Horsemen of the Son Kul

My Scholarship entry - A 'place' I have visited

KYRGYZSTAN | Friday, 5 July 2013 | Views [159]

The killing of the sheep takes us abruptly by surprise. Nothing really personal with it, but the corpse of the animal without the head is the treasure of the local polo. I know that you are not supposed to be a vegetarian around here, still, I do feel slightly sorry for the sheep in this life.

Festival is beginning. Women, lining up with the horizon, trace the field for the upcoming game. At first sight, they seem to be the only living creatures around, apart from sheeps and horses. It's the sign. The german couple and the driver look rather incredulous. We mention the British couple who abandoned half-way while we notice, more and more, that people are coming from far away tents. They may live miles away from each other, but they don't need the Facebook to know what's happening in their world. They will know it from the next horseman passing by their yurt. He will stop for a tea, some rest and stories around the stove.

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Referee is looking after the game. He is standing on his horse, close to the touch-down base. I have no clue of the rules, yet it seems rather a wild rush after the carcass and with no limit for punching, breaking, unsaddling and whipping the rivals. Nevertheless nobody is falling, they ride bareback at incredible speed as if they were one with their mount.

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Horsemen of the Son Kul

My Scholarship entry - A 'place' I have visited

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