I was asked this natural question recently when discussing with someone in America why it was proving difficult to get a traditional Kyrgyz coat. I think of things in terms of causes and effects, so at the time, I provided a long, elucidating (i.e. boring) answer. I thought it was good, so I’ll replicate it here, both as I should have on the phone that day (the Short Answer) and as is more appropriate for the impassioned observer (the Long Answer).

Short Answer:

Yes, but not for products like this, at least not in Naryn.

Cause/Effect Long Answer (as I see it):

Yes, there are stores here in Naryn, but not for big, wooly, Kyrgyz coats.

See, there are roughly three types of products I see on a regular basis in country.

1. Simple or mildly enhanced naturally grown products
2. Homemade things
3. Manufactured products (2 forms)
   1. Cheap, Chinese stuff
   2. Higher quality, Russian, Turkish etc. stuff

The Mildly Enhanced Things:

The bazaars are filled with agricultural goods that are generally grown domestically, if not locally, and appear in their appropriate season. These include fresh produce, nuts, sunflower seeds, flour, sugar, pasta, etc. At larger bazaars, these can also include animals, like sheep, cows, camels and yaks.

The Manufactured Product:

These come in two categories, roughly, cheap Chinese stuff (as I heard one person ask, “is it normal, or is it Chinese?”) and other manufactured goods.

From China come little toys, socket protectors/converters, tape, shoelaces and just about any and all sundries one could imagine. There are also lots of clothes from China, recognized by their goofy English or Chinese writing. There are coats and shoes, blankets and curtains. In general, folks recognize the low prices, but always with the caveat that the product won’t last.

Then there are the other, higher quality products. There are good hats made in Kyrgyzstan (of all things), and there is also a domestic clothing industry. Other clothes come from Turkey. There are shoes from Turkey and Russia, and furniture, too. There are also some of the other soft goods present in the Chinese side, but made with quality, like outlet converters.

The Homemade Things:

This is where the story really begins. There are lots of things in country that are beautiful and work almost entirely outside of the cash economy. These, in my experience,  are the romantic, cultural things that one comes here expecting see. They are mostly hand-made from the domestically grown products, like intricate felt products made from wool, jam from fruit, and sheep pelts worked into seat covers, floor mats, or in my case, huge winter coats. These are the things that, in my experience, as an outsider, are the hardest to attain.

The high quality, homemade product element of the economy, outside of specialty markets in Bishkek, go mostly unsold. They are generally produced by the women of a family. Here, a brief explanation of generalized gender roles, I believe, is in order.

Men, when not debilitated by the serious problem of unemployment and alcoholism, generally engage directly with the cash economy as office workers, government work (politics or police/military) or with farming and animal husbandry, the products of which are either kept for family use or sold.

Women on the other hand, can often be seen working as teachers, office managers, or at the small shops in the bazaars. When they’re not doing this, they are often in the house, cooking, cleaning, looking after the children, or producing these beautiful, romantic culturally informed products. Countless times, I’ve asked someone where they got a particularly well embroidered felt hat, or a detailed wooly car-seat cover, and the response is inevitably “my mother/sister/wife made it!” People take huge amount of pride the quality of the things the women in their lives make.

As a foreigner, however, this all makes accessing these products difficult. Some of the more established and marketable products have some outlet. The striking felt carpets called shyrdak see limited access at shops catering to tourists, are occasionally sold in bazaars, and have some minor distribution internationally. Embroidered felt hats for women also have some market access in the bazaars.

A larger market lies in the yarns and felts required to make these. This is on account of the fact that to make felt, by the traditional methods (as is still quite common), requires huge amounts of labor and takes upwards of three weeks (compared to higher quality machine made felt that takes only 30 minutes…).

This all comes together, in modern lingo, to say that if one wants any of these things, they must generally be “made to order.” And given that all of these inputs have their season, the order must be made well in advance.

For example, sheep are sheered for their wool (to make felt) in the Spring. In the summer, that wool is boiled and then wrapped around large cylinders and that again with wooden slats. This wood, wool, wood log of a sandwich is then rolled around the village, often behind a donkey, and repeatedly kicked and re-bathed in boiling water until it binds as felt. Then it is died. The died felt stock then, generally sits idle during the harvest and gets turned into hats, slippers or shyrdaks during the idle months of winter.

Products made of sheep pelts follow a similar, but shifted cycle. Sheep are most commonly slaughtered in fall. The pelts are then saved through the winter, and then worked in the spring and summer. So I’m told, the process involves treating the leather on the backside, somehow, with milk, the process needing to be done outside in the heat. Once again, these inputs are then kept around to be turned into seat covers, sleeping mats, or coats, for when people have free time.

Kyrgy Carl! Get to the Point Already!

So, now, on December 1^st, I’m still trying to get myself that big, wooly, traditional Kyrgyz coat, and I’ve got an uphill battle.

First off, these coats aren’t as common as they used to be. They’re big, heavy, and make one look like they’ve come from a village. Most men seem to prefer slicker black leather coats from factories, or cloth overcoats. I’ve asked around and people either tell me only their grandmothers’ know how to make them, but are too old now, or just figure I’m kidding.

When I told my family I was planning to go to a large Sunday bazaar to ask someone I had met if they could make me one, they finally told me they’d take me out to see their grandmother. When they did, she pulled out two beautiful large coats, with price tags on them to boot! Turns out, with enough prodding, I found an old lady who used to make them for sale when the country was more prosperous. The tags on these unsold coats both, naturally, showed 1991, the year the Great Soviet Empire fell, and the huge amounts of funding for this area dried up.

But now, even once I’ve found this traditional artisan, from what will she make a coat for me? The 18 year old ones she had in a trunk are much too large, and she doesn’t’ have worked pelts just lying around. She could buy some raw pelts from the bazaar, as they sit around in big, bloody heaps for 75¢ a piece, but how could she work them, with winter having arrived? So, to get my coat, here as the tusks of winter are beginning to bite, I need to find:

• Someone who knows the skill, and
• Someone who has a whole bunch of worked pelts just lying around

In this country, where disposable incomes are so low, folks don’t just have stocks of wares sitting around, waiting to be sold. As my coworker just put so glib: “if you put in an order now, it’ll take a year! You need to get it before it gets cold!”

Now, tell this to a guy who got here 8 months ago, and whose language skills can just now barely get his points across. Like I say, it is this kind of article, while being the most desirable, I find are the hardest to acquire.

Originally Written December 1st, 2009

Update:

At the end of January, 2010, my neighbor walked into my house wearing a giant, white, sheepskin coat. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before I owned it. It is a former Soviet Army thing, with a hammer and cycle on the back. Below is a picture of the coat. The gentleman wearing it is not me, but my friend, Travis. Next winter I’ll try to get one up of myself, but for the meantime, this will have to do.