Sunday, September 23, 2012

Over the Mountain and Through the Tunnel of Death: A Weekend in Sughd


“Istaravshan, now they’re a bit more conservative. But Khujand. Khujand is like the Soviet Union all over again. Anything goes…”-Khorshed, program guide in Dushanbe

So got back from a lovely (and certainly interesting) weekend spent out of the capital I’ve been calling home for the last (near) month and headed north to visit Tajikistan’s historic Sughd Province, and in particular, the cities of Khujand and Istaravshan.

Now this part needs to be said, because while it was happening, I genuinely contemplated how exactly I was going to phrase this. But I swear on whatever God(s) kept me from tumbling to my death on the 5+ hour trek north, that the road from Dushanbe to Sughd (and there is only road) is the single most terrifying experience of my life. Let me describe it this way. Picture in your mind an unpaved road. Now picture mountains. Now picture the two combined together in a country where, once you leave the major roads, the “correct” side of the street is wherever you damn well want it to be. Oh, and just for kicks, put in a tunnel with virtually no lighting, no ventilation, no lanes, no pavement, construction, and potholes that form small lakes so car-damaging the thing is actually nicknamed “The Tunnel of Death”.

The above is, in the most censored way I can imagine, an accurate description of the road to Sughd. I hope it gives you nightmares, because I still have flashbacks.

Onto Istaravshan. This city (or maybe it’s closer to a town) is famous for two things, being the birthplace of Roxana, wife of a guy you may know as Alexander the Great, and the fact its people have been called the “Jews of Central Asia” because…well, they’re good at selling things. Not so sure about the last part, but the city was definitely home to some history. Our major stopover in Istaravshan was to visit a particular blacksmith who, in addition to being a teeny bit insane, also drew as an inspiration for his work the tales contained in the Shahnameh, or Iran’s national epic. Now if the names Rustam, Zahhak, Kaveh, and 
Afrasiyab mean nothing to you, get yourself educated, because this guy has done his best (and won awards) for recreating such beauties as the sword of Rustam (William Wallace, eat your heart out), a cane in the image of the “Simorgh”, and a “Zahhak” dagger that ended up sparking an…interesting political debate about who the “Zahhak” was in modern Tajikistan (after all, we had our “Kaveh” right here, and our Tajiki professor Faridun was with us as well..). The guy might’ve gotten a little esoteric for my Farsi comprehensive abilities, but he had some fine work, and if he keeps the people of Tajikistan in touch with their cultural roots, more power to him.

Khujand was, and I say this without a hint of doubt, my favorite place thus far in Tajikistan. As the quote from Khorshed was to prove, Khujand at least appeared both more multicultural, and more liberal than even Dushanbe itself. The streets were an eclectic mix of not only Tajiks and Russians (usual fare), but Uzbeks, Kyrgyz, Germans, and Chinese. The monuments to the greatness of Khujand’s past (which, unlike Dushanbe, stretches back several thousand years) are prominent, but don’t look quite like Dushanbe and appear to have some semblance of modesty (ignoring their size, of course). In Khujand, I learned/experienced many firsts in Tajikistan, including:
  •  A proper Tajik family meal (as my family is made up of fairly conservative Muslims, I wasn’t quite ready for the Russian-style vodka toasts…all 5 of them)
  •  Turns out Tajikistan’s national alcohol should be cognac, and for only 10 somoni (about $2), you can get a bottle of the second best cognac in the former Soviet Union

And in case you thought I was just getting drunk…
  •    Lay’s ™ flavors in Tajikistan include caviar, crab, shashlik (in theory, like a shish kebab, in practice, like barbeque sauce), and spring onion
  • Khujandis may be some of the friendliest people I’ve ever met, quite frequently getting stopped on the street with a simple “Salom, shumo chi khel? Shumo az koja hastid?” (Hey, how are you? Where are you from?) Expats don’t seem to be as big a thing there…
  •  Tajik weddings are spectacular affairs, the sounding of horns at 8 AM when the wedding party leaves the hotel…not so much
  •  Khujand has a lot of relics of its Soviet past, including a disturbing fascination with Stalin, Central Asia’s biggest Lenin statue, and some impressive monuments to WWII
  •  Flying back to Dushanbe=significantly safer than driving to Khujand

(EDIT)
  • Apparently, I can somehow slog my way through a discussion about football/soccer with a Great Patriotic War vet...in Tajiki
  • People take poetry seriously here
  • "Shaparak": That's capitalism 1, communism 0

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Following several questions/concerns I’ve received, I will try to update again this week with some general observations about life in Tajikistan I’ve wanted to get out in the open. Also, for those who have asked, I cannot, with Tajik-strength Internet, upload photos onto the blog. When I leave the country for my winter break, I may just have a few posts entirely of pictures (for anyone who can’t/is too lazy to check Facebook).

Until next time: Tashakkur and khudo hofez.

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