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.