Fermented Mare's Milk

The first indication that this Thanksgiving was going to be a bit different from my previous American versions came on Tuesday afternoon, when I received an email from the University containing, in part, this message:

Special Recognition of Thanksgiving, the American holiday when families celebrate their gratitude for one another and for the freedoms of a democratic republic, will be held on Wednesday, November 23 at 5 pm in the Fourth Floor Conference Hall. The Thanksgiving holiday itself will be November 24. It will be a day-off at AUCA.

It's just that I don't remember celebrating my gratitude for the freedoms of a democratic republic. Hell, I don't even remember being from a republic. I think I've been wasting a perfectly good holiday these last three decades. But that's not much of a surprise, I guess.

Next came the actual Special Recognition of Thanksgiving celebration referred to above. We arrived there with Aida (pr: ah-EE-duh), the woman who has been showing us around and helping us not get entirely overwhelmed (she's wonderful, to say the least), and sat toward the back of the few rows of chairs set up in the small auditorium. Not much was happening. People were still coming in, others were setting up, others putting out some of the food we'd later eat, etc. I was mindlessly looking around the room, taking everything in while simultaneously not really paying attention to anything (it was the end of a long day and, like I think I said before, it's damned tiring walking around the world a virtual deaf-mute). My senses finally came back to life when the guy on the soundboard turned up the volume of the music he was playing and started actually spinning some songs via a double CD rack and a mixer. What initially perked my interest was when he dropped Jefferson Airplane's "Somebody to Love" over a generic house/drum & bass line to startlingly brilliant results. Then he moved seamlessly into the ubiquitous Pussycat Dolls "Don't Cha," at which point the entire room seemingly exploded in a chorus of Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me... This was the third time in as many days we'd heard Kyrgyz kids singing this song. First, while walking downtown, a couple of young Russian boys walked by us singing it, then I overheard a couple of University girls singing it as they walked to class. Very odd that this should be what hits it Central Asia. I suppose it could be worse. At least they weren't singing Big & Rich or something equally insipid. Plus, as of yet, I've not heard a single person do a Lil' Jon impression.

After a time everything settled down and the celebration got under way. An older student (I'm assuming a senior) acted as MC. The tenor and pitch of his voice, his mannerisms, and the general state of his presence all reeked of Cheesy Game Show Host. It was remarkable and proved incredibly difficult not to just laugh at him every time he spoke, which he did often and at length. I have no idea what he was saying, as it was primarily in Russian, but I assure you it's worth catching if his tour hits a city near you.

The first activity of the event involved bringing the newly elected student government officials (all in matching sweater vests) to the stage to thank everyone and remind us that this holiday is all about celebrating the democratic process, which they are living embodiments of. They ended their time on stage with a call and response of "Thank you" and something else (it was in Russian and I only caught the thank you, as it's one of the words I know), an activity that would be repeated by nearly every person who got up on stage over the next hour or so. The president of the university then got up to speak, explaining what Thanksgiving is like with her family and how it is primarily a time for family to be together. For a few brief minutes I was sad, for a number of reasons, then a young student got up and made my week.

She came to the stage from the row directly behind us, with her little posse of friends cheering her on. She got up to the stage and, into the microphone, told us (I think; it was in Russian too, but I think I got the gist of it) that the song she wanted to sing was a special song of thanks perfect for the holiday and about something she and her family and friends all held very dear. I was expecting maybe a traditional Kyrgyz song (we'd heard a few the night before at the Anthro Dept. meeting), but what we got was so, so much better. Without hesitating at all, she burst into an a capella version of Abba's "Thank you for the Music."

I'm nothing special, in fact I'm a bit of a bore
If I tell a joke, you've probably heard it before
But I have a talent, a wonderful thing
'cause everyone listens when I start to sing
I'm so grateful and proud
All I want is to sing it out loud

So I say
Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing
Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance what are we?
So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me

She sang through the entire song, clapping and stomping her feet to keep time. It was utterly brilliant. And it made the rest of the evening's activities a bit anti-climactic for me, but that's perhaps to be expected when a 19 year old Kyrgyz student unexpectedly belts out some Abba as her gift to Thanksgiving.

That said, other highlights included the entire room full of people (maybe 150 or so) shouting "Turkey, turkey, turkey" over and over for some three, four minutes. This preceded the presentation of an actual roasted turkey as a prize for the best thanksgiving message (these were recorded for a few weeks leading up to this one on huge poster boards hanging by the front entrance of the main school building). The winner actually received what I'm certain was a roasted duck, but it was fully dressed with little paper crowns on the drumsticks and jam packed with stuffing.

After that things sort of fell into chaos, with everyone diving and elbowing their way for bits of other roasted birds staff were circulating and the few tables set up with sweet breads and pizza (we ate a sort of Kyrgyz tart, with a thick sweet crust and a filling that I think was apricot; it was very good and I've now got my eye out for it in the bazaars). Aida left us then and we left shortly after as well.

Yesterday, Thanksgiving proper, we spent the early part of the day in the apartment, as the university was closed. Erin did some research while I wrote (first chapter out of the way finally!), then we just sort of lounged around until mid-afternoon, when we joined an American couple we met during our layover in Armenia at their friend's house for Thanksgiving dinner. As it was just the two of us and four middle-aged missionaries who've lived in Kyrgyzstan for the better part of a decade at the dinner, we were a bit weary of how the afternoon would unfold. Very quickly, however, it became quite comfortable and we left after having had a wonderful time (and a delicious meal, bigger than the bread and veggies we've been living on, too!). On the way home our new friends drove us past their favortite restaurant in Bishkek, which turns out to be about ten minutes from our apartment. There's a good chance we'll be going there for dinner tonight. For that, and so much more, I give thanks...

Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing
Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance what are we?
So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me