Hospitality Kyrgyzstan

One of the first things I learned about the Kyrgyz people was their hospitality. To put it mildly, they make us Americans look like jerks. The Kyrgyz people take hospitality to a new level. They take the practice so seriously that it borders on unfathomable. Let me give some examples.

I have lived with my current host family for about 3 months now. They are loving and kind. They are constantly concerned about my level of comfort: whether I am hungry, thirsty, cold, sick, confused, bored, missing my family, or any other thing that could bother me. Granted, a big part of that is language: one of the first things you learn in any language is how to express yourself from a basic standpoint. Sometimes I wonder whether it is just a way to fill in the silence of my presence. Then, my brother Azamat (who speaks great English) will come home from university and proceed along the same lines of questioning. Then, right before he leaves, he translates for my parents to ask whether I need anything. Though I am certainly not complaining, it is obvious that they want to make sure I am comfortable in their house.

The part that is most strange to me (or at least used to be) comes when visiting another person’s house. No matter how mundane the reason for a visit, a huge spread of jams and salads are put out, only to be put back after the 15 minute visit has concluded. If staying for dinner, more food is constantly thrust upon your plate until you almost cannot take anymore (and then the Besh Barmak comes out!). Drinking alcohol is almost mandatory because the host will not understand why you wouldn’t want to have your fill of everything! Tea is refilled time and time again, regardless of how bad you have to pee. Food and drink are literally forced upon you. It is almost impossible to fully convey this message, since such a practice is so unheard of in the United States. We like our guests to certainly have their fill, but we almost never make them eat anything!

Then, there is the take home bag. After any visit, you are compelled to take a bag of food home with you. Sometimes it is merely a bag of candies or some fruit. Usually, it consists of meat that was not consumed during the meal. This may seem odd, but really the meat would just go to waste if nobody took it home.

Some of you may recall my experience at a cousin’s wedding. I made the mistake of enjoying the first course of the feast (these little sandwich like things called samsa). After the fourth round of food and probably the tenth or twelfth of vodka, I was ready to throw up for more reasons than usually required for the act.

All of this being said, being a weak American has forced me to develop some strategies to avoid too much discomfort