So, here in Kyrgyzstan, we have recently celebrated our very own Fourth of July, Independence Day. It is the day that Kyrgyzstan got its formal independence from the Soviet Union.
Now, auspices of this day do require a little background. When the Soviet Union fell, it began, as everyone knows with the Eastern Bloc countries’ withdrawal. What is less commonly well known, is that many of the Central Asian members had no interest in leaving the Union. Moscow had paid high wages, invested in infrastructure, and kept facilities running that could not support themselves in a free market, like distant airports.
So, in 1991 when the first vote came to the Kyrgyz regional government, they declined to leave the Union. At this point one man made an impassioned speech to the delegates that a vote to withdraw was necessary, on account of the fact that the Soviet Union no longer existed. This man, , later became Kyrgyzstan’s first president.
So, on the birthday of this great nation, the sense of festival is a little different than in America. The first impression is of a classy street fair. The center of town hosted the bulk of the congregation. For the first time this summer, the government painted all the benches and steps in bright pastels, and got the fountains flowing. People with fancy cameras set up big displays, and charged to take pictures in front of them. For this, residents came dressed to the nines, my 1 year old brother sporting a white shirt, bow-tie and leather vest (which was to subsequently be decorated with chocolate ice cream.) Behind these delights, were the natural rows of street food vendors, hawking mostly fried bread with potato in the middle.
But as always, when I ask people about this day, about how it was before they gained independence, only the academics seem to praise the move wholeheartedly. Your everyman laments the lack of work, the idleness. Surely development in these post-Soviet nations is unique unto its own.
But in the end, as with any good party, people were happier to be there than they were to think about why. I went home when the heat of the day took over, but when I returned after sunset, Sunny Naryn looked as I had never seen it before.
The perpetually vacant stage behind the center was host to gigantic speakers, and the area in front of it was a rippling mass of dancing youngsters. Occasionally, the stage took the form of a high school talent show, and teenagers would get up and do choreographed dances to popular songs. But mostly, people just danced there and had a good time. There were circles of dancing friends, couples making waves, and a ring around the dance floor of boys just standing; little different, really, than an American dance. But here, it seemed like everyone ages 15 to 22 had come to just move in the moonlight. The weather was perfect. It was a dream up there in the mountains.
And the party continued well into the night, as any good party should.
Originally Written August 31st, 2009
