(Batken) Taking a plastic bottle from his pocket, Askarbek Duïcheev pours a few greenish pellets into his palm which he places under his tongue: nasvai. This harmful chewing tobacco is very popular in Central Asia and crucial to the fragile economy of southern Kyrgyzstan.
“I have been growing tobacco to produce nasvaï for two years. What else to do? There is no work in the Batken region,” says this farmer we met in Kara-Boulak, a village some thousand kilometers southwest of the capital Bishkek.
“You have to earn money and feed your family,” he continues, with laughing eyes and an alert gesture, cutting tobacco leaves with a billhook.
In Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic in economic difficulty, the province of Batken is the most deprived: according to official statistics, almost half of the population lives below the poverty line, a trend that is clearly increasing.
So in the “cradle of Nasvaï”, earning a living often comes down to a choice: emigrate to work in Russia or grow tobacco in Nasvaï.
The unregulated production of this addictive and carcinogenic product supports a third of the region’s population, according to the “Tobacco-Free Kyrgyzstan” organization.
Mysterious recipe
At the beginning of autumn in the Batken region, the barns and attics are full of tobacco leaves left to dry.
Due to lack of space at home, Askarbek Duïcheev rented a room from his neighbor, who had gone to work in Russia, like millions of Kyrgyz people. “You shouldn’t stay long, the smell is too strong,” he warns.
Dried, crushed, then mixed with mysterious ingredients, generally lime, oil or even poultry droppings, the tobacco leaves are transformed into nasvaï, which the consumer slips between the gum and the lip.
“The secret is simply to mix three to four ingredients,” explains Israïl Khakimov, nasvaï producer.
But chewing this tobacco can lead to a long list of health problems.
“Consumption of nasvaï can lead to gastrointestinal, oral and dental diseases, liver diseases, cancer of the lips, throat and stomach,” summarizes Doctor Saipidin Toroev, oncologist at Batken hospital.
“Nasvaï is dangerous, because when placed in the mouth, the saliva causes it to enter the stomach and then the blood, causing damage throughout the body,” he explains, also pointing out the psychotropic effect. and addictive of the substance.
Much cheaper than cigarettes, nasvaï is extremely popular, and its consumption has exploded in recent years, among both women and men, according to the Ministry of Health.
Quantifying the phenomenon, however, remains very difficult, because unlike cigarettes, the production and sale of nasvaï is essentially in the domain of the informal economy.
Dilemma
A dilemma therefore arises for the public authorities: eradicate a public health problem or let it happen to economically support an agricultural region already suffering from a lack of water and numerous border conflicts with Tajikistan?
Alicher Seïdakmatov, in charge of agricultural development in the region, assures that it is “also profitable to grow fruits and vegetables”.
An opinion far from being shared by several producers, like Mr. Duïcheev.
“I had to grow tobacco because my salary as a forest ranger was insufficient, with potatoes I would not have earned as much. I was paid less than 10,000 soms per month (around 100 euros) and even though my salary was doubled (to keep up with high inflation), I had to find another job,” he explains.
With his relatively modest production of nasvai – half a ton sold last year – this 59-year-old farmer earned the equivalent of his annual salary as a forest guard during the previous harvest, i.e. “220,000 soms (2,300 euros). )”.
A production sold in fifty kilo bags on Saturdays in Batken, on the “only tobacco market in Central Asia”, where a ballet of trucks and vans parades.
In front of Jounoussali Seïdakmatov’s stand, a buyer approaches, takes a handful of tobacco, rubs it and smells it with deep breaths.
The negotiations begin, the tone rises, the onlookers approach. But impossible to agree on a difference of five euro cents per kilo.
“He wanted me to sell him for 445 soms per kilo (4.5 euros), I expected 450,” explains this fifty-year-old wearing the kalpak, a traditional Kyrgyz white felt hat.
“Too bad, I’ve already sold more than 80 kilos.”