I Know All There Is To Know About The Waiting Game

I’ve been back here in Tajikistan’s capital for almost a week now and I’m still trying to get a hold on it, to figure out what is Dushanbe. It doesn’t have that hyper pulse of New York but there is some sort of dull beating that can be called the rhythm of the city. Of course when daily temperatures are 95 degrees and up, things are going to move slowly.
Waiting around for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) to say “DA” or “NYET” about giving a group of Afghan high school students visas so they can come to a great 3 week ESL camp is a bit aggravating. Actually, as of yesterday, it is very aggravating. I love doing this program but I hate, repeat HATE, having to deal with Afghan visa issues. I don’t like saying this but Afghans are not the easiest people to move around the world, let alone Central Asia. They require extra time and attention. Time and attention that I don’t always have patience for. So in this case, the MFA is waffling, making us play the waiting game. Meanwhile, we drummed up a Plan B (which involves another road trip back to Afghanistan). The longer we wait (already 2 weeks), the more obvious the NO will be. The main reason for saying NO is “SHOS”—the Shanghai Cooperation Summit which gave us so much grief last year in Kyrgyzstan. The Central Asian version of NATO, they’ve (Russia, China, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Tajikistan) decided to have their summit in Dushanbe at the end of August. Eventhough our camp will be finished by the time the summit begins, they still aren’t giving out visas (as if it’s that difficult). As a last ditch effort, I’ve become chummy with the 2nd in command at the Afghan Embassy and maybe he can pull a string or two. I doubt it, but hey anything is worth a try. Yesterday I gave up all hope of having the camp here in Tajikistan. I figured if I gave up hope, something might happen.
Since I really don’t have much control over the visa decision, I figured I’d try to get to the heart of this place where I find myself. While the government is a pain in the ass, I’m sure that’s not true for the rest of the country so why not spend some time getting to know the place. Cale (my stalwart assistant), his wife Aida, Tim and Tana (2 of my teachers from the US) are here to play the waiting game with, and keep me from going absolutely bonkers. Aida lost her favorite bracelet on day 2 of being here (she blames it on one of the beggar kids who harass you on Rudaki) and has been holed up in the hotel, pouting ever since so we don’t see her very much. Cale and Aida are trying to have a baby and this is Aida’s cycle this week ergo her reason for coming to Dushanbe. So we don’t always see Cale either. Luckily Tim and Tana have yet to come to that decision (let them get hitched first) so I have some company to pal around with.
A few blogs ago I was invited by Mark, a local expat, to the Irish Pub (one in every outpost ya know) so the 3 T’s (Tim, Tana, Tom) hit the bottles (of beer) and met the local expat crowd. Now just because it’s an Irish pub doesn’t mean it has Irish beer or people running it. It had the feeling of an Irish pub with long wooden tables and chairs with a shamrock cut out on the back but the bartendress was a friendly Russian girl cracking open Baltika 3’s and Miller’s to the crowd. A very friendly, welcoming place, it made me stop worrying about all my work travails. By the third beer, I could give a rat’s ass what happened, I was just happy to be out amongst people, socializing. I don’t think Mark ever showed up, but maybe next time I’ll run into him.
What can I say about the town? First impressions: quiet, slow, orderly, friendly. I haven’t spent a ton of time running about exploring every nook and cranny, but I do know Rudaki, the main boulevard, like the back of my hand. A wide, tree lined street, I walk up it everyday to our office. The grand Presidential office is the first thing to greet me as I make my way up the boulevard. The giant fountains in front are a nice break from the summer heat so I walk a little slower than usual on this block. You can’t linger too long for the guards will shoo you on your way. There are lots of fountains along Rudaki so there’s more chances to cool off. Lots of police men stopping cars, getting their bribes from the drivers. Sometimes they try to stop me when they have nothing better to do but I give them my NYC face and keep walking. Next is the big teahouse “Rokhat”, one of my favorite places to eat in town. Airy verandas with tables to dine on local dishes and sip green tea, watching people going to and fro on the street below. Traditional women’s wear here is a long dress, a Central Asia version of the Hawaiian muu muu. I love the variety of colour and print of these dresses going up and down Rudaki. Some are in velvet which seems a bit hot for July but most are in cotton prints of flowers, Tajik traditional design or vivid solid colours. Between fountains, the giant trees give ample shade. Beggar children pat your hand and put their other hand to their mouth making the universal beggar sign for “Give me money for food”, an old lady sells delicious steamed corn from a big bag. Girls, seeing that I’m obviously a foreigner, say hello in English, being friendly or maybe hoping that the greeting will turn into a wonderful relationship and a ticket out of this country. Portraits of Rokhmonov, the president, stare out from the stationary shop. Iranian music blares from the music shops and the latest American films on DVD can be found in the video stores.
One thing I’m totally loving here are the mosaics. Huge, fabulous works of art, leftovers from the Soviet days. Thank God no one has decided to tear them down—they really are beautiful. The more I get around town, the more mosaics I find. True inspiration for a budding mosaic artist. Hopefully the police who see me photographing them will know I’m an artist and not a spy. In their minds though, they probably think, why would anyone want to take a picture of those mosaics? Giant tableaus of Soviet industry, Tajik men playing instruments while women dance, big birds with ornate tail feathers, big bowls of fruits and vegetables, scenes of bucolic Tajik village life. There’s a big cotton factory here in town which is completely covered in mosaic tiles. I have yet to hunt it down but I’ve still got time to see it.
So the waiting game plays on, who knows how or when it will end. I don’t really care how it ends as long as I’m able to get the camp up and running. Meanwhile I hang out with my crew, give conversational practice to students of English in our office, check out the Dushanbe scene and try to catch the gist of what Tajikistan is all about.