Nuclear Missiles

Our flight from Bishkek to Istanbul left at 3:00 a.m. The plan was to rest at the hotel until 1:00 a.m.; then Rysbek was going to be kind enough to take us to the airport. We never rested, but we had an unforgetable evening.

My first stop back in Bishkek was the National Hospital of Kyrgyzstan. I was seen by the chief opthamologist; she examined my eye and assured me that - while it looked horrendous - it was a surface laceration - "not serious." I was given eye ointment and told to keep my eye covered for 48 hours. The visit was expensive though - it cost me a little over three U,S dollars!

It was now about 8:00 p.m. Babur's family had decided that they wanted to treat us to dinner at a restaurant. The people there that night were: Rysbek and his wife Jyldyz, their two daughters Anara and Chanara, Chanara's husband, Anara's daughter, Teligay, Chanara's daughter, Sanirabiga, and their family friends: Babur, his mother, father, and sister.

The meal was delicious! But, the conversation was again the most memorable. We had two interpretors at this meal: Anara and Babur. It was funny and endearing. I would ask a question, like "How did your parents meet?" And, each of Babur's parents would give this long explanation, with lots of gestures, laughs, and we could tell - contradictions. Finally, we'd look to Babur, who would sweetly say, "A friend introduced them." (A lot was lost in translation!)

The most touching conversation of all was between Leon and Babur's father. Earlier in the trip, Rysbek had learned that Leon had been in the Navy, serving on a submarine in the North Sea. While we couldn't understand Russian, we could tell that every introduction thereafter included the fact that Leon had "driven" submarines. Tonight was no exception. Babur said that his father respected military service/ had himself been in the service. Via tranlators, they started comparing notes. Leon had been on a submarine containing Polaris nuclear missiles. Babur's father had worked with Soviet nuclear missiles. You could see the realization dawn, as Babur's father made hand gestures of missiles shooting at each other. Usually a smiling man, he pensively said, "When I was in the service, never in my worst nightmares, did I ever dream that I would one day be having dinner with an American." (We were the first Americans they had ever met.) He made many, many toasts celebrating that he was indeed having dinner with an American.

My favorite personal memory is Babur's mother telling me (through an interpretor) that she thought I had such a friendly, open face - she could just tell that I was a good person. "Isn't it true," she continued, "that mothers are simply mothers the world over?" I agreed; we hugged.

Golden Eagle Hunting; The Hot Springs

It was late by the time everyone left Teligay's birthday party last night. Leon slept out under the stars again. With no light pollution, the "Milky Way" here is a broad ribbon across the sky. With a pair of simple binoculars, each of a million stars jumps into view. None of us had seen the stars this clearly since we were kids.

The next morning, we were still sleeping (around 8 a.m.) when Leon roused us, saying that the local falconer was here for a hunting demonstration. We got dressed and walked with the falconer up the mountainside. He had brought with him a golden eagle --- and a live rabbit. I had been looking forward to this demonstration of falconry, but I didn't enjoy it. The falconer climbed higher yet. When they released the rabbit down by us, it was so scared it didn't move at first. But when it did - the golden eagle saw it, dove, and sank its talons into it. Later, we were able to take our pictures with the golden eagle. (I could handle that!)

At our last breakfast in the yurt, we asked Askar if there was anything we could send him from America. The answer, "Tourists." The family wants to keep the farm as it is, but add to it a "nomadic life" tourism business. (Want to go?) We can attest that it is authentic!

We packed our gear, reluctantly said our good-byes, and started back on the trek to Bishkek. Our first stop was a welcome one. We stopped at a natural hot springs (and not a commercial production as we experienced in Turkey). We had the hot springs pool all to ourselves. The water was HOT! We learned later that the water was about 112 degrees Fahrenheit. Granted, the boiling point for water is higher in this altitude, but I felt a little cooked. Anara explained the procedure - first, you go into the hot water for as long as you could stand, then you are to cross the road and lay down in the mountain stream. (I don't know the temperature of the mountain stream, but Jim put his foot into it before the hot pool, and it quickly became numb.) We were to do this "hot-cold" routine twice. We all did. Along with a little shampoo, we were very refreshed!

We stopped at a few more small towns. My left eye was swollen shut from something, and we were looking for a doctor. But, it was Sunday, and those few we saw recommended that we go on to Bishkek. The ride back to Bishkek was slightly shorter in distance, as we had circumnavigated the huge lake and were now on the southern shore. Still, the trip took about 8 hours. It was a beautiful day, but riding in the back of the van in need of shocks, over a jagged road, the trip seemed longer.

Abilay Abilay

Our friend Kunduz has an unusual email name -- abilayabilay. When we asked her about it, she answered that Abilay was her grandfather's name, with whom she is very close. Today, we were honored to meet him. But, first, the whole day:

I crawled out of my tent fairly early. Jim had left with Rysbek even earlier... off on another hunt. The rest of us stumbled around and got a fire going. Mark and Beth had froze. The mountain nights, even in August, are chilly. (Jim and I had had a horse blanket over our light sleeping bag and had been comfortable.) Again, the hunters came back successful. Jim had shot four rabbits this time. The rabbits were taken, skinned, and cubed - and a slow-cooking potato and rabbit stew started.

One scene remains indelible in all our minds. The stallion that Rysbek had been riding the day before got loose from its fetter and decided to flee. Its mane and tail were perpendicular to the ground as it galloped away. Rysbek's nephew jumped on his own horse. Horse and boy FLEW over the mountainside, jumping rocks, small ravines after the stallion. The nephew gained inches on the stallion at each turn and twist. They disappeared from our sight, but we all knew that the young man would be back - with the stallion. He was. (Jim has recalled that scene several times since we've been back; but neither he nor I are able to adequately describe the scene in words...)

After breakfast, the five of us went for a walk, while the others rounded up and saddled the horses; cleaned and stowed gear. We crossed the river at a small wooden bridge, then climbed up toward a mountain forest. The ground here was covered in tiny flowers of all hues - I picked a small, beautiful bouquet of yellow, purple, red, and blue. We came back to the campsite but on the other side of the river, and crossed one at a time over the rushing water. Here's Mark..

After eating the delicious rabbit stew, we started down the mountain. The return trip seemed shorter. The horses knew they were going home, and although none broke into a gallop, their steps were quicker.

When we returned to the yurt and farmstead, we found that many other family members had gathered there, including Kunduz' grandfather and his wife. Rysbek's older sister and three more brothers were also there. Telligay turned five years old that day. Five, ten, and twenty are important birthdays in Kyrgyzstan, and the family had gathered to celebrate it. After cleaning up a tad (remember we had now not bathed in three days), we joined the festivities. Again, the boiled lamb was brought out. Again, the ceremony - only this time, the grandfather distributed the sections and Mark was presented with the head! Telligay received a large bag of candy for her present, which she was kind enough to share.

We sat and talked into the night (with Anara as interpretor). Grandfather Abilay is an important man in these parts. When all the land was in collective farms under the Soviet Union, he was this area's collective farm leader. He even went to Moscow representing the area. He has helped to build the local school; it is named after him. He has recently written a book of his life, and brought out newly printed editions for his family members. All eight of his children have finished college. He is rightly proud.

The evening is beautiful on the mountain. My favorite picture from the whole trip is this one of "our extended family" gathered that night.