Fact and fiction about women’s life here.
Much information on the internet gives the impression that the life of women in Kyrgyzstan is still very archaic. ‘Bride kidnapping’ is supposedly the way for men to get a wife and as a young woman you can no longer walk the streets alone. Women are supposedly not allowed to travel without their husbands and are dependent on what the man allows in everything.
True, bride kidnapping – a relic from the nomadic era – still occurs. Sometimes it is arranged by both partners, sometimes for economic reasons. However, it is officially prohibited by law. There are, just like in other countries, men here who terrorize and abuse their wives. But in Kyrgyzstan you can also find “Keep Your Hands Off My Body” (safe) houses.
As Aisha’s story below shows, there is a big difference between life in the countryside and in the urban areas in Kyrgyzstan. Because there are almost no social services, you have to rely on your family and neighbours. Women and men have their own social network in which they work together and support each other. Kyrgyz women are generally strong women who hold their own. Although life in the mountain villages is harder than in the urban areas, this is changing more and more. This is happening more quickly now, and men and women are increasingly demanding the comfort and conveniences of a city-style life. The story below illustrates this.
From the life of a daughter-in-law in a mountain village in Kyrgyzstan.
Aisha tells:
When I was a student, I met a boy with whom I fell madly in love. I thought I could go to the end of the world with him and even live with him in a hut, far from civilization.
Ulan also fell in love with me. In my dreams I saw the picture of what a happy family we would be with four wonderful children. Ulan told me honestly that he came from the “backwoods”, from a distant mountain village, that he was the youngest son who would have to live with his parents, in his parents’ house, to take care of them until their death (still a strong tradition in Kyrgyzstan). I did not attach any importance to this, it was only important to me that he would always, until old age, be with me, with our children.
Our student days were behind us, time for a new start and Ulan asked me to marry him. I was infinitely happy.
I told my parents that Ulan had asked me to marry him and that I had said “Yes!” Mother was very much against the marriage but was not against Ulan at all saying that he would probably make a good husband. However, she pointed out that I, who had never experienced life in the country and had been born and raised in the city, would have to live in a remote village.
I then answered firmly that even a hut together with my beloved would be a paradise, and that our love would help me to adapt to the village, and that the most important thing for me was to be close to Ulan.
The wedding I had dreamed of since I was a child, with a fancy white dress and a huge wedding cake, did not happen. He took me to his village. When I got out of the car, I got my first shock when I saw the small, dilapidated house of my now husband. Suddenly, Ulan’s parents ran out of the house and, shouting loudly, began to hug me, kiss me and pull a big white scarf over my head.
When all this commotion had calmed down a bit, I went to Ulan and asked where the toilet was in their house. He, talking enthusiastically with his parents, answered briefly:
“At the end of the garden!” I walked to the garden. There were apple, pear and other fruit trees, the fruits were already ripe and fragrant. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the delicious smell. However, when I reached the end of the garden, I did not see a building that looked like a toilet anywhere.
I went back and asked Ulan to take me to the toilet. He took me by the arm and led me to a small wooden cubicle. He pointed at it with his hand and said that he would wait for me there. When I opened the door, I got the second shock. In the small cubicle there was a hole in the middle of the floor and nothing else. I wanted to get out of here and go home as the sharp stench quickly brought me back to my senses and I hurried to get out of there as soon as possible.
In the evening there were going to be many guests. I was told that I was now the daughter-in-law and that I had to do housework together with the other daughters-in-law and, as today was an important day, that I had to work to receive the guests. I was not afraid of housework, I cut vegetables for salads together with the others and washed the dishes, but there was no hot water in the house, and that was the third shock that day.
All evening I ran back and forth between the temporary building that served as a kitchen and the house: I carried dishes, brought hot tea, poured it for the guests. That same evening I saw a real samovar for the first time in my life. When I poured boiling water from the samovar into a small teapot, I burned my hands three times that evening.
Later I found out that this whole ‘nightmare’ with guests and back-breaking work was my wedding, which was so very different from the wedding of my dreams.
I began to have doubts. I still loved Ulan very much, but the country life was clearly not for me. I wanted to call my parents and ask them to come and get me, but when I remembered how I had told my mother that “with a loved one, even a hut is paradise”, I decided to persevere and try to adapt to life here.
One morning Ulan asked me to water the sheep. I had never seen sheep up close before and besides, how was I supposed to do that? I took a bucket, filled it to the brim with water, stood at the entrance to the garden and thought back to Ulan’s words before the wedding, “this will be our kingdom!” So this is my kingdom now, and I am the queen! In my imagination at the time, I was a kind queen who would love her subjects and take care of them. So the sheep were now my subjects and were thirsty, just like me!
These memories helped me a little, a smile appeared on my face and imagining myself as a queen, with my head held high, I went to the stable where about twenty rams were standing. When I came closer, and looked closely at my bleating “subjects”, I became afraid. “I am the queen, I am the queen” I repeated to myself. I opened the gate of the stable and the twenty “monsters” ran towards me bleating loudly, which frightened me even more, and I expected that these monsters would tear me to pieces. Screaming with horror I ran home, fled to my room, covered my head with a pillow, and thanked the Almighty that I had remained alive.
I didn’t know how much time had passed, but then the door opened softly and Ulan came in. I hugged him tightly and told him what had happened to me. I begged him with tears in my eyes not to let these bleating, horrible creatures tear me apart any longer.
Ulan laughed heartily, told me that I had left the gate open and that all the rams had run into the yard because of that. He explained that they had not run to me to tear me up, but because they wanted to drink.
Time passed, I learned to wash clothes, not in a washing machine, but in a tub. I learned to sweep the floor, not with a vacuum cleaner, but with a broom. I swept the garden, but with another broom, one meant for the street. I washed the dishes not under the tap, but in a washing-up bowl, all the while thanking the Almighty that at least there was detergent to wash the dishes.
I had long ago said goodbye to my well-groomed hands; they were now always rough and hard. One day my mother-in-law said “Daughter, you have been with us for six months, it is time to learn to milk!”
My thoughts were racing through my head: “How can I learn to get closer than 10 feet to a cow? How can I learn to look at this cow up close? This subject of my kingdom was three times bigger than my “bleating” subjects, and had horns that could easily stab me to death. “Mother, I dare not touch those udders, I will not go near her, I am afraid of her,” I replied tearfully. Mother-in-law smiled and, without saying anything, picked up the bucket and went to milk the cow herself.
Six months later I had learned how to milk a cow, water sheep, and do all the housework. Still I wasn’t really happy in my kingdom. In truth I’d rather be a Cinderella in a small city apartment, with hot water, central heating, a washing machine, and finally a warm toilet that smelled of pine and didn’t sting my eyes with its acrid odor.
Author: Samira Kalmakova