I stayed in Osh for five nights, a couple nights longer than was typical for the passing traveller. A brief illness kept me in Kyrgyzstan's second-largest city for a few extra days whilst I recovered. But I probably wasn't the first traveller to stay in Osh for longer than expected.
Osh sits at the heart of the Silk Road. Whilst it's a key location between what is now Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and China, it's been a cultural mix for a while. There's been ongoing disputes in the area and political violence in recent years and it's largely because of this cultural mix. Even before the very recently established borders were created, the various ethnic groups that now correspond to surrounding countries intersected at Osh.
The city is also a key intersecting point for passing travellers. From the lofty mountains of southern Kyrgyzstan or western China, Osh was a refuge of lower altitude. Or for the small crafts towns of the Fergana Valley, Osh was the starting point for a journey east.
As I sat in my bed trying to swallow water down a throat that felt as if it had been filled with rusty nails, I reflected on those Silk Road travellers who too would have suffered various tribulations on journey's past. What ailments would they have taken to cure their suffering? Would they, like me, have found respite at the twenty-four hour apteka next to the local proctologist?
After a few days recovering I was feeling better. At Jayma Bazaar I got my pants repaired by an old lady behind a sewing machine. She, like the Bazaar, had been there since the Silk Road days. I thought back to the travellers of the past who had brought their personals to be fixed and their wares to be sold at the Bazaar. Had they been ripped-off because they looked foreign? Had they too bargained incessantly for a new usb-micro charging cable after they lost one in Bukhara?
Only history will know.
