Leon MITOUARD. Kyrgyz Hospitality

me, Sarah and Eska

In Kyrgyzstan, social interactions bring me peace.

This morning, around 9 AM, while still in bed, Eska enters my room with a smile on his face. It’s time to give water to the horses. This is how the day begins. Two flocks of sheep drink from the trough, foals released from their enclosure play, and cows scatter across the surrounding steppe.

And with that, my first social interactions of the day: a few farmers leading their herds greet me and strike up a conversation in Kyrgyz. Communication is difficult, but their smiles speak louder than words. Eska sings, whistles, and laughs.

Kyrgyz farmer

2 PM: Time for errands. I take a taxi to the neighboring town. A conversation in Kyrgyz with the driver—small talk, but with deep eye contact and genuine smiles. At the bazaar, people call out to say hello, asking me if I like Kyrgyzstan: Ooba! (Yes!) They smile shyly, seemingly pleased. I return to the farm.

7 PM, the work with the horses is done. It’s tea time. Tonight, three children have joined us at the farm. An evening of discovering French and Kyrgyz music. Petting the cat, sharing a meal. Conversations made up of gestures, facial expressions, and laughter. The atmosphere is warm.

market in Toktogul

After dinner, Eska picks up the vacuum cleaner without being asked and cleans the room while Sarah washes the dishes. Then, they thank us and leave.

Children here seem happy, their smiles never fade. Their curiosity knows no bounds. They love talking to me, showing me their discoveries.

Sarah and Me

This hospitality I feel may come from the fact that I am an anomaly in a region where tourists are absent. And yet, even among themselves, I sense strong bonds of trust, where hypocrisy gives way to sincerity.

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