Prayer, (continued)
When all have had their vodka and a slice of bread and butter to wash it down, the Buryats press their hands together in prayer and begin to move around the frame clockwise at a half-trot. They circle the top of the hill several times, then stop by the fire. Buyanto falls to his knees, bending low to touch his forehead to the ground.
Tsypelma watches her husband with a mixture of admiration and bemusement. "He's giving you the whole treatment," she says in a whisper. "He knows he's onstage."
Buyanto stands and wipes the dirt from his knees. "That," he says, grinning broadly, "is the way a Buryat prays."
