On Thursday afternoon, I received a call at my house that we had gone into the consolidation phase of our emergency response system designed for Peace Corps volunteers. I was planning to pack that night to head to Bishkek and then Thailand that day, so it was moderately stressful to have to think about not only being away for the house for those trips but to also think about leaving for four or five extra days or maybe forever from Kyrgyzstan. The reports of looting and revolutionary activity in Bishkek filtered in from locals' reports and from the news sources that were available to us. Seven of us crowded into a nearby apartment and awaited further information. The first night, I couldn't handle everyone's stress and my own stress, so I managed to gulp down a few beers and monopolize on the music on Rich's computer. We heard reports that night that the Kyrgyz president, Askar Akaev, had fled the country for either Kazakhstan or Russia and that the country had fallen to the opposition.
There had been some anticipation of this event over the previous week. Protests emerged in the southern oblasts of Jalal-Abad and Osh. We were already on another heightened security status as we were watching the events in the south unfold. We heard vaguely about 10,000 or so protesters in both of these oblasts outside the major government buildings demanding reelections and a restructuring of the government. Once the opposition took control of the major government centers in these towns and burned down the police station, we contemplated how we could continue our program in a country divided by civil unrest. When we heard from various locals as well as news sources about the opposition riding in marshurtkas, vans with glorified names, we wondered how long it would be before they would make it to the capital and how the president would respond to their demands. The president's son and daughter had been elected in by the blatently corrupt (according to international observers) parliamentary elections.
I thought that, although the opposition would make their way to the north, that Akaev's military forces or police would detain the revolutionaries and put an end to their movement. What I failed to realize, at this time, was that the police and many of the people who I reckoned were pro-Akaev actually wanted him out as well. As further evidence, a full-scale overhaul of the local goverment officials who were closely linked to Akaev were also thrown out of our local city government as well.
The first night was nervous. We conversed about our plans if we were to be evacuated and tried to call our parents to report our well-being. On the second morning, we moved out of the apartment in need of food and more news. We stopped in at a local cafe for lunch and watched the TVs there, which were broadcasting opposition leaders who were imploring looters to stop with the consequence of being shot by the police forces under the opposition control. The looters cleared out the major department stores in Bishkek, those mostly frequented by monied Kyrgyz and expats. As I was driving in yesterday, I read on various department store and restaurant windows, "Biz el menen" (We are with the people). I observed various buildings that had been burned out despite this vow of loyalty, mostly places that represented decadence or that were owned by foreigners especially the Chinese. The news clips of the looting were disturbing. I felt my first real pang of anxiety after watching the clips from the night before.
Kyrgyz television is naturally far more raw than American television and that was when it was controlled by a stable group of elites within their society. The images from the night of the revolution, our Thursday night, and the montage cooperated to create a sense of terror and dynamism. After the carefully edited video-photo collage ended, various members of the opposition party sat at a table against a backdrop and talked to "the people" as their newly-instated authority. I remember one man essentially yelling in Kyrgyz at the people who were still out in Bishkek looting the next day. He spoke across the screen at me like I was a child. I couldn't find the appetite to eat lunch.
Friday night we watched a movie and laid low, exhausted from the panic from the previous day. Our program coordinator arrived with some mail and news. She took our passports as a precaution. She left. We heard rumors about killings, food riots and civil war. We heard rumors that we were definitely going to be evacuated or that we would only be evacuated to Kazakhstan. The power of mild hysteria from being locked up in a small room with other volunteers and the wanton use of cellphones for calls and texts fabricated a history that paralleled the ultimate history of what was actually happening. We heard news from parents and friends from the phone. We heard little from the government or the Peace Corps actually, which in turn cause our appetites for any information to grow at an inverse rate. The less we felt we knew, the more we wanted needed to know. Rumor volat, as Virgil wrote in the Aeneid, has never meant what it meant to me over the last few days. Adding to our confusion, various news syndicates reported different information. Apparently, the Chinese have made a statement that the opposition were under the influence of narcotics. The Uzbek government has stated that they feel that the movement originated from Muslim extremist influences within the country. History takes time for its logical, systematic construction and writers with sources. We shall be waiting for some time to sort out the evidence to gain a clearer understanding of what has happened.
Saturday we spent time at the apartment in the morning. We went into the city for more food. The apartment at which we were staying had little to no food supplies. On Friday afternoon, we saw a group of about 50 men standing outside the goverment office in Cholpon-Ata. By the time we made it into Cholpon-Ata the next day, the deputy and akimiyat had fled the area, leaving the regional administration open. The city was disturbingly quiet. We were going to meet up at our local cafe, but it was full with out-of-towners. The glances from the Kyrgyz men as we walked in were unsettling. We quickly found our way to another cafe where we felt safe and had lunch. We ate and gathered our food and retreated to the apartment for another sunset, indoors and together.
On Easter Sunday we made pancakes and awaited some news from Peace Corps. We heard from our progam coordinator that the consolidation might let up over the next days. We were hopeful that it would be over by Monday. I had to take a marshurtka to a city on the other side of the lake. A Peace Corps vehicle was meant to pick me up and take me the rest of the way to Bishkek. I was picked up by a Russian man who didn't mind charging me 10 som less than the normal price. We talked for about five minutes in Russian before the silence from language ignorance set in. As he picked up other passengers, he announced that I was an American spy. He also kept talking about the USSR and the intelligence gathering from the Cold War. He freaked me out. What really spooked me was when I noticed a knife over his window. I was relieved to be finished with my ride. "Davai spishonka," the driver said to me as I exited, "Very well, my little spy." I found Peace Corps at a nearby house and we made our way toward the burned out, post-revolutionary capital city. Snow started falling as we made our way through the mountain pass. Weather may have actually had some part in the slow down of the revolution.
I spent the night in the hotel with some volunteers who were consolidated there. We watched the television program, "The Great Race," on someone's computer from a DVD. Now, I am waiting a half an hour before I will be given a ride to the airport in the city. I will first fly to Tashkent, Uzbekistan where I will have a layover for six hours. I will then fly into Bangkok for an eight day visit. The doctor told me that there is a small probability that I will be medical separated if treatment cannot be provided in the country. If I will be separated, I will most likely be given a choice of another program in another country. I have to think about the contingencies even if they are unlikely. As far as I know, the president is still out of the country, but he claims that he is still the president. Russia and the US have offered aid to help rehabilitate the economy and provide basic resources like flour and petrol.
I am tired and writing this as quickly as possible before my departure. If you have questions or want me to expand on some part of this entry, send me a comment. I will do my best. I would highly recommend reading some of the articles on the NY Times and BBC website. I am well. I hope that my skin condition will be treatable in country so that I will not have to start over again somewhere else in the world. I feel confident that I will be back in country. There have been further rumors of civil war in the country if the president attempts to come back. If the country goes on consolidation while I am in Thailand, I will stay in Thailand until it's over. I anticipate that the unrest of the last few weeks will continue to subside and that I will return to the lake, healthy with tulips in full bloom. To the revolution. -MJ
