We have walked to the Osh border.
What is the Osh border?
It is another tragic Soviet-era experiment in social engineering—a nonsensical boundary gouged jaggedly across the map of Central Asia by a distant and vanished empire. On one side of the barbed-wire fence: the beautiful Fergana Valley of Uzbekistan, with its fallow winter fields of wheat and rice, ancient Silk Road palaces, snow-smeared mountains, and teahouses. On the other: the beautiful Fergana Valley of Kyrgyzstan, with its fallow winter fields of wheat and rice, ancient Silk Road mosques, snow-topped peaks, and teahouses. Not so long ago, the people who had coexisted peacefully for generations along this artificial line burned each other’s houses and shops—they were at each other’s throats.
But today it is not the divide-and-conquer legacy of Stalin’s borders that weighs on my mind. No: It is the nature of friendship.
I must say goodbye to my walking partners from Uzbekistan.