I just went to Tajikistan—a country I never imagined visiting. I couldn’t even locate it on a map—the “stans” have always been a bit of a blindspot for me. They seemed like places you’d only go to if you spoke proper Russian or the local language. Tajik is most similar to Farsi.
Anywho, my natural curiosity didn’t allow me to pass up the opportunity to go to Dushanbe. Sure, it was last minute, and knew I’d miss my kids, but I was happy to go.
Good first impressions
It’s too bad I don’t have anyone to share my first impressions with. Hence this blog! People reading this have personally decided they wanna hear them, which is a great relief. I can tell my family about it, but they’re probably tired of hearing about yet another place I went to, and we have more important things to talk about.
My attempts to share my impressions with colleagues here fell pretty flat. I was a little hurt, but I guess it makes sense; they live here and could care less what a brand new arrival thinks of the place. They want to live it for themselves. Or do they?
It strikes me that some people rather complain than wonder openly about what makes a place like Dushanbe special. Shared suffering, after all, is the quickest way to bond with other people. But being a short-timer like myself, I wanted to talk about something positive.
I noted, for example, that Dushanbe is a really clean city, with very nice buildings. My American colleague had a different take. The big new buildings were only to be viewed as an example of the repressiveness of the regime. Apparently, they’re striking down much beloved buildings and markets only to replace them with opulent new ones to show they’re in charge.
Another positive example I proposed was that everyone is well dressed, lives in nice houses, and drives new cars. But that, according to the same colleague, is just a farce. In reality, few people can afford a car because the car market is entirely monopolized. Besides: the economy is only surviving on foreign remittances and, in case I was naive enough to believe otherwise, there was absolutely no freedom of expression here.
Well, they’re probably right. I mean, what do I know? All I know is that after living in India for two years, where lots of people sleep on the streets, it was nice to see people living in more dignified circumstances. Then again, you could argue that life is not dignified if everything is ruled and controlled by the same guy for 30 years—the guy whose larger-than-life picture is plastered on all the buildings.
Suffocating air
There is a major downside to Dushanbe I’m ready to admit though: the air quality. It was a surprise to me that the air often felt like standing in the midst of an active construction site. In Mumbai, which isn’t exactly known for its fresh air, the quality index goes up and down—there are bad days, but there are also many good ones. Reportedly, the level of smog, or whatever it is (erosion? A sandstorm from Afghanistan?) in Dushanbe is bad year round—though I’d have to be here much longer to know that for sure.
Another major problem: Tajik Tummy. Again, I thought India had prepared me well. Surely, my tummy was made of steel by now. What bacteria could get to me now? I rarely get sick anymore in India. Here in Dushanbe, unfortunately, I got totally wiped out on day ten. Not even two weeks in and I couldn’t even make it to work. The only good thing was that I took only 24 hours to come back to life again.
Responsible work
The whole reason I came to Tajikistan, of course, was work. They desperately needed someone to staff the consular section. Being the sole consular officer feels like an honor and a big responsibility. I adjudicated all kinds of visas, passports, and birth registrations. Even visa classes I’d never touched before (we literally have a whole alphabet of different visas) like Special Immigrant Visas.
One of the main features was the Diversity Visa—Tajiks winning the U.S. visa lottery, ready to move to Brooklyn (apparently there’s a huge diaspora there) with their whole family. Many happy tears were shed during those interviews. Except when something was out of order, in which case these things became real depressing, real fast. Nobody has a right to a U.S. visa, of course, but sometimes it’s not anybody’s fault that a case is ultimately denied or expired. That’s life.
Great hiking—and that’s it?
During the weekends I joined a hiking group that unites expats from all over the world in a quest to discover the most beautiful landscapes in Tajikistan. Rocky mountains, river streams, fossils… it was all really nice. Too bad I missed out on the Iskander lake hike due to my sudden illness, but I’m still satisfied I got to go thrice, with a fun group of people. It was challenging and I even got to talk to some Tajiks outside of work.
Besides hiking, I never found much to do in Dushanbe. I mean, a lot of smaller cities feel a little dull, but in Dushanbe I really didn’t know what to do with myself on my off-hours. Besides eating lots of meat, I suppose. Wandering around didn’t seem like an option given the immediate allergic reaction to the air I felt. Shopping, parks, bars, museums, street food, the hotel pool—it all seemed a little lackluster. Then again, I didn’t have time to try everything, of course. That’s the thing: you don’t really know a city until you immerse yourself in it for a while.
Ready to go
After three weeks in Dushanbe, I’m ready to leave. I’ll miss the pleasant fall weather and the clean streets, but I’m a little bored with the social scene, which you never settle into as a visitor anyway. The work is also hard—being the sole consular officer is like trying to squeeze four parttime jobs into one fulltime job. There’s no time to think anything through.
Also, I had a little brush with the authorities over a passport matter and a case involving an American citizen, and I didn’t like what I saw. The powerlessness and irrationality that comes with a non-democratic society is not something I ever can, or want, to get used to. I’d much rather go back to messy India, where freedom and accountability, though imperfect in many ways, exists.
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