Goodbye Tajikistan

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Well, after 10 weeks on the ground, I am now making my final preparations to leave Tajikistan. It has been a strange and wonderful time, an experience that I will never forget. Tajikistan doesn’t necessarily demand your attention, even struggles to take hold of you on the first (or second) glance, but it will eventually sneak its way into your heart.

This country has tested every ounce of my patience and made me curse its needlessly bureaucratic ways; starved me until I was weak and then fattened me up with greasy, deep fried foods and overly sugary chocolates and sweets; robbed me of electricity and made me freeze through dark, dark nights and long, crisp days; run circles around me with its cunning, multilingual ways; sometimes bored me to death and made me wish for Sunday to finally end; twisted my ankles on dark walks home; made me drink bad Russian beer and sugared Nescafe (it’s not really coffee!); robbed me of wine that does not resemble old vinegar; irritated me with spitting in the streets and constantly ringing cell phones; and pushed my limits of sanity with all of the loud horns, crazy drivers, and cramped shared taxis.

But, Tajikistan can surprise you. I will miss the way that everyone ceremoniously prepares tea and hands it to you with their hand over their heart. I will miss the colorful markets and how old ladies will knock you over as they’re running through the narrow aisles. I will miss living in a country where history is measured in 1000′s of years instead of 100′s. I will really miss how everything is referred to as ‘national’ (this is our national teapot, national dish, national soup, national mattress, national bed; national dress; national fruit; national cake, national hat….) I will miss how most people speak a minimum of three languages, none of which I managed to pick up in my time here. And, even though eating was a constant stress, I think that I may even miss all of the foods that revolved around sheep fat.

Tajikistan is definitely the most complex place I’ve ever visited. There is so much to learn and explore and I hope to keep reading and learning about it when I return home.

Thank you everyone for your support during this fellowship. Thank you for letting me share some of the amazing experiences and stories – I hope that I have inspired some of you to keep learning about this region.

Signing out……

Not Exactly Martha Stewart

I had been planning for today’s lasagna lunch since the second week of my fellowship when one my colleagues asked if I could make his favorite dish from the U.S. How could I say no? This man had picked me up at the border, arranged my housing, and even helped me secure a SIM card and cell phone, among countless of other tasks. Lasagna was the least I could do, right? Right? In the end the lasagna required more than 10 trips to various stores and the efforts of approximately 12 people, in three countries.

When I made the commitment, I did not understand how difficult it would be to find the necessary ingredients. It wasn’t that I couldn’t find fresh mozzarella or ricotta cheese – I couldn’t find cheese, period. After many rounds through the market and trips to supposedly ‘Western-style’ stores, I came to the harsh realization that this dish was going to require some serious effort.

Luckily, I managed to secure some guests during my fellowship: I asked Ryan to bring me a box of lasagna noodles and Jenny, who was visiting from Kiva, to bring along a bottle of Kraft parmesan – the kind that doesn’t need to be refrigerated. While in Uzbekistan, I scored a can of tomato paste and a packet of dried tomato sauce, which would replace the non-existent basil and oregano – all they have here is cilantro. I had planned to make my own ricotta, arguably lasagna’s key ingredient, but without a thermometer or buttermilk I was forced to give up on that plan as well.

So, as you can imagine, I was feeling pretty pessimistic about my opportunities for success. I stopped trying to find ingredients and started planning excuses to weasel out of the obligation. Feeling guilty, I decided to give it one last shot and wandered into a market not far from my office. I could almost hear the heavenly choir pouring down as my eyes rested upon a pile of ground beef (ground beef!) and two blocks of cheese: gouda and edam! It wasn’t exactly mozzarella and ricotta, but it wasn’t the Tajik salty soft cheese either.

Unfortunately, Western conveniences do not come cheaply and I only had enough money in my wallet to purchase the cheese. I also figured that, if I had been forced to eat meat for 10 weeks, it wouldn’t hurt them to eat vegetarian food for once. Proud and excited, I headed home to prepare the sauce and fixins…..that’s when it really got interesting.

1. I have one electric burner and no stove, which makes it pretty tricky to bake lasagna. It took a few tries, but I finally found someone to bring their stove, as well as a pan, into the office today (it’s not too big, don’t worry).

2. I don’t have a can opener, so I had to borrow one from my neighbor. After several minutes trying to figure out how to use it, I had to walk back across the hall, with my tail between my legs and ask for help. It’s never very empowering to ask for help in using a can opener. She clearly felt bad for me because, five minutes later, she sent her daughter over with a bowl of soup and some chocolates.

3. When I got to work this morning, my coworker asked what kind of meat would be in the lasagna. I explained that I had run out of money while shopping and had been unable to purchase the ground beef . Before I knew it, all of the men in my office had plopped down 5 somoni each (enough to cover the cost of the meat), saying “we want meat”. So, I ran back out to the store.

4. A coworker then arranged for the driver to take me home so that I could pick up the rest of the ingredients and cook the beef on my stove top. When I got there, the electricity was off – of course.

5. I headed back to the office to set up the stove and start baking the ground beef. Thank God that I made an obnoxious quantity of sauce the night before and thank God they made me go buy meat because the pan that my colleague had lent me was huge!

6. I got the lasagna into the oven at 11:20, which gave it just enough time to bake before the electricity went off at noon.

Well, somehow my ‘thank-you’ present for one of my colleagues turned into a celebration for the whole office. Everyone came – I ended up making lunch for over 30 people. Sadly, I didn’t get to take a picture of the final product because I got shoved out of the way so that someone else could serve it. But it was absolutely beautiful….and yummy! It didn’t taste exactly like lasagna, more like fancy cheeseburger lasagna, but it was wonderful! Everyone, including myself, had such a good time sitting around, eating, and chatting. Sitting there, looking out at my coworkers who I would soon say goodbye to, I started to fight back tears. Tomorrow is my going away party – but it couldn’t possibly be better than today’s event!

My Uzbek Holiday

After spending eight weeks by myself in Tajikistan, you can imagine how eager I was to have Ryan visit, even if it was only for ten days.  It was so good to have him here, even though he refused to eat anything with lamb fat in it! There isn’t too much to do in Khujand, but it did serve as a good rest after his long flight.  Plus, I got to take advantage of all the little treats he brought me, mainly cribbage, coffee, and chocolate!

Our trip into Uzbekistan turned out to be a little more exciting than we had anticipated. We originally planned to avoid the mountains by taking the long way around to Samarqand, but we couldn’t turn down a ride to Penjikent, Tajikistan. This required going over the mountains, but it was an easier trek once we got there. I won’t go into detail (I did upload some pics from the drive) but it is safe to say that none of our parents would have been to pleased with the trip.

The old mosques and mausoleums in Samarqand and Bukhara are really incredible. I was not prepared for their dominating presence and incredible beauty. My mouth dropped as we drove into the city and I glimpsed the first of the giant structures. We passed by several more on our way to the guest house…..they just kept going and the city seemed content to move around them.

We arrived into Samarqand well past lunch and were famished by the time we found a place to eat. Immediately after ordering our meals, two people at the table next to ours invited us to join in a vodka toast. One shot somehow turned into 6 or 8 and,  after a couple hours, we were feeling pretty loopy. We managed to get in at least one tourist stop before deciding to head back to a bar for dinner (it seemed like a good idea at the time). It was a long and wonderful first day in Uzbekistan.

Life in Uzbekistan is shockingly different than life in Tajikistan. It felt so much more developed and had so much more going on. While this was a nice change, the more engaging lifestyle was also overwhelming. We were constantly overwhelmed by masses of people smoking and the constant presence of alcohol. In Khujand, people pretty much leave me alone but in Uzbekistan, we were endlessly approached by people trying to practice their English – it’s nice the first few times but it gets old after you’ve heard “Hello Meester” 20 or 30 times. After two months of being surrounded by conservative dress, I was also slightly shocked by the short skirts and tight jeans that dominated the fashion scene.

Unfortunately, the trip was not all vodka and roses. Ryan suffered from food poisoning, our flight back to Tashkent turned into a nightmare, and the strict registration requirements caused more than one headache. By the time we finally arrived in Tashkent, where Ryan would depart, we were worn out shells of our former selves. Thankfully, we had the most wonderful host. Alex, a friend of our dear friend Jamie, nursed us back to health with lots of tea, good food, and hot water! We even got to lounge around and watch DVD’s – it was the perfect way to wind down the trip.

Ryan is now back in the U.S. and I am now back at my home in Tajikistan. I only have 10 more days in the country, before I head back to Alex’s oasis in Tashkent in order to prepare for my departure flight, and it is going to be a roller coaster of a time. I feel so alive and inspired by the process that I’ve been experiencing for the past 9 weeks, but my body and mind are also challenged by the electricity cuts and constant cold. I am anxious to see all of my friends and family, but I am scared to return to the stress of my way-too-busy life. I am excited to be going home but I will really miss this country – it wasn’t always the most entertaining or friendly place, but it has managed to work its way into my heart.

Click Here are some pics from the trip

Or Click Here for the slideshow version

My week in southern Tajikistan

I was able to break out of Khujand last week for a trip to the southern part of Tajikistan, in order to meet with branches and clients in Dushanbe (the capitol) and Sharituz.  It was such a good trip!  The weather was gorgeous, I got to go sightseeing, and I even got to be an expat for an hour and a half, as I indulged in a glorious cup of Starbucks coffee….real coffee, not Nescafe!

Here are some brief stories from my trip, mostly to provide some context for the pictures I just uploaded to Flickr.

Dushanbe

Dushanbe was not what I expected for a capitol city and certainly not what I expected after 2 months of living in the north.  It had wide, tree-lined streets; international food (which I did not get to eat); and bars!  Contrary to the more shut-in culture of Khujand, people in Dushanbe appear to go out at night and on the weekends.  I wish I had had more time to explore the city, but I was limited to several days of work and one afternoon of walking around.  Since the weather was too nice to pass up, I breezed through the city’s Museum of Antiquities, where I shot a picture of Central Asia’s largest remaining buddha.  This was yet another reminder of how rich and diverse this country’s long history really is.

Sharituz

After a delay of more than 3 hours and a stop at a roadside mosque for my driving companions to make evening prayers, we finally left for Sharituz just before sunset on Wednesday. I was slightly disappointed because I had really wanted to see the countryside before dark, but seeing the sun go down over the golden mountains was worth the wait.  Around an hour into the drive, we came across our only checkpoint on the road, where our tiny Russian car was dwarfed by the surrounding trucks.  My coworker pointed out that they were Afghani trucks bringing building materials into Tajikistan.

We arrived just in time for a late dinner at our home for the next few days: the UNDP Guest House, which is the only place that you can stay in the region.  It was a cozy hostel and, since I was the only female there, I got my own room.  It was run-down and simple, but I loved it – mostly because I got to sleep in a bed for the first time since arriving in this country (my flat only has a weird pull-out couch).

I loved my three days in Sharituz.  It was so warm that I didn’t need to wear long underwear or my fleece and we got to eat lunch outside on the traditional Tajik ‘cots’.  The pace of life is so much slower there, with much time dedicated to sipping tea in rose-filled courtyards.  I was completely smitten.

The best part about my time in Sharituz was getting to see an old mosque (really old!) and the 44 Springs.  Legend has it that the historic mosque was built by birds.  From the road, it looks like just another rural mosque but it is a surprisingly beautiful stone structure that is slowly being repaired.  The 44 natural springs created a literal oasis in the midst of the very arid southern region.  It is popular with the locals as a cool respite from the strong summer heat, but they just hang out there, they don’t go swimming.  I’m not even sure that you could go swimming because the water is completely filled with fish – I’ve never seen anything like it, the water was black with fish.

Lunch with Bashir’s Uncle

OK, so this actually happened right before my trip, but I uploaded the pictures at the same time.  Bashir is one of my coworkers and he has been an amazing host.  He has taken me out on several field trips and invited me over to his flat for meals on many occasions.  And right before I left, he took me and a visiting Kiva employee out to visit the old cotton cooperative offices.  On our way back into town we stopped at his uncle’s home for an impromptu lunch and several shots of cognac.  As you can see from the pictures, we have our legs huddled under the table cloths, in order to take advantage of the coal heater that is underneath the table!

Again: here is the link for the pictures.

FYI: Ryan arrives in Tajikistan tomorrow!  We will spend a few days in Khujand and then head off for some travel in Uzbekistan.

Sometimes the Most “Boring” Client is Really the Most Interesting

In the past week I have met with almost 50 clients, which is way more than I met in the previous six weeks combined. I should feel inspired and excited by that accomplishment, but I mostly feel tired and battered. That’s because all of the clients I met with were BORING! I’m not exaggerating – I didn’t have one interesting interview. At least, that’s what I thought in the days surrounding the visits….

When I meet with clients, I ask a bunch of questions about their business, family, and personal history in order to get a better understanding of the benefit they have experienced from working with a microfinance organization. The clients in and around my home base of Khujand haven’t exactly talked my ear off, but they’ve been surprisingly open and forthcoming with their responses. So when I took a week to meet with clients in the southern part of the country, I was shocked by their consistently brief and reticent responses. Here is a sample interview from the past week:

Me: Why did you decide to start your business?

Client: Because I wanted to.

Me: Why did you decide, after 9 years of owning your business, to apply for your first loan last year? Client: Because.

Me: What has been the impact of the loan on your business?

Client: It’s been good

Me: Can you provide any specific examples?

Client: No

Me: Do you have any goals for the next few years, for your business or family?

Client: No

It was the same thing, client after client. I wanted to scream – didn’t anybody have a wedding to pay for; a child to send to college; or a satellite dish to buy (all very typical responses to the goals question)? I pulled out every trick in the bag: rephrasing my questions; asking follow-up questions, smiling more; and talking about their family. But, no matter how hard I tried, I could not get anything out of these clients. We tried different communities, different branches, different translators and still nothing….the clients simply would not talk.

My first reaction was to chalk it up to the fact that microfinance isn’t always ‘sexy’. It isn’t always the glamorous success story that, as a lender, you hope to hear. My second thought was that this part of the country was simply more religious and therefor more reserved. But, I wasn’t satisfied with either of these explanations and decided to ask for some help from my IMON coworkers.

It turns out that the “boring clients” are a complex and emotional consequence of Tajikistan’s civil war, which erupted in 1992, just after the country had gained its independence from the U.S.S.R., and lasted until around 1997. The violence took up to 50,000 lives and resulted in widespread and devastating food shortages. While the northern cities were able to avoid most of the conflict and suffering, it was a different story in the communities I visited around Dushanbe and Sharituz. In these towns, up to 30-40% of the women are war widows; almost one hundred thousand people fled to neighboring Afghanistan; entire communities were burnt to the ground or otherwise destroyed; and most people lost their job or simply stopped getting paid. That’s why microfinance was so necessary and therefor so successful in Tajikistan. It helped individuals and communities create their own jobs and futures after the war.

When I went back through my interview notes, signs of the war and the ensuing reconstruction were glaringly obvious. I realized that most (indeed, almost all) of the clients had had some sort of career before starting their business: they were nurses, teachers, managers, government employees, factory workers, on and on. And they all said the same thing when I asked why they had started the business: “because I lost my job”. I also noticed that many of the women I interviewed were widows. Even my colleagues from IMON filled in part of the big picture. I had two translators: one to translate from English to Tajik and the other to translate from Tajik to Uzbek – because the English translator missed out on learning Uzbek when he fled to Afghanistan.

Even during our conversations, it was clear that the entrepreneurs had started their businesses in order to get back on their feet after the civil war, but I still couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t talk. I wasn’t asking questions about their deceased husbands or their burned down towns or their abandoned factories – I knew well enough to stay away from all of that. No, I was just asking questions about their current successes and their future goals – why wouldn’t they want to talk about that?

Because, I couldn’t join them for a cup of tea.

Tea is an integral part of the Tajik culture – we have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and everything in between. It is the first thing you are offered when you enter someone’s home and, as an honored guest, your hosts will never allow you to pour it yourself. Most of the clients I meet with ask me to stay after the interview in order to have tea, even if I am meeting with them at the very busy central markets. This is such an open and giving culture that it feels very natural to accept the invitation and focus on issues other than work but, when I am representing Kiva, I always decline the offer. First off, my MFI has strict rules about never accepting gifts from a client. And secondly, even though I have all the time in the world to sit with clients, I am always joined by a translator and loan officer who have very busy schedules.

So it wasn’t that my clients wouldn’t talk, it’s that they wouldn’t talk right away. Unfortunately, you can’t always get the interesting story in a 15 minute interview and you don’t always have time for a cup of tea. And, when you have a business history that includes death, war, and struggle, you’re not always interested in ‘cutting to the chase’ and explaining how it’s all connected.

I’ve learned a lot of things during 7 weeks in Tajikistan, mostly that this country is way more interesting than it often appears on the surface. The people are a complex mix of religions, languages, experiences, and dreams for the future. And the more work you put into uncovering these complexities, the more you are rewarded. I’ve learned to slow down when I am at work and when I am communicating. And I’ve learned to establish more realistic expectations about success, because sometimes it’s less about the answers and more about the process of getting there. To truly succeed in understanding Tajikistan and the people who live here, you must find that balance – as a Kiva Fellow and even as a Kiva lender.

A Tajik Wedding

Most of you probably already know this, but I will start this posting with a disclaimer: I’m not a big fan of weddings. I’m not against the concept of weddings, I just don’t like how much stress and money goes into preparing what should be one of the happier moments of your life. And, unfortunately, the extravagance that accompanies most weddings in the U.S. is not a foreign concept here in Tajikistan. Up until last summer, the happy couple would be expected to throw an exuberant, multi-day affair with 500-1000 of their closest friends.

I know what you’re thinking: you don’t even know 500-1000 people, right? Well, that’s because you’re not thinking hard enough….you’re forgetting that you need to invite your brother’s coworkers and your neighbor’s aunt. In addition to feeding all of them, you would be expected to provide housing and cover travel expenses for those who were visiting from out of town. Families have gone into debt, or sent their men off to work in Russia, just to pay for their children’s weddings.

I will admit, 500-1000 people is over the top, no matter what country you’re from. But what are you going to do, make it illegal? Well, that’s what the President of Tajikistan decided to do last summer. He set a cap of 150 people for all wedding celebrations (and funerals….because, yes, they can be equally as debt-inspiring). Considering these recent constraints, I was feeling pretty flattered to be invited to my first Tajik wedding.

Overall, it was a pretty amazing event. The bride and groom were welcomed by loud horns and drums; the guests were fed approximately 8-10 plates of food each (notice how the plates are stacked on top of one another in the pic); the families danced for several hours straight; and the bride spent the entire evening bowing in gratitude to the guests. As always, everyone was a gracious host to me: I was invited to sit at the head table, was welcomed by many of the families’ elders; and learned how to dance. Despite my general disdain for weddings, I had a great time.

Although, in the event that you one day find yourself at a Tajik wedding, I will offer some sage advice…..if someone asks if you would like to congratulate the bride, kindly decline. Otherwise, you will find yourself standing on a podium, with a microphone in hand, making a speech for the new couple, whose names you do not know.

Here’s a short video of the horns, dancers, and bowing bride:

 

Celebrating the Election in Tajikistan

Last night, as I was crawling into bed, I felt just like I did on Christmas Eve when I was a child.  I felt a mix of excitement, apprehension (what if Santa didn’t come?), and sheer energy coursing through my veins.  But last night I was also feeling really sad.  Here we were, on the edge of something truly great, and I was not able to participate.  I kept thinking how I would be able to tell my grandkids ’how lucky I felt to witness such an historic event but, no, I didn’t actually help make it happen’.  Of all the elections in all of the world, why did I have to miss this one?

I practically jumped out of bed when my alarm went off this morning. I was fiddling with the tv remotes before I had even fully emerged from my sleeping bag cocoon or turned the lights on.  I had already preset the station to CNN the night before so that I was able to hop right into viewing action at 6am sharp.  Voting was still taking place back in the U.S., so only a few states had been called, but it didn’t take long for the drama to begin building.

By the time I got into work it was fairly obvious that Obama would be elected.  Judging from e-mails and Facebook postings, I could tell that all of my friends and family were caught up in the excitement back home.  But all I could do was sit at my desk and watch the little states on the CNN map turn red or blue (mostly blue).  I felt so helpless and, worse, so far away.

And then it happened: McCain conceeded and Obama accepted. I read the transcripts of the speeches, browsed through pictures of the celebrations, and cursed the very very slow Tajiki internet, which would not allow me to watch any videos.  I am such a cheeseball – tears were running down my cheeks.  Regardless of what you believe or who you voted for, you must realize the importance of this day and what it stands for, right?

Anyway, this posting isn’t supposed to be about me or my political leanings.  It’s supposed to be about Tajikistan. 

After a couple hours of throwing myself a pity party, I decided to take matters into my own hands and throw a real party. I grabbed one of my co-workers and headed out in search of a cake. I bought the biggest, most chocolatey cake I could find.  And my co-worker chipped in for the RC and Orange RC (another food tradition I don’t quite appreciate here: washing down sugar with more sugar).

I went around to each office and invited all of the staff to the conference room to help celebrate.  At first, they didn’t realize what was happening and assumed that I was celebrating my birthday (they all had bets that I was turning 24 or 25 years old!).  But, once I explained that I was throwing an election party, they got even more excited.

I had a lovely little speech planned out and had arranged for one of my coworkers to translate but, before I could start, other people started making their own speeches.  Everyone wanted to express their hopes and prayers for my country.  “I hope that your country finds peace and happiness”  “I hope that the people in your country will be able to make more money”  “I hope that he will be the best president ever” and on and on.  My speech, which was mostly devised to explain that this was not meant to promote Obama but rather to more generally celebrate election day, now seemed less exciting.

I felt really blessed and surprised that everyone cared so much.  I don’t even think they cared too much about Obama specifically, they seemed to care more about what the election would mean to the people in the United States.  And, once again, I felt really privileged.  I felt the weight of what it means to be from the U.S. and the responsibility that that can bring.

But, most importantly, I no longer felt pity for myself for being here instead of back at home.

All the random bits that make up a day….

I’ve had a lot of requests to talk about the day-to-day stuff….how is my life different in Tajikistan? My initial reaction was that the day-to-day isn’t all that interesting, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that the day-to-day is what makes this experience really beautiful. So, here are some random thoughts on my life and the culture here in Tajikistan….

Meal Hierarchy

We eat every lunch out – this is not a packing culture. I don’t mind it so much because my cooking capacities are much constrained and the meals are really affordable, typically 3-6 somoni or $1-2. Almost every meal comes with green tea and a big round ‘loaf’ of bread. I discovered very quickly that I was not to touch the tea pot, but should instead wait for someone to offer the tea to me. That’s because there is a hierarchy to eating here. Whether you are out for a lunch with colleagues or a guest at someone’s home, you have a place to sit and a role to play in that meal.

At someone’s home, the most esteemed person (aka, the most powerful male) gets what my dad would call “the power seat”, literally the nicest seat or view at the table. Once that person has seated, everyone else will fall into line: typically the elders, then sons/men in order of birth or status, then women, and then the female children. I, being a guest, trump all of them. Even though I am an unmarried woman who would typically fall pretty low on the totem pole, I get moved up to the power seat.

The seating arrangement doesn’t really happen at an informal lunch, although women do usually sit together, but the hierarchy does funnel down into the basics. As a guest, it is impolite for me to break the bread or serve the tea – someone else will offer it to me instead.

Every meal ends with more green tea and a toothpick.

What is the Tajiki Culture Like?

Is it Soviet? Is it Muslim? Is it Central Asian? The answer is ‘yes and so much more’. Tajikistan is a complex mix of three main cultures (in addition to many smaller ones):

• Vodka (aka wodka) is popular, borsht is served at lunch, Soviet symbols are spread across memorials and dedications, men wear big furry hats, and Russian is the most commonly shared language.
• Mosques and medrassas dominate every city’s skyline, women wear head scarves, prayer mats are pretty much the only ‘tourist’ item you can purchase, and people say Islamic prayers after eating.
• The traditional dress is decidedly Central Asian, people boast about the culture’s history with Alexander the Great and the Silk Road, and there is an overwhelming pride in the Tajiki culture and language.

Every day, I get to interact with each of these three Tajikistans.

Winter Preparations

Last winter was devastating in Tajikistan. It was one of the coldest on record and there were widespread electrical outages, which led to a national crisis that left many people very hungry and very cold. It was the first time that Tajikistan was mentioned in the Western media since its civil war more than 15 years ago. It wasn’t long after I arrived here that I started to get a little scared. Everyone was almost frantically prepared for another emotionally and physically demanding winter season. These preparations include:

• preparing and storing boiled water;
• purchasing large quantities of candles;
• installing coal heaters or wood stoves;
• stocking up on generator fuel;
• buying blankets and warm clothing.

I feel very guilty that I will be leaving just before it gets really bad.

My Apartment

I have a pretty nice apartment for $200 a month. It’s not luxurious and it definitely has some weird quirks, but it’s in a nice location, it’s comfortable, and it’s furnished.

My tiny kitchen has a sink and a stove, with one functioning burner (the other 3 are gas and my apartment building doesn’t have a gas line – most people don’t have access to gas). The bathroom is tiny, but I appear to have broken through the first several layers of grime and am winning the battle against the cockroaches that appeared once the cold arrived.

My living room is also my bedroom – the couch folds out. It has satellite tv, so I can watch CNN, BBC and the Disney Channel, but most of the channels are in Russian, Polish, or Arabic. This room also has a heater, which makes it my room of choice.

My apartment is the only one in the building that doesn’t have laundry lines or brackets hanging outside of the window. Arghh!! This means that I have to hang all of the wet clothes on a line that runs through the kitchen and eating nook. I am constantly hopping over or crawling under the line.

It took me a couple weeks to figure out how to make hot water. I have an ‘on-demand’ heater that you need to turn on more than an hour before you want hot water. If you don’t turn it off before you hop in, you will get to see all of the veins in your face and hands. I feel guilty using so much electricity for a measly 4 minutes of warm water (it never really gets hot), so showers are a luxury I only enjoy 2 times a week. I wash my hair in cold water on the other days.

The best part about my apartment is that it is right next to the main market: Panshanbe. No need to get in the car to go grocery shopping!

My Entertainment

As I mentioned in previous postings, there isn’t much of a nightlife here, so I have a lot of time to myself. For the most part, I am enjoying this break from my psychotically busy lifestyle. I may not have packed the right kinds of clothing or enough protein bars to get me through 3 months, but I came prepared on the entertainment front. I brought loads of knitting, a Russian text book, yoga and pilates videos, and more books than you can shake a stick at. Although, I realized last night that I could have brought some more uplifting books….so far I’ve read: An End to Poverty (on poverty and microfinance), Best American Science and Nature Writing 2007 (way too many essays talked about climate and ecosystem damage), the Catcher in the Rye (if that doesn’t make you want to jump off a tall bridge, I don’t know what will), The White Man’s Burden (on poverty and ill-fated development policies), and Snow Falling on Cedars (also fairly depressing).

Cooking

If the food is so bad, why don’t I just cook more? Because everyone eats out for lunch and, did I mention, I only have one burner? But it’s also because cooking isn’t all that easy either. I have lots of access to fruits and vegetables, but not to many sources of protein: lots of white bread, white pasta, and white rice. No tofu, cheese, or dairy (to be specific, non-sour dairy). They also don’t have olive oil – they mostly cook with sheep fat or cotton oil – or spices that I’m familiar with.

Seeing the Country

Another reasonable question is why I don’t take advantage of my weekends to travel and see the country. That’s because the roads crap out about 60 kilometers outside of Khujand. Traveling past that gets hairy. It takes over a day to drive the 250 kilometers to the capital or even to the closer city of Penjikent. The really cool sites are in the mountains, which are already seeing snowfall. So, I am pretty much trapped up here in the north of the country.

Pics

Click here for some pics of my trip out to Istaravshan and to Lake Kairakum, a lake resort town that is pretty much abandoned this time of year.

Tajikistan’s White Gold

It’s easy to tell when cotton season has arrived in Tajikistan, not because of a change in temperature or rainfall but because university students start disappearing from the city. Each Fall universities throughout Tajikistan come to a standstill as hoards of students are sent to do unofficially mandatory labor in the cotton fields. They are often paid little or not at all; are forced to abandon their studies and jobs; and risk loosing their diploma if they decide not to go. While this practice is officially illegal in Tajikistan, it is still widespread and devastating.

Tajikistan’s economy and culture are dominated by cotton. The industry employs roughly 50% of the country’s labor force, accounts for 15% of its exports, and is the biggest contributor to Tajikistan’s GDP. Everyone here has a story about how cotton has affected their life, their family, or their job. It is everywhere and it affects everyone. It even affects IMON, the microfinance agency that I am working for as part of my Kiva Fellowship.

A couple weeks ago 2 of my colleagues at IMON, also students at the local university, were called to work the fields. They were only given a few hours to prepare for a difficult two week venture: it is likely they will work long days without rest, sleep in the fields, become exposed to dangerous pesticides, and receive little in the way of nourishment. They could always pay the $100 bribe, a steal by most Western standards (including my own), but a hefty sum for the average Tajikistan worker.

A dark cloud slowly crept over the office as that day progressed. Almost everyone identified with the futility of the situation – they had also been forced to pick cotton and knew what the students were in for. The managers at IMON tried to pull some strings in order to free their employees from the assignment. But several hours spent making phone calls was only partially successful: one of the employees was able to shirk the responsibility but the other, one of the Kiva staff, was forced to leave. In addition, another staff person was asked to abandon their own job and take over the student’s Kiva responsibilities, including posting the month’s available loans on the Kiva site.

And it’s not just students that have been ordered to pick cotton. The IMON deputy director’s wife has also been called into the fields. As a doctor and a government employee, she is required to pick cotton one day a week during the season. She is older than most of her fellow pickers and is only able to pick around 10 kilos a day. And what does this established doctor receive for her day’s work in the fields? Around 74 cents! It costs her twice that amount to take the bus to and from the field, in addition to the lunch she must purchase for herself.

Since that day, I have learned more about cotton than I ever thought was possible. I’ve heard countless opinions on what’s wrong with the system and how the government should fix it. But, the deeper I dig, the more I realize just how complex the situation really is.

Is it the fault of the government?

In most cases the cotton farmers do not own the land on which they farm. They lease the land directly from the government, which in turn sets fixed prices on the cotton. The government also exercises strict control over what is grown on the land and in what quantity. While other crops like potatoes, melons, and wheat are often much more profitable to grow, the government has imposed unrealistic quotas that require farmers to dedicate most of their land to cotton.

Publicly, the government opposes student labor but they tend to turn a blind eye this time a year. They see cotton as a way for Tajikistan to compete globally. After all, the country is still recovering from a devastating civil war in the early 90’s and, previous to that, decades under the heavy hand of Soviet control. Their economic development has since relied heavily on agricultural exports, especially cotton. But their ability to remain competitive in this market is constantly constrained and challenged by the global downward push on prices.

Is it the fault of the farmers?

Farmers stepped in to develop the cotton industry after the Soviets left and have faced difficulties in finding the local investment needed to make much-needed upgrades to their equipment. They instead have been forced to seek outside financial investment from ‘futures companies’ that set strict and unreasonable quotas for the farms. If at the end of the season a farmer has not met those numbers they are subjected to high interest rates on the initial loans, which they cannot begin to pay off until the following season.

Is it the fault of the universities?

Many argue that the universities do not have to force the students to work in the fields – it is illegal, right? In addition, the universities have been charged with withholding payments that the students receive for their time in the fields. These funds are instead used to purchase books and supplies that they can’t normally afford.

Is it the fault of banks?

Farmers argue that they would be able to break the downward cycle if they simply had access to equitable funding. They would be able to repair and upgrade their equipment, thereby allowing them to improve the efficiency of their operations and produce a higher quality product that can earn more on the global market. But most reputable financial agencies within Tajikistan won’t provide these loans because they don’t want to get involved with the issue of forced student labor.

Breaking Free

The reality is that it is not the fault of one agency or one group. And the problem cannot be resolved unless all of the main players step up and work together.

In the meantime, we will just have to wait. My co-worker was supposed to be gone for two weeks, but that time has already come and gone. The staff at IMON is hoping that he will back soon, although many worry that he could be gone until December…..that’s how long they were forced to work in the fields when they were in college.

Want to learn more?

Check out this recent article in the NY Times and this report by the International Labor Rights Forum.

My “I Heart Tajikistan” Day

Despite a few rough patches and the constant pain of having to eat, I’ve been having a pretty good time in Tajikistan. It’s not the most exciting country on the planet and I’m not sure that it boasts any ‘must see before you die’ attractions, but I also feel that I am now part of a very small and exclusive club of people who can say they’ve been here.

Like I said, there’s not too much to do here. I am not comfortable going out at night as a single woman. There aren’t bars or cool cafes to hang out in. Most of the country is difficult to access and will soon be impossible to access once the snow comes. And, it’s starting to get cold. That’s why I was so excited for a legitimate field trip yesterday….so excited that I woke up at 5am and couldn’t go back to sleep!

Along with some colleagues, I hit the road at 8am sharp. It didn’t take long for us to pass Khujand’s city limits and meet the open road. Around 20 minutes into the drive, my colleague pointed out that the road also marked the country’s border. On my right was Kyrgyzstan, on my left was Tajikistan. There wasn’t a real border crossing, people pretty much just walked back and forth across the street. But, despite the fluidity, the road did separate two very different cultures.

On my right were shops covered in the Kyrgyz language and on my left shops covered in Tajiki. On my right men walked around with tall, white felt hats with black embroidery and on my left the men wore short, boxy black hats with white embroidery. And, in the winter, the right side of the street has electricity, while the left side of the street (yes, that would be my side of the street) has none.

We passed through miles upon miles of fields filled with people hunched over picking cotton. And, when that was done, we drove through miles upon miles of apricot orchards, all of the trees neatly lined up in rows. The leaves had just begun to turn, which produced a myriad of Fall colors and left me longing for a good ole’ pumpkin carving.

About an hour into the trip, we made a hard turn to the right and left behind all of the verdant fields. I wish I had taken some pictures but I don’t think that my camera would have been able to capture the colors and the life of the rolling foothills. They were completely devoid of plant life but they must be packed with minerals because the mountain side seemed to be painted with deep yellows, reds, browns, and green.

For more than an hour, we passed nothing but the intermittent oil well and abandoned Soviet factories. I spent the entire trip glued to the window but when we eventually pulled into Isfara my colleague turned to me and said ‘boring, huh?’.

Isfara is a very small city in the north of Tajikistan, spitting distance from Kyrgyzstan. There is a wide, rambling river that passes through the center of town and an ornate stone arch that announces the entrance of the main market. It must take about 2 minutes to drive through the city, before you are back out in the apricot orchards. The ‘suburbs’ are mostly simple brick or mud homes that are surrounded by tall mud walls.

Our first client that day prepared apricot seeds. I was shocked to discover that there is actually something edible inside of the apricot’s center. First you must crack the outer shell, then salt and bake the whole thing like you would a very big sesame seed. Once it is baked, it is easy to remove the shell and enjoy the tasty seed inside.

Our second client was hiding a small farm behind his mud wall. Three cows, four sheep, lots of hay, and the products from his secondary business of producing ‘original fuel’, aka cow patties. He was a fascinating business person – I already have a second, more in depth meeting planned with him next week. He used to work in the uranium plant but was layed off last year. Since then, he has built a successful small business to support his family.

For lunch, we gathered in a traditional Tajik restaurant to eat the national dish: osh AKA pilav. It is a pile of greasy rice, topped with egg slices and lamb. If you can make it to the bottom of the plate, there’s usually an extra 3-5 tablespoons of oil to greet you. Contrary to what you might assume from my last posting, I actually like this dish. It is the one dish that I can almost entirely devour. If it weren’t cold, we could have eaten outside in one of the many covered tables that sit over the river. Those tables are like big beds, complete with colorful mats, where Tajiks curl up on warm summer days to eat their meal or drink some tea. I quickly suggested a walk after lunch, so that my stomach wouldn’t have to compete with another bumpy ride.

I was sad to leave Isfara at the end of the day and am already looking forward to next week’s visit! The trip back was cold and I was greeted with a rainy, harsh wind when I got out of the car back in Khujand. It would have been a nice night to curl up on the couch with some wine and a movie, neither of which I possess or have access to. But my mood lifted when I discovered that my air conditioning unit also doubles as a heater!! Turns out that I won’t freeze, at least as long as the electricity holds.

Click here for some Isfara pics!!