A week of Indian food, community action, learning about migration and being tourists for once

Last weekend started off really well, with going for the most amazing Indian meal out on Friday. We’d all had a really long day at the office and it was so delicious so definitely lifted our spirits. For the first ten minutes after our food arrived all that could be heard from our table was our little moans of delight; it was so tasty!

On Saturday morning we went for our third community action day at a local school. On arrival the director just had one thing to ask of us: that we don’t discuss HIV with the children. Bearing in mind that our program isn’t connected to health, and the fact that most of the students could only just about tell us their name and age in Tajik, we had no plans to bring the issue of HIV into our day plan, but clearly they must have had a bad experience with a group of volunteers before. Our aim was just to have some fun with the children, who were all so well-behaved and disciplined. So we played ‘wink sleep’ (a censored version of Wink Murder) which was really fun, some of the little children were just so adorable and some of them even made pretty good detectives. We then had a little art session where they were told to paint or draw something they did or saw during the summer. It was quite interesting to see that so many of them drew really patriotic pictures, many of them including the Tajik flag. I’m fairly certain when I was ten years old and someone told me to draw whatever I wanted I wouldn’t have been drawing the Union Flag anyway.

After the community action day some of us saw the opportunity to get down to the Aqua Park in the hope of getting a tan before returning to the UK (where it’ll be practically winter when we arrive). I’m sorry to say that none of us tanned even a little bit, much to our disappointment and utter confusion. Nonetheless the Aqua Park is just such a good place to chill and pretend that we’re on our hols.

On Sunday we finally managed to escape the city limits and get to Hissor, an old fortress and UNESCO site. There’s a museum there and you can walk around the old fort. It would be quite a peaceful place were it not for the numerous wedding parties walking around the site, taking pictures and playing really loud and annoying musical instruments. As is tradition, all the brides looked on with indifference bordering on unhappiness. As we all walked around we said how much we were enjoying being a tourist for once and shamelessly taking lots of cringe-worthy tourist photos.

Yesterday, my counterpart and I did our Global Citizen Day; we basically did a little presentation on migration particularly focussing on labour migration in Tajikistan. I organised for a speaker from the International Organisation for Migration to come and talk to us about of all the problems faced in Tajikistan. 1/7 Tajiks migrate to Russia for work, doing low-paid seasonal jobs in order to send back remittances to their families; over 50% of the GDP of Tajikistan comes from remittances. I really think we all learned so much about the problems that so many people face while working abroad, but also about the effects that labour migration has on the women who are left behind. We also watched a short film made by Aljazeera on Tajikistan’s Missing Men which was so well put together and really concentrated on the effects of so many men leaving the country. Would really recommend people to give it a watch.

This week has mainly been focused on trying to fulfil the personal aims I set myself at the start of the program (learn about the opportunities and limitations for women in Tajikistan, learn a bit about the Tajik legal system and learn some Tajik along the way) and planning for debrief weekend. I am so, so, excited for our debrief; we’re going to Iskanderkul for two nights, and staying in an ex-Soviet camp right by a stunning lake in the mountains. It’s going to be the last time when we’re all together as a team so it’s probably going to be a pretty emotional time, and it’ll be so good to have the opportunity to reflect on the experience while we’re still here. The planning process for the debrief trip is all pretty last minute, we go tomorrow and we’re yet to book our transport. And the weird thing is, I now see this as normal. I know that at the start of the program I would have found it hard to believe that things can get organised so close to the time, but after 11 weeks of adjustment, I don’t even feel remotely concerned. What I’ve learned in Tajikistan is that things are always fine in the end, and that ‘last minute’ to us is just the right time to them. I’m not sure if this is the sort of lesson I need to be learning just before last year of university, but it is definitely useful to realise that there is no value over panicking and stressing out about things.

Crazy to think that we’ll be home in just over a week. Lots to pack in: debrief, our community action day, our goodbye party. Tonight we’re going for yet another Indian, for no reason other than we bloody love curry. I’m excited.

xxx

“Yay we’re free! Oh wait…”

So after all the stress of the days coming up to the festival we were all really looking forward to chilling and making the most of our last few days in Dushanbe.

The day after the festival I had a well needed lie in, a relaxed breakfast with my host mum where we ate delicious honey and looked through old family photos while I showed her all my purchases from the festival. The kids had up go to school even though it was a Sunday to celebrate ‘knowledge day’, to mark the start of the new academic year. After a really chilled out morning I went and met the other volunteers in the centre for a picnic in Rudaki Park. We chatted about the day before, comparing out experiences and realising that we were all far too busy to see everything the festival had to offer, and played cards. Everyone was still exhausted from the day before and we were so glad that we’d been given the Monday off work too.

Monday: catching up on the happenings online, going to the fair near Ellie’s house; really dangerous sounding but actuallt safe rides; views of Dushanbe from the Ferris wheel; being chased in pedalos by local boys; questionable hot dogs; good, clean fun.

 

Last night we went to an event at a fancy restaurant in town that was meant to be a jazz night but was an eclectic mix of performances, a bit of jazz, opera and even some ballet.  I expected a jazz club, so was quite surprised when we entered the room to find something which closely resembled a wedding reception, with everyone sat at fancy tables listening to the music. The night was just starting to get good, a DJ had taken over and everyone was dancing when we had to leave to get home for our curfew. Heartbreaking. On the way home myself, Farshad and Dave tried to make ourselves feel better by getting the taxi driver to turn up the music and dancing away in the back for the journey. As frustrating as it is constantly having to be home so early, by the time I arrived home I’d danced away my all my annoyance.

 

At our team meeting on Tuesday we were brought back to reality with another huge to-do list for before we leave. Turns out we’re not free at all. How disappointing. Reports to write, contact lists to compile, de-brief to plan, two community action days still to be done, my Global Citizenship Day on migration is coming up next week so have to organise that too. In short, we have so much to do. And it all has to be done while we try to ‘make the most’ of the rest of our time here.

at our usual lunchtime haunt – 4 somoni osh!

being Tajik and overloading on carbs

the victorious ‘inflation for the nation’ team at Lizzie’s GCD

Starting to panic that we won’t be able to do what we want to do before we leave (a fortnight today!). We should be going to Hissor at the weekend to visit a fortress there and get out of the city for the day which I cannot wait for. We have our next community action day tomorrow, we’re going to a school for the day to teach them English and play some games with the kids.

So all is good in Dushanbe, still busy, still loving it here.

xxxx

Rangorang

A few days have now passed since the festival, and I think I’m finally ready to writr about it, now that I’ve recovered from post-Rangorang syndrome (symptoms: sore feet, aching muscles, sunburn, extreme fatigue).

Waking up at 5:30am on Saturday I couldn’t contain my excitement. The closest thing I can compare it to is waking up the morning of your final exam in the summertime, feeling nervous and excited in equal measure, not knowing what to expect, but knowing that no matter how badly it goes, it’ll all be over soon enough.

The whole day went by in a bit of a blur, and I spent most of my time trying to organise things relating to the sellers so was in my own little handicraft-related bubble. Minus a few ‘minor’ glitches (e.g. the festival beginning before all the tables had arrived, the food for participants running out before they’d all been fed, the bus totally breaking down) it went really well.

Me and Ellie with our culture clipboards looking official

this is the tables arriving while the festival is in full swing

For the 8 hours that the festival ran, so much of it was spent darting around trying to sort out one minor crisis after another, however there were some moments that stood out to me as being simply amazing.

Dancing on stage with all the volunteers as Rahim El sang (a Tajik singer who has been known to dabble in dubstep). The reception the crowd gave a blind accordion player and singer, who the music team had to work so hard to convince to come to the festival. In the end, he sold an instrument to get the money to Dushanbe to play, and I really think that performers like him embody what the festival was about, including people from all regions and walks of life. These crazily cute little kids who had a sort or rap/rock band started playing and walking past the stage I actually became a bit mesmerised by how catchy they were, and totally forgot what I was meant to be doing. The moment the camel came to the festival. It was such a great surprise for Dave, who’d been trying to get the man and his camel to come to the festival for the last two months.

The thing I probably enjoyed the most was finally meeting all of the handicraft sellers, many of whom we’d only been in contact by email or telephone, seeing the great variety of products they all brought to show and sell, and actually feeling pretty damn proud that the four us of in the culture team had managed to get together such a mix of people to come and take part. Its weird but I felt like I had a connection with so many of the women and just really wanted people to buy their handicrafts so that all the effort they’d put into coming to the festival would be worth it. I made some pretty questionable purchases towards the end of the day (hello hats I will never, ever wear) partly because my judgement was fading due to the heat and tiredness and partly because I just wanted to make some of the women smile.

me and women Gharm Women’s Resource Centre I met in Rasht Valley last month

14 year old artist we met in Rasht Valley

I can’t remember the last time I felt such relief as I did when all the people had left and we’d cleared everything away, knowing that we’d done what we’d come here to do, and we’d done it pretty well.

SO CLOSE YET SO FAR

This is what Tajik work looks like, very similar to British work.

OH MY GOD THE FESTIVAL IS SO ALMOST OVER!! And I am super excited. The last 9 weeks here in Dushanbe have been leading up to 24 hours time, when the festival opening ceremony will be just about to start.

Pictures ‘which children did’ for the festival

This week has actually been not as ridiculously chaotic as I imagined it would be. To quote Edgar in a moment of sentimental weakness as he looked at The Final Countdown,  “Guys, these past 10 days, we’ve got a lot done, but we’ve also had a lot of fun.”  Aside from the tedious admin tasks and slightly stressful last minute preparations, there’s been lots of nice things to do, like making bunting to beautify the park with, (WE LOVE BUNTING!) and painting signs. Working late is made so much better when you’re just painting camels and you get pizza for your troubles. The pizza was incredible, but maybe because we haven’t tasted anything like it for 9 weeks, or maybe just because it was dinnertime and we were all starving.

Crossing things off the list, woo!

It’s going to absolute chaos, I just know it. My job will be to coordinate all of the sellers as they arrive and show them to their stalls. This should be interesting as many of the people who are coming we haven’t met before, and probably have their names wrong due to miscommunication, so I’m intrigued to see how it’ll pan out. After everyone is nicely settled, which will probably take a long time and lead to a few disagreements, my main job throughout the day will be to organise travel reimbursements for participants, and conduct surveys of the sellers. We need to find out what the handicraft sellers thought of the festival and whether it was worth their while coming.

Late night craft sessions

Aside from being quite scared about logistical bits and bobs, I can’t wait to see how the festival goes. It should be really good. We’ve all worked so hard getting lots of participants, and shamelessly marketing it (handing out flyers to strangers whenever I’m in marshrutkas) so it should be a really exciting event. I’ve converted most of my dollars so I’m ready to buy lots of pretty souvenirs. Luckily my job will mean I get to eye up all the handicrafts before the festival begins, so can make some cheeky purchases before the public buy all the pretty things.

The next time I post we will be FREEEEEEEEEEEEE…..sort of. I cannot wait.

XXXXX

RANGORANG FESTIVAL FACEBOOK PAGE

 

 

 

 

 

 

Festival Frenzy, Caviar and Sunday Strolls

Last week was the epitome of madness. During the team meeting last Wednesday we made an extensive to-do list, the final countdown, so to speak, of everything we needed to do before the 31st (D-Day). Even though we have all worked so hard for the last 7 weeks, and achieved so much, it was so scary to see that we still needed a stage, tables and chairs. Essentially, we still needed to source all of the things that were imperative to the existence of the festival.

Roisin and Ellie looking serious with The Final Countdown

I won’t lie, there are few things more satisfying than crossing things off a to-do list, so the huge list glaring at us from the office wall was clearly all we needed to motivate us to get shit done. As I write this we now have a stage, we have tables, we have chairs, we even have a bouncy castle. So it’s been a mad few days, but it’s all finally coming together. And thank goodness, because we are all going crazy, and for the sake of everyone’s mental health we need to get this festival out of the way and off our minds for good. (Did someone say bunts per metre?!)

Festival frenzy aside, life goes on, as it tends to do. Sunday was my host sister Shahzoda’s 16th birthday. As I’ve said before, birthdays are great, whether they’re yours or someone else’s. We had caviar and Ferrero rochers for breakfast (this is not how I imagined life in Tajikistan). My family had organised a little surprise lunch party for her at a steakhouse in town. So I spent the afternoon with a group of 16 year olds who really just wanted to talk to me about One Direction and show me photos of the band on their phones so it was an afternoon well-spent. (Although they all thought Louis was the best looking, what’s all that about?!)

Me and Shahzoda at home

Shahzoda with her cake

Shahzoda, Gulchera and myself

Saturday evening was spent cooking some ‘national foods’ from England with Ellie to take to Alisher’s family on Sunday.

Benevolent Baking

Alisher is a disabled 21 year old whose family we met on our first Community Action Day and since then we have gone back a few times because though there’s not really much we can do to help the family, who also have another severely disabled sister, and really struggle financially, Alisher’s mum said he’d love to go out for walks with two pretty (?) English girls. Even though Alisher can’t speak he understands and communicates by laughing and smiling – he smiles all the time when he’s with us and even laughs at how embarrassingly bad we are at navigating his wheelchair along the bumpy road. I just wish we could communicate with the mum and the rest of the family, everything we want to say has to go through Manizha to translate which just isn’t the same. It’s so nice to do something relaxing that’s totally separate to the festival but still meaningful.

Manizha, Ellie and Alisher on Sunday

Eraj, Ellie, Manizha, Alisher’s sister, Manizha’s mum, Alisher and me the first time we met

Other than that, my only ‘news’ is that I have become a bit obsessed with chess. I’m awful at it. I know I am. My host brother taught me this week (fairly certain I knew how to play when I was younger though) and it shames me to say that, on Saturday, beating the smug 11 year old made my night worthwhile. Now that I actually know how to play he doesn’t really want to play with me anymore, and after weeks of him pleading with me to play with him, I’m now the one suggesting we play. It beats watching crap Russian tv (I don’t know how such a large country can churn out such unrelentingly awful programmes) or reading on my own in my room.

Now that we’re in the last month I have definitely got mixed emotions. Part of me cannot wait to land in Heathrow on 21st September. At the same time the thought of having to get back to reality scares me, and makes me think that full-time festival planning in Tajikistan wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Whatever my feelings towards going home, we need to make sure we have the best last month to top off what has so far been an unforgettable experience.

A Tajik Twenty-First

 

I’ll be honest and say I definitely had mixed emotions about celebrating my 21st birthday in Tajikistan, so far away from everyone I care about and everything that I’m accustomed to.

My day began like any other, waking up at 6:30am, eating some porridge and getting ready for work. But just before we were about to leave, Gulchera came into my room, followed by Shahzoda and Abdulrasheed, who shyly sung me Happy Birthday and presented me with a surprise gift – a pair of jeans, complete with Union Flags embellished on the back pockets in sequins (I couldn’t hide my shock when they proudly revealed the glimmering pockets to me). They were clearly beyond themselves at having found me such a fitting present.  I was just very relieved I could even fit into them; I wouldn’t have backed myself after all the recent Eid-inspired overindulgence.

I love birthdays. They make it acceptable to each chocolate before noon, go to fairgrounds on your way to meetings, and spend much longer having ‘birthday lunch’. They make you feel special. Even though we had to work throughout the day, even a Russian Community Action Day meeting was not enough to ruin my good, birthday mood.

My evening was spent at a relative’s house, whose daughter was turning 3 on my birthday too, and although I was pretty much dreading spending the evening of my 21st birthday at a 3 year old’s party, it was actually pretty sweet, because it was essentially just a nice meal with all the family I have already met several times,and I like food, and for once it wasn’t just plates and plates of sickeningly sweet things so I was in my element.

My counterpart’s birthday was on the day after mine, and we’d all agreed that as a team we’d go out for dinner the next day to celebrate. I could not have been looking forward to this Indian more. The food we eat at home each night is fairly simple and unexciting so I was looking forward to a bit of flavour in my life. It was so lovely to have most of the volunteers and our supervisors go out for dinner together, and it was also the first time EVER my counterpart had acknowledged, let alone celebrate, his birthday, so that made it that bit more special. The food was good. I hadn’t expected too much from a Tajik curry house but it was actually spot on. I was really upset with myself for devouring it to quickly to properly enjoy it.

On the day after my birthday, I had the choice to have leftover birthday cake, or porridge for breakfast. I choice porridge. I think it unequivocally shows that I am now a proper grown up, making proper grown up decisions. Scary.

xxxxx

P.S. After all my praises about the Indian food, it actually made me really sick on Saturday, so that was my first and last Tajik curry. Being sick in Tajikistan is awful. There is no daytime TV to watch, no fridge to binge eat out of, and no mum to take care of you. When your only entertainment choices consist of a) reading a book called ‘Love and War in Afghanistan’ b) listening to music on my phone c) lying on my bed feeling sorry for myself, being ill quickly becomes rather depressing and you recover in record time.

The Half-Way Post

So, somehow six weeks have passed since I came to Dushanbe. 

I’m starting to feel at home, and have gotten into my routine, but at the same time, I’m constantly making new discoveries about the city and the people. This week, we were fortunate enough to be able to experience Eid. It is a celebration to mark the end of Ramadan (the month of fasting), and from what I experienced, it is basically a couple of days of just eating and eating and eating (I think Muslims do a lot of praying as well, but owing to the fact I’m not a believer, my primary focus was food). On Thursday I started as I meant to go on and had cake for breakfast. Before noon I had already eaten more than my fair share of treats. I spent the day with some of the volunteers, and visited 6 homes in total. At each house, there was so much food laid out, it was hard to decide what to try at each stop-off. Some highlights: this amazing chocolate and cream cake that Laura’s host sister made (I actually still regret only having one slice now), authentic Afghan osh made by Jamshid’s mum (sooo much less oil than its Tajik counterpart), and being given some lovely material to make a dress with by one of Sayyora’s friend’s mum (we had never actually met this kind woman before. We surprised her by randomly coming to her home and eating her food, and in return she gave us a surprise present!) Relative low points include eating what Eraj called ‘meat cake’  but was actually just some sort of liver burger (somehow I ate it all, we were at his Grandad’s house and I wanted to be polite even though it was definitely the worst thing I had tasted that day) and spending the evening with a lot of regret and feeling pretty ill after eating so much. My host sister had lent me a traditional Tajik dress, which I wore with pride to look even more Tajik than usual (although with the flared trousers, I’ll admit I wasn’t a very fashionable Tajik). In short, I loved Eid. It’s my type of holiday. A day of visiting people and eating. We were able to prolong our celebrations by spending Friday morning visiting three more volunteer’s homes and once more eating a lot of cake. 

Friday soon went sour after we had to get back to work (lots to do, couldn’t justify having the whole day off) and it was just one of those afternoons. Are business meetings meant to make your head hurt? I don’t think so, but the one yesterday (which lasted over two hours and was conducted in a melange of Tajik, Russian and broken English) had me reaching for the paracetamol. Next Saturday, as our second Community Action Day, we are helping to organise a career fair to celebrate the UN’s International Youth Day. Its turning out to be quite a lot of work, and its quite hard trying to juggle the work for the festival with the Youth Day Fair. Everyone has a lot to do, and its hard to prioritise things.

When I eventually left the office just before 7pm yesterday I was hungry, tired and really, really demotivated. But then I got on my marshrutka home and it was one of the rare rides where I’m not wedged in the back seat with three sweaty strangers. I actually had the chance to look out and enjoy the view for the first time in ages. It was just before sunset, and in the distance the mountains were framed by the setting sun and I was reminded of how lucky I am to be here, in such a beautiful country, having the experience of a lifetime. Even the tiring, overwhelming and frustrating days are going to be worth it. I decided to get off a bit early, and listening to some chilled music on the walk, I got back home with a much clearer head, and generally in a much better mood. 

Today we had our first (and hopefully last) fundraising event, a garage sale held at a cafe popular with foreigners due to its westernised menu including grilled cheese sandwiches, scones and pancakes (really overpriced, but sometimes all you want is a proper burger with chips and you’re willing to pay the price). We were selling bits and pieces that had been donated to us, lots of books, DVDs and some clothes. It was a bit slow to begin with, but it was a great opportunity to speak to people about the festival and try and persuade them to come. A few people had said they already knew about it, which is reassuring to hear that the marketing is actually working. I had a morning shift, but I heard from the team that we actually managed to sell everything and made lots of money, which we really need to secure some bigger acts to perform! 

Tomorrow we are all of to Rommit, a place about 30 minutes from the city for our ‘mid-phase review’ training, where we’ll spend the night. I know I only got back from Gharm earlier this week but I am already looking forward to getting away from Dushanbe (and festival and community action day stress), even if only for two days.

How are we already half way through? Better start reading that one token law book I brought with me with the best intentions, because before I know the summer will be over and it’ll be back to Leeds to face reality once more. Also, I’m fairly certain I’ve forgotten how to speak French, but I’ll deal with that concern come September…

Lots of love from Dushanbe xxx

A short story on the Rasht Valley.

Just a little post on my recent trip to the Rasht Valley. (In reality, its not a little post at all, sorry!) Myself, Sayyora, Masrur, Gemma and Supervisor Sarah got up bright and early (hello 5:30am) to set off on the 4 hour journey to Gharm. The purpose of the trip was to find more people to participate in the festival to represent the Rasht Valley, to find out about current tourism opportunities in the area, and also try and find out how increased tourism would impact the lives of those living in the area. Got back to Dushanbe this afternoon, but thought I’d try and get this typed ASAP  before I inevitably forget all the details. Masrur, my counterpart, is actually from a village in the Rasht Valley, so I was particularly excited to see his home district, and I know he was so thrilled at the prospect of us all seeing where he’s from.

I think the journey from Dushanbe to the Valley can be summarised in four words: donkeys, mountains and Enrique Iglesias. A frequent site along the route was a donkey carrying a load three times its size, or being riden along the road, or just chilling at the road side. Masrur asked us if we have donkeys in England. I wasn’t surprised that he was confused about our explanation.. “so basically in England we think its great fun to ride donkeys along beaches..anything else is just too cruel and we are worried about how the donkey might feel if we force it to carry a load.” The scenery as we got closer to Gharm was just incredible. The road winded around the sides of mountains, where the river Surkhob flowed rapidly in the valley beside the road. At some point in the journey, Masrur took control of the car stereo. Before we knew it we were listening to some sort of Enrique Iglesias album at an alarming, slightly torturous,  volume. Turns out Enrique is very popular in the Rasht Valley!

Got to Gharm, where we checked into the Aga Khan guesthouse situated on the main street of the town, in the upstairs of a bank building. Lunch was ready and waiting for us which consisted of some soup (okay), and two whole fried fish (not okay). Went out to explore the town, with Masrur as our tour guide. As we were looking for cultural things for the festival, it seemed a good idea to check out the Culture Centre. Masrur told us they have concerts and sports there. Looking at some sort of hall-of-fame, Masrur just casually goes “oh, by the way, thats my uncle, a famous poet in this region.” Exploring a library upstairs I pick up a random book and ask Masrur what its about. He takes a few seconds to read the title and says “oh, that’s one of my uncle’s poetry books”.. what a coincidence. We knew that there was no way we could leave the area without meeting this man! All the library staff were so curious as to why this group of English people had come to their humble library and why they were finding it all so fascinating! Had a little photoshoot with some of the women who worked there, then asked if there were any musicians we could meet. Went into a room with a singer, and two drummers, ready to play some traditional music for us. Was all going so well until I was dragged into the centre of the room to dance. (this was only a taste of things to come later in the trip though). Then went into a room filled with racks and racks of traditional Tajik dresses, just the sort of thing we’d love for the fashion show.  Tried on an outrageously orange dress. More photos. Really want the woman who keeps all the dresses to come to the festival, she was one of the cutest, sweet old women I’ve ever  seen. Headed over to the American Corner, to see about giving a talk to some of the kids, and before we knew it, one of the teenagers was treating us to his rendition of yet more Enrique!

Piled into a taxi to go to Jaft village to meet a man called Mirzosho who is just simply a massive legend. In his house he has a one room museum with all sorts, like 3000 year old coins, and hand-written Qur’ans from centuries ago and lots of old agricultural tools. Then he took us up to this view point where he was telling us about the sorts of work he does, with tourists (the few that there are) and his dreams for the future. We went to the Botonical Gardens he owns, where he’s builiding a museum, to house all the things he has at his house, and accommodation for tourists he hopes will start coming to the Rasht Valley. In the gardens we got to taste the best fruit I have ever tasted in my life. He showed us his bees and their honey, and he was just a truly inspirational man. He’s old, but still making all this long-term plans, because he feels so passionately about it all. Most would have retired by now, but he’s still tending to his amazing fruit trees, somehow he has even got several types of fruits growing from the same tree (don’t ask me how). His passion for the region is so strong, and its not hard to see why. When we were sat around at the view point, as I listened to him speak I couldn’t stop staring out at the view. The rich, fertile land in the foreground, with snow-capped mountains to be seen in the distance.

The next morning, we met with Mirzosho again, at his tourist shop on the main road in town (opened on request only). It was full of woollen handicrafts like tea cozies and cushions, rugs and suzani, traditional wooden bowls and musical instruments. He sells things on behalf of local artisans. Spent ages there, getting an idea of what sorts of handicrafts we’d like to represent the Rasht Valley at Rangorang festival, but also trying to decide what to buy as a souvenir. Really would love for Mirzosho to be able to come to the festival to represent his region, he’s a local expert and anyone who meets him would be surely swayed by his enthusiasm and would give the Rasht Valley a visit.

Went to the bazaar to see if any handicrafts were to be seen. The only thing we saw of real interest was a stall which sold these traditional handmade hats which many of the men were wearing. Alongside the handmade hats, he also had for sale some cheaper, chinese-made immitations. Looking around at what the men were wearing, it seems that the handmade product is still more popular than  the cheaper chinese imports, which is good! Lots of horrible hanging meat. Also shocked to find two whole cows heads for sale at one stall, with the fur still on! Masrur told us he’d found a place we could get handmade things. We soon found ourselves in a workhop where they make chainsaws, knifes and lots of heating pipes. There was a man sat scratching his head with a recently sharpened knife. Not quite what we had in mind for the festival, but was pretty funny trying to feign an interest in the parts of a heating system that the shop owner assembled to show us.

Went back to the cultural centre, but turned out we would need permission from the local government to involve any of the people we had met there. Before we knew it we were having to get an offical letter explaining who we were and what we wanted typed up. On the plus side, speaking with people there (including another of Masrur’s well-connected uncles) we found out that there was going to be some sort of cultural celebration in a village the next day, so we could go there to meet more cultural people. Exciting/confusing as nobody seemed to know what time it was starting.

One of the women at the Culture Centre said she knew a family who made huge suzane, so when she finished work, we went with her to a nearby village. I think its a testiment to how accommodating Tajik people are that we were welcomed into their home, after just randomly turning up and demanding (nicely, of course) to see some of these huge suzane. They brought out this HUGE suzane of the President that they were working on, for the Presidential visit to Gharm in September. 15 women, all in the same family, are working on this huge masterpiece. We asked them whether with permission of the government we could borrow it for the festival, as they said they wouldn’t be allowed to travel to Dushanbe for the event. They then said they knew another family who made suzane, so off we all went to this neighbour, and we were not disappointed with what we found.  They were making things for the youngest daughter (18) who’s getting married next week. Its tradition to make lots of suzane for a wedding. They were all made by another daughter, who’s 20, as the mother said she used to do it all but her eyes are not up to scratch anymore. It was so nice to speak to them, about life in the village., The mother told us about how she made a living when her husband went to Russia to work for 8 years, how she would make the suzane at night, and make bread to sell during the day. They were so open with us, people they’d only just met, and for that we were so thankful. Before we knew it there were 14 of us in this room, surrounded by the beautiful handmade items, talking about marriage and life in the village. One young woman said she hadn’t seen her husband in 3 years. The mother said her son was also in Russia, apparently almost all boys from there go to Russia once they finish school. It was so interesting to hear about the opportunities available to girls in the area; essentially they have to get married and a lot of families do not support their daughters entering higher education (though obviously there are many exceptions).

The next morning we went to the American to give a little talk to some of the kids who are doing English courses there. We told them about VSO, ICS, Rangorang festival, played fruit salad with them to get them a bit energised, then broke into smaller groups so that we could get to know them better, and talk about their future dreams and plans and what life is like for them in the Rasht Valley. They were all so keen to talk to us, and their English was pretty impressive for 15 year olds! They all said that after they finished high school they would have to leave their region, to go to Dushanbe or abroad, in order to study. Some of them want to go to Medical University, some want to study languages, one even wants to be a painter. But they all said that once they finish studying they want to go move back to the Rasht Valley. The phrase “to serve my community” was even used by a couple of them. They all love where they are from, but know that they will not be able to reach their goals without travelling away from their homes, if only for a few years. Its clear what a good resource the American Corner is for them, somewhere to learn and play and make friends. They even have singing and drama competitions for them to take part in. The aspiring painter, Aburaihon, (who happens to be Masrur’s cousin too), had drawn pictures of us all, which he gave to us. And they really were scarily good. He’s coming to the festival to show his drawings, and do portraits of people too.

We then rushed off to the culture concert in one of the villages. It turned out it was a competition to decide who would represent the jamoat (group of around 5 villages) when the President visits on Independance Day. But there were lots of cool stalls for us to look at. We walked up to where a band was playing, and we were asked to dance. There were around 50-70 people, women, men, kids, all watching the three of us attempting to dance to this traditional Tajik music.  Pretty mortifying, and while it was going on, I couldn’t help feel a bit like a circus act, (especially with people filming and taking photos) but it was good fun nonetheless. The dancing went on for longer than necessary, and after we were welcomed by a representative from the government, and asked to give an interview for Safina TV (a major channel here) about what we’re doing in the Rasht Valley, and also we got the chance to talk about the festival, so great publicity hopefully!

Went to a meeting organised by OSCE with a women’s sewing group, which gives women the chance to learn new skills, as well as offering free legal advise and the opportunity to talk frankly about things like their human rights.  There were 24 of us in this room, all sat round on the floor, listening to a few of the women tell us openly about their lives. They were all so funny, and open, and inspiring. One woman, aged 41, has just finished her first year of teacher training, after going back to education so many years after her parents stopped her education so she could get married. One of the women told us about a bad first marriage, ending in divorce. She is now married to a 93 year old, who she married 13 years ago, and who she has a child with. She was joking around and made us all laugh with her tales. At the same time it was fairly heartbreaking. One girl, aged 16, told us how her parents told her she couldn’t continue with her education, and now she’s just waiting to be married soon. It was a great group, where women of all ages can come together and support one another. The lessons have to be held in one of the women’s houses, because many of their husbands do not like them going out on their owns, so its better if its just at a neighbours house where they are just with other women. Three of them will be coming to Dushanbe to represent the organisation and sell their goods.

We travelled up to Masrur’s village and got the chance to meet his Uncle, the poet, and teacher, in the school which he opened with his wife around 15 years ago. He told us about how even though its a small school they are dedicated to honing in on each of the student’s talents and helping them reach their full potential. We asked to hear some of his poetry, and his son Aburaihon launched into a few verses of one of his poems. Though we couldn’t understand any of the words, the rhythm and tone of the reading moved us.

Our final stop of the day was Masrur’s house for dinner. He lives in the most picturesque location, on a hillside, with his house built just on the edge, so you can look out over the whole valley. His mum had prepared such a feast for us, we were so taken aback by how much amazing food there was for us. Honey, still on the honeycomb, from the bees his family keep. Kurtob, a national Tajik dish which we all ate with our hands from a communal wooden bowl. Ottila, a really tasty soup with fresh herbs, noodles and chick peas. Masrur must really miss his mum’s cooking when he’s in Dushanbe. After we’d eaten so much we were bursting over our waistbands, we reluctantly left and headed back to our guestroom, all a bit gutted about leaving the next day.

In the morning, before we came back to Dushanbe we went to see the town’s mosque. It was empty when we got there so we were able to have a good look around. It was sort of simple yet beautiful. The only form of decoration was these intricately engraved wooden pillars keeping the roof up. It was set on a pretty magical site, so you could see great views of the valley and river through the open windows and doors. We were all pretty somber as we looked around, we seemed lost for words by the awesome architecture. Or maybe we were just trying to put off the inevitable journey back to Dushanbe.

The trip was amazing. There’s so much more I could say about what we did and who we met. We learned so much about life in rural Tajikistan, particularly for women. As I live with a modern family, it was eye-opening to get a glimpse of life in traditional Tajikistan. The warmth of everybody we met will stay will me for a long time, and it was genuinely upsetting having to leave each group of people we met, knowing that we would likely never meet them again. We have been invited by so many people to come back, as they all agreed; 4 days simply isn’t enough to spend with the people of the Rasht Valley.

I’ve come back so motivated, with lots of new ideas, to make the festival as brilliant as possible. There’s now less than 4 weeks until the weekend of the festival, so its back to the realities of work in Dushanbe first thing on Monday morning. Really sad,  but had my first dream about the festival at the weekend. Even in my sleep I’m stressed out about it! Going to be such a busy week, got a community action day to sort out, got loose ends to tie up from Gharm, its Eid on Thursday, we’re having a fundraising sale on Saturday, and then we’re off for our mid-phase review on Sunday. FREAKING OUT HERE!

xxx

Another Week Over

Time is flying by, as it always does when you do not want it to.

Most of this week has been spent meeting with craftsmen around the city, to see if they want to come to the festival. What has been great about everything so far is that, the rule seems to be, the more we get lost on our way, the further we walk in the blistering heat to a meeting, the better the meeting tends to be. There are always surprises. Earlier this week we arrived at a very mundane looking three storey building, from the outside you’d suppose it was home to a few offices, but nothing more exciting than that. When we got inside, we discovered it was a building full of little workshops, for a vast array of artists: painters, sculptors, jewellery makers. We were so amazed by everything these men had to show us, and also their openness and willingness for a group of young people to step into their worlds, where they live and work surrounded by other artists, totally immersed in their art. Starting tomorrow we will be concentrating on trying to contact people outside of the city, in order to ensure that the city is representative of all the different regions found in Tajikistan, and reaches the marginalised and low income people that the festival is supposed to help.

On Friday we had a meeting with RCVC, a charity which helps refugees in Tajikistan. We watched a video that has been put together by the UNHRC which depicted the lives of refugees, those who fled to Afghanistan during the civil war here, as well as Afghan refugees who are now trying to live in Tajikistan. Following the video we had a bit of a group discussion, the discussion made a lot more meaningful by the fact that there are 4 Afghan refugees in our group. It was a bit of aside from the festival, but gave us a potential group to work with on one of the community action days. Hearing one of the Afghan refugees talk about her own day-to-day experiences, freely telling the group how is she scared not for herself, but for her younger brothers who have had to leave school to try and find work. Its a vicious cycle, the relationship between immediate needs of food and shelter, which can only be met by them working, and the fact that their futures will be made so hard if they don’t get a good basic education. Along with doing the VSO programme, she teaches English so that she can give money to her mother to keep the family afloat, while studying at university part-time to try and secure a good future for herself. We learnt about the ways refugees are discriminated against, and about how new laws potentially make the future of one of the volunteer’s small family-run shop, which is the source of income for his family, very uncertain. It was a reminder of how many of the local volunteers have a lot bigger things to worry about than this festival in August.

This week has been marred by the fact that, after over two weeks of mosquito-free bliss, the little buggers have found me, and are loving biting my body, from my face down to my feet with an admirable zeal. The cheeky things are even keeping me awake at night, buzzing smugly by my ears, knowing that I have no chance of catching them.

Just as I think I’m starting to get to know my way around, yesterday I somehow managed to get on two wrong buses for the simple journey into town. I know its my own fault, for apparently thinking to myself “Why not get a random bus instead of waiting for a marshrutka which you know will take you exactly where you want to be?” I wasn’t even surprised when two buses I got on took random and unexpected turns in the opposite direction to where I wanted to be going, I was just a bit annoyed with myself. On the plus side, I now know which buses definitely not to get on. After giving up on buses, and deciding to walk the rest of the way, a bus (which I knew for sure would take me where I needed to be) stopped for me to get on, even though I wasn’t near a bus stop. The bus driver probably sensed my disdain (and most likely wondered where I thought I was walking to at 7am), which definitely put me in a good mood. Bus etiquette is much better here than it is at home, with men always giving up their seat without hesitation when old people get on the bus, and usually also when women need a seat (although thats a bit unnecessary), which is good to see, and something I’d like to see more of at home.

Went to Corvon again yesterday morning and bought some fabric to make my traditional dress. I was really happy with it, though I’ll admit I panicked a bit because I was surrounded by SO MUCH choice. When I showed it to my host sister, she looked at it and just asked “So why did you buy that?” Very blunt, but essentially, it won’t look nice, so I have been told to buy another patterned material before we go to see a seamstess. Who knows what I’m going to do with the 3m of fabric I already have?

Anyway, its been a really lovely week, and I am still loving it here.

xxxx

Two weeks in Tajikistan: meetings, markets and scary meat

I can’t believe it’s only been two weeks since I arrived here in Tajikistan. It’s been a pretty busy week: getting to know my host family better, getting to grips with making my round on my own, and properly getting stuck into the festival preparations.

On Wednesday our group had our very first Global Citizenship Day, run by the lovely Gemma. The topic was gender equality, and we basically had a series of debates in the group, just talking about light-hearted things like whether women should be allowed to drive. (According to some of the local boys,  women should totally be allowed to drive…to picnics.. and to collect the children from school. But definitely not big vehicles. And God forbid, not long journeys, our fragile nerves wouldn’t be able to hold up.) I get the impression that by the end the boys were just saying things to wind up the girls, who were all growing a bit furious at the boys’ take on what gender equality means.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday morning was spent finding and meeting contacts we could invite to sell handicrafts at the festival. Everything is naturally made a lot harder by the fact that myself and Ellie a) do not know Dushanbe so can’t help when we’re wandering up the dead-ends of Dushanbe looking for offices or houses, and b) we can’t speak to anyone, neither on the phone nor at the meetings, due to not knowing much more Tajik than ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’. It’s quite hard to just sit back, not really knowing what’s going on, generally feeling a bit redundant. We’re all trying to adapt to this much more laid back approach to timings of meetings (On Friday, we got to where we were meant to be meeting a woman, called her, and she just casually informed us she was at a wedding so would need to rearrange). We seem to be spending a lot of time lost, or waiting on people, but before the weekend we had already met with potential sellers and had lots more people to get in touch with this week so everything was looking pretty promising.

On Friday night I was able to see a bit of Tajik culture I hadn’t experienced before, in the form of a memorial service/meal hosted by Gulchera (my Tajik mum), whose mum sadly passed away 9 months ago. Naturally, at the start of it all I felt a bit awkward, like I was intruding on quite a personal and emotional family event. But it was still nice to observe how it was all done. Men and women in different rooms, all wearing tradition dress and headscarves (my family don’t usually cover their heads). The family had put on a spread like nothing I’d ever seen before. So. Much. Food. Sweets, desserts, chocolate, nuts, fresh fruit, dried fruit, so many types of bread, soup, and osh (one of the national dishes, made of  pieces of beef cooked with rice and shredded carrots). I really wanted to take a photo of the tables piled high with it all, but didn’t want to look like even more of a tourist than I already did. After a while spent on the sidelines, standing with the family as they greeted each guest, I was invited to sit on a table with a group of Tajik women, who were really lovely, and it was quite frustrating not being able to talk to them. The event all ended a bit abruptly; as soon as the last prayer was finished the women started filing out, and I was left looking around me a bit confused, thinking ‘is it over? surely not, they have barely even touched the food’. This left us all with the mammoth task of sorting out all the left over food, platters of melon and treats that had not even been touched. As a result, there is an abundance of cakes, fruit and other treats in the flat (I didn’t really like cake that much before, but these Tajik delicasies are going down an absolute treat. It’s probably a blessing I’m not here too long, I would eat myself into an early grave). I am learning that I actually have no self-control, and as I write this I already know what I’ll eat first when I go home.

On Saturday, after we’d finished up with work, we headed to the Green Bazaar, which is a really big market in the city centre. It was my second time going, and I just love how different it is to shopping at home. There’s more excitement here, trying to dodge the carts which the market porters aggressively push around and trying to avoid the curious eyes of all the traders, probably wondering why on earth foreign people are stood taking pictures of fruit and nuts. I have even been asked a couple of times to take my photo with the tradesmen, which definitely does not happen in Tesco. We are shameless tourists in that respect; ooing and ahhing at what is no more than a normal, everyday market.

Saturday was a day of experiences. Before coming here, I had seen quite a bit on the internet about the famous Tajik (uni)brow. Walking around, its clear that a prominent brow is very popular here. On Saturday night, Gulchera’s sister-in-law brought round this plant, which is crushed and applied to eyebrows to make them darker. Before I knew it I had been convinced to let Gulchera have a go at mine, mainly because everyone (even the 3-year-old girl) was getting it done and I didn’t want to be left out. Thankfully, once I’d washed it off, I was left looking no different to how I had before.

Also on Saturday was the small issue of being served sheep heart for dinner. Throughout the afternoon, due to a misunderstanding, I was under the impression we were having horse for dinner. This made me feel quite nauseous, so I was a bit glad when I came to the understanding it was just a sheep’s heart. When I took my first bite, I guiltily wished to myself that it actually was horse meat. I probably could have eaten it, if it had been served with something that could disguise the taste. But I had been served a plate of heart (and other organs, I’m assured). I started panicking a bit. Following a hushed conversation, I was relieved to find out that Shahzoda was in the same boat as me, so we hatched a plan to get out of eating it (something about her disposing of it under the cover of darkness) but I’m fairly sure Gulchera was onto us, and she told me that it didn’t matter if I didn’t eat it all then, I could leave it in the fridge and have it for BREAKFAST the next day. I’m not exaggerating when I say as I was going to sleep, all I could think about was that blasted heart and how I could get out of having to eat it the next morning. As I write this on Monday evening, I am happy to say have so far got out of eating any more heart, but who knows, it may be sat there on the table waiting for me when I arrive home.

On Sunday morning, I woke up at 5am to go to this huge market called Corvon early before it got too hot to think, let alone shop. So glad that we went so early, I think it would have been unbearable with heat and crowds. There was a lot of undeniable tat on sale, such as bags saying ” I heart Krakow”, and tops with “MUST BE TWO THING: GLASSY AND FABULOUS” written across the front, but there was also so much beautiful fabric. I am set on having a traditional national outfit made for me, so I need to choose my material but there was almost too much choice, so I will have to return again once I have saved up some of my allowance (we’re given 160 somoni a week, which is the equivalent of £22).

At the market, we bought some herb which is intended to be burned and inhaled; apparently it is “good for the  health”. So when Shahzoda put it on the stove in a pot last night, I keenly went up and breathed in lots of it, hoping it would make me feel amazing. In truth, it just made my eyes sting, my nose feel weird, and everything in the house now smells of smoke.  I woke up feeling really ill, so I’m hoping this is one of those things that has to get worse before it gets better. We’ll see. For now, I think I’ll stay away from things which I’m told are “good for the health” and go home and suck on some strepsils.

Today has been a day of highs and lows.

Low points: constantly getting lost,  horrible boys throwing a stone at Ellie, being sworn at by taxi drivers just because we didn’t needa taxi, finding the tiniest, most helpless kitten all alone on the pavement, looking like it was about to die (which made us late for a meeting, as we spent ages trying to decide what to do about it, before concluding there was nothing we could do: heartbreaking).

High points: walking up a big hill in the sweltering heat to a meeting to be greeted with watermelon and refreshing ice-tea on arrival (Tajiks know how to conduct business meetings!), getting three more amazingly skilled craftsmen to confirm to come to the festival (so excited!!), and making lots more appointments for tomorrow. I’m loving being part of the culture team. every day we are learning so much about Tajik culture which makes all the waiting and walking around worth it.

It’s going to be a busy week, which is good, because it means things should start falling into place nicely for the project. It also means there’ll be no time to miss home. Had a very idle afternoon yesterday, which led to me badly missing home, so going to keep myself busy from now on.

xxxxx