Anyway, I came across an interesting article on the BBC over the weekend: Why is bread Britain’s most wasted food?   The author, Anna-Louise Taylor, pointed out that Britons tend to throw out an incredible 4.4 million tonnes, (that’s metric tons), of edible food each year, and that includes about a third of all bread purchased in the UK, about 80% of it from loaves of bread that have been started but not finished.

Speculating on the reasons for this wastefulness, she suggested that people simply bought too much bread, afraid of running out: “It’s a reasonably low-priced commodity and rather than run out, they prefer to have too much than too little.”    The main reason, however, was that people have lost touch with the bread making process: “If you make something yourself, you’ve spent half an hour kneading the bread and then baking it, you don’t waste that bread because you know how much energy you’ve put into it.”  These days, however, people are used to picking up a loaf at the supermarket and so don’t have the same respect for what they are consuming.

I think there is a lot of truth in that.  Certainly, as I reflected on the article, it occurred to me that this just wouldn’t happen here … or, at least, wouldn’t have happened here until quite recently.  People have a different approach to bread.

Baking Bread

In the villages, many people bake their own, thus maintaining the emotional link, the “respect” with the final product.  I have stayed with many different families around the country and have been amazed at the different textures and flavours of the home baked bread; often the flat breads known as lepioshka.  These may be laid out in a pile on the table at the start of the meal and in due course someone picks one up and tears it into pieces – they don’t cut it with a knife but tear it with their hands.  It’s distributed to the company seated around the table but always placed “face up” – never upside down.

In the cities, however, people will buy their bread from shops or in the market.  Whereas, back in the UK, I would do a “weekly shop”, a habit learned from my mother, here people often purchase what they need on a day to day basis, (although some things are purchased in bulk).  Bread, in particular, is usually purchased every day.  Although some of the supermarkets now carry “sliced bread”, The baton, loaves, tend to be much smaller than we would buy in the UK.

Even with “shop bought” bread, as a rule, stale bread is not thrown away.  Instead, it may be cut up into cubes and toasted in an oven to make Kirieshki, (croutons), or soaked and fed to the dogs.  A couple of years ago I astounded people by producing my father’s favourite standby of “bread and milk” and a friend serving up some “Bread and Butter Pudding”, both of which were praised as excellent ways of using stale bread.

The main reason for this attitude, as it was explained to me, dates back to the “Great Hunger” of the 1930’s.   Although there is some difference of opinion, most scholars agree that the famine was caused by the policies of the government rather than by natural causes.  Poor harvests in 1931 and 1932 may well have been caused by a variety of natural disasters, but; the move to collectivization, (which was ruthlessly pursued in the face of opposition amongst the peasant farmers), and inefficiencies in the planned productions aggravated the scale of the disaster.  To make matters worse, Stalin refused to release large grain reserves that could have alleviated the famine, while continuing to export grain; he was convinced that the peasants had hidden grain away.  The successful harvest of 1933 ended the famine.

There’s a very good account of this period, The Silent Steppe written by a Mukhamet Shayakmetov, a Kazakh who was a young boy at the time.  His family ostracized because his father was considered a Kulak, a “class enemy” of the socialist revolution.   It’s an excellent book, well worth reading and I thoroughly recommend it.

The photograph as posted on Facebook

A short while ago I saw a photograph posted by one of my “friends” on Facebook … it was of a meal his wife had prepared for him: a piece of chicken in sauce, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots and grechka.

My first reaction was “ugggh!”.  As a child I had hated broccoli and cauliflower and I only grew to like them once I had entered adulthood and started cooking for myself, but it wasn’t those that caused the instantaneous negative reaction … it was the grechka.

If you are confused, then I had better explain that “grechka” is the name by which it is known here.  In the West it is better known as Buckwheat.  I don’t think I have ever seen it in the UK, yet alone cooked it and I don’t think I had ever eaten it until I came here – at least, not knowingly.

Buckwheat is a bit of a misnomer as it is not related to wheat at all, which is a cereal or grass.  Buckwheat is related to sorrel and rhubarb.  It has, however been, cultivated as a “pseudo cereal”, although cultivation has declined considerably over the last century, especially in more affluent areas of the world.  The name is thought to have been derived from “beech wheat” which may be a reference to its triangular seeds, which resemble those of the beech tree, and the fact that it is used in cuisine as a wheat substitute.

is thought to have originated in China where wild forms are common in Yunnan.  There are also wild varieties found in Tatary, an old synonym for Central Asia.  It is thought to have been first cultivated in south east Asia as long ago as 6000BC and then to have spread to Tibet and Central Asia.

Amongst the advantages of the crop are the fact it is fast growing and thrives on poor soils, (low fertility or acidic), but the ground needs to be well drained and too much fertilizer, (especially nitrogen), can reduce yields.  It also needs to be sown late in the season in hot climates as it blooms in colder weather.  This fact and the short growing season make it suitable to be used as a second crop.

It was widely grown in Russia and Asia but also spread to Europe, (France once had the world’s second largest acreage under cultivation), and the Americas, (both George Washington and Thomas Jefferson recognized the value of Buckwheat to their crop rotation and grew it).  Its cultivation has declined considerably during the twentieth century, to a large extent due to the modern use of fertilizer, (especially nitrogen which produces good results when applied to maize and wheat).  There was a resurgence, however, in the States in the 1970’s as a result of increased demand for certain types of breakfast cereals and for export. It is still cultivated in Kyrgyzstan which is one of the top twenty five or so producers in the world.

It is said to be an extremely useful and versatile crop.  Not only can the seeds can be used as a wheat substitute in some cases, (good for making porridge, (kasha), noodles and pancakes, (blinis) and as a thickener for soups and sauces), but can also be used as a rice substitute, the nectar from the flowers (which are fragrant and attractive to bees), makes a dark coloured honey, it can be used as ground cover for the control of erosion, a “green manure” and as a constituent in feed for livestock.   It is even used as a stuffing in upholstery.

To be used in cooking the outer hull of the seeds needs to be removed which requires special milling equipment, due to its triangular shape.  It is usually sold as raw, but sometimes as “roasted buckwheat”, although here I think I have only seen raw buckwheat.

The colour varies from a reddish pink to brown, and when cooked it often appears pale.

It needs to be kept in a cool and dry environment – and in good conditions whole buckwheat can be stored for up to a year, and the flour can stay fresh for several months.

One of the main advantages is that Buckwheat contains no gluten, (a protein found in cereals), and so can be eaten by people who have celiac disease or gluten allergies.  Apparently, it is also being used as a substitute for other grains such, as barley, for brewing gluten-free beer.

There are other healthy attributes that are constantly being quoted at me by people here who seem to love the stuff … it is said to be good for the circulation, (especially for those who suffer from high blood pressure; binds cholesterol and it is useful in the treatment and management of certain forms of diabetes, producing better blood sugar control.  It can also be used as a laxative and is said to help prevent gallstones.  I have even seen claims that it can help to prevent certain types of cancer.

For the record: There is, however, the possibility that someone may have an allergy to buckwheat which can result in a skin rash.

If Buckwheat is so good for you, then it might be wondered why my reaction to the photograph on Facebook was so negative.

Here in the office, people have got used to the fact that I am not particularly partial to grechka and they think it is odd.  It is very popular here.  The kids and some of our staff “love it” and don’t understand why I don’t. I simply respond by pointing out that it’s a matter of taste and the roles are reversed when it comes to Marmite.

Although I am not fond of it, I don’t think I wouldn’t go as far as the guests who wrote in the comments book in one of out hotels that we should “never serve it again, it’s disgusting”.  Neither would I agree with the author of the website about gluten free cooking at about.com … who says, “this GF food tastes great”.   Although I am happy to eat grechka as a garnish I find that it lacks taste and is usually served dry.  Also, when it served, it is not simply a garnish but is served in bulk, in the same way as rice and pasta is often served in bulk as the main ingredient of a dish, with just a little meat or sauce.  As a result I prefer to pour some sauce over it to give it both taste and consistency – and only eat a small amount of the portion on the plate.

Back in the UK, of course, the big holiday of the year is Christmas but here it is New Year.  As a result, whereas back home I might have been asked,  ”What are you doing for Christmas?” or “How will you spend Christmas?’the question  is usually about New Year: “Kak vi budetiye vstrechit noviy god?” – “How are you going to meet the New Year?”  I really like that phrase … to “meet the New Year”.

The New Year is coming, and at midnight between December 31st and January 1st, we meet it and then spend time together for 365, (or 366), days before saying goodbye to it and meeting a new one.   It’s like an allegory of life where we make acquaintances which blossom into friendships and then … people move on.

My answer to the question is usually something like: “in bed”.  I have been known to stay awake and see the New Year in, but normally I retire as usual somewhere in the middle of the evening, falling asleep watching a film and then rising, as usual, at something like six o’clock and going about my daily business.

You see, I am not a great one for celebrating holidays, especially the big ones like Christmas and New Year.  Maybe it’s a reflection of the fact that I work in tourism and hospitality where the holidays are just another working day … like the Windmill Theater in wartime London, the hotel never closes.

Now, I have no problem marking birthdays and anniversaries, commemorating special dates in history or one of the internationally recognized days which aim to focus attention on some issue or other, such as World AIDS Day, but it seems to me that there is something artificial about these really big holidays.

Celebrating New Year on January 1st is really an arbitrary date.  New Year has been celebrated in different cultures on different dates over the course of history.  There is nothing particularly special about January 1st.

Christmas is similar.  It is generally agreed that whenever Jesus was born, it was almost certainly not on December 25th, which was a date chosen because it was already a Roman festival, and a heathen one as well. Most of the traditions which we follow in celebrating the “event” back in Bethlehem over two centuries ago are relatively recent inventions, albeit if many of them have their roots back in antiquity.

I am, however, no Scrooge, nor like Oliver Cromwell who actually banned Christmas from England back under the Protectorate.  I am happy, for example,  to attend Christmas or New Year parties and I make a few concessions like putting up “Christmas lights” in my apartment and cooking a special meal, but generally I like to keep it a “low key affair”. Christmas and New Year, after all, do serve useful purposes; if only, as the Mufti of Kyrgyzstan pointed out, that they provide an opportunity to reflect on the past, think about our conduct and plan for the future.

They also serve as a time for families and friends to gather together and catch up on what everyone has been doing.  That, however, is a double edged sword.  All the preparations involved can bring on stress, and gathering large numbers of people together, each with their own preoccupations, aspirations and hopes, stresses and worries, only emphasises and heightens emotions and concerns.

To be honest, my family has never been particularly close or demonstrative … I suppose that we are typically examples of British reservedness.  It’s also a feature of the social mobility of modern life.  Although they both came from large families, when they died my parents were the last members of each to remain in their home town, Malvern.   Some had travelled abroad, (for example to America or New Zealand), whilst others had moved away for their work.  My brother moved to Hertfordshire and I came here.

Although we do keep in touch, we all have our own lives and new friends and families.  It’s not easy to get everyone together.    My father used to say that we one ever got together for “hatches, matches and despatches”; christenings, weddings and funerals.  These days, with christenings becoming fewer and fewer, those occasions are also becoming rarer.

Last night, however, I was invited to a family gathering which was very pleasant.

One of our investors had brought her two children from Australia and the family had decided to gather to celebrate Christmas in their honour – Christmas being an important holiday in Australia and they didn’t want them to miss out on the celebrations.

It is common for people here to mark and “congratulate” Westerners like me on the holiday, even if they don’t celebrate it themselves.  I have a number of cards bearing the traditional “Season’s Greetings” which people made a point of delivering early so that they would be with me before Christmas instead of waiting, as would be the usual practice, until next week as the local holiday approaches.  Some people came in to the office or telephoned specifically to wish me Happy Christmas.

Despite the numbers involved, (fourteen grandchildren of different ages were joined by ten adults – grandmother,  parents and spouses, … and me), gathered together round the table chatting and eating Manti.  It was a fairly low key affair, but that suited me.

So, December 25th, Christmas Dayhas arrived, (or, at least, what they call here “Catholic Christmas” to distinguish it from Orthodox Christmas which is celbrated two weeks later on January 7th).  As usual, I am in the office trying to attend to the daily routines, but I suppose that I should take the time to wish all my readers those traditional seasons greetings: “Merry Christmas!”

Se Rozhdestvom!

For a start, it’s all relative.  If you happen to be in the Southern Hemisphere, then Summer is coming to an end, and Autumn is about to start, rather than Spring, and even here, in the Northern half of the globe, there seems to be some confusion over exactly when is “the first day of Spring”.

As I child, back in the UK, I was taught that the first day of Spring fell on the Vernal Equinox, March 21st … but things seem to have changed, especially in the US where Astronomers, Almanacs and calendars say that it falls on March 20th.  ”What’s that?”, do I hear you say, “how can the first day of Spring change?”   It is certainly a question I asked myself.

I am told that it is all to do with the vagaries of the calendar and the definition of a season as a quarter of the year.  A year, of course, is defined as the time taken by the earth to orbit the sun.  The Astronomers tell me that they need a bit more precision and so they define a season as being the time taken for the earth to complete a quarter of it orbit – and that is further defined as the time taken for it to travel through an arc subtended by a 90° angle from the centre of the sun.

Now, even at the simplest definition, (“a quarter of a year”), we have problems … unfortunately, the number of days in a year, (365), isn’t even, and isn’t divisible by four, so the length of a season isn’t going to be an exact number of days.  To underline the point, the time it takes for the earth to orbit the sun isn’t an exact number of days, anyway, AND to make matters worse, is constantly changing.  The path taken by the earth is not circular, but elliptical, (like an oval – squashed along one axis and elongated along the other), and constantly varying as our planet is subjected to complex gravitational forces from other heavenly bodies – especially the planets, (so maybe there is yet some sort of basis to the ancient “science” of Astrology, after all).

As a result, the “astronomical season”, defined as the time taken by the earth to travel that 90 degree arc, varies not only from year to year, but also between the seasons.   It turns out that when measured in days Spring and Summer are actually just over seven day longer than Autumn and Winter … Summer is the longest month, and Winter the shortest …  in the Northern hemisphere, that is.  Sorry, but on the other hand, if you happen to be in the Southern hemisphere, then Spring and Summer are just over seven days shorter than Autumn and Winter … Summer is the shortest season, and Winter the longest.

But that’s not all.

Whilst there is logic to the astronomer’s definition, it is complex and doesn’t fit well with everyday life.  People prefer the certainty offered by simpler, more easily understandable and recognizable systems, and so different systems for defining the seasons exist.  Meteorologists, for example, tend to define the seasons by weather patterns and farmers by the cycle of agricultural activities.

Generally, however, people think of the seasons as extending over three months.  In the case of Spring, (in the Northern hemisphere), this usually means March, April and May, hence the identification of March 1st as the first day of Spring.  However, this can vary according to local climatic conditions and culture.

In some cultures, (for example, according to the Celtic calendar), the Vernal equinox is not associated with the first day of Spring, but with the middle of Spring, which would mean that the first day of spring falls in the middle of February.

Incidentally, this helps to explain, (at least in part), the curious fact that always intrigued me in my childhood, that whereas June 21st was considered to be the first day of summer, Midsummers Day was celebrated on June 24th which would make Summer, far from being the longest season but the shortest, at just six or seven days long.

There is another interesting anomaly associated with the vernal equinox.  We were taught that on the Equinoxes, the length of both day and night were equal – 12 hours each.  However, that’s not the case.   Because the earth’s atmosphere acts as a lens, bending the light of the sun’s rays, daylight actually starts some time before the sun actually rises and it ends some time after the sun sets, which means that daylight is actually several minutes longer than the nighttime.

…

When I was growing up, I remember that there was a popular record with the sonorous voice of Harry Secombe intoning … “If I ruled the world, … every day would be the first day of Spring …”

That seems a strange idea … why would anyone want the same day to be repeated everyday of the day year.  It sounds pretty monotonous.  On the other hand it’s not meant to be taken literally, but as expressing something about hope, new life and new beginnings.

Spring is the season that is associated with rebirth, renewal and regrowth.  The days get longer and warmer and the long, cold, dark nights of winter are banished to the past, plants blossom with bright colours and many animals give birth to their young.   Layers of heavy, drab winter clothing, (designed for warmth rather than style or comfort), are discarded in favour of more fashionable, lighter garb, (lighter in terms of, both, weight and colour).

Well, here, winter has yet to give up its grip and we are still hanging on to our winter coats.  The days may be getting longer, but it is still pretty cold, there’s snow on the ground and more cold weather is predicted for the immediate future.  It’s minus 14 degrees as I write this and we’ve had a week or so such bitterly cold weather.

So much for Spring!

However, it is a time of hope and looking forward in anticipation … of new beginnings and new prosperity.  Perhaps that’s why. as one commentator put it,  there seems to be a tradition of unrest in the Spring in Kyrgyzstan … protests are arranged, governments are challenged and fall, as the people take the opportunity to give vent to their feelings which have been welling up inside them throughout the long, cold, dark winter.

This year, we are all hoping that the energy, enthusiasm and hope can be directed to positive and constructive channels rather than giving vent to negative events.

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So, here’s to the first day of Spring … and all the hope and regeneration that it symbolizes.

In recent times the question of ethnic rivalries and disputes has reappeared in Kyrgyzstan.

It’s not a new phenomena … over the years there have been several occasions when ethnic differences has sparked conflicts and driven communities apart.  This is hardly surprising given the vast range of ethnicities that live in the Republic, some of them small, others quite sizeable.

It used to be said that there were over 80 nationalities represented in the population of the Kyrgyz Republic.  In fact, in 1999, there were some members of 132 nationalities registered just in Bishkek – including 33 “Brits”.

The Kyrgyz, themselves, make up just over 50% of the population – up until the 1970s the numbers of Kyrgyz was in decline – but this tendency has been reversed.  Of the other nationalities the major ones are:   Russians (17%), Uzbeks (13%), Ukrainians, Germans and Tartars.  According to the 1999 census there were 12 nationalities with a population of over 20000 people.

Some of these ethnic groups have been here for a long time … centuries even, dating back to the time of the the Great Silk Road.  Some are much more recent.

The Uighurs, for example, lived in the part of China known as Xingjian, just over the border, for about a thousand years and some families claim to be able to trace their lineage back to the 10th century.  A major Uighur migration into the rest of Central Asia occurred in the 1850s and 1860s – when they fled Manchurian expansion – and there was a second wave in the 1920s.

Similarly, the Dungans, ethnic Chinese Muslims – in China they are known as Hui, arrived in Kyrgyzstan as refugees from persecution in 1882 after a series of failed Muslim rebellions.

The Soviet period was one of considerable internal migration and this helped to reinforce the multi-ethnic nature of the population – as well as feed the periods of population growth.

Indeed, the last major influx of nationalities occurred when Stalin moved sizable populations of other minorities here: these include Koreans, Germans and some Chinese (though there was already a Chinese population called Dungans or Dongans, in residence.  Many Germans have now emigrated to Germany leaving some smaller towns practically empty.  A large proportion of the Russian population have also emigrated since Independence in 1991, and there are often reports of even more seeking to emigrate.

The 1970′s saw a consolidation (or stagnation) in population growth.  The natural population increase was maintained – but migration between Kyrgyzstan and other republics of the Soviet Union matched this growth. This trend continued throughout the 1980′s.  In the 1990′s, declining birth rates, a slight increase in death rates and continued migration (such as the exodus of Germans and Russian) led to a much lower level of population growth (1.2% as opposed to 2%).  This affected the urban populations more than the rural ones: Bishkek, Talas and Karakol were the only towns to exhibit a increase in population.

Following Independence, migration was still an important factor – and, one year (1993/4) actually helped towards a decrease in the country’s population.  The effect, however, was not universal in geographical terms … different regions were effected differently.  In the South, for example, there was a general tendency for an increase in population.  The losses were experienced in the North (except in the capital,  Bishkek, and a small number of other towns) and mountainous regions.  Again, the impact was more marked in urban communities than rural ones.

From 1996 until the millennium, the fall off in the numbers of migrants meant that population growth grew stronger – however, there was internal migration, away from remote regions towards the regional centres – and in particular, to Bishkek.  It looks as if this trend is continuing.

There were a number of other consequences of important social and demographic importance.  For example, the migration led to differences in the ethnic mix of communities.  Although it is common for “ghettos” (areas where communities tend to congregate) to emerge, there was a tendency for some nationalities (e.g. Kyrgyz, Germans and Uighurs) to settle in rural communities and for others (such as Russians, Koreans and Uzbeks) to prefer urban ones.

In English, the name “Tartar” implies a vicious and warrior like nation – which is not surprising in that they are descended from the Mongol “Golden Horde” of Genghis Khan, most resemble Russians rather than the other Turkic peoples.One of the ethnic sizeable ethnic groups to be found in Kyrgyzstan are the Tartars, a Turkish people from the Volga region in Russia – where they have their own Autonomous Republic Tartarstan, (“Land of the Tartars”), which is centred around the capital: Kazan.

They have settled throughout Russia, but especially in Tatarstan, in South Western Siberia and in the Crimea.  The Tsar began encouraging the Tartars to begin settling in Central Asia in the middle of the 19th century as farmers, traders and clerical workers.  There were mass deportations from the Crimea in 1944 and many were transported to Central Asia, particularly to Uzbekistan.

A large number have now emigrated to either the Crimea or Russia since Independence and there are now just over 50000 in Kyrgyzstan.

Which brings me, (at last), to Sabantui – a tradition Tartar holiday.

In Russia, (especially in Tartarstan, of course), it is quite a big holiday

The name is derived from two Turkish words: saban (“plough”) and tui (“holiday”) – and it marks the end of the period of work in the fields.  It is an old festival – the first written reference to it was on 15 June 1292, and it is sometimes presented as a “marriage with nature”.

Every year the Tartars of Kyrgyzstan gather in June to celebrate the festival.  This year, the festival was held on June 6th.  The venue changes from year to year, but in recent years the festival has been held in Karagachovaya Rosha – Elm Grove, in Southern Bishkek.  There is a concert of national music, and many games, especially for the children.  These include “Egg and Spoon” races, (but there is a catch in that the spoon has to be held between the teeth, not in the hands), sack races, tug-of-war and racing with a yoke with two pails full of water, wrestling and a version of “climbing the greasy pole”, (where contestants climb up a tall tree in order to retrieve prizes that have been placed there beforehand).

This year, I went with the kids and some people from the office and John, a consultant who has been working here for the last year or so.

We arrived early which meant that the place filled up around us … which is something that I’ve always preferred, personally, although I know that many people get tired waiting for things to get started.  As is often the case here, we did have to wait as the opening ceremony was delayed whilst we waited for official visitors to arrive …

Another advantage of arriving early was that we had the pick of picnic spots … unfortunately however, we chose somewhere which the insects liked as much as we did.  They didn’t worry us too much, however, as we spent most of the time wandering around soaking up the atmosphere.  It was a really pleasant atmosphere with people of all ages from young kids to wartime veterans.  Some of the children performed dance routines and were later joined by many of their elders.

There were lots of things to see and do ,,, as well as the performances and games, there was the tree top obstacle course which proved to be a popular new addition and went down a bomb with the kids

As well as performances of traditional Tartar music, they are often joined by folklore groups of different nationalities – Kyrgyz, Cossacks, and others … and, as such, the festival represents an interesting example of inter ethnic cultural cooperation that acts as a counterpoint to the ethnic disputes that have been hitting the news.