On Jill – 10 years
I am sometimes embarrassed by the fact that, although I have lived here for some fifteen years, I still can’t speak Kyrgyz. My excuse is that I don’t get the practice … I live in Bishkek, in the North of the country, where everyone speaks Russian, or they want practice speaking in English.
That’s not to say that I don’t know any Kyrgyz … I have a smattering of a words and phrases which I try to trot out at appropriate moments.
On Sunday, there was one phrase which I heard over and over again – and which I had no trouble recognizing : “On jill”, which means “Ten years”.
I had been invited by CBT Kochkor to attend a Banquet to celebrate ten years since the local group was established. The group was established in 2000 and for the first three years was supported by the Swiss Development Agency, Helvetas. From 2003, when the Swiss project ended, they have existed as a self-sufficient organization, growing from just a handful of individuals to a group combining over forty full members and over a hundred active people who provide a variety of tour services in the village and surroundings: guides and drivers, landladies of homestays and yurts providing Bed and Breakfast accommodation, horsemen, craftsmen and women, and the like.
The Kochkor group is a member of the Kyrgyz Community Based Tourism Association, (KCBTA), and is one of the most active and thriving groups in the country. As well as providing a variety of services, they also run a local Tourist Information Office. They say that “imitation is the best form of flattery, well, the Kochkor CBT group has been so successful that it has been the model for other groups around the country – and Kochkor, itself, is the home of several similar groups run on similar lines.
Indeed, Kyrgyzstan’s Community Based Tourism programme has been recognized as a great success both within the country, and abroad. It’s been copied, (and adapted), by other countries in the region and the subject of studies and marketing campaigns in both the former Soviet Union and further abroad under a variety of names such as Rural Tourism and Village Tourism, as well as the traditional name: CBT.
Now, I have a lot of time for CBT. It seems to me that they offer a great service, and help bring many of the much vaunted advantages of tourism to the people in some of the country’s most remote and poorest regions – helping provide additional income and workplaces as well as opening up parts of the country which would otherwise be difficult for tourists to visit, if not actually inaccessible. As a result, I was delighted to be able to accept the invitation and agree to give a small speech at the event.
Kochkor is on the way to Naryn, and I pass through it every month on my up to the Guesthouse that we have there, so I knew the journey well. We left slightly later than usual as the event was due to start at one o’clock – and by then we are normally in Naryn and getting down to work. I quite welcomed the later start as it gave me a chance to catch up on a few things in the office before we left.
At this time of year, it’s normally just getting light as we leave Bishkek, but because of the later start, we left in broad daylight. It might have been daylight, but it was overcast and clouds obscured the sky. Fortunately, that didn’t last. As we left the city the sun emerged from behind the clouds and the sky turned blue. In fact it became so warm with the sun blazing through the windows of the car, it had quite a soporific effect – not helped by having to squint to avoid the glare, having overlooked the possible need for sunglasses.
We drove along the valley of the River Chu with magnificent views of the snow capped craggy mountain peaks of the Kyrgyz Range to the South. The trees lining the route displaying their magnificent autumn colours – yellows, gold and brown – and the occasional red and orange. There must have been some rain recently, because the grass was still a verdant green – usually, at this time of year it would normally be the colour of straw.
The road works continue – first one carriageway is closed, then another. Unfortunately, it’s not always clear when to swap lanes, because there seems to be a lack of signs. It’s not difficult to miss the closure of a carriageway as the road is blocked by huge chunks concrete, but there is nothing to denote the end of a particular section of roadworks and the fact that it is possible to return to the carriageway. As a result, there were a series of incidents when Andrei, my driver for the day, had to brake hard to avoid an on-coming vehicle – even though the carriageway they were supposed to be on was open and carrying traffic. There were some other examples of crazy behaviour by drivers unable or unwilling to exercise patience – or common sense – especially in the narrower stretches of Boom Gorge, (Shoestring Gorge).
As we were making good time, and needed to calm our nerves, we decided to stop for a cup of tea at a roadside cafe in the Gorge. It was the busiest that I have seen the cafe all year. Not as busy as during the height of the tourist season in precious years, but still quite busy. Instead of just two or three tables being occupied which has been the case throughout this summer, there were just two or three tables free as walked in. Apart from a bus and two minibuses in the car park, it seemed to local traffic, probably travelling to or from the local market.
As we drove over one ridge we saw a couple of birds flying high – soaring on the wind’s updrafts and downdrafts. Their silhouette suggested to me that they might be falcons of some sort, but I had to take a second look because the colourings were quite spectacular. From below it looked as if the wings were brown, but with a design rather like a orange circle reminiscent of wings markings on a Spitfire. I even looked to see if they were kites, but it was miles from anywhere and I couldn’t imagine anyone living nearby and as I couldn’t see any sign of a kite string I have to assume that they were real – unusual but real.
I only saw them for a few seconds as we climbed a hill – they were flying towards us, and then the road turned and they passed by. I glanced back, but they were already disappearing into the distance. As Robert Louis Stevenson put it in his verse, “From a Railway Carriage”: “Each a glimpse and gone forever.”
We arrived in Kochkor almost exactly on time and pulled up in front of the cafe where the event being held. Although there were plenty of people already gathered, we needn’t have worried about being late, however, as everything was running as normal, “po Kyrgyzskomy” – Kyrgyz style – that is, running late. In fact, it was almost a record in that the PA system cranked up and the master of ceremonies, (the Tomada), called everyone to order after only just forty minutes.
I took the time to soak up atmosphere and find my place at table along with representatives of the Peace Corps and the local craftwomen’s collective “Altyn Kol”. The cafe has just been renovated and was quite presentable. In the old days, the event would have held in the open air, in a jailoo, a high mountain pasture, and today it seemed to be a pity to be indoors instead of enjoying the magnificent autumn day – but that’s a sign of the times.
The tables were laden with salads, fruit, nuts, pieces of deep fried chicken, confectionery, bread and the Kyrgyz mainstay for ceremonies such as this – boorsok, (deep fried packets of dough – my favourite). There was also a selection of soft drinks, Djarma – a tradition Kyrgyz drink made from millet and, of course, the inevitable vodka and cognac. And this was just for starters!
This was followed by soup and samsa – a Central Asian meat pasty and later by Manti.
The Tomada called for order and we started to serve ourselves, as the opening welcome speeches were given by members of the local committee. After that people were called up to make speeches, or toasts, in small groups. Members of the group were awarded certificates and everyone received a small gift.
It wasn’t just an internal affair. They had invited all their members, representatives from the Association’s headquarters in Bishkek, and of other CBT groups from around the country, as well as partners such as Mercy Corps and Tour Operators. When I was called up to speak I found that I was representing the Tour Operators. Although some 60% of their clients are booked through Tour Operators, and several were invited, unfortunately I was the only one that was able to go and share the celebrations with them.
To us, it is usual to give a gift to the host when celebrating a birthday or anniversary, and so I had brought with me a small gift - picture made from died and waxed flowers. I had originally thought to take something Kyrgyz, but the advice I got was: “Ian, they are Kyrgyz! They are in Kochkor and have numerous craftspeople in their ranks …”. So, in the end, I chose the flower montage – it looked good, was natural and symbolic: of that fact that things, like a flower, start from a small seed and grow into a handsome plant eventually blossoming into bloom.
The speeches were interspersed with songs and performances of traditional Kyrgyz music, and competitions. There was an interesting re rendition of the well known Russian melody “Moscow nights”, with Moscow changed into “Kochkor”.
One of the most amusing competitions involved a man a woman acting out the traditional Kyrgyz game of Kyz Kumai – Kiss the Girl. In the old days, the event would have held in the open air, in a jailoo, and the two would have been on horseback. The woman would be given a head start and the man, (the Djigit), would spur his steed on in chase, in order to catch her and give her a kiss. If he failed, then the woman would turn her horse around and chase him, striking him over and over with her kamcha – a horsewhip. Because we were indoors, of course, they couldn’t be on horseback – so instead they were given toy horses. If it had been a “hobby horse” then they could have stood almost upright, but their steeds were so low that they were almost crouching as they “galloped” along the cafe floor. Despite the fact that the djigit succeeded in claiming his prize of a kiss on the cheek, he was told he had cheated so his reward was a beating as he was chased back the length of the dining room.
Probably the highlight of the afternoon, however, was when one of the Japanese volunteers came to give her speech – in Kyrgyz.
I was embarrassed that after fifteen years I could manage little more than a few phrases like “On Jill”, whereas after a couple of months she was confident enough to speak more than a few phrases to such a large gathering.
Bishkek