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-- June 3, 2002 --
Hello everyone,
My last message was long on Kyrgyz media issues, with touches
of an anachronistic - or eternal -- Lenin thrown in, but didn't
convey a sense of the place. I'll try to fill that gap now:
The United Nations has designated 2002 as the Year of Mountains,
and what better place to appreciate it than Kyrgyzstan, where
more than 90 percent of the land is mountainous? A Fulbright officer
in Washington describes this as an "Oh! Wow!" country
because of its conspicuous natural splendor. Even the road leading
from the airport faces snow-capped mountains which reached out
to kiss me welcome.
Then to be embraced by the mountains, we drove for a half hour
south of Bishkek to Ala-Archa National Park. The red poppies that
dot the roadside heading towards the park disappear as the altitude
increases. In the park, they're replaced by yellow and purple
wildflowers, and by a rust-colored lichen marking rocks and tree
trunks.
Although we didn't have time to get as far into Ala-Archa as
the glacier or trek to its high peaks, we walked through the rocky-bottomed
gorge where there's visible evidence of rockslides, and where
the bed of the twisting river is cobbled
It was a Sunday afternoon, sunny enough to call for sunglasses
but chilly enough to require a jacket. Visitors were few, and
many of their voices sounded foreign - a British couple, a group
from China, noisy teenagers from France. There were scattered
picnickers, and one man appeared asleep, stretched out upon a
sun-warmed rock next to the river.
Nurilya, my escort from the Embassy, asked a soldier for permission
to go inside the presidential yurt, a large felt-covered tent
in which high-level officials entertain distinguished guests.
There were no events going on, so he let us in The décor
includes Kyrgyz crafts and tapestries, including one depicting
the khan or ruler named Manas, whom epic poetry and legend credit
with establishing a Kyrgyz homeland in the distant past. (The
glorification of the fictional Manas here reminds me of the glorification
and sanitizing of Amir Timur in Uzbekistan - a process one scholar
described as creation of "foundation myths.")
The park is named for the ala-archa, a sacred tree we know as
the juniper, and visitors tie strips of fabric onto branches to
make their wishes come true. "Some people believe trees are
magic," Nurilya explained.
Here, amid powerful mountains and winds, amid snow-fed rivers,
amid the fragility of wildflowers, it's easy to believe that trees,
too, have power and that magic is all around us.
#
Speaking of mountains, the flight from Bishkek in the north-central
part of the country to Osh in the southwest passes over the Ferghana
Range. Here, the mountains were folded by the earth's powers,
now green at lower elevations, a gray-and-white mix at medium
altitude and solid white high up. The color of the snow matched
the wisps and clumps of clouds beneath the plane. A river far
below is as narrow as a strand of yarn.
Who would dare take on these mountains, so imposing from the
air, so intimidating from the ground.? The fissures, cracks and
chasms would defeat any invaders. Even mythic heroes would pause
and seek another route.
Nearing Osh, Kyrgyzstan's second-largest city, the land flattens
out and is divided into rectangular fields like in the American
Great Plains. A tamed river is channeled through concrete banks.
Roads stretch straight out, crossing at right angles like platted
country roads in mid-Michigan. I prefer the view of the mountains.
#
Country road, take me ... where?
From Osh to Jalal-Abad, there are no directional signs along
the roads that are in varying states of repair and disrepair as
they cut through valleys with mountains on both sides. Blankets
of red poppies patch the hillsides. Cows, sheep and donkeys graze
alongside the road.
Our driver kept the car at a steady 18 kilometers per hour for
the full two hours in each direction. In a feat that defied physics,
his pedal was so steady that the speedometer displayed the same
speed whether we were stopped, zigzagging over gravel, cutting
around slow-moving trucks on blind curves, jamming on the brakes
to avoid front end-swallowing potholes or balancing precariously
on an edge with no shoulder as a safety cushion.
However, my experience with Tashkent drivers taught me not to
worry about things like that and to enjoy the scenery.
That scenery included Old World touches in the form of carts
drawn by donkeys and horses. It included touches of the Old West
in the form of men -- cowboys -- mounted on horseback to drive
their cattle. It included touches of free enterprise in the frequent
stands peddling plastic bottles of gasoline - petrol - reportedly
smuggled in from nearby Uzbekistan to avoid taxes.
But before setting out for Jalal-Abad, where I was to lecture,
we drove to the most famous landmark in Osh, a jagged rock formation
called Solomon's Throne. Local people claim that Osh is the second
most holy city among Muslims because Mohammed reportedly prayed
at this formation. Holy or not, a cultural and historical museum
with an obnoxiously out-of-place pseudo-futuristic metal façade
was blasted into the rock halfway up. Kitsch is in the eye of
the planners.
A tourism brochure says:
"The town of Osh is ancient as the hills.
It's full of light and wonders.
If one desires to cognize the world
No more a sin
Than not to pay attention to Old Man Osh!"
#
Kyrgyzstan press update: My last letter mentioned threats and
violence against one independent newspaper whose editor I met
with in Bishkek. On the day I left Kyrgyzstan, the office of another
editor who had attended my workshop was burglarized. "All
equipment he had - three computers, scanner, fax machine, about
20 recorded audio tapes and the paper documentation have been
stolen. Only selected documents were taken" from the Tribuna
office, according to a U.S. Embassy aide.
Eric
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