Three Months

November was a month full of events: the election, International Education Week, Thanksgiving, the President's visit (library closed), and Flag Day (concert beginning early Saturday morning and flags everywhere). The government blocked Facebook this past Monday (which made some American news sites; the article on RFE/RL includes a great picture of Zuckerburg (photoshopped?) which Tajiks have been sharing even though the site is still blocked).

In my third month, I have noticed things that I didn't notice before. If my first month was finding my way around and noticing everything new - more like travelling - and my second month settling in - becoming totally accustomed to plov and shashlik and the bazaar and questions about marriage - in my third month I started noticing the little things that I didn't have mental space to notice before, or didn't manage to see: that the nighttime lights on the main street are the colors of the Tajik flag (they are not constantly red and green for Christmas), that our apartment has one flight of 6 steps, then four flights of 9 steps; and that every woman wears a scarf differently.

A rumol is the headscarf that most Tajik women wear. I had noticed the general pattern before: that in the villages, every woman wears one of the headscarves, often brightly colored, tied not unlike a bandana, and that it is less common in the cities. It is not the same as hijab, since it does not cover all of your hair: not so much religious as cultural (and practical if cooking or picking cotton). But only now have I noticed how unique every woman's scarf-tying is: most tie a sort of knot around a bun at the back of the neck, some leaving the ends hanging down their back; some tie the ends back up around the head like a headband; some wrap the ends around their neck; some let the hair hang out the back like a ponytail. Then there are the Russian-style women who tie more like we would a bandana; then the look we associate more with the Middle East of a scarf wrapped over the head and around the shoulder (also associated with women in a convertible), then the old women who drape a large white shawl over their heads and fasten under the chin. Some women do wear hijab: also fastened in an endless variety of ways, but with the tight under-scarf cap that covers all the hair, and careful pins to keep the scarf secure. Their scarves are more often the silk (or fake-silk). Rumol are more often cotton or rougher material. I only started noticing the various permutations when I tried to wear a rumol for the first time. I wanted to wear something on my head, as it has gotten cold.

It is cold, but I am told that it is not yet winter; the wind has not come. Nonetheless, I am in boots every day - usually the black, heeled, fleece-lined boots I bought at Somon Bazaar (who would have thought that Tajikistan is where I would learn to wear heels?), sometimes the brown snow boots I brought from home. My coat is my constant companion, and I love its double layers dearly - though I am also beginning to admire the ankle-length, heavy coats that women here wear. A friend helped me buy a pair of leather gloves, since I forgot to pack something for my hands (50 c instead of 75 because he knew the salesperson). In our apartment we have two air heaters mounted on the walls, and Sarah and I have acquired two more oil heaters; we love them (as you can see in this picture that Sarah took of me the other day). Our beds are the warmest places. 

The American Corner is also warm; I enjoyed my presentations for various events this month, and I have come to love my TOEFL class. Not only my students, who are wonderful, but also figuring out how to teach the class. I felt more comfortable teaching, even as I also felt that at times I burrowed under my covers to sleep. There is always more to do. I think I will change my schedule again after the opportunity to talk to other ETAs in December. I look forward to a cold few months, but also the comfort of a home and increasingly meaningful relationships here. And before the real winter, an exciting December of travel, and the surprisingly strange feeling of leaving Tajikistan (and Khujand) for a little while to do so.