In 1901, British Journalist John Foster Fraser travelled from Moscow to Vladivostok, and back again, mostly by rail. On his return, he recorded his experiences (and prejudices) in “The Real Siberia”.
In today’s excerpt, Fraser shares his impressions of the Kyrgyz people:
In the afternoon I drove out to the plain beyond Omsk and visited a Khirgiz camp. The Khirgiz are the Red Indians of the West Siberian steppes.
The Russians have conquered themy and pushed them upon the least fertile tracts of land to make room for immigrants. The race is decreasing in number, and will one of these days disappear from the face of the earth altogether.
They are not unlike the “Red Man of the Wild West” in feature, but are listless and drowsy. There is a strong strain of the Tartar in them, shown by the slit of the eye. They are nomads, driving flocks of sheep before them. Indeed, the sheep is their standard of value. A woman is only worth four sheep, but a cow is worth eight sheep, a horse is worth four cows, and they will give three horses for a gun.
I found them very agreeable, smiling folk. Their tents looked like huge cocoanut shells cut in half. They were framework covered with coarse felt. The men were clad in sheep-skins, but the women had bright-hued cotton wraps, red and yellow print. They showed hospitality by offering me fermented mare’s milk, which I lied about by saying it was delightful, though I was near to sickness with the vile stuff. It took a fortnight to get the taste out of my mouth.
We squatted on mats and smiled and nodded. When I suggested taking their photographs, which they understood, they were delighted. But there was a delay, for even feminine vanity extends to the Kirghiz, and we had to wait till the young women decked themselves in their gorgeous native costumes. One put on a huge red hat trimmed with foxskin. I was with the Kirghiz only some half-an-hour. As, however, I bade them farewell native fashion, by holding both hands in mine and shaking them, I could not help but feel sorry for those children of the Siberian plain, who have lost their heritage and are soon to be extinct. The touch of civilisation means death to them.
This post is one of a series of excerpts from John Foster Fraser’s “The Real Siberia”. Further excerpts can be found in the Siberian Light archive.
The full text of The Real Siberia is available online at Friends & Partners.
