Who Wants Ribs?
The significance of eating the eye was first explained to me with this question, “Who would want the ribs? There are lots of ribs. There are only two eyes.” But I’ll get to that later.
So, here in Ivanovka, we have been spending the last week or so preparing for “Culture Day.” This is a Peace Corps tradition where trainees put on a show of different elements of Kyrgyz culture for the viewing pleasure of each other and our homestay families.
I couldn’t be luckier than to come to Kyrgyzstan. Remember how I said that I site placement day the atmosphere was like a fair, missing only jugglers and tents? Well, today was the complete Renaissance show! We constructed a yurt on premises; musical instruments abounded, and best of all, folks were all dressed up in traditional Kyrgyz dress. Women wore long embroidered robes, men robes and tall white hats called Kolpacks. Our families decked us all out to the nines, and some villages even rented more extravagant fairy-tail costumes from Bishkek.
Students of each training village spent the weeks before this event rehearsing performances. Some presented cultural minorities of Kyrgyzstan, one cluster performing a Turkish wedding. Others did ethnically Kyrgyz events. As the singing sensation “The Алты Балa” (Alti Bala,) the five guys in my village and I hammed up Жарамазан (Jaramazan,) a carol about men on horseback coming down from the mountains to bring blessings on the houses they visit.
Not only did the event have these cultural performances, there was also food, in this case plouf, a fried rice kind of dish, prepared in two giant cauldrons over an open fire. We ate in picnic like settings, with traditional felt blankets spread out on the grass. Afterwards we had a talent show and the whole gala wrapped up with games: tug-of-war, red-rover, and a local game where you throw the anklebone of a sheep at a line of other anklebones.
Now, on the way home, the families from my village decided the party simply hadn’t gone on long enough. So we pulled over to a green spot on the side of the road, spread out our blankets, brewed some more tea, and opened up our leftovers. Our addition to the feast had been Besh Barmak, or 5 Thumbs, a dish of lamb and noodles traditionally eaten with your hands.
While much of the meat had already been consumed, my wily family had saved the best for last. Along with the remaining noodles, we tore the meat from the sheep’s head and went to town. I can hardly describe my happiness, when, sitting in my Kolpack and robe, on the side of the highway, watching a rainstorm coming in quickly from the mountains, my host father passed me the eye!
Not ten minutes later the rain came, like the 2 AM lights at a bar. We were all having a great time, and plenty happy someone else took the initiative to call it quits for us, otherwise we might still be out there.
I’ll spend the next week or so folks visiting my permanent site in Naryn City. These past months have been the calm before the storm, and I’m about to get a taste for what the real party will be like. Wish me luck!
Love,
Carl
Originally Written May 16th, 2009
