End of course celebrations

I wish I could remember the name of this restaurant, as I am really uncertain how to pronounce the letters about the shop front in green. Any way it is a famous one opposite poly clinic 1 where they take all the tourists It is really beautifully looked after and full of museum pieces of Tajik culture. Here i am with the clinic team after a lunch full of laughter and pictures and kind words.

I get to hand everyone a beautiful certificate imprinted back and front Tajik and English. And then I have to dress up and tie on my leaving gift. This is the sort of knife Crocodile Dundee would be happy to carry in the mean outback but which is not legal outside a circus in UK

Oh and I supplied the cake

Good by and thanks for all the plov

Tomorrow is my last working day at the poly clinic. The major event will be the handing out of course completion certificates at a cafe in town. This week the course evaluations have been positive and people want more. Who knows what could be arranged in the future. The cafe is my link to plates of the national quick meal. The Big mac of Tajikistan is Shashlik. Lamb meat or mince fresh char coaled on a spit with onions herbs bread and green tea. However the fish and chips is plov. (pronounced ploff)

Which comes as a mound of oily rice and carrot shavings spiced and topped with fried meat. Most cafes can dish this faster than any macdonalds. But it is also served to visiting guests at home. This is a picture of Dilafruz bringing us a plate of Plov when Elaine and i visited her house in Konibodom. I know now that no matter home many sweets and biscuits are on the guest table when i arrive: And no matter how tempted i am to guzzle the soup: Always leave room for a huge plate of Plov which follows.

Anyway back to the cafe tomorrow. I promised to bring cake. There will be pictures and kind things said.

This country is rich in kindness. In cafes and buses now i realize people are beginning to recognize me and make conversation or speak a few words of English before i even knew they knew I was not a Russian.

Today was national flag day. It poured all day and still classes for students marched down to the government buildings to wave red and green flags and sing. traffic was grid locked because the main bridge was closed.

This evening i have been out for a meal with two other VSO volunteers, Mike and Jonathan who are both placed at the Free Economic Zone. Jon is flying to Dushanbe tomorrow for in-country training part 2. Mike is going back to the UK via Moscow because of a family bereavement. On Monday i am flying to Dushanbe to link with my flight home on Thursday. So we sank a glass of Moldovan Cognac

Rock on boys

Chelsea!

Walking home on air this afternoon after a very productive morning,  I could see a very active football match ahead of me across the granity gravel. I loved how the pitch was framed by the blocks of flats with the snowy peaks like a theatre backdrop behind.

All you need is a ball and your mates. But in this case they had some metal goals too. Perfect. And the soccer mums can see that their kids are safe and they can hang out the window and yell supper.  Here schools have a morning or an evening shift. Either way you get some day light play time during the winter. Good idea.








Having taken some candid shots I though maybe they might pose for me. So I walked up with my camera making photo signs. Lets try to communicate I thought.

'Manchester United' I shouted: - some response.

'Chelsea':  Much better; smiles and cheers and everyone lined up for the squad shot. Except one kid who hid behind everyone.

Ishfara clinic visit

We set off for Ishfara this morning at 7AM in an old but shiny silver Mercedes Taxi. It was two hours on good roads east past the huge Kairakum reservoir and then gradually up hill through orange and purple desert.

The purpose was to meet the clinical team at the Poly clinic as they are about to start a teaching program in child health for 200 rural family doctors

Here are most of the local team. I wrote down names but only phonetically and did not get everyone as people came and went. However in the picture L-R are : a GP , a Speech therapist, physiotherapist, paediatric neurologist; myself; a psychistrist, a psychologist and Saboat the head of the NGO which has organised and funded the training. Introductions were made and then everyone got down on the floor to plan the training sessions

This is a large sunny physiotherapy room. It was cold as the hospital central heating was not working but there were two electric fires doing their best. They said they expected the power to go off at mid day. The clinic itself is bare concrete but this room is carpeted and clean and every one had shoes off. See if you can spot who was given the pink slippers in the photo above.

Then  a mother came in for some physiotherapy for her son who has Cerebral palsy. The therapist has a very warm coat and after putting him through his paces they asked me to examine him and discuss his treatment. 

This 4 years old girl came next. She also had cerebral palsy although it mostly affected he legs. She had beautiful red boots but we had a good discussion about how to give her more support for her ankles and help her to stand and walk as she probably would be able to in the future. 

Then we had lots more discussion about what would be done if someone had a fit: and should they be allowed to have therapy if they had a tendency to have seizures. 

And from this more discussion about schooling for both these children. Local schools are not set up to take children with disabilities and particularly those who have seizures. Everyone knows this must change but it is going to take some time.

And after two hours it was back in the Merc; job done. Here is a last shot of  walking away from the front of the poly clinic. 

L-R: Shoira, an english teacher at the university who translates for me: Saboat my boss: Ramo the local administrator who is sorting the teaching and travel logistics; and Manija who does the NGO finances

I was really happy to make this visit because I was finally face to face with the reason Saboat wanted me out here. That is to Beef up this training program:

 

Panshambe market

This is the square between the main Mosque and Panshambe market. It was a slow Thursday afternoon and the place was nothing like as crowded as the weekend.

I was struck by the immense size of the bazzar hall and how how many food items were spread out

visiting Sainsburies will never be the same again.

I visited the Mosque and felt exactly the same astonishment at the inspirations of the architects builders and caretakers as at any european cathedral.

And beyond the square a load of cobblers who could i am sure fix anything.  

Classic tajik loaves 1 Somonie  (about 20pence)

a piece. tastes pretty good warm or old

Even if you dont think you want anything there is hours of entertainment to be had walking and looking

Khujand City

Kuhjand is twice the population of Bath (150,000) and 300 years older, having been founded By Alexander as a furthest outpost of the Hellenic empire. It straddles a very large river between craggy granite mountains. This is the main bridge looking to newer parts of the town. What's left of this river after massive water extraction for agriculture and industry drains into the dwindling inland Aral Sea. This is a warm October day










I cross the bridge every day on the way to work. Every joint is a gappy bump for speeding vehicles. I cant imagine the chaos if it were closed for any reason.


Here is the view across the bridge to where I live yesterday. It had snowed which locals say is really unusal and the temperature hovered a few damp degrees over zero. Just past the second lamp post in the distance is a huge plinth which used to support one of the largist statues of Lenin in the Soviet Union. The town was renamed Leninobod in 1936  but  reverted with independence in 1991. Lenin has been removed from his pedestal and replaced by...........

King Ismail Samani who is now the preferred local Legend. He has money and the national airline named after him. He was king for a few years 892-907 BCE during the 200 year Samaid rule which was the first indigenous dynasty in what had been Eastern Persia. It was a seen as a golden age of art literature and science. 


Lenin's statue was not destroyed but simply moved up the road. The Soviet era is remembered here as another golden age. During this time Tajikistan became for the first time a named Soviet republic. Albeit not every one was thrilled with the final map. The Soviets provided Industry, hospitals, schools, housing full employment and structure to a level which has not been regained after independance and the civil war.















So Samani is the symbol of the republic and its dreams for the future. Lenin stands next to a field by the river in an unfinished concrete stack looking purposefully in the direction of King Ismail


A standard part of many Tajik weddings is to have photographs taken near the Samani statue.  On any day there will be bridal cars waiting at the bottom right by the Olympic size ( 50m) swimming pool and new sports complex. I have yet to see a bride by Lenin
though maybe when they have finished the plinth and surroundings he could be a tourist attraction too. 

Living Soviet style

Several people have asked me to describe my style of living. So here goes in small domestic detail:

My apartments along with the rest of Micro-district 12 were built in 1986; In the Soviet town planning style. To understand living here you have to forget all your British experience of high rise housing estates. In the first place there was no previous slum clearance and the people who came to live here were of all types of profession and income. They were new and desirable places to live. Here is my block now it is definitely showing its history.

You can see it was originally constructed with balconies which almost everyone went on to glaze over with wooden casements. Some people have gone further using bricks and UPVC double glazing. This effectively insulates all the rooms. Washing is hung on lines outside the windows. My flat with my very own hand washed laundry is just below the fluttering pants in the middle of the building. No one seems to paint or smarten up the outsides of anything but insides can be quite up to date depending on the occupant.

All round these blocks the grounds are cut into small holdings with vines planted for shade and evidence of small vegetable culture and also summer living during hot weather. As the weather is turning these and mostly shut down for winter. However Yesterday being a public holiday there were many families setting up outside benches and tables as i walked across the estate. Here is a picture if the back of my block past the many decrepid metal garages. Here  residents hide their new Mercedes and Opels and polish their treasures old Ladas.

Inside my flat there is the original soviet wallpaper: all in good order but with no hangings. It feels like the student house I lived in in 1973 except I have three rooms and no flat mates. The kitchen has one cold water tap and all hot water comes from an electric kettle. There is a massive fridge freezer with not much in it and no working stove. The latter has not proved a problem as I am being fed form the flat across the landing. I have quietly shelved ambitions to cook. 

There is no central heating in the flat but I have just been given an old electric heater which just serves to make my one room feel a bit more cosy.  The bathroom has an electric wall mounted boiler with a pipe that can swivel from basin to bath and has a shower button. Plenty of hot water provided i switch it on in advance and get lucky with the random water cuts. 

I am sure I would need a lot better heating later in the winter, but everyone here manages. I am sure everyone here would appreciate money being invested in outside maintenance but everyone knows the city does not have those resources: Yet.

Dressing up

After supper on Monday the conversation turned to the cold weather and Moomin decided to show me his warm Tajik coat. Men wear these in the street now during a period of mourning. The hat on the other hand is worn any day by older Tajik men. 

The youngsters prefer Dolce and Gabbana Beanies. I have heard that the hat pattern represents a crown. It is not very practical in keeping sun off your face neck or ears. And when it rains the Guys wrap a plastic bag over it so it obviously does not stand damp. Crowns are like that I think

.

Apparently I could order myself a whole set of this kit for a bit over 150 dollars. The coat is all hand stitched in fine quilting and the lining is lovely

Anyway I was keen to try it on, including the ornamental sash and very sharp dagger. I think I could audition for the part of

 Blackadder meets Ghengis Kahn.

Or a medieval surgeon

Tajik Tom

Running in Khujand

The good news is that 2 minutes jog down the hill from my apartment block there is a park with a 400 metre track round the outside. Even more good news it is free and uncrowded.  Even more good news it is a cross country track. It has a granite gravel surface with a water jump and lots of plants. small children will pace you as long as you just jog.

In three weeks i have not seen a single runner on the street. As I live 5 kilometers from the clinic and there is a basin and a coat stand in the office I have taken to jogging in or out and sometimes both. I now wear Adidas track suit bottoms at all times and thereby attract least possible attention. When I stop I think I pass for Russian unless I try to speak.

I had been worried about frenzied dog attack, and so had topped up my rabies shots before coming out. So far I have never seen a dog more than readjust their sleeping position as I pass.

The weather turned cold and rainy this weekend thus finally justifying the tracksuit and even my fell running gear. The mountains north of the ring road were snow capped. Snow line is 2500 m . Here is my view jogging in to work. I have not found any local person expressing any interest In running or walking in these rocks. i think the season has passed in any case.

Training at the Polyclinic

In the physiotherapy room of the poly clinic I meet with the paediatric staff three times a week for a seminar. We chew over cases together. We drink green tea. We discuss topics. Left to right are Adolat, (Speech & Lang  therapist) Mararam (psychologist) and Barnot (SLT )  then me then Mohabat ( paediatrician) Marbuba (paediatric neurologist) Jamilla ( Opthalmologist) Zulfia (Physiotherapist) Manzura ( SLT)

It was Marbubas birthday and we were discussing the development of behaviour of small children, We discussed the difficulties the might come from speaking both Tajik and Russian if a child speaks a different language at home and school. This is a familiar topic to me from the UK. Most of the staff in this seminar had their professional training in Russian language and tend to use this if discussing technicalities. When I learn new words from people they don't normally say whether it is a Russian or Tajik word. For example beer is always 'piva', a russian word. So I am learning a mixture of both. It is slightly like the number of English words that we have forgotten were originally french. And on the subject of language here is a picture that one of the seminar took of myself and my translator Farangis.

This is what I do in Poly Clinic Number Two

Every week day I come to this clinic In the middle of Khujand. In the mornings from about 10 till 12 I join staff in the clinics. Sometimes I just observe, sometimes we discuss the case or the diagnosis or treatment. Sometimes it is a more formal consultation and people ask my opinion.  Patients will talk a mixture of Tajik, Russian, Uzbek and sometimes even English. I always have a translator with me, though often I understand the technical words much better than they, even in a different tongue. Here is a picture of Manzura, a speech and language therapist working directly with a mother and child.

Wedding Band

Sunday afternoon and I am sitting my apartment writing up my diary when a loud and unmistakably brassy sound fills the air outside. I can see nothing out the window but grab my camera and rush downstairs. There is a Band in the car park with some decorated cars and they are clearly calling someone forth, maybe to a wedding. Adiba tells me afterwards that first they call the groom then they go to the brides house and last they play at the restaurant. I so want to join in but know that cannot be. These are effectively trombones without slides. Enjoy!

Tajikistan Family friends

I am living about 5 kilometres from the centre of Khujand on the third floor of a soviet built apartment block in micro-district 8. There are two adjacent flats, one used for storage and visiting guests: The annex you might say.  The connection is that Adiba has a disabled child and has worked as a translator for my local NGO Ranginkamon.  They have been feeding me every evening and I really feel part of the family.  Two days ago Adiba’s father had some work colleagues visit from Dushanbe to attend meetings. They are all doctors, parisitologists in fact, and had come to talk about malaria. Usually we eat in the kitchen but on this occasion the evening meal was set out in the living room

One of the doctors took this snap.  You can see that everyone is relaxed and at home. Seated on my right is my host Moomin, and on my left is Tokhir, his colleague.   Seated by Moomin is his daughter Adiba with her 5 month old girl Ozoda.  Adiba is the only one who speaks English and does all the translation, though everyone else can understand more English than they can speak. On the right of the picture is Moomin’s  wife Sonot holding Adiba’s 3 year old daughter  girl Farzana.  There were many toasts made. Tokhir has insisted I stay with his family when I pass through Dushanbe on my way back to UK at the end of November

 'the views expressed in this blog are the author's own and do not reflect those of VSO'.