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