Spirit healing with the Shamans of Kyrgyzstan

Russian Orthodox churches and small, silver-domed mosques may dominate the skyline in Kyrgyz towns, but the country’s religious heart goes far further back in time. Long before Christ and Muhammad walked the earth, Central Asia’s shamans served as intermediaries between the physical and spiritual worlds, connecting the people to the heavens. 

Shamanists believe that spirits, both good and evil, exist and play important roles within individual lives and wider society. The shaman can communicate with spirits, learning from them and, through gifts or threats, encourage them to change their behaviour. It is for these reasons that the shaman holds a respected position within the community: he (or she) can find solutions to problems plaguing the community, foretell the future, and rid people of the sicknesses caused by the presence of malevolent spirits. 

The deity invoked by shamanists in Central Asia is Tengri – Lord of the Eternal Blue Sky. Tengri and his consort, the mother-earth spirit Eje, together provide everything that a man requires. It is a man’s responsibility to live in harmony with his surroundings, respecting both the earth and the heavens that gave him birth and now sustain him. When his world is thrown off-balance, either through spirit interference or his own misdemeanours, a man must ask the shaman to intercede on his behalf and put his life back on track. 

It is likely Tengriism has been in existence as long as Central Asia has been populated. It evolved in Siberia and Mongolia, which even today is called Munkh Khukh Tengriin Oron (Land of the Eternal Blue Sky) in Mongolian. However, it was not until the arrival of the region’s most infamous son, Genghis Khan, in the twelfth century that shamanist ritual became institutionalized and spread across the Mongol Empire. Tengriism reached as far as Bulgaria in Eastern Europe, where the Danube Bulgars named a local mountain Tangra in his honor. The mountain kept this name as late as the 15^th century. 

Tengriism was no stranger to attack, having fended off revolts and attempts at conversion from the Scythians and Dagestani Huns, as well as Christian and Muslim groups. The greatest threat to its survival, however, was not religious but a political one: communism. 

It is estimated that almost half Kyrgyzstan’s population died or were killed following the country’s take-over by the Soviet Union. Many more people fled over the eastern border to China, or south in to Tajikistan and Afghanistan, taking their traditions with them. Those who did stay were forcefully urbanised, educated according to the Russian model, and began to lose touch with their nomadic heritage. Atheism, basic state health care and the local communist party supplanted what had gone before.  

Tengriism may have gone underground for 70 years, but it certainly did not die. The two decades since independence have seen a public revival not only of the Kyrgyz language, traditional epics and sports, but also of shamanist faith and healing. Leaving the modern capital, Bishkek, behind me, I traveled 17 hours by car deep into the mountains of southern Kyrgyzstan.

A shaman must be in touch with nature and so, although its possible to live in a city, most are found in villages, covered by the shadows of 7000m plus peaks that stretch out to touch the heavens. Almajaan lives on the jailoo (summer pasture) above one such village, surrounded by the wild flowers and herbs that help her in her healing. Like many others, Almajaan did not decide to become a shaman healer: she was called. Pains in her limbs, fatigue, and violent dreams first caused her to seek out spiritual guidance over 40 years ago. Although the afflictions have never entirely gone, she has learned to control the spirits that cause them and to use her skills to help others.

Shaman healers do not advertise, and they do not charge for their services. People seek out a healer based on personal reputation, and give what they can towards their keep if they must stay with the healer for a prolonged period. Aigul, a girl of 14, has been with Almajaan for two weeks. A problem in her joints has led to muscle wastage in her legs and she is having trouble walking. It is both painful and frustrating, not to mention socially debilitating.

Almajaan begins each day with a walk. She climbs from the valley up into the mountains, looking for plants she needs. It is the only time she spends completely alone. By the time she returns to her yurt (felt tent), Aigul is up and waiting for her first of the day’s massages. She lies on the carpeted floor as the healer bends over her body, holds her hands a few inches above the skin, and lets the spirits guide the movement of her fingers. From time to time Aigul winces but Almajaan seems oblivious: she is completely focused on the task in hand. After an hour, Almajaan stops suddenly, straightens and walks outside. The session is complete. 

In the time she has spent with Almajaan, Aigul has gone from virtual paralysis to being able to walk a few steps unaided. She is growing noticeably stronger and, although Almajaan is unsure how long it will take, she is confident Aigul will walk again. The spirits have told her so and the treatment is having the desired effect.