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Kara-Keche was seized from its previous owners months after President Askar Akayev was forced from power in March of last year. The new director, Nurlan Motuyev, likes to dress in a black leather suit and wave around a short-barrel shotgun. He told me that he hoped publicity would attract investors, and appointed his deputy -- a former police colonel -- to show me and a photographer friend the mine.
When we left Bishkek, I thought we would meet my driver on the road, and he would take us the rest of the way there -- and back. Motuyev's deputy had a different idea, and graciously offered to take us all the way himself. We were joined by a wrestling champion who heads up mine security.
I did not think this was much of a problem, even after obligatory vodka toasts at mountain passes began to wear on me. The first night, we slept at Motuyev's deputy's house in a little village near the mine. The hosts slaughtered a sheep for us, and we feasted at midnight.
My colleague and I began to get frustrated that we couldn't go right to the mine the next day. First we had to find another car to take us up the windy, washed-out dirt road, and then, along the way, the wrestler kept stopping to introduce me to eligible bachelorettes.
When we got to the mine, a very intoxicated truckdriver was trying to drive out through the checkpoint without buying his load. He claimed he hadn't been paid in months and deserved the coal for free. His face was as red as a tomato, and he almost fell out of the door when he opened it. Thankfully, his curiosity about me was fleeting. He yelled "What are you, French? Or Chinese?" and then left me alone.
That night, my friend and I successfully fended off persistent invitations to get smashed, and woke up ready to leave for Bishkek. Instead, we were dropped off at a lady's house in town. She needed to return to work at the mine, after having snuck down to party with us the night before.
Minutes stretched into hours. Finally, Motuyev himself arrived, with an investor who declined to give his name. Another sheep was slaughtered. We sat around chewing the fat until I rather rudely insisted we needed to leave.
Ethan Wilensky-Lanford is a freelance journalist in Central Asia.
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