Through "Iron Gates" to Machay: Journey into the Heart of a Living Tradition

Surkhandarya does not reveal itself at once. It must be heard patiently…

My expedition across southern Uzbekistan remained, for a long time, not merely a route but a rare moment of anticipation — that rare condition in which a documentary photographer’s curiosity converges with a personal longing to encounter the "living fabric" of culture. In Surkhandarya, the soul awakens: here spring arrives with the scent of damp earth, the murmur of rivers, and the voices of people whose traditions endure within everyday life rather than gather dust in museum archives.

The name of the region is often associated with the Surkhandarya — the "red river", a tributary of the Amu Darya. This is the country’s southernmost frontier, where history is read in archaeological strata: from ancient fortresses attributed to the era of Alexander the Great and Buddhist centres, to caravan routes linking Central Asia with Bactria and India. Yet Surkhandarya unfolded for me primarily through Baysun — a mountainous world where nature and cultural heritage exist as an indivisible whole.

Point 1. Baysun Gorge

The road to Machay leads through the Baysun Gorge — a narrow defile known as the "Iron Gates". For centuries, this natural corridor served as a passageway for trade caravans and military campaigns.

The canyon’s stone walls astonish with their colour and stratification, making the scale of time almost tangible. In spring, meltwaters stain the river in dense ochre-red hues. This rare colouring depends on the mineral composition of the rocks and the intensity of snowmelt. Within the canyon lie springs, pilgrimage sites, and an almost palpable silence disturbed only by the wind.

The "Iron Gates" were mentioned repeatedly by Chinese, Central Asian, and Arab historians and travellers. According to one historical account, it was here that Alexander the Great celebrated his marriage to the Bactrian princess Roxana. In memory of this event, the city of Alexandria Oxiana was founded near ancient Termez.

Point 2. Darband Canyon and the Machaydarya River

Beyond the "Iron Gates" begins the Darband Canyon. It stretches 9–10 kilometres into the Hissar Mountains, following the valley of the Machaydarya River, which has shaped this landscape over millions of years.

I visited in mid-March. Snowmelt and the river’s interaction with mineral-rich rock gave the water an intense red tint — a spectacle not witnessed at other times of the year. The canyon is home to a spring famed for its distinctive-tasting water and to the tomb of the revered saint Khojamoy-ota, a site of pilgrimage for local residents.

Point 3. The Village of Machay

Machay appears around a bend in the valley, as though it were an extension of the mountains themselves. It is considered one of the region’s most ancient settlements. Geographically, Machay comprises Lower Machay at an elevation of 1,306 metres above sea level, Middle Machay at 1,318 metres, and Upper Machay.

Archaeological discoveries in the surrounding area, including Mousterian-era sites, remind us that human presence here spans tens of thousands of years. Today, Machay is home to approximately 6,500 inhabitants, predominantly Uzbeks and Tajiks. Studies indicate that communities such as the Harduri, Barlas, Kenagas, Tokhchi, and even Iranians also reside here. The local way of life remains rooted in herding and horticulture. Apple trees bearing exceptionally sweet fruit grow in nearly every courtyard, including a distinct local variety known as "Baysun".

The System of Meanings and Cultural Heritage of Baysun

Yet Baysun’s significance lies not only in its antiquity. The region is recognised as a unique cultural space where rituals, music, dance, and craftsmanship retain remarkable integrity. In 2001, UNESCO designated Baysun and its surroundings a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. Here, folklore is not staged but lived — resonating through weddings, seasonal rites, children’s games, and traditional competitions.

Wedding traditions in the mountain villages constitute a universe of symbols. Preparations for marriage begin long before the ceremony itself, sometimes from birth. Families assemble in chests the objects of a future independent life: tableware, textiles, adornments. Courtship remains the province of elder men, and decisions emerge from extended negotiations that take into account lineage, reputation, and health. The engagement ritual is marked by a prescribed number of breads and flatbreads — a numerical harmony in which scholars discern echoes of ancient beliefs about prosperity and the fullness of life.

On the wedding day, the groom’s procession unfolds like theatre: a sacrificial ram may lead the way, surnai fill the air, and guests are served the "nine bowls", a ceremonial sequence of dishes. Fire assumes a purifying role as the bride is guided between flames, symbolically shielded from misfortune. Then comes the chimildiq — the curtain behind which a new life begins. The following morning, the young bride performs the "kelin salom", greeting family and neighbours, thereby affirming her place within the community.

Baysun’s musical palette is equally expressive. One may hear the changkovuz — a jaw harp whose vibrations create an almost hypnotic resonance — alongside bone and clay nai and rare local instruments. Their timbres echo the breath of the mountains: sharp, dry, yet unexpectedly expansive. The dances are no less captivating. The plasticity of hands and torso arises from centuries of observing birds, the labour of shepherds, and the rhythms of nomadic existence. Legends preserve the "Eagle Dance", once performed at weddings by the strongest wrestlers, where gesture became both a display of strength and a warning to rivals.

For a photographer, Baysun is a realm where the image is born not of exoticism but of respect. Nothing can be seized here; one must wait until the scene reveals itself — in an elder’s smile, in the ornament of a janda on a chapan, in the swirl of dust behind a herd. Authenticity resides in details, and tradition lives within the cadence of daily life and the hearts of its people. It was important for me to experience the region in its entirety before attempting to tell its story.

Perhaps the most universal conclusion of the expedition is disarmingly simple. In whichever village of Uzbekistan one arrives, the welcome is invariably warm: a smile, fresh bread, a bowl of tea. Everything else — mountains, canyons, ancient rites — merely deepens this sense of human closeness, the true reason one sets out on the journey.