I am going to backtrack to a cute little anecdote about my visit to Lebap. My aunt-by-marriage there is a nephrologist in the nearby regional capital, but despite the extensive education for doctors, of course, she gets a very small salary (teachers get paid more). As a result, she is also a cosmetic salesperson. She queried me at length about which cosmetics were popular, and whether they were expensive in America. Her favorite brand is Mary Kay, and she confessed to me that her dream was to go to Dallas, Texas. When I asked her why, she explained that, of course, the Mary Kay central offices where there. I can only hope that they have a spectacular factory tour to make the trip worth it. Her wish just struck me as so charming and absurd, it just stuck with me and I wanted to include it.
The past few days have been very full of such intriguing cross-cultural encounters that I’ve made a little catalogue. Last night, for instance, just before going to bed, my host father turned on WWF pro wrestling, and my thirty-year-old sister-in-law was watching with great fascination. When I mentioned that it was from America, she was all the more rapt. I explained that WWF wrestling was theater in America and wasn’t real. I feel a did a great service to the country by letting someone halfway around the world that pro wresting was faked. This discussion had followed a brief conversation on race relations in America. My family asked me if there were a lot of black people in America, and the asked me about the black volunteers. It was astounding that they should even know about them, because they are not in the same town. But rumor spreads fast in Turkmenistan, and if you think being an American here puts you in the center of attention, try being a black American (strangers constantly taking photos of you). Anyway, my family asked me if there was interracial marriage, and if there where separate schools. I managed to convey that schools were separate 50 years ago, and that this was bad. But, terms like injustice, unequal and prejudice are still well beyond me. Well, not so much the words, because I have a dictionary, but putting them in context.
Then there have been a few amusing linguistic complications. I tried to tell my mother that I had bought persimmons (a new word that day), and she looked confused for a moment, repeated the word to me quizzically and finally said “Gutly Bolsun” which means “congratulations” and is traditionally said for somewhat larger purchases. A new dress, “Gutly Bolsun”; but a new fruit? Usually not. So I brought out the fruit to show her, and she cracked up. “Oh, you said ‘hormat’ but you bought ‘horma.’” She repeated this story later to her guests, again getting a good laugh. Finally, I looked up the word and found out that I had told her I had bought “respect.” The congratulations and confusion became clear. Last week, my training group went together to Nisa, and ancient ruin 5000 years old, and just a few minutes from our town. Despite the lack of tour guides or signage, I can tell you from my Turkmen teacher that Nisa was once the head of the Persian Empire and also a stronghold for Alexander the Great. The whole city’s outer perimeter is probably only a few kilometers, and we scrambled up and down the crumbling remains of the surrounding wall. As we were the only visitors, the whole place seemed like some private sand-swept playground. And despite the lack of information, the very proximity of ancientness was thrilling on its own. In the not-too-distant distance where the Kowpet Mountains separating Turkmenistan from Iran. Given the generous and welcoming and basically apolitical or pro-American attitudes I’ve encountered so far, it’s hard to believe that not so far away, people are burning effigies of American figures, or at least they might be if TV reflected life.
Yesterday, my birthday, was perfectly lovely. It began with a call from my parents. Then we spent the day in Ashgabat, first getting lost on the way to a museum where we were supposed to meet our teacher, then eating a pizza restaurant and heading to a bar (beer=$1). Then, three other volunteers came over to my host family as my mother had made about 10 pounds of palow (Turkmen fried rice). Keeping busy all day, I wasn’t really homesick at all until the next morning, because of course there are so many people in America I wish to share happy occasions with.
The museum we visited in Ashgabat was a spectacular marble building that looked almost brand new, but more reflected ideas about find arts museums from a hundred years ago. The first floor was full of paintings, with scenes form Turkmen life all painted between 1930-1970, it seemed, in a variety of styles, some of the quite compelling (from folk art to impressionist and vaguely Gaugin). The museum was clearly designed to be a pride and joy of the city, replete with a gift store and granite bathrooms, but I the we may have been the only ones there. We were able to talk to two curators, one of whom spoke English and wanted Peace Corps to give the museum a volunteer. That would be a really sweet job! As we were leaving, a school trip of Turkmen children was entering; they were the only other visitors I saw. Part of the reason we got lost looking for the museum was that nobody we asked knew where it was, or that it even existed, in spite of its grandeur.
The glittering marble halls were in especially sharp contrast to some conversations I had with Turkmen recently. On a visit to see my sister-in-law’s new nephew, my host brother spoke disparagingly of the absence of work in the country. He said people need to go to Turkey or Moscow for jobs, and I have heard unemployment rates as high as 80% quoted to me. My guess is that this figure does not take into account cottage industry, as many people seem to run small businesses out of their homes, as my brother who videos weddings almost every night of the week. Still, we heard that the median wage is $11,000 annually which, even account for lower costs, is very meager.
In less than two weeks, nessip bolsa, I will be sworn in as an official volunteer. Very exciting.
THIS IS THE END
14 years ago
