From the oral tradition..
You have to imagine a mountainous country, where rare passes link the northeast and southwest, bordered by an inland sea, Lake Yssik Kul, and by the Tian Shan range that separates it from immense China, and a capital, Bishkek, that rises to an altitude of 800 m, to understand how topography imposes a way of life and, in turn, shapes a people's relationship with its literature. Until the early 20th century, Kyrgyz literature was mainly oral. The reunions of the various nomadic clans lent themselves to festivities, and these never took place without music and verbal jousts, the aïtysh, during which the akyns (storytellers) competed by improvising sung dialogues. Beyond these poetic contests, the melodies, accompanied by the komuz, a traditional three-stringed instrument, have the virtue of transmitting knowledge and news in journalistic fashion, and sometimes take on the scope of an epic when they outline the history of the entire community. The popular repertoire is wide-ranging and includes a number of references, such as Kokojach or Kurmambek, but none rivals the essential Manas, Semetey and Seitek, listed as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO.
The trilogy is impressive for its sheer size: it is said to contain over half a million verses, 20 times more than The Iliad and The Odyssey put together, and although historians do not agree on the date of its appearance, the country nevertheless celebrated its 1000thanniversary in 1995. Kazakh explorer and ethnographer Tchokan Valikhanov (1835-1865) was the first to transcribe part of this epic, a veritable "encyclopedia" as he called it. Dozens of versions exist, the best known being those of Jusup Mamay and Sayakbay Karalaev. Translated into several languages, including Russian and English, the Manas is unfortunately not available in French. Given its length, it takes hours to recite, and only the initiated, the manaschys, designated by a prophetic dream, are able to enter the trance necessary to reproduce this unique atmosphere, blending the musicality of the rhymes with their own poetic style. Kaba Atabekov, for example, passed away in 2008, but his voice continues to resonate on the Internet.
The only son of Jaqyp and Chyyyrdy, the sages predicted from birth that Manas would have an extraordinary destiny, and it was he who succeeded in uniting the forty Kyrgyz tribes against the Chinese enemy. Although left for dead by his lifelong enemy, he gave birth to the valiant Semetey, and so the legend continued to be written, and is still being written today, perhaps to the eighth generation. But the Manas is much more than a lyrical song, it is also a testimony to the life and customs of the Kyrgyz people, an emblem that was at one time elevated to the rank of national treasure, so much so that children were taught at school the values it embodies, from patriotism to love of nature. In the form of comic strips, film adaptations and fairy tales, it still holds a special place in the hearts of new generations.
... at the turn of the 20th century
The year 1915 saw the birth of an important man, Alikul Osmonov, whose short life was marked by his orphaned youth and the health problems that took his life at the age of 35. It was in his sometimes radiant, often unhappy love affairs that he found the inspiration that made him one of the first to modernize Kyrgyz poetry, preferring the written word to the oral tradition. As a translator, he was able to pass on some of the classics to his people; much loved, he is represented by a statue in Bishkek's National Library. But the man who really left his mark on the 20th century is undoubtedly Chinguiz Aitmatov (1928-2008). Born in Sheker, Talas province, in Kyrgyzstan, then an autonomous republic of the Soviet Union, his father, a senior civil servant, disappeared in the great purges of 1938. As the grandson of a nomadic shepherd, Chinguiz was entrusted to the care of his grandmother when he was just 10 years old, and returned to his native mountains to discover life in the fields. In 1943, appointed assistant to the secretary of the local soviet, he was given the onerous task of delivering letters to his fellow citizens announcing the death of their loved ones in combat. From all these experiences, from all the odd jobs he took on, from the simple and difficult life of his village, the aspiring writer was able to make himself the messenger when, in 1952, after studying at the Agricultural Institute in Bishkek, he decided to take up the pen, while working as an agronomist and journalist. His first literary works were translations, as he was equally at home in Russian and his mother tongue, Kyrgyz, and it was in the latter that he wrote Djamilia, which made him a household name as early as 1958, all the way to France, thanks to the intervention of Aragon, who celebrated the text as "the most beautiful love story in the world" in a memorable preface. Even today, thanks to the new edition published by Gallimard (Folio collection), we can still relate, in our own language, to the timid emotions that stir the young Seït as he admires and draws the beautiful Djamilia, who is also the wife of his brother who has left for the front.
Although our national poet celebrates the innocence of this love, the story of this adultery still stirs up good morals in Kyrgyzstan, and yet Chinguiz Aitmatov continues to write. Le Premier Maître, published by Le Temps des cerises in a collection of three short stories, tells the story of a Diouïchène worker sent to a poor Kyrgyz village to set up a school, and was adapted into a Russian film in the 1960s. At the beginning of the same decade, Aïtmatov was awarded the Lenin Prize for Nouvelles des montagnes et des steppes (News from the Mountains and the Steppes), so he opted for his second language and set about writing Il fut un blanc navire (There Was a White Ship). His texts became denser, and he tackled novels, each of which - including his grand finale The Snow Leopard, published the year of his death - was rewarded with undying admiration. Never hesitating to take sides against Stalin, his political commitment and his literary approach based on social realism earned him the position of advisor to Mikhail Gorbachev when he came to power. The date of his burial, June 14, was declared a national day of mourning, confirming, if proof were needed, the importance of Chinguiz Aitmatov for Kyrgyz literature.
And today..
There are signs that Kyrgyzstan is not turning away from its traditions or its writers, such as the organization in 2008 of the first international aitysh festival, or the fact that in 2012 Bishkek was chosen to host the first festival dedicated to Central Asian literature. A number of authors have also made a name for themselves in international competitions, and a few names are starting to become familiar, such as children's author Yulia Eff or Omor Sultanov, who initiated the creation of the literatura.kg website. Nevertheless, since gaining independence in 1991, the country has had to face up to a number of changes, and the diaspora it has undergone has rhymed with the departure of some of its intellectuals. At the same time, Kyrgyz and Russian had to be reconciled, with both languages vying for official status. Finally, the number of publishing houses has fallen along with the number of bookshops. According to a 2012 study, there was one for every 266,000 inhabitants, compared with one for every 33,000 in nearby Kazakhstan. While books suffered from shortages during this period, with textbooks themselves having difficulty reaching even the most remote regions, these difficulties may have led to a growing disinterest in reading. As a result, the younger generation prefers to try their luck abroad, where they feel it will be easier to reach a wider audience, even if it means writing in Russian, or decides to turn exclusively to digital media. However, nothing is set in stone, as evidenced by the esteemed success of rapper L'Zeep, from Pichpek, a modest district of the capital, who doesn't hesitate to say that he came to rap through poetry. In the years to come, who knows what form Kyrgyz literature will take, but one thing is certain: it will continue to exist, and the epic will continue to be written.
