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.