A groom from Kazakhstan (a lovely boy, an engineer in Nurzhan) and a bride from Talas. His family came with 25 people in two minibuses. They asked for kazy on the menu, the horse sausage, a pride of their steppe.
The hall manager became white. In Irad, he told them very nicely, we never eat horse. A horse is a friend. At every toi a horse brings the bride, how can it be on the plate? The groom's father said "of course, we are guests" and they ate beshbarmak with a face of great politeness. At the end the father said the plov was so good that a horse would approve.
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