Falaka in school

From Ayni's book 'Maktabi köhna' - 'The Old School'. What a pleasant book for children. (Actually it's quite interesting and entertaining...no, really, it is.)

Most books that I've read here are from the Soviet times, that's why the pages are yellow.

This is what Wikipedia says about Falaka: This type of beating is excruciatingly painful – the sole of the foot is one of the most sensitive parts of the human body. It was considered humiliating as well, and generally reserved for the lower classes, though a variant was also used in schoolrooms with unruly children.

Outside of Varzob Bozor

Just outside of Varzob Bozor. Strange weather.

Yellow stuff

Took this photo from one of Muallima's windows. He's selling some sort of maize product. Didn't quite get what it was but it's sweet anyway. He stands there all day, selling it to school children. Notice the toqi.

STOP IT! YOU'RE STEALING ALL THE INTERNET!

The first time a lady came, telling me off for having too many windows open. In chi gap? Close some windows your stealing all the Internet! Stop downloading so many pictures!'

'Ok, Ok,' I said and closed some windows, just for show. Two minutes later a guy comes, saying the same thing in Russian. I know this because I could distinctly hear 'zakrit'. So I closed some more windows. Stupid idiots. If I pay one extra Somoni, I could surf unhindered at Plazma. But no, I have to come to this crummy cafe and surf with one window at a time.

NB. I was just surfing some ordinary Swedish news sites. But I tend to have alot of windows open, yes, becuase it's the Internet is soo slow.

Holes

Who needs windows when you can have holes in the wall.

Flourescent laundry

If it's sunny, you'd better take advantage of it. Even if it's in the middle of winter. Come to think of it, I really should do some laundry myself. Crud...

Christmas Decorations

Poetry war

While browsing Amir's pictures of Tajikistan, I feel as if I'm at home, looking back at a country I once visited, and actually feeling real longing. Time is drawing near, Muallima said today that she doesn't want me to leave. It's not that I'll leave her mostly jobless she said, it's more of losing an intimate friend.

She's not the only one pleading for me to stay.

'Do you really have to go?'
'Stay half a year more, or at least one month more!'
'But surely, you will come back?'

Inshallah, I say. If I find a job, why not. Tajiks usually don't pay a lot of attention to me initially, but once we get talking Tajiki, they don't want to let me go. I once accompanied D when he had to settle some things with the water bill. So we're sitting in the office and as soon as the guy handling the matter finds out I'm studying Tajiki, he stops writing and starts speaking to me, and soon his co-workers join in. Later, they didn't want us to leave, even saying that I should return. They must be really bored at work.

Winning an argument in Tajikistan is easy. You don't have to be logical, you don't even have to be a good speaker. Just learn some stanzas by heart from the Poets and you're invincible. Unless the other guy knows more of course. Debates are very interesting to watch, the one who can recite the most fitting poem by heart wins.

Once, I won a poetry war with Muallima, using her own poem by Sa'di against her. She found it highly entertaining. I really don't know that much poetry but heart, but I know some from Mawlana Rumi and from time to time I throw in some stanzas when I speak with her, much to her amusement. Now, if I can only recite a fitting stanza at the time of my examination, that would probably charm them into giving me a higher grade. (That or 30 bucks! :P)

Little gangsters

'If you wanna swear, swear to my face you wuss, don't go swearing to my friend, you hear me?' said the chubby little seven-year-old menacingly to his classmate.

No, I'm not making this up. Kids here are strange. You always see them beating each other up and fighting. Sure, when we were kids we used to beat each other up as well, but not like this.

During class today, we had to take a break because a terrible scream emanated from just outside the apartment door. Sounded like a child in excruciating pain. Muallima returned, beaming.
'I'ts nothing to worry about, the neighbour's just spanking her child.'
'But...for what? What did it do?'
'Oh, it just doesn't want to come in after playing in the snow...'

Of course, then we had an argument about spanking children. Muallima and I have quite alot of arguments, always ending in her getting pissed off and then trying to hurt my feelings in some (utterly pathetic) way. And then she wants my forgiveness for a week to come.

I'll probably miss all of this this when I'm out of here, but it's pretty tiring the way people here are so, backwards, for the lack of a better word (and how they are always so stuck up and easily-offended). They keep wondering why every other nation is ahead of them, and they think it's just material progress, but they never stop to think that that maybe, just maybe, they have to change their way of thinking regarding some things. Like spanking children, or wives for that matter. Muallima thinks its fully justifiable in some circumstances, like if the wife doesn't keep the house tidy enough for her husband.

Sometimes when she rants her nonsense (martyrs' bodies never rot, the water in Dushanbe is not making you sick etc), I just nod and smile. No need in upsetting her.

Horsemen

I don't really know why I took this photo but anyways, the guy on the left got the national Tajik headgear, the toqi.

Töy

So this is a picture from the Fortress of Hissor, and also, a töy. This word can mean to things in Tajiki, it can either mean a circumcision party for a boy and also a wedding party. As you can see on the picture, they play instruments and you always hear someone having a töy.

Snow-covered persimmons

They called off the power outage, I still don't know if it all was a rumour or not. But it doesn't really matter, they cut off our power supply most nights anyway, and sometimes during the day. Today it started at 6.30 A.M. and it'll probably continue to...God knows. Nothing is certain in Tajikistan. Well, maybe death. Definitely not taxes.

The diesel-powered heater we had broke, so now we're totally dependent on power to heat up the house. The other day I could see my own breath hanging in the air in the bathroom. Not a good sign.

So it's been snowing quite alot the past few days, and we still haven't picked our persimmons. Doesn't really matter, I can get better ones from the market for no money at all.

And I don't know why the text is jumbled all of a sudden. Stupid blog.

Winter

The weather is colder now -- summer turned into winter in the course of a week, so fast that the trees still got green leaves on them. It's not a Swedish winter by any means (more like Swedish autumn) but by the Dushanbian's complaining you'd think they were talking about Siberia.

The power will be out in the whole country for the next few days. Something about another power plant being opened. Most of the electricity in Tajikistan comes from a hydro-electrical power plant, and now they are getting two of them. But they still have power shortages and during winter, electricity is scarce. According to rumours, the state has enough electricity to supply the whole republic, but instead they cut it off and sell it to nearby countries.

The other day my teacher took me to the Fortress of Hissor, about an hour from Dushanbe. It was very interesting, and I took some pictures but nothing that I can be bothered to upload at the moment. There was a guide there that gave some general information about the historical significance of the fortress, but Muallima always reprehended him: 'Stop using Russian words, speak Tajiki!'. Alas, they always use too much Russian words: uzhun, abed, svet, svetafor, plitka, sir, lamp etc etc ad absurdum. I've noticed the the Tajik of some is really poor, when they speak in Tajik it´s like they are trying to speak to me in a foreign tongue and ca 50 % of the words are still Russian, and some have even said that they wished they could as good Tajik as I do.
In the vicinity of the fortress, there's some kind of big fish Sufi leader buried, so we paid him a visit. Muallima went inside and a mulla there started to pray, the fun thing was that a part of a prayer went like this 'And may all of our family members be healthy and may the women never go unveiled'. (Muallima doesn't wear a veil). She paid that jerk 5 Somonis. (It's alot.)

TV Update: Talk shows are interesting. They are like contests where the one who can quote most poetry wins. And everyone drops cliches like crazy. Once, it was about the Tajiki language and a professor said: 'Yes, and even the Tajiki spoken on TV is bad.' The two talk show hosts turned to him and said: We hope we haven't made you tired with our bad Tajiki.

Music videos are still boring.

News in English: I watched it with Muallima;
What are they saying?
I don't know.
I thought you knew English.
I do, but this isn't English.

There is also news in Arabic, hilarious.

Marshrutka and bus update:
I now understand what they say, most of the time. The dialect here in the south is strange, short u becomes ö. Not long like in the northern part of the country, like in röz (day) but shorter, eg. Daro kösho! (Open the door!). Sometimes on the bus, if you show them your card, they get a little bit angry because they were expecting money.
I like the Tajik way of talking to strangers, for men it's 'aka' (older brother) and for women 'apa' (older sister). It can also be used for waiters/waitresses. You can also add 'jon' (dear) to make it more loving. So for instance, if your on the bus and an older man comes on you can say 'Akajon, shined' (literally, My dear older brother, please sit here). Funny thing is, while they are seating themselves they constantly repeat 'shin shin shin´ (no, no, no, you sit).

Luckily, they aren't as ardent as the Persians in their ta'arof... Strange thing is, now most people now speak Tajiki to me, and of course it makes me very glad. (I don't know why all of a sudden everyone does it, but it sure is fun.)

Once on the bus the ticket-guy that was older than me called me aka...according to Muallima, it's usually not the custom to call people your age or younger 'aka'. Still, it's nice to live in a world where everyone is your older brother or sister, and for Tajiks it really is like that, the other day F and I were looking for a house and asked for directions from an old woman, who happily gave us them and then invited us for a cup, or rather, piyola, of tea at her house. Of course, cities do something to people so it's not so prevalent here as it is in the villages.

Clever little filthy things

We noticed that one of the traps was under the fridge. A rat had dragged it under the fridge and eaten all of the bread, of course the trap set off but since it was under the fridge it didn't snap all of the way. The other trap he (or is it a she?) had just nibbled off all of the bait and left the trap intact. We'll get it, somehow!

полубокс

So, D had great fun at my haircut. He says the style of it is called "polobox" which is Russian for half-boxer. It was in fashion a couple of years ago but now no one wears it but the French. He had even more fun to the fact that I asked not to get cut like the Tajiks, to which the hairdresser said "Ah, you want to get cut like the French, eh?" Little did I know that the French army guys in Dushanbe all go around with polobox. Oh well, I still like it..'tis the only haircut that really fits me. The other day, D and I went for a stroll and we happened to pass by the hairdresser's and when he saw me he waved madly. Funny guy, I'll pay him a visit once again right before I fly back.

We caught a rat by the way. We had bought two traps, one which I placed near the fridge and the other D placed near a hole in the kitchen floor. Well, the first day the rat managed to nibble off all of my bread that I had used as a bait and managed to elude setting off the trap. He never went to D's trap though, it was always my trap that was found without bait.

One morning, I went into the kitchen and saw that my trap had been eaten off but that D's still was intact...3 seconds later I heard a snap and went to look. A fat rat had got caught in D's trap and was still twitching. Oh, the joy!

Since then, two traps are waiting to snap but no rat has eaten from them so we suspect that there are no more rats in the kitchen, well, for the time being at least -- if one managed to sneak its way in, more will surely follow. A part of me wishes that they will, they provide unadulterated fun that is hard to find otherwise in this dull city.

Life is in Dushanbe is getting better though, mostly because I'm much less sick nowadays since I started to stay away from restaurants. But I did go to a Turkish restaurant yesterday and well, I guess you know what state I am in today... but it was all worth it.

Things Tajik say:
Scenario: Watching a scantily clad Nancy Ajram dance around in one of her videos.
Tajik: You know, you really wonder when you see these singers and how they are dressed, are they really Muslims?
I: Well, technically, they could be Christian.
Tajik: Yes, they must definitely be non-Muslims.

Scenario: Taking the taxi home late at night.
Driver: So, you study Tajik then, hmm...
I: Yep...reading Ayni at the moment.
Driver: Have you read Tajikon? It's really great! *enthusiastic* (a big book about Tajiks and their history)
I: No, have you?
Driver: No.

Later:
Driver: Yeah, you should read the Quran! It will give you strength!
I: Yeah, I've read some parts of it in Arabic...but most Tajiks can't read it in Arabic...they read it in Tajik.
Driver: No! NO! They CAN read it in Arabic! *nervous breakdown*
I: Er...
Driver: WE HAVE THOSE, THOSE WHO KNOW IT BY HEART, 10 PER CENT OF THE POPULATION KNOWS THE WHOLE NOBLE QURAN BY HEART!
I: -- (Yeah, right.)

On a side note, I'm getting pretty tired of how they always talk about how good Muslims and how righteous they are and rah rah rah...that guy probably hasn't opened the Quran.

Rats!

Ah,the details in this bizarre country... they make you crack up and laugh out loud on the bus. It's like when your living in all this dirt and filth you can't really appreciate the fun in it, but when you sit on the bus and think of all the crazy people and things that exist in this country, you just have to laugh.

I got a haircut today. Before I sat down I asked how much he was charging.
'10 Somoni' he said, but then added, 'but you can pay 15..' and laughed. When it all was done I gave him 15 S and wished him a happy Fitr. If he only knew that we pay 10 times the amount in Sweden. Fun thing: Before he started to cut me he said 'bismillahi rahmani rahim'...whenever people get on the bus or the marshrutka, they also say it...but I guess it is more needed in those cases, considering the way the marshrutka drivers drive.

I once said to a Tajik, who also is quite tall, 'You know, no wonder my posture is bad; in marshrutkas you stand bent over like an animal, when you wash your clothes you squat, and it kills your knees, and when you sleep, the bed is too short so you have to sleep in strange positions, thus killing your back more.'

Our kitchen is infested with rats. They even run around on the tables in search for food (no, I know, not very hygienic). The other day, one had got stuck in a plastic bag. I fetched an umbrella in the hope of clubbing (the only clubbing I've done so far in Dushanbe) it to death, but alas, it managed to dodge my blows and then it escaped. I've tried to find mouse traps on the bazaar but with no success so far. Maybe we should get a cat, but it would only get eaten alive by the big black rat who sometimes visits us.

The thing Tajiks say:

Tajik: So, how are you feeling?
Me: Well, you know...tired :-\.
T: You should get yourself a wife! HEHEHE! You won't get tired any more. :-D
M: You don't say...

Muboraksho(h)

So, I got gypped by the cd-seller today. Well, he overpriced my CD, but I really wanted it so, what recourse had I? It was an mp3-CD with a collectoin of Pamir singers, Muborakshoh included. Gah! the sellers here are so rude, you talk to them and they just can't be bothered to sell stuff to you. I asked several times for him to give me everything he had with Muborakshoh, but he only gave me one CD, but I knew he had a VCD of Muborakshoh as well (it was on display). So in the end I had to specifically ask for it and then he showed it to me. But I didn't buy it, the videos are the same as the ones on Youtube. So now you know what to look for.

Sun and busses

The first few days of October has passed, but on the streets of Dushanbe the sun keeps shining. Coming to think of it, I've only experienced two or three cloudy days during my stay here. For the most part, it's sunny and cloud free.

It seems as if the Tajiks aren't too fond of the sun, you often see people holding up books or whatever they have handy to cover themselves from the sun. I asked my teacher about this seemingly peculiar manner and she explained that the beauty ideal here is to be pale, only peasants are tanned.

Personally, I like the cloudy days better. The people are less agitated and the busses don't reek of BO. Busses here are of two kinds, well, three really if you want to count the mashrutkas. There are trolley busses and ordinary busses. The trolley busses are a little bit cheaper than the ordinary ones (10 dirams). Other than the fact they they run on electricity, there's no difference, really.

You get on the bus either at the middle or at the back where there are guys who you either pay or show a bus card (if you've got one). They cost 15 Somoni and last for a month, on both busses and trolleys.

For the most part, the busses are crowded. So when you ride on them you can't hardly do anything useful, like reading. I see now why no one of the students have backpacks -- they're a hassle on the bus, since they take up the space of a whole person. So you have to take it off and hold it.

If someone old gets on the bus (especially women), everyone offer their seats to them...so even if you get a seat for yourself there's really no point in sitting down as you know that a crippled, fat, toothless Russian lady is getting on on the next stop anyway.

The mashrutkas are a sorry excuse for public tranportation; think of them as minibusses running around the city on fixed routes, but that you can stop them at any time and get on, if there is space. Well, even if there isn't any space, people still get on so they are always overcrowded with people standing up, bent over. I took a mashrutka once, I don't want to do it again.

The ? of Ob: Closure

The other day I expressed my difficulties in buying water to my teacher. Apparently, Cola can be considered water. At least that's what Tajiks do. It has something to do with that they call fruit juices "ob meva" so little by little the ob part has gotten a greater significance than the meva part. And then, well, Cola, that's just some Cola fruit with water, so that's water, too, right?

After 3 minutes of argueing I got my teacher to admit that Cola after all didn't have any fruit in it and thus didn't fall into the category of fruit juices that can duely be called ob. This is tricky business! If Cola had like 1 per cent of fruit in it, it could pass as ob!

So I guess that explains pretty much of why I get Cola when I ask for water (some people obviously think that Cola got particles of fruits in it). They also aren't used to people buying water, as it is readily available from the tap and they themselves rarely buy water.

Case closed.

The ? of Ob: Part 3

So, the other day diarrhea struck down upon me, mercilessly. So I was staggering around the university campus, looking for a place to get some water. They have a little shop in the uni building where they sell odds and ends pertaining to university life. Anyways, so being parched and on the verge of collapsing I naturally ask for water.

So, what do you think happened? Did he give me a bottle of water? Did he? Well of course not! He gave me a bottle of Royal Crown Cola. I pointed out that this isn't water, this is cola, sugar mixed with water. At last he gave me some mineral water....*sigh*

Az in Abkharidan bizAram o malul.

The ? of Ob: Part 2

Going about my usual business, I bought Internet-time for one hour today. But I asked for a bottle of Royal Crown Cola, this time in English. And they gave me a big bottle of water - my usual request.

Tajik Tv

I only get one channel of Tajik TV over where I live. I get one channel too, but it's entirely in Russian and mostly news.

So far I have seen this on Tajik TV:

• A lot of concerts. All of them of Tajik artists singing silly songs about love. Tajik music is generally very boring, and their concerts are worse. Imagine a guy in a suit on an empty scene with some colourful balloons in the background. There is no group so everything is playback. And sometimes there are dancers. That's it. Oh, and at the end a little girl comes with flowers to give to the artist.
• Music videos. From Turkey, Iran (alas, alas) and Tajikistan, of course. Tajiks have a very bad taste in music. They absolutely love silly Persian love songs a la Arash. Why? It's truly depressing. They have an awesome artist in the late Misha but I haven't heard a single song from him while in Tajikistan. Instead they play Andy or Ebi or I don't know what other abominations emanating from Iran, the land of tacky trash.
• I saw a Tajik movie yesterday about a blind boy who listened to bees in bottles. It had Persian subtitles. Needless to say, it was very weird.
• Apparently there are a lot of Indian movies but so far I haven't seen any.
• A theatre about Alexander the Great. A lot of yelling. Very boring.
• News are near to nonexistent. I have to gather my news from the Russian channel or going to the Internet cafe.
• A documentary about the poet Sherali. Interesting.
• A music video, a Persian woman singing "Man ariyaiam" -- "I'm Aryan" to pictures of Tajikistan and its people. Very cheesy. But quite catchy.

All in all, a lot of entertainment, a lot of boring trash.

The ? of Ob

I just returned from Choykhoniyi Rohat, a place where they serve Tajik food and all the waitresses are running around in the state dress, looking all the same.

Tajiks don't have a sense of service, it is very much like in Sweden. That is, you buy one of their services and all you get is a slap in the face instead of a thank you. Of course, not everyone is like that, if you go to an expensive restaurant things are a little bit different.

Anyway, ordering was a hassle. She didn't give me a menu, and I don't know what it is called in Tajik, and even if I knew I'm sure she wouldn't care to bring me one. I asked if they had mantu, which they did so I ordered that and I also said "va ham ob mekhoham" and she nodded approvingly.

The mantus were OK, think of them as over-sized raviolis, but steamboiled..and I think I could discern a pinch of nutmeg in them, too. So when it was time to pay I asked her why she didn't bring me water, as I had requested.

She: But you didn't ask for any water, if you had I would've brought it! *faked tears in her eyes*

Yeah, right.

They just don't understand the word Ob it's like it's not in their vocabulary. I'm beginning to suspect that they don't even drink it themselves. At any rate, I don't think it's something that the regular customer buys, they either go with some soda or just plain without. There has to be some explanation! Today I wanted water at the Internet Cafe, I'm a regular now so they should all know by now that i want:

1. 1 hour of Internet time
2. 1 big bottle of water

But, no..they don't. They gave me that Royal Crown cola again. *sigh*

Inscription

P1000396
Originally uploaded by ajjetollah.

Here's the inscription for you all to read and enjoy. Hope it's easier to read now.

Dog

Near the Rudaki statue, I met these kids and their far too big dog. He was one of the reasons I didn't stay long to chat, I did however get to know that the dog's name was Dick. By the way, don't kids in Tajikistan go to school? They're either walking around town or playing Counter-Strike at the Internet cafe. In the background -- Tajik men, washing their feet in the broken fountain?

Rudaki

I decided to go out and take some pics today. This one up here is of Rudaki, looming over the city of Dushanbe, well not really looming as it isn't as big as the Somoni-statue.

I don't know if you can see the beyt - stanza - at the foot of the statue. At any rate it reads:

Har ke na-Amukht az gozashte ruzgAr
Hich na-Amuzad ze hich Amuzgar

Which would be something like "Whoever doesn't learn from daily events, won't learn anything from any instructor"

I have some more pics but the internet here is terribly slow. We'll see.