This is a common scene in ulak tartysh: everyone and their horse crowds one spot. If there is any action, it is hidden from the viewers. The heap of tyres to the right is the goal, by the way.
You probably expected me to comment on the most recent developments in Kyrgyzstan – the ethnic clashes in the South this June. But I haven’t done that, and don’t plan to. One reason is purely technical: When it happened, I was sitting in a hotel room in Dubai with a very slow internet connection, swamped with work and worried about the family members of former colleagues who were hiding in their homes in Osh and Jalalabad. No blog post from my side would have provided any insights or additional information.
Unless the teams move towards the spectators. Then you will see more of the action, not necessarily more of the sheep though.
But there is another reason as well: You might have noted my slightly irreverent attitude towards politics, which doesn’t even stop at a revolution with a certain death toll. I feel that very few things in life should ever been taken completely seriously – if you take politics seriously, you just start killing people. And no matter how you look at it, killing people is not funny.
Given that there is a referee, one would assume that there are rules and prohibitions. Grabbing someone else's horse's reins is apparently not among them.
So I really wouldn’t know how to write about ethnic violence in this blog.
Instead I will write one last post about Kyrgyzstan, on the national horse game “Ulak tartysh” or “Kök Börü”, because I stumbled over a couple of pictures that I had taken on Nowruz, the Central Asian (and Persian) new year.
By Western standards, Ulak tartysh is a bit… well… odd. And generally not well-known in Western countries. At least not until in Rambo III, the eponymous hero tried to impress the Afghans and enlist them in his fight against the Evil Empire. Back in real life, lifting a sheep on a horse isn’t as simple as you might think. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Some say Ulak tartysh (or Buzkashi, as the more well-known Afghan version is called) resembles Polo: You have two teams of men on horseback trying to bring a ball across a field into a well-marked area. Only that in Ulak tartysh the ball is actually a sheep’s carcass. The latter is apparently called “ulak” – just in case you always wondered.
Now this is how you hold a 20kg sheep - not with a outstreched arm at a 90 degree angle, Rambo!
I’ve never seen Polo, but this game rather made me think of American Football: You have long periods when absolutely nothing happens (while everyone tries to grab the sheep or prevent others from hauling it off the ground), then there is a sudden shuffle and if you’re lucky, someone makes it off with the dead animal. He will usually get stopped at some point, upon which there is a big chaos of hooves and heads. Then the referee intervenes according to some unclear principle and things start anew. It can get pretty rough and muddy, and the participants are only sturdy young men. Except, well, there are horses. And no cheerleaders. Also, the teams in American football apparently have some complicated strategies involving all the team members. Can’t really remember seeing any strategy more elaborate than “grab the sheep and gallop off as quickly as possible”.
At some point, one of the players will have managed to grab the dead sheep...
Still, once things start going, it is actually quite entertaining – and so I’ll leave you with more impressions on “sheep rugby”.
Although one should probably not think too long about the fate of the sheep in the whole affair…
Or the horses.
... and head off with the rest of the field in hot pursuit.
But picking it up in the first place requires some acrobatic stunts...
...especially as the opposing team will try to tackle you or make their horse thread on the carcass when you try to pick it up.
But with the right timing...
... and your trusty, agile Kyrgyz horse, you might just make it.
Unless, of course, you get into an argument over who actually has the sheep.
In which case the whip might come handy.
But at that point, the referee will probably intervene, the object of desire will be dumped somewhere random in the mud, and two horsemen will engage in horseback wrestling (with the referee looking on).
Another opportunity...
...and off we go again.
You might not get a kiss at the end (muddy as you are), but at least a handshake from a fan.
Ah, the beauty of Ulak Tartysh
