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.