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| A boiled sheep's head - important part of the Kazakh cuisine |
By Laurette Moolman
The Foreign Ministry in Kazakhstan had
organised another one of their trips for diplomats, this time to the most
northern part of Kazakhstan, just below the Russian border and Siberia,
starting at Pavlodar.
The trip started with some trepidation. A
glance at the list of who was going along, gave us the impression it was only
going to be Russian speaking colleagues. We arrived by plane in Pavlodar at
dusk and it was a gloomy drive from the airport into the city. Only some street
lights were burning and very faintly too. The apartment blocks were all still
those most depressing soviet blocks, in contrast to Almaty where mirror glass
windows in modern buildings have changed the appearance of the city completely.
As always, it was good to fear the worst, because then things can only get
better.
The Belgian ambassador joined the group
from Astana, the new capital where more and more embassies are now situated. He not only spoke English but we could even
speak the odd word of Afrikaans with him. The Korean ambassador spoke much more
Russian than we did, but he also spoke some English. The Chinese ambassador, a
most serious person, spoke Russian maybe even better than some Russians, since
the Chinese sent him to Moscow for 15 years to learn the language. How could we
compete when we got 6 weeks’ notice to come to this Russian speaking country?
The Chinese wife spoke about 5 words of English, but she was such a lovely and
sweet person that we soon felt like sisters. Very quiet sisters, but goodwill
made up for the lack of language. As we all got to know one another – and one
gets to know one another quite well on this kind of trip – language seemed to
matter less and less. Vodka loosens the tongue and people started speaking
languages they never knew they could!
There may be aspects of the post-soviet era
we have serious problems with, but hospitality is not one of them. And their
hospitality centers around food! Tables laden with food have nothing to do with
feeding people who might be hungry, it is how they show their regard for guests.
Whether we visited an oil substation, stopped at a natural spring in the middle
of nowhere on the Steppe, or went to see strange rock formations rising out of
the Steppe in another area, we knew we were going to be ushered into a tent or
room with the ubiquitous tables groaning under all the food. It didn’t matter
whether it was only an hour after the previous stop, the new hosts had to do
their best too! Since all the lovely ladies preparing the food and serving
everybody at the various locations, have nothing to do with one another and were
all simply trying to do their utmost, it
would’ve been rude to turn round and run away, though that is how we started
feeling. Even our Kazakh interpreter told me after the very last and umpteenth
stop that she couldn’t stomach her own people’s hospitality anymore. If it had
been different food at the different stops it might have been a different
story, but their cuisine must be the least versatile I have ever come across. Identically
the same food every single time, with the only variation in how fatty the meat
was!
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| Mosque in Pavlodar with the dome in the shape of a Kazakh hat |
One small difference was that the north
seemed to focus more on diary products than they do down in Almaty. The bowls
with fermented horsemilk appeared first thing every time after we sat down. I stopped
feeling bad about waving it away, since there are many Kazakhs who also don’t
drink it. Our interpreter tried to impress on us how very healthy it was – and
then it boomeranged on her. At the end of our trip on the bus back to the
airport, an hour after our last stop, she desperately rushed up to the bus
driver asking him to stop. She and a few others were clutching their stomachs
in agony. The sweet Chinese lady woke me up from my nap, saying with urgency
“Laurette, toilet!” I dutifully got off the bus, but by the time I was fully
awake I realised there was nothing wrong with me, since I hadn’t drunk the
fermented milk. In any case, there was no toilet, only waving wheatfields behind
a wall and I left them to each find an ear of wheat to squat behind. The
incident gave me an even better excuse not to drink the stuff!
Other examples of dairy products on every table, were plates
with chunks of a deep yellow butter, milky granules of ???, dishes with thick
yellow sour cream. The cows obviously feed well on the grasslands of the
Steppe. In these parts they spread the very oily deep fried sour dough rolls (similar
to our vetkoek but smaller) thickly with butter and then dip it into the
cream. Since they consume so much vodka they need that lining! A big Russian
fellow nearly didn’t make it one evening, lolling around on his chair and
falling asleep into his food, and he had to be escorted out of the room and to
bed. The next day he simply admitted that he hadn’t seen to lining his stomach properly,
so he then dug into the oily fish, meat, rolls, butter, etc. not to miss any of
the new rounds of toasts. On our last morning there was beer and vodka even at
breakfast! Women can stick to a glass of wine or water or juice, but they keep
an eagle eye on the men to down their glasses after every toast. The day after
we returned to Almaty we drank only black tea. The Korean ambassador went to climb
the high mountain above Almaty.
Though the eating and drinking played a
huge role, we did visit many interesting places too. In Pavlodar
The new mosque we also visited looked a bit
strange until we realised that the dome’s shape was intended to resemble the
pointed traditional Kazakh hat. Not too surprising when one considers that
Islam in Kazakhstan is quite different from the view many people in the world
have of it. Immediately in front of the mosque we saw two typical Kazakh girls
with their slender and shapely figures in mini skirts and body hugging tops. We
were each presented with a Kazakh translation of the Qur’an, which I don’t
think will be recognised by many people for what it is, and won’t convert us
either. Russian is difficult enough, but Kazakh ...
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| Kazakh girls in front of a yurt |
On the industrial side we visited the
open-pit coal mine at Ekibastuz, which is the biggest open-pit coal mine in the
world. It really was quite mind-blowing. It simply carried on and on and deeper and
deeper into the earth, over a vast area. In one article about the mine it is
described as being so cold there in winter that “birds freeze on the wing”.
This statistic made quite an impression on me though I did wonder, shouldn’t
birds know not to be ‘out on the wing’ when it is so cold? What was
surprising to us, though not when you take into account the country’s history
and especially how secretive things were during the soviet era, was how nobody
we spoke to in Almaty knew it was the biggest open-pit coal mine in the world.
They know very little at all about that part of their own country and hardly
anyone from the south have ever visited the north. Probably a legacy of the
fact that it was out of bounds for very long due to all the dodgy actions of
the Russians up there!
On the one side of Pavlodar there is a very
big aluminium smelter with apparently very high environmental standards. That
is, on our way there our interpreter told us how many people in the area suffer
from respiratory ailments, but at the smelter we were told their emissions are
98% free of dangerous substances. I would love to believe that. Many people in
that part of Kazakhstan died at a fairly young age of cancer because of all the
nuclear tests carried out. At least up till today the families are paid some
compensation.
When we arrived at the aluminium smelter I
stepped out of the bus, blinking into the bright sunlight and a beautiful
bouquet of flowers was pushed into my hands by a charming man! They gave all
the women flowers at nearly every place we stopped. The charming man turned out
to be a prominent trade union leader who took us round the aluminium smelter. I
had to ask him some questions. Do they also strike as trade unions tend to do?
He was quite surprised at my question and claimed they look after their workers
so well, regarding subsidised housing, schooling, medical insurance, etc. that
they don’t feel the need to strike. We actually spent the last day and a half
at a beautiful resort belonging to the alumium trade union, established for
their workers. Lovely chalets with a stunning view over the lake and
surrounding hills and excellent facilities. Strolling through the garden we
encountered a sexy young woman with a gorgeous figure working there as gardener
in tiny shorts...
And so, once more, we were privileged to
have been given a glimpse into another part of that big country. We flew back
to Almaty with wonderful memories and having made new friends. Unfortunately the
women had to leave behind the seven beautiful flower bouquets we had been
presented at every stop, but they will remain as some of the beads in our memory
chain of experiences, as will the hospitality and goodwill and knowledge
gained.
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