In honour of an esteemed guest the host orders a sheep to be killed, but has it first brought to the yurt to be blessed by the guest. At this sign all the neighbours assemble to take part in the sumptuous feast. The head and breast of the sheep are roasted on the spit, the rest of the flesh is cut into pieces and boiled in a cauldron, and loin, ribs, shoulders, and haunches, whenever they are cooked, are set before the guest in a vessel. The guest washes his hands, cuts the flesh from the bones, dips it in the salt broth, and says to the host, who has till then remained standing, “It is only through the host that the meat gains flavour; sit down”; but the host replies, “Thanks, thanks, but eat”, and does not at once accept the invitation of the guest. Thereupon the latter cuts a piece from the ribs, calls the host to him, and puts it into his mouth; then cutting a second piece, he lays it in a bowl and hands it to the housewife. The host then sits down, but it is still the guest who distributes the meat to the members of the company. He cuts it into pieces of a convenient size for the mouth, mixes them with fat, dips three of them at a time into the broth, and puts them into the mouth of one of his fellow-feasters after another. It would be an insult to the giver if the receiver did not at once swallow the pieces, even though, if they be large, he chokes so frightfully that he becomes blue in the face, and urgently requires the assistance, which his neighbours immediately give by striking him on the back with their fists, to render the process of swallowing easier. The guest, on the other hand, must never give more than three pieces, for if he exceeds this number, if he stuffs five at a time into the mouth of a man, and if the man is choked in the attempt to swallow the too generous gift at once, the giver must compensate the bereaved family to the value of one hundred horses, while if anyone chokes over the three pieces, he is not held responsible. After the meat has been consumed, the chief guest hands round the vessel containing the broth, and each drinks from it according to his necessities or desires. At the close of the meal, though not until all have washed their hands, every well-to-do host, whose mares are yielding milk at the time, hands round koumiss, and this much-loved beverage is received by everyone with obvious reverence. If anyone has not yet taken part in the meal, he comes now to refresh himself with this nectar. They drink to intoxication, for the Kirghiz has as great a capacity for drinking this highly-prized milk-wine as he has for eating, and in both respects he is anything but modest or moderate.
But the ceremony attending ordinary visiting is nothing compared with that observed in connection with all important family events, such as weddings or burials. In the case of the former, the joy finds vent in much practical joking; in the latter, mourning is accompanied by ceremonies indicative of respect to the dead. Wooing and weddings, burial and memorial celebrations give rise to a whole chain of festivals.
As among all Mohammedans, the father woos on behalf of his son, and pays the future father-in-law a varying, and often very considerable sum. A matrimonial agent, who is proclaimed as such by the fact that he wears one leg of his trousers over and the other under his boot, makes his appearance in the yurt in which a daughter is blossoming into womanhood, and prefers a request for her in the name of the father of a marriageable youth. If the bride’s father is agreeable, he demands that the sender of the message, with the elders of his aul, shall come to treat with him on the subject. These comply, and, according to custom, rein in their horses within sight of the aul. A messenger from the bride’s father rides to meet them, greets them formally, and conducts them to the festive yurt decorated in their honour. There they are at once regaled with koumiss, and a bard arrives to contribute to their entertainment. He is rewarded by loud applause, and incited to further effort by magnificent promises. They praise the depth of his thought, the finished style of his execution; they promise him a horse, an Iamba, or four pounds of uncoined silver as his reward. The master of the yurt protests against this, insisting that he alone has the right to reward the singer; but the guests promise so much the more, for they know that their host will not permit the fulfilment of their promises. When the song is ended a lively conversation takes place between the host and his neighbours and guests; they talk about everything imaginable except the object of the visit, and at length they disperse, and the guests ride to their homes again.
The next morning the father of the bride with his train return the visit, and after being greeted and feasted in the same manner, request to see the young man’s mother. They at once repair to the yurt of the housewife, and greet her with much ceremony and courtesy. Then the father produces the roasted brisket of a sheep, and distributes pieces of this much-prized meat to his guests with the words, “Let this sheep’s breast be a pledge that our plans will be successfully carried out”. Then begins a discussion over the amount of the “kalüm” or price to be paid for the bride. A mare of from three to five years of age is the unit of calculation; an ambler or a camel is considered equivalent to five mares, and six or seven sheep or goats make up the value of one.
The bride’s father demands 77 mares, but lets himself be beaten down to 57, 47, 37, 27, according to his means and those of the bridegroom’s father. If both are poor they come even farther down till they are agreed. As soon as the bargain is concluded, the bride’s father declares the betrothal fixed, and prepares to go, leaving a present in or before the yurt. But the bridegroom’s father, if it is possible at all, sends half the kalüm with him, and pays the remaining half as soon as may be.
A fortnight after payment of the kalüm, the bridegroom is at liberty to visit his bride for the first time. Accompanied by as many friends of his own age as possible, he sets out under the guidance of an older friend of the family, who is familiar with all the customs to be observed, but he dismounts in the neighbourhood of the bride’s aul, erects a small tent, and retires into it, or conceals himself in some other way. His followers go on to the aul, and, after having been ceremoniously welcomed, enter it and distribute, amid much jesting, all sorts of little presents, rings, necklaces, sweets, ribbons, and pieces of coloured cloth, among the crowd of women and children. Then they enter the festive yurt with all the young people of both sexes. The host provides meat and drink; first, the breast of a sheep, which he cuts with the words already mentioned, then “meibaur”—small pieces of the heart, liver, and kidneys smeared with fat. The dishes are placed before the elderly leader of the party, who, as chief guest, proceeds in the manner before described, but as he puts the pieces into the mouth of the first young man, he smears his face with the fat broth. This is the signal for the beginning of all manner of practical jokes, and the youths, maidens, and younger women indulge in them freely. A very common one among the girls is to sew the clothing of the young men with rapid stitches to the rugs on which they are sitting.
When the meal is over the youthful guests are allowed a short interval of repose, but only to give them time to collect their ideas. Then the girls and women challenge the young men to a singing competition, and giving them the place of honour, sit down opposite them; then one begins her song. It fares ill with the youth whom she addresses if he is not ready with his reply. The merry troop falls upon him, they nip him and pinch him, drive him from the yurt, and hand him over to the young men of the aul, who are congregated outside on the watch for such victims. A bucket of water is poured over the unfortunate blunderer, and thus bathed and humiliated, he is led back to the yurt to undergo another trial. If he fails in this also he is condemned to be dressed as a woman, and put in the pillory. Woe to him if he is thin-skinned, it will be a day of torture for him. Joking is the order of the day, and no surly person will be tolerated. Whoever can best enter into the spirit of it is the hero of the day; whoever is unable to take his share is the general sacrificial lamb.
During these amusements the bride sits concealed behind a curtain in the back of the yurt. The young people of the aul take advantage of her solitude to steal her away, while the bridegroom’s friends are occupied with the singing competition. They make an opening between the pieces of felt covering the yurt, drag her through it, put her on horseback, and carry her off unresisting to the yurt of one of her relatives, where she is given into the hands of the assembled older women. If the robbery succeeds, the robber challenges the youths to find the bride and to deliver her from the women. The company hastily breaks up, and they beg her guardians to restore the bride to them. But, however persuasive their words may be, their request is refused. The bride sits before their eyes in a yurt from which a portion of the felt cover has been removed, but violence is out of the question, so the youths begin to bargain. The women demand nine different dishes prepared by the young men’s own hands, but, after a time, they agree to accept nine gifts instead, and they give up the bride, stipulating that she shall be taken back to her father’s yurt.
Meanwhile the bridegroom sits waiting in his tent. He has not been quite alone, for some of the young married women had gone to seek him as soon as his companions arrived, and had been received by him with a respectful greeting called “taschim”. He had bowed so low before them that his finger-tips had touched the ground, and had then raised himself slowly, letting his hands glide up his shins until he had reached his full height; the women had accepted his homage, and had borne him company all day, giving him food and drink, and whiling away the time with talk and jesting, but not allowing him to leave the tent. Not before sundown, and only after much coaxing does he receive permission to sing a song within the aul and before the bride’s yurt. He mounts his horse, rides into the aul, sings his greeting to the inhabitants, and, stopping before the yurt of his bride-elect, expresses his lover’s plaint in a song, original or otherwise.
Sweetheart, my love brings me dule and pain,