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
Tajikistan according to Sarah 
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