During Ramadan, folks don’t traditionally put anything in their mouths from sunrise to sunset. Kyrgyzstan, however, is a notoriously lax Muslim country, and I have seen only a small percentage of people following these strictures.

What I have luckily been able to witness more of is the Kyrgyz tradition of Jaramazan. A couple of times per week this last month, neighborhood boys have come around to our house and others singing the folk song of the same name, on the subject of down from the mountains, on horseback in the first verse, and on an ox in the second. After hearing the song, residents are suppose to give out some of their dinner, or candy, or money to the boys, much like our Halloween. However, true to their relaxed nature on these traditions, I seldom heard the song sung to completion, nor did we always answer the bell.

Now the finale celebration of Ait, or Eid, here in Kyrgyzstan is defined not by gift giving, but by boatloads of guesting.

Traditionally, one goes to an odd number of houses. The reigning champion volunteer went to thirteen in one day. I clocked in at a paltry 3, but I still slept well on a full belly of Plov, Kymyz and Dim-da-ma (my personal favorite Kyrgyz dish, effectively a thick, down home stew without the broth.)

Most of my time this year was spent on a narrow, neighboring street where a previous volunteer lived, and made such an impression that the folks have taken me in with loving arms. So much so, in fact, that I have just about completed the delicate balancing act of moving from one house to another, namely, my current house, to one of these neighbors.

See, the family that I am living with is absolutely delightful, but the traveler in me is getting restless again. “Its not that I don’t like you, quite the opposite in fact,” I told my current family. “The fact is, if I am to learn about all of Kyrgyzstan, the troubles and successes, the good jobs and the bad, if I am to truly get to know this community, I can’t just live in one place, with just one family.”

“Okay, we understand. But, will you come and visit often?” They asked.

“You had better believe it.” I said.

That means, at the beginning of October, the auspicious calendrical lunacular of my birth, yours truly, Kyrgy Carl, will be moving from my little room among this big Kyrgyz family to a littler room among an even bigger Kyrgyz family. That means no more carcasses when I come home. But rest assured, the more people I have to visit, the better my letters will become.

Originally Written September 22nd, 2009