Қурутобу Дабстеп

In the continued lack of any publishable adventures in Dushanbe, and more or less to prove that this isn't dead yet (two more months left…well that’s depressing!), a short update.

So as most of you know, I've been teaching English here for most of the last semester. It’s a job that’s had its ups (pay day=huge up) and its downs, but I find that I, surprisingly, am enjoying teaching. And my students don’t seem to openly hate me (yet), so that’s a plus. But for the vast majority of my work days, the routine has become fairly monotonous: Walk to class, have my unruly class, hour break, have the better behaved class, go home, and repeat.

Last Monday was both a glaring exception, and a genuine example of why I love this place.

On this particular Monday, I showed up early to work, because I was coming from lunch, and didn't see much of a point in going back to the office if I had to go to work soon afterwards. After the usual “Hello/Салом”-s, I hear the call go out: “Qurutob?” For those who may not remember, qurutob was the yogurt and bread concoction that I, in the first semester, and come to completely and utterly despise. Well, turns out that time was on the side of the national favorite, and I was now as excited as everyone else in the office upon hearing the name of this surprisingly delicious dish.

So I went to class, taught for a wonderfully fast hour, and then ran upstairs to be told “Greg, we have some qurutob for you in the kitchen.” And may I say, it was a marvelous feeling getting to chow down. But then, I hear something coming from the other room. Something that belongs in the clubs and college dorm parties of the West, but not in the administrative offices of an English program: the womp-womp-womp of dubstep.

There I was, watching as my fellow staff argued over which “whatever you call someone who makes dubstep”-er was better in a mix of fast paced Tajiki, Russian, and English, hands buried in the bowl of qurutob gorging myself, realizing that dammit, this might not be home, but this ain't half bad.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.

آیا تو نمی بینی که بدن خود را دارند می سوزند متروک و پر از حسرت

Рӯзи Артиши миллӣ муборак! Happy National Army Day!

Ok, so I’m a few days early, but from the TV messages (often featuring soldiers and equipment from countries as non-Tajik as Russia, Kazakhstan, and Abkhazia) on state-run TBC, to Rudaki Ave being blocked yesterday so hundreds of soldiers could pile in front of the massive Ismail Somoni statue in practice for Saturday, you know what’s coming. An outpouring of support for the country’s armed forces, a full two decades after their founding. And what a twenty years it’s been…

Being American, I am by no means qualified to make quips about a country “ worshipping” its army. Tajikistan has been through some pretty awful things since independence, topping the list is the civil war that firmly destroyed what little infrastructure it originally had, and is probably the biggest cause of the country’s many snafus. With 2014, and the disaster that is likely to be post-ISAF Afghanistan on the horizon, the army is going to be getting a lot more focus, both at home and abroad.

But…

The army’s not innocent. Nothing in Tajikistan really is (or, I’d argue, could be); but this force, the one that keeps such baddies as Islamic terrorism out of the country, also lets in quite a bit of drugs. Corruption’s bad, and when it’s not things being done through omission (or actively so), the army was the force that mercilessly came down on the city of Khorugh in late July, killing somewhere between 70 and over 200 people. Arguments could made the latter was a case of “national security”, but there’s no argument that the helicopters and snipers shooting at civilians was excessive.

I've said before that Tajikistan has the tools and the innate abilities to improve itself. I’m hesitant of saying that the army should be a vehicle for that, just because the army as such a force can either be good (South Korea, I say tentatively) or really, really, really bad (pretty much every other country that did that). The point I want to make is that, while the Tajik government throws what I can only assume are hundreds of thousands of somonis into pomp and circumstance, maybe they could adjust that towards just benefitting the soldiers and their families? Or working towards something, anything, that doesn't look like glorified cock-waving…these people deserve better.

Hopefully I’ll do something exciting soon so I stop writing about conceptual nonsense. But with the weather looking horrible every else but the capital…don’t count on it.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.

چهل روزه بوده است و من چهل راه سعی کرده ام

I’ll start this off by saying, in a way that sounds horribly conceited in my head but I do swear isn't  Finding yourself a minority in an unfamiliar place makes life both interesting, and irritatingly difficult. Now let me try to explain that statement through a series of semi-humorous anecdotes, to try to draw away any potentially hostile feelings that the initial statement may have brought forwards.

For some basic demographic information, Tajikistan is a country that is 90% some kind of Muslim (Sunni majority, only country in the world with an Ismaili majority region if that kind of thing interests you). Which leaves 10% as an odd mix of Christian (mostly Russian Orthodox), Jewish, Zoroastrian, Baha'i...the works. As you may, but most likely are not, surprised to learn, I am not Muslim. Surprise, I know, but as you can imagine, when you have a religious holiday coming up and 90% of the country has absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, you can have a number of funny stories.

So let’s start with finding a church. Dushanbe, being the capital, DOES have several churches. Good, right? Well, when the holiday you’re ‘celebrating’ (not sure Ash Wednesday gets ‘celebrated’) isn't celebrated by all of the various denominations that have churches here, it’s…a bit taxing to explain. No, I can’t go the Russian church, they start next week. It was that. For about a week, until we found the Church, somehow at the address where I had previously found an abandoned building.

Also, fun fact, drawing comparisons between schisms in Christianity and Islam doesn't easily explain the differences. Go figure.

But alright, proper church found! That’s a good start. Now, onto explaining the concept of Lent to the host family or, more appropriately, trying to explain the concept of the Lenten fasting to the family. This I’ll admit was for more amusing. Namely, Baba’s proud statement that if “you don’t fast every day, it’s not fasting.” Or Bibi’s confused “You can choose what you give up? Why would you choose to fast?” Honestly, it’s led to a lot of amusing conversations and misunderstandings.

I guess this post isn't just about the time of year, or trying to celebrate, but about one of the odder parts of “cross-cultural exchange”. Normally, you think you’re fine sharing everything, about yourself and your culture; and at the same time you are expected (and will typically enjoy) to hear about your host culture. But speaking for myself, religion has always been something I've seen as personal, not something that someone should be dissuaded from talking about, but that my beliefs are my own, and I don’t share them because, frankly, they’re between me and whatever higher power I choose to believe in.

But Tajikistan has changed that. I've had conversation about things from personal beliefs regarding fate (or “the will of God”) to Church hierarchy with everyone from my host family to my professors to my tutor to random people I've chatted with in the park. Literally, dozens of times. And still, after all of that, I’m not comfortable with the conversations.

But as I don’t see a stop to the questions, I’ll do my best to teach and explain. As I’ve always done, I suppose.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.

با تحقیق و افراد پیر

Wrapping up my first week of classes in Dushanbe for the second semester, which means I think I’m finally in a good enough place to understand how this semester is going to go.

And holy shit, what am I doing to myself?

Now DISCLAIMER, this does not mean things are bad. Things are awesome. I cannot stress how happy I am to be back in Dushanbe after 6 weeks on the road/rail/airplane in colder-than-sin Europe, or how happy I am to be eating lentil soup, pelmini, and/or wheat (?) porridge on a regular basis. I cannot stress how happy I am to be able to walk down the street or watch the news and to be able to understand what’s going on. And my God, how I missed the naan and chai!

But this semester certainly offers some challenges. Chief among those, the research project I’m starting up. Aside from being devoted two hours of class a week (1 of 7 classes this semester, compared to 5 in the last), there will naturally be research on the side. Not so hard, right? Well, this is a language program, and when you do research in a language program, you do it in…the language of the program. So expect bilingual (in three alphabets) research, being actively translated and summarized into the other language.

Fun? Fun!

So as this isn't a complete rant, I've got updates on the family situation. Those who remember will note that when I first moved to Tajikistan, I was living with a grandfather, a “grandmother” (quotes will be explained later), a mother, four children, and a dog. So imagine my surprise when, on returning to Dushanbe, the only ones there were the grandfather, the dog, and a new woman, who I learned was the actual grandmother (making me wonder who exactly the other woman was, Tajiks don’t seem to be very clear about who’s who in the family when asked). Things haven’t changed in a bad way (food’s still good, room’s warm, bathroom still exists), but it’s certainly quiet without the kids around. Can’t say that’s an improvement. Not in the slightest.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.

بازگشتم: چه منتظر هستم؟

And we’re back! Yes yes, after a lovely 6 week hiatus spent travelling Europe, seeing the cities of the “old country/countries”, and meeting some rather cool cats along the way, it’s finally time for my second (and sadly final) semester in the lovely city of Dushanbe. So just a quick update on things that will (or possibly won’t) be going on.

First off, I’m working with 7 classes this semester (as opposed to 5 last), one of which is an in-country, in-language research project. On what?, you may be asking (and if you weren't  feel free to start now). Well…still working on that. However, as this is going to have be thesis quality material, and it might have to be carried over into Yerevan (more information later), should be a doozy…

Second, there will be excursions! More importantly, there is no planned excursion to the beautiful (and occasionally turbulent) Gorno-Badakhshan. Never been one to take “No” easily, so I’ll do what I can to get an update from that most distant and mysterious province. Completely legally, of course.

Third, as I mentioned before: Yerevan. For those not in the know, I’ll be (hopefully) spending my summer in Yerevan, Armenia. As such, I plan at the moment on continuing “A Year of Monday” until May, and then either ending it and starting a new, more relevantly titled work for the summer, or just ignoring the title and including Armenia in it. Feedback would be lovely, as always.

Guess that’s it for now, into Dushanbe on Monday morning (Sunday afternoon for most of you), and then…let the games begin.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.

با گوشت دودی و دوست های خارجی

Quick: Think about Tajikistan. Think about all of the things I've told you about living in this tiny post-Soviet republic, and make a list (presumably mental, unless you actually want to write it out, and I’m not judging if you do).  Only needs to be three or four things, no need to be super detailed, and don’t fret, I can wait…

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Alright, now that that’s done, does the phrase “Brazilian barbeque” come up at all? I’m guessing no, and if it did, you can read Farsi and understood the title of the entry, in which case you’re a dirty cheater. But yes, Brazilian barbeque was how I spent my last full weekend of the semester in Dushanbe, and if I may say, it was a marvelous time.

So how did I manage to experience Fogo de Chao (or any other Brazilian steakhouses you know, I myself do not) half a world away? In a word, AIESEC. In more than one word, yes, that organization that I occasionally mention on here managed to accomplish one of its major goals by organizing a Brazilian-style barbeque run by, surprise surprise, the two Brazilian interns working in Tajikistan.

Now, I would never say that Tajik food is bad, and even if/when I get tired of the local fare, living in the capital means that there are other options, although being a student, I can usually only afford the Iranian/Turkish/knockoff fast food places if I want to go out. But in regards to meat, something I usually don’t have anyways, I’d forgotten how good a piece of grilled meat, that hasn't been burned black, can taste.  Add in that Brazilians are quite good at grilling in the first place, and what you have is an experience that was surely a first for most of the Tajik members, and was for me, with the addition of Tajik naan and chai, as well as Russian pickles, a taste (pun intended) of familiar culinary globalization.

So if anyone reads from the other day reads this: Nicely done ladies and gentlemen, it was a nice way to round out the semester.

Also join AIESEC. It’s awesome.

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One final note to any readers, regular or otherwise: As I've mentioned several times in this entry, I’m finishing my first semester here this week, so this will be my last regular post from Tajikistan until the end of January or the beginning of February. I’ll be headed off to Europe in the mean time, and I might post something while I’m there, but as Europe isn't very Tajik, I probably won’t.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.

در قهوخانه

After an acknowledgement that my last few entries have been downright depressing, and in an effort to convince people that I’m not on the verge of killing myself out of boredom or loneliness (because that would be quite far from the truth), I figure I’d better get a happy update out there.

So here it is…we’re talking about Iranians. Thrilling, I know!

The as-of-yet-unnamed Iranian café has made an appearance in “A Year of Monday” once before. Yes, this is the place I went to talk to Iranians because, as we’ve discussed before, I am that friendless foreigner in Dushanbe. But it’s become way more than that. First off, this place has three wonderful things in the same place: kubideh, hookah, and Iranian satellite TV. As to why these things are good, this should be apparent, but I suppose they merit an explanation. Kubideh, more specifically kebab-e kubideh, is pretty simple stuff, ground meat grilled. But for a mere 18 somoni (that’s about $3.60 for you Americans, the rest of you can do your own conversions), you get not one, but two succulent kubideh, a ton of rice, tomato, onion, and pickle. For an additional 3 somoni (now let’s see who’s the math-whiz reading this and can figure out what that comes out to), you get a whole pot of tea. That’s a pretty solid meal right there. And you can, if you’re so inclined, can sit watching Iranian TV and listen to the various, but blatantly Farsi (not Persian, we’re getting specific here) conversations going on around you.

But more importantly, I find the restaurant an interesting snapshot into a community that, in general, I can’t find in the US. I’m not talking about the Iranian community (they don’t let you stop knowing that they’re there, if you had questions about that, talk to the lovably sketchy gentlemen from the NCRI that haunt the street corners of DC), I’m talking about an expat community that isn’t dripping with cash and doesn’t refer to Dushanbe as “The Big Dushe”. Let’s be clear, I haven’t spoken with an Iranian in Dushanbe that hasn’t gone through great pains to convince me of the differences between themselves and their linguistic cousins. I wouldn’t, however, say that the attitudes to Tajikistan coming from the Iranian community reflect those I’ve heard elsewhere in the expat community. I’m also pretty terrible at Farsi, so there’s a fair chance I’m missing something.

But back to the café (which I’m going to start calling a qahvakhona, because ‘café’ sounds so weird in my head for this place), it started out as just a place to go for a cheap, non-Tajik lunch. Then it became the place with the cheapest hookah in town, which was also awesome (NOTE: Kids, smoking is bad. Don’t do it.). Now though, it’s almost like a second home. I go there on weekends to study. I go there during the week with my peer tutor so we don’t have to sit awkwardly in the sun room of the office. I go there when I want to listen to the news or music or watch football in Farsi. I get pulled into ridiculous arguments, like whether Tajik or Iranian women are more attractive, or why the guy who was sitting at the table across from me is from Semnan and what city in Iran am I from.

This city is a lot of things, some of them good, most of them different. I’ll be here until May, and I’ll likely be spending a lot of the next semester without my fellow student(s). And while I would never go as far to say I could fit in, maybe I’ll be able to find something in that qahvakhona worth writing about again. Or at least some more kubideh.

As always: Ташаккуру Худо ҳафез.