A bloody MORNING IN KYRGYSTAN

By Adam Docker

“I woke up on my last morning at Aito’s house (The Eagle Hunter from the previous post) and I noticed the sheep outside my window were restless. Toothbrush in hand, I stepped outside into the cold mountain air. As I groggily waltzed to the outside toilet, I stopped in my tracks. There was a headless sheep hanging from a tree. “Oh!” That woke me up! I quickly brushed my teeth, showered, then rushed back into my room, still sopping wet, grabbed my camera and ran back out into the yard.

Aito’s brother and a friend had arrived to slaughter three sheep, a gift from Aito for a nephew’s birthday in Bishkek, where meat is far more expensive than out here in the country.

Before each killing, they paused to pray. Their tone was calm and respectful. I had grown up in the Italian countryside and had seen plenty of animals being killed, but it had been years. Watching it again, I was struck by how direct and human it was, no waste, no emotions, just necessity.

The Friend, I didn’t catch his name, worked with incredible skill. It was handled respectfully, carefully and nothing went to waste.

The dogs hung around, hopeful. There was a young Alsatian and a fluffy Greyhound-looking black dog, common in Central Asia, known for hunting and for their fierce territorial nature. This one was gentle as anything. He’d rest his head on my leg while I took pictures, staying there until I moved. When it was over, the dogs were given scraps. The turkeys surrounded the bowl full of sheep blood. They gobbled it down, which startled me. I never knew turkeys drank blood.

Before my taxi arrived to take me back across the Kyrgystan border, into Kazakhstan, we shared a late lunch together. Simple food, barely any conversation. Aito spoke very little English. When I tried to say something, I used gestures and basic words.

Life here is really simple, it moves in circles, birth, death, work, prayer, and gratitude.”

Graphic content in the slideshow below, viewer discretion advised.