Outside of some obvious moments, the signs of Orozo in Naryn are quieter, subtler, and half the time you either need to know exactly what’s going on, or bring things up directly to learn what’s going on.

Take the Jaramazan singers. In this tradition, boys walk door to door and sing a special song. In the lyrics, they talk about how they’ve ridden down from the far mountains on either a stallion or an ox, and come specially to the house they’re at to present the song. In theory, then, the people in the house are supposed to bestow on them some of their dinner, or maybe some loose change.

This year I’ve heard the kids off in the distance a few times, had two boys approach my cab as I was getting out, and once approach the outdoor seating area at a restaurant. It’s the kind of thing, however, that if you didn’t know what it was, you might very well not even notice.

Then there’s the fasting. Once again, you wouldn’t know anyone even knew about this custom if someone didn’t remind you. During Orozo this year, I’ve been to three different workshops, the largest one holding well over 50 participants. When we got started that day, our MC asked if anyone was fasting, so as to prepare for lunch. Only one person said they’d abstain. At the other, smaller workshops, the issue never even came up.

One might infer from all this, perhaps, that Islam has a pretty weak hold up here in the mountains. Direct questioning, however, leads to another opinion.

“Yes, of course I should be fasting,” said one thoughtful passenger in a taxi I was recently sharing. “Yes, it is very good to observe Orozo. However, my stomach has been ill for the past two years. If I were healthy, I’d fast. I used to.”

“I have a son, he’s your same age,” said one of the women at a recent workshop I hosted. She was from a little village. “He’s a very good boy,” she bragged, “he works hard, and never drinks.”

I like it when people tell me this. It usually translates to, “he’s not an alcoholic, but he’ll have a few shots at big parties.” Not this time, though.

“No, he really never drinks. Right now, he is observing Orozo. He studies the Koran. He is a very good boy.” Her pride for him filled our marshrutka, and the other women nodded and whinnied in agreement.

This seems to be the story of Orozo in Naryn, and of the Islam out here in general. “We Kyrgyz are Muslim,” they say in earnest, but they don’t put on airs. “We’re not devout Muslims, though.”

While every boy is circumcised, and at some point or another, every woman wears a scarf, when it comes to day to day behavior, if you weren’t looking for the Islam, you might not even know it was there.