Party time!

There’s been a new energy in Toktogul recently. It’s partially due to the fact that spring has maybe, finally come. It’s also because there has been a recent string of holidays, bringing everyone out of their homes and out of their winter glooms.

The first was Men’s Day (also known as “Defense of the Fatherland Day”) on February 23, the day on which men throughout the former Soviet Union are honored for their manliness. Coming up on March 8 is International Women’s Day, which recognizes the accomplishments and struggles of women worldwide. And thrown in the mix, on March 5, is “Ak Kalpak Day,” a celebration of the traditional Kyrgyz men’s hat. My sitemate Max and I hypothesize that the purpose of this holiday is to make sure men have more holidays than women.

People in Kyrgyzstan take holidays quite seriously. They often involve “guesting,” visiting others’ homes for hours of chai and food and conversation. People also go out to cafes for holidays, where they feast and dance and make merry.

I try to attach myself to a Kyrgyz friend for these holidays, so as to get the full experience. And no one in my life knows how to celebrate better than Satina-eje, a 60-year-old English teacher who has taken Max and me under her wing.

So yesterday, in honor of Women’s Day, I went to a café with Satina-eje and the other teachers from her school. I’ve been to many such parties, and I’ve learned a lot—the most important lesson being that Kyrgyz women can out-eat, out-drink and out-dance me any day of the week, so it’s not even worth trying to keep up.

Satina and I arrived to the party a little early. Correction: we arrived on time, which means no one else showed up for almost an hour. We drank chai and she caught me up on the latest Toktogul gossip, while some of the younger schoolteachers prepared the feast. In the usual style, the table was spread with bread, borsok (tiny friend breads), a variety of salads, fruits, candies, cookies and a few bottles of vodka.

The guests trickled in, nearly all women. The ladies dove into the spread, and every once in a while one of them would pause from their eating-drinking-talking long enough to dump more potato salad on my plate or sprinkle a fistful of borsok in my direction. Having learned from previous experiences, I paced myself on food and tea. If I ate at the same rate as the women around me (or ate at the rate they were urging me to eat) I knew I wouldn’t even make it to the first course. 

The master of ceremonies was a guy named Bakit, who is a teacher of some kind and a frequent party emcee in Toktogul. In the typical Kyrgyz style, he invited several people at a time up to the front to give toasts. The toasts went something like this: “Dear teachers, you are beautiful and strong. I congratulate you on Women’s Day and wish you good health and good luck.” Everyone in the audience listened carefully and nodded solemnly, and then the microphone was passed on to the next person, who proceeded to give an identical speech. This happens at every Kyrgyz party—everyone gets their chance to speak, and everyone says some slight variation of the exact same thing.

The soup course came out, everyone at my table took a few vodka shots  (toasts were given to the hope that I may find a husband this year), and then it was time to DANCE. Kyrgyz people are very into dancing. As far as I can tell, the same two Kyrgyz pop songs and two Russian pop songs are usually played on repeat, but that is all that is needed. All the ladies got up to dance, and I was, of course, dragged along.

I used to be a little sheepish about dancing in situations like this, but I’ve come to embrace it as a time to test out dance moves I would be too embarrassed to try anywhere else. These moves usually go over very well with Kyrgyz people. I also try to do some low twists so as to get a good quad workout.

Soon enough, dancing faded into more toasts and preparations for the next course of food. I was feeling pretty beat. Plus, I’d overheard some women at my table talking about trying to make me sing a song in front of everyone. It seemed like a good time to make an exit. I’ve never actually made it to the end of a Kyrgyz party—I usually leave by the 5-hour mark—although I imagine things wrap up around the time the last vodka bottle is drained.

I left with the requisite plastic bag full of candies, bread and fruit (and even managed to grab the bag before someone dumped a chunk of sheep meat into it). It had been a fun party, and even though this Women’s Day celebration was more focused on dancing and vodka, and less focused on promoting women’s rights, I felt satisfied with it. Most Kyrgyz women spend the majority of their time serving, feeding, cleaning up after and caring for others. Giving these women a few hours to kick back and have fun seemed like a fine way to celebrate them.

Satina-eje (right) and her friend.

Decked-out table, pre-feasting.

Satina-eje, me and two teachers.

Ladies digging in.

I'm not the only one with cool moves.