Kutmanbekov hands me a plastic cup of fermented mare’s milk – or kumis. He is the elder of the three families who will call this pastoral land on the steppes of Suusamyr home for the season. With our guide Sultan translating, the grandfather points to the yurts behind him and the women and children gathered nearby. Most of the men have left, he says, to work in Russia and send money home.As we chat, his older grandchildren play soccer. Aiming for the washing-line goal posts, they narrowly miss an urn filled with kumis. Their mother, meanwhile, is milking mares at the other end of the pasture to fill bottles for the younger children, two of whom are playing with plastic machine guns.Subscribe to gift this articleGift 5 articles to anyone you choose each month when you subscribe.Subscribe nowAlready a subscriber?
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