What did the Russians ever do for us?
I am sure there are many plucky overland travellers who have driven from Europe to Central Asia. I like to think Eric Newby started the trend in 1956 (see ‘A short Walk in the Hindu Kush’, when he and Hugh Carless drove a ‘brand new station wagon … painted in light tropical colours’ from London to Afghanistan) but no doubt there have been plenty of others, both before and after. We also know cyclists who have pedalled from Europe to Kyrgyzstan, and who report a vibrant and friendly camaraderie which supports them along the way.
But most of us take the less adventurous option and fly by commercial airline, even if we are beaten up by our carbon consciences. We say ‘less adventurous’ but struggling through Heathrow is no longer a walk in the park and there is that terrible frisson of fear when, checking in for a flight, one’s baggage disappears bearing the IATA airport code FRU when one’s ticket clearly states Bishkek.
‘Bishkek’ is a modern concept - the name was adopted at independence in 1991.
There seems to have been some sort of habitation here for centuries, but the Khan of Kokand fortified the site in the early 19th century and the Russians later carried on the work with the establishment of a strategic Cossack garrison.
Image above: the Kyrgyz Republic’s flag flying proudly from the 45 m high National Flag Pole over Bishkek’s Ala-Too Square
By 1878 the town was known as Pishpek and, by 1914, it had swollen to a substantial city of Russian and Chinese immigrants. Enter the Bolsheviks in 1917, and by 1926 Pishpek became the capital of the Kyrgyz Autonomous Socialist Soviet Republic, and was renamed Frunze, after a locally born but recently deceased Bolshevik general. Hence the IATA code of FRU.
Today, central Bishkek’s basic bone structure is still that of a Central Asian capital city constructed during Soviet times. The classic elements are all there – wide boulevards, substantial parks, central spaces for mass rallies, backed by imposing ‘public’ buildings and, of course, statues of Lenin. It scrubs up well though and gives a maturity and presence to the capital of this new Kyrgyz Republic.
The wide boulevards are harder to photograph, cluttered as they are with both parked cars and moving vehicles, but they still slice through Bishkek’s urban area, creating a central grid pattern lined with trees, and radials which connect with surrounding areas, and offer tantalizing glimpses of the mountains.
Parks are a welcome addition in any Kyrgyz town, providing much needed shade, colour and social space, particularly in summer.
Independence was not an easy ride, however. Under the Soviets, there were jobs for all, housing and sufficient food, schools and universities. After independence, the economy crashed and none of the basics provided by the Soviets was a given. In addition, there was political instability, and ethnic friction in the geographically more distant south west, close to Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. Violence and revolution flared on a number of occasions.
Colin Thubron’s journey through Kyrgyzstan in the mid 2000s (Shadow of the Silk Road, first published 2006), describes poverty in both town and countryside. One chance acquaintance is quoted as saying, “We’re a poor country. We never looked for independence. It just fell into our hands. We should have had battles and rebellions against Moscow. But it was all done for us by others…”. His younger, post-communist, cousin describes being Kyrgyz as “hav[ing] no burden… Others have a burden of history. But we – nothing!”
We saw and felt the impact of this historical void in 2022 but also appreciated the actions taken to fill it: the increased self-esteem with the re-introduction of the Kyrgyz language into daily Kyrgyz life, the pride in the re-establishment of the legendary hero Manas (image left), the awareness of the need to conserve nomadic customs and traditions.
Bishkek’s statues reflect some of this re-acquisition of the Kyrgyz identity. Manas is huge, of course, literally, figuratively – and numerically. It’s a delight to see him pop up on road sides, town squares and mountain sides.
Perhaps surprisingly, Lenin is still present (image right), but has been moved from his original postion. He is no longer gesturing at distant mountains but seems to be waving at the former Central Committee Building . Read into that what you will.
Marx and Engels are still deep in conservation (below left). The Soviet Friendship Monument (below centre) is still floating above Ala-Too Square. But new post-Soviet monuments are also appearing, the most arresting being the black and white marble monument (below right) dedicated to ‘Those who Died for Freedom’. It is located close to the President’s Palace where protestors chained themselves to the railings.
The reinstatement of religion also tells a story: “A poor Islam and a disgraced Communism...” (Colin Thubron’s Shadow of the Silk Road again). Our guides were somewhat embarrassed to tell us that there are now more mosques in Kyrgystan than there are schools. Funding appears to pour in for mosque construction, from Turkey, from the Middle East, and there are fears of fundamentalism. On the other hand, Kyrgyz people seem to practice a brand of ‘relaxed’ Islam, mixed with, or influenced by other, older influences such as Shamanism and Buddhism.
Some mosques are elaborate affairs (left), but many look like flat pack Ikea kits, consisting of a squat base, usually (but not always) a small dome, and a stick-on minaret which no muezzin could ever hope to climb.
In contrast, the Soviet era cemeteries seem ethereal, arresting - and distinctly un-egalitarian.
In the countryside, the 19th century Russian immigrants had already wrought significant, if small scale, changes by cultivating land and living in houses. But the Soviet approach was based on centralised control, via the collective farm, with its larger scale agricultural buildings.
We could only imagine the impact of the return to a market economy, combined of course with outward migration which presumably meant fewer agricultural workers but at least some money coming back in from remittances sent home.
We saw very little evidence remaining of the former collective farm stores and structures, and the scale of post-Soviet agriculture seemed very variable. Some fields were being tilled by hand; some showed a basic degree of mechanisation while other areas were growing arable crops across significantly large areas – all presumably for the home market. Wonderful apricots and other fruits also feature. Some fields were fallow, or possibly just totally neglected. A few were irrigated, some not. We saw few cash crops such as cotton or tobacco. But then we didn’t visit the Fergana Valley which may have a very different landscape.
Growing fodder for livestock still appears to be very significant. We were there at ‘hay’ time. For hay read green grass, cut and raked into windrows to dry, then either baled or raked into heaps for transporting loose. The domestic architecture of hay stacks was glorious.
We presume the basic, single storey, rectangular housing unit started life as a 19th Russian import. Most of the older houses we saw had a pitched, or pitched and hipped, or Mansard roofs, with the roof space bulging with last year’s hay. Rural fences come in all shapes and sizes but there was one common theme, a picket style with a diamond panel. Again, we assumed this was a Russian phenomenon, but cannot find its like on the internet.
Larger towns and urban areas are still not a significant feature of the Kyryz landscape but there is a feature of the Kyrgyz transport infrastructure which is something which the Russians did do for Kyrgyzstan. We’ll leave you with pictures of Central Asia’s quirkiest Soviet inheritance: the bus shelter.
