How to Snare your Wife: Bride Snatching in Kyrgyzstan.

In the bottom of a valley, beneath a seemingly endless sky, a girl of 16 streaks across the landscape on horseback, her long black pigtails flying out behind her. Hot on her heels, sweat pouring down his face as he spurs his horse on, is her hunter. Onlookers hold their breath, hardly daring to look, and their cries crescendo as the young man begins to gain on his prize. Whatever she does she cannot break free – he is stronger, faster and very, very determined. 

The competing pair are adrenalin-fuelled and delighted to be showing off their horsemanship before so many enthusiastic spectators. Their game of kyz kuumai (kiss the bride) is just a piece of fun, a hark back to Kyrgyzstan’s nomadic past and the tradition of kidnapping goats and women from neighboring clans. If the boy catches the girl he is entitled to kiss her passionately but, if he fails, she will turn around and whip him soundly for his failings.

Despite the frivolity, however,  not everyone in the crowd is amused. For some, this is not only a  game but a painful reminder of a rudely interrupted adolescence or the sudden loss of a daughter, and a harsh reality that still stalks parts of Kyrgyzstan today.

A 2007 survey found that approximately half of all marriages in Kyrgyzstan involved bride-napping, two thirds of which were non-consensual.  The groom may be undesirable, in which case a bride-napping is the easiest way to find him a wife, and his friends and family may jointly abduct a stranger on his behalf. If the girl they are after is not home when the abductors arrive, a younger sister or cousin may be taken in her stead. 

In other circumstances, the bride and groom’s parents may arrange a marriage between their two families. If the girl does not consent, she can be bride-napped and held (hospitably) hostage until she is convinced of the virtues of her in-laws, or simply becomes resigned to her fate. The social stigma attached to walking away, even from a forced marriage, is strong as a girl’s honor is considered disgraced; girls and their families are compelled to accept the match.  School girls fear the pounding of hooves or, as is more often the case in 2012, the sudden appearance of a white Lada car pulling up alongside them on the curbside. 

Despite increasing westernization in Kyrgyzstan, incidences of bride snatching show no signs of decline: what is starting slowly to change is the expectation of consent. Economic hardship makes paying the customary kalym (bride price) difficult, and weddings are elaborate and expensive affairs, with families often bankrupting themselves to pay the bills. To circumvent the expenditure, young brides and grooms are now arranging the snatching themselves, turning a terrifying tradition into a socially acceptable form of elopement. Brides may even be forewarned by their suitors when and where to expect their abduction. Text messaging is the preferred medium! Bride-napping is also a convenient way to bypass familial approval: by the time parents are able to voice discontent at the match, the couple are already married and safely out of reach.  

Bride-napping is not unique to Kyrgyzstan but it is deeply entwined with the local culture, society and economic situation. Although abhorrent in its most violent forms, the gradual evolution towards mutually-consenting abduction reveals that it is not a black and white issue: for some young couples it is a cheap, easy and desirable stepping stone to marriage. Viewers of Sacha Baren Coen’s film, Borat, may cringe in horror at the protagonist’s attempt to capture Pamela Anderson in his ‘wedding sack’, but the incident does ably demonstrate the fine, and often culturally defined, line between social acceptability and criminality.

Stinking Bishop and the Curworthy Baby

Visiting Bath should be a chance to fulfil fantasies of being Jane Austen or, perhaps, even a Roman Centurion. It isn’t. Coach-loads of tourists recall the nightmare of school trips. If you want to see the essence of the city and escape the souvenir shops and touts, run hard from the tourist hotspots and hunt down some culinary highlights instead.

Start your tour with the most English of beverages - a cup of hot tea at the English Tea House Emporium on New Bond Street. The street-level shop is stacked floor to ceiling with cadies of teas from around the world and it feels like being inside an apothecaries. A very narrow spiral staircase takes you down to vaulted cellars where knowledgeable owners will brew you up anything from an English Breakfast to a pungent smoked tea.

Hopefully refreshed, you should now head into the myriad of pedestrianised alleyways that run perpendicular to the high street. When they were first built, these back streets would have teamed with scullery maids and footmen, barrow boys and pickpockets – a far cry from the world of Bath’s gentility. Amongst the boutiques and curiosity shops, keep your eyes peeled for the Bath Sausage Shop on Green Street, a firm-favourite with television chef Delia Smith. Don’t miss unusual recipes such as duck and mango or pork, prune and cognac. Fancy a sausage pancake? This is the place to get it. 

At first glance, Oil and Vinegar on Milsom Place could easily be mistaken for a chemistry lab. Garishly coloured liquids in glass bottles and distillation jars fill the window and you purchase each liquid by volume. The back wall is stacked high with wooden barrels of oils and homemade liquors, and on each counter ledge is something new to dip and try.

When lunchtime calls, it’s time to head to the Fine Cheese Co. on Walcott Street. Regularly proclaimed in newspapers as the best cheese shop in Britain, there is something for even the most demanding of cheese aficionados. Many of the locally produced cheeses have entertaining names, from the Chaucer-inspired ‘Wife of Bath’, to the appropriately pongy ‘Stinking Bishop’ and the slightly confusing ‘Curworthy Baby’. The next-door delicatessen café serves all the cheese you could wish for, as well as homemade breads, hand-cured meats, and organic chutneys and relishes. 

You’ll probably be staggering by this point, so wander slowly downhill towards the Pultney Bridge, one of the few shop-lined bridges still existing in the UK. The towpath under the bridge takes you past brightly painted canal boats and the Victorian pleasure gardening, from where you can cut through to the back of the Roman Baths, hidden behind a Georgian façade. The Georgians flocked here to enjoy the health benefits of Bath’s natural springs. Although you too can have a glass of the famous, mineral-rich water in the Georgian Pump Rooms, try to avoid it: it tastes mostly of sulphur.

There are two reasons to visit the Pump Rooms: the first is to get an almost birds-eye view of the Roman remains without the crowd of school kids, and the second is to tuck in to a traditional afternoon tea. Tiny triangles of sandwiches, delicate pastries and miniature scones arrive on a tiered silver platter whilst a string quartet or pianist carry on in the corner.

Last stop on your gastro tour is Sub 13 at the top of town in the Edgar Buildings. Happy hour(s) run from 5-8pm and, as you descend down steps and deep into the hillside, it feels like you’re entering a medieval tavern. The ceilings and light and low, and numerous inter-linked cellars have an intimate feel. We enjoyed English Garden cocktails, the flavour of vodka, cucumber, elderflower and mint somehow perfectly suited to this most charming of English cities.