Tajikistan through Language Lessons

As I pack my things and look through all of my papers, I realize the range of themes we covered in my Tajik lessons. I was lucky to have a teacher who prepared interesting lessons for me. Though I must confess I cannot remember all of the vocabulary, I wanted to share another lens for looking at Tajikistan, from stories to culture to news.

In the beginning I read a lot of fables:

• Ганҷи падар - The treasure of father  
• A man tells his two lazy sons that there is treasure buried in their garden. He dies and the sons dig up the garden. They don't find treasure, but they plant seeds. After three months they harvest the fruit and vegetables and realize that they have found the true treasure of their father.
• Лонаи мурғаконро ваирон накунем - Don't destroy birds' nests! 
• A man wants to find partridge eggs to feed his dogs, as well as to give a friend. He goes hunting for them, and a mysterious old man hands him ten from his pocket. The man returns and gives the eggs to his friend, but the next day the friend reports that he accidentally dropped them and they were empty! He tried to find the old man again, but could not, and understood that this was a message to stop hunting.
• Боигарии аз ҳама бузург - The biggest riches  
• An old man says to a boy, 'You are very rich, but you don't know it!' The young boy says, 'You are crazy! You cannot turn my hand into gold!' but the old man tells him that the riches of gold and jewelry are nothing compared to health.
• Гурбаҳоро панд додани маймун - The monkey teaches cats a lesson
• Two cats are fighting over a piece of cheese. They want to divide it, but can't decide how. They take it to the monkey, who divides it unevenly. The cats complain, and the monkey takes a bite out of the bigger piece, then from the other, back and forth until there is none left. This is a lesson to them not to be greedy (and to solve their problems themselves).

Then other short texts with less-obvious moral lessons:

• Офатҳо - disasters
• This was nice because then I knew the words for "earthquake" and "mudslide" when I experienced them.
• Рузи оила - Day of the Family
• Because of rising divorce rates, the government has a "family day" when older couples give advice/counseling to newlyweds. I actually agree with the quoted older couple who say that family starts from love and respect - but our ideas of respect may be different.
• Абуали ибни Сино - Abduali ibn Sino
• The great scientist, mathematician, philosopher known as Avicenna in Latinate Europe. 
• Тоҷмаҳал - Tojmahal
• "But it's in India," you say. Yes, but the Mughal court was part of the Persian-speaking world, and its architects came from the Persian capitals of Samarkand and Bukhara.
• Муқаннаъ - Mukanna' or al-Muqanna
• I had never heard of this man before. Born Hoshim puri Hakim in Merv, he led an uprising against the Arab rulers in Baghdad in the 770s and 780s.
• Тўиҳо - weddings - see separate post.

My teacher was at Indiana University Bloomington, and helped put together their online learning modules, which are really great. If you go to the CeLCAR website, you can see the many themes for the Intermediate modules.

• Рамзҳои рангҳо ва ракамҳо - Symbols of colors and numbers
• White and black have the same good/bad connotation that European culture associates with them; red symbolizes health, and yellow symbolizes sickness/weakness. Odd numbers are associated with mourning and incompleteness, while even numbers are associated with happiness and fulness. 40 is very important for a variety of traditions (sitting at home for 40 nights after a birth, wedding, or death), but 13 is not bad luck here.
• Шугун ва бовариҳои мардуми тоҷик - Superstitions and beliefs of Tajik people.
• Many Tajik superstitions can be traced to Zoroastrian beliefs about the elements, including lots of ideas about nails (if you cut them in a friend's house, he will become your enemy) and hair (if hairs are left in your comb, don't just throw them away - you must put them in a hole). Then we discussed American superstitions, like if you spill salt you must throw it over your shoulder. We put our teeth under the pillow for the tooth fairy - here, they put lost teeth on the roof of the house. Breaking mirrors is bad - but here you don't have 7 years' bad luck, just that you cannot look at the pieces as you gather them up.  

In the spring I struggled through articles from Ozodi, the Tajiki service of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty. My struggles were not only because I didn't always do my homework, but also because Tajik newspaper writing is very difficult. My teacher has strong feelings about the journalists who "make up words" that no one ever uses. I have had students saying that they struggle to read the newspaper, because it has so many of these new Tajik words. (links go to the articles online in Tajik).

• Никоҳҳои барвақти  фоҷеаидухтарони тоҷик - Early weddings of Tajik girls.
• This article talks about the problems of early marriages, unofficial marriages, and the relationship between religion, religious leaders, religious interpretation and the government.
• Forbes тоҷикистонро дар паҳлуи Нигерияву Камбоҷа ҷо дод - Forbes put Tajikistan between Nigeria and Kambodia.
• Every year Forbes magazine makes a list of the best countries to do business; in 2012 Tajikistan was ranked 111 out of 141. I had to play a local businessman trying to convince Warren Buffett (my teacher) to invest. This is difficult as an honest salesman, given the country's rankings in corruption (128), tax burden (133), monetary freedom (126) and personal freedoms (115). I had to advise Mr. Buffett to check back after a few years.
• Тоҷикистони баъди соли 2015. Назаримардум. - Tajikistan after 2015 - in people's opinion.
• In 2015 the UN's Millenium Development Goals are supposed to be "achieved", so this article is about people's answers to an online survey that the UN created asking what people think are the major problems in Tajikistan and what they think will happen in the future. The major problems people see are corruption, followed by low salaries and the problem of job creation. People want to improve health, education, and conflict prevention. 

Summertime and the livin is easy

The summer solstice may not be until June, but as far as I'm concerned, summer has come. The first fruit has come, syrupy sweet: strawberries first, which became bars and two strawberry rhubarb pies in one week, followed by cherries and almost, now, apricots.

The trees along the street produce a sickeningly sweet pollen. Among those trees are too many swallows to count. Along the roadsides I spy gorgeous Rollers in all their blue and rufous glory. There are dragonflies and butterflies winging along the river.

Poppies began spreading along the roads and into the fields in April.

Outside the library.

On May 1st, roses have erupted everywhere, and they have been multiplying in a fury ever since. "Rose" in Tajik is " садбарг (sad barg)," which literally means "100 petals." A row of men sell flowers under a САДБАРГ sign every day of the year, while a restaurant behind them takes the same name, and is one of the nicest places to sit outside with an ice cream under their willow trees. 

From our kitchen window.

Ice cream is part of my daily diet. 

In America we mark the beginning of summer with Memorial Day. Here, we began May with two holidays from the Soviet era: 1 May (Labor Day) and 9 May (Victory Day). Regardless of the holidays' purpose, our celebrations were pure summer.

May 9 involved a long hike in a village. Students kept asking me why I was looking at the sky (wishing I had binoculars to look at the hawks).  I stopped and took photos of flowers, and this grasshopper, but didn't get a photo of my first Tajik toad.

I spent both days the following weekend having picnics. Sarah and I taught schoolchildren to pay modified American Football in the Botanical Garden on Saturday, and then on Sunday a group of students from the American Corner kept trying to teach me how to throw a football correctly during our daylong excursion by the river away from the city (I tried to tell them that I have been a failure at this my whole life in America, but that did not deter them from trying). 

Explaining the rules of our game

Botanical Garden Picnic.

I wear sandals every day. Sometimes I wear sunglasses. When on a picnic or kayaking, I wear a hat.

It may not be high summer - there is not yet mellon, and I can't say that "the cotton is high" - but all of these things unequivocally mean summer to me. 

Walking to the river near Палос (Palos). 

Playing Hearts by the river as the wind picked up.

Getting married is like moving to a foreign country

"Getting married is like moving to a foreign country," said a Tajik friend of mine, as three of us were having a conversation about marriages and mothers-in-law. "At first you must learn the different laws of the new place." My mind raced ahead to add more facets to the comparison: you must not only figure out the unspoken laws and customs, but where power lies and what people believe; what their prejudices are and what is most important to them. You must live a new reality of the details of day-to-day life, and not waste time missing those you used to live with. The first weeks of a new bride here are like my few months have been: full of a sense that you are missing some things, unsure when you will be embarrassed by revealing this lack, not understanding why the assumptions you had at home are not working, always listening and always learning.

In one moment I thought "Yes!" and then in the next I stopped - this simile does not include me.

I am not marrying Tajikistan. I am, if you will, dating: falling in love a bit, enjoying my time now in the present, playing and laughing, but not promising to be together in sickness and in health until death do us part. It is the beginning, still, of a relationship: I am eager to make a good impression, and so I listen more than I talk and sometimes hold my tongue when I do not want to risk alienating someone.  

Of course, while dating, every so often your mind drifts and you find yourself imagining what life would be like if you did stay together for many years. What would be the things that I could not compromise on? What would be the tension points in our relationship? My friend posed this question to me when I mentioned the idea that perhaps there would be things I would do differently if I were to stay forever instead of only ten months. I have continued to mull over the question.

Mostly I stay in the present, though. There is a special frenetic energy to a relationship when there is a clear end date. That is the frenzy of summer romances. Here, my time will end as summer starts, and my encroaching leaving date makes me frantic to squeeze everything I can out of every last moment we have together before it's too late. 

Advice on Visiting Tajikistan

I started to write a long email to my friend on what he should expect when he arrives next Monday, and then decided to share it here for anyone Googling "Travel Tajikistan." Of course there is infinitely more to say, and there are websites with much more, but this is the very short what you need to know upon arrival in Tajikistan:

You are now able to get a 2-week tourist visa on arrival at the airport in Dushanbe, but I had a friend who was lucky enough to arrive in a week when there were "technical malfunctions" and so he had to stay in Istanbul for three days to get a visa there and wait for the next flight. (On the bright side, when you get a visa in Istanbul, you get a sweet tourist map and postcards of Tajikistan). [more visa details written by my friend at the bottom of the page] You don't have to register if you are staying less than 30 days (be grateful - this is an un-fun post-Soviet habit). On the other hand, the U.S. government would advise U.S. citizens to register online with their Smart Traveller Enrollment Program.

Most people from the west fly Turkish Air through Istanbul. The flight goes twice a week, Sunday and Wednesday nights, and arrives in Dushanbe at 3:45 am the next morning. Don't worry - things will be open by the time you get out of the airport at 5 or 6 a.m. 

Mosque in Istaravshan.

Why does it take so long? It is a small airport. Because the mass of people shoving towards passport control is chaotic and suffocating and there are no lines. As a foreigner, you need to grab two forms on the right when you come in. One of these is a long rectangle with the same information on the right and the left. There is a colorful advertisement for one of the phone companies on the back. At passport control they will rip the paper and keep one half and give you the other. You must not lose this paper - they will ask for it when you leave the country. I staple it in my passport. The other piece of paper you need to remember is the baggage-check slip that they gave you when you checked your bag wherever you originated - after you have perhaps waited a long time for the luggage to appear, on your way out of the airport they will collect your luggage tag. 

You will emerge into a swarm of people waiting in the morning sun. If you are lucky a friend will meet you - if not there are plenty of taxi drivers ready to relieve you of your bag. 

You probably want money - I find it is easiest to withdraw from the Bankomat (ATM). You can withdraw somoni everywhere and USD in some places (I use USD only to pay my rent).  There are also many money exchange places on the street. Credit cards are useless.

Finding things like bankomats is easiest if you take some time to learn the Cyrillic alphabet - or at least a few minutes to look it over (Learn in 5 minutes for Russian or this chart for Tajik/Latin/Persian comparison).

If you need to bring a gift for an American, coffee is appreciated (this is another way of saying: prepare to drink Nescafe for the duration of your stay). 

Хуш омадед!

Tajikistan culture visible: курта (kurta - national dress; mine is made from атлас (atlas - national fabric), дастархон (dartarkhan - table cloth/spread), кӯрпача ( kurpаcha - mattresses/beds), general guest-ing

For more:

This guy seems to have very helpful and up-to-date information: http://caravanistan.com/travel/tajikistan/

I know someone working on this website, which is trying to become a more helpful guide to Dushanbe (if you're coming for longer, read this post on everyday Tajik customs: http://menu.tj/en/posts/culture-un-shock/)

More visa info from said friend who just got his visa in Istanbul: 

1-All the Tajikistan government web stuff says that if you are coming in from a nation that has a Embassy or Consular office you need your visa prior to entry. The guy I talked to in Istanbul at the consulate said the same. 

2-You can get 30, 60, or 90 day tourist visas. The 30 day is 50 USD (only USD accepted). Perhaps the 2 week visa is still availabe at the airport. 

3-If you are trying to do this in Istanbul it is hard to find the consulate. The train station/neighborhood it is in is called Florya. But there is no train station working right now  - it looks like it is under renovation. I can put togeather a google map+street view if you want. 

4-Bring your passport and a couple photo copies and a few passport-sized photos of yourself. It also helps to print out and fill out two copys of the visa application available online after some searching.

Debate (Part 2) and a Postcard from Kyrgyzstan

I said before that I cared more about my students in Khujand than the tournament that was to come in Dushanbe. That was before we went to Dushanbe for the First National English Debate Tournament (March 29-31). I still am proud of what we did in Khujand, but being with students from all over the country brought it to a new level. Granted, there were many differing levels of debate experience and ability, but the excitement of a tournament - with four preliminary rounds in which everyone would compete - was motivation to make all of them improve immensely.

I was staying with the main organizer, and was part of the late-night planning and anxiety about making everything run smoothly. I was one of the judges; I (hilariously) gave the orienting/rules presentation to the debaters while the judges were meeting; I ended up giving out the certificates at the end. The whole thing took place at the gorgeous Ismaili Centre, which made everything more graceful. I enjoyed the planning and the executing and the walking around with my students in the city and the talking in the car through the snow on the seven hours back home. 

There are plenty more photos where those came from; and the video that Areebah and I finally had time to make - a version of the presentation we did in Nepal for future English teachers.

Of course, pretty much as soon as we put it together, we realized how little we knew about international debating and learned a whole lot. We made it to the Asia Youth Forum, after a flurry of calls to parents about permissions and passports all during and before and after the tournament in Dushanbe.

I will let IDEA describe it:

The Asia Youth Forum, one of many regional versions of the IDEA Global Youth Forum, is a two-week experience that combines the Karl Popper Debate Championship, educational tracks (including our Mixed Teams Track which brings students from different countries and different levels of experience together in a peer-to-peer learning experience) and tournaments that allow the speakers to put their newly-acquired skills into practice. Find out more at ayf.idebate.org

This year, AYF was at Lake Issykkul in Kyrgyzstan - but we were more in Debate-istan than Kyrgyzstan. They ran a full schedule for the kids, who learned a lot. They had to really work and prepare for their cases - I'm not sure I would have the intellectual stamina to prepare again and again on the same topic in another language. I joined them the second week, for various reasons, and so entered this culture with full awareness of my ignorance and a bit of trepidation. I was glad to see my students, and intrigued by the trainers and coaches. The Tajik students did really well; one of my students from Khujand made it to the Semi-Finals in the Mixed Team Tournament, while the winning team included one student from Khorog and one from Dushanbe.

This was where we were staying. Yes, you should visit Issykkul.

There are too many photos to count: the Russian IDEA Facebook page, all of my students' Facebook posts, the Asia Youth Forum website. They also interviewed people on what digital freedom means to them and in their countries, and my video is one of the ones that has been posted.  More importantly, the talent show hit "Debate Me, Maybe" has reached YouTube - again courtesy of Areebah's editing.

The view from our room.

Because there are few flights in Central Asia, we had to spend two nights in Bishkek before flying back to Tajikistan. It was fun to compare the city to Dushanbe. The same streets! The same buildings! The same monuments! Only it's Manas instead of Somoni. And their flagpole is pitiful. But Bishkek in general is so much bigger, there's so much more Russian, and so many more restaurants. We went to Sierra Cafe and couldn't stop gushing about how much it felt like America (it's more than the coffee - it's the atmosphere with the bookshelves and the baristas and - I'll stop). We had Texas-style BBQ for dinner.  Our guide to all of this was a Bishkek ETA, and we saw a bit of Bishkek with him: his university, the new mall, TSUM for gifts, attempts to visit closed-on-Monday museums.

We returned home on April 23 to TV cameras at the airport - and then a long drive to Khujand, with one student asleep on each shoulder in the middle seat of the taxi. According to their presentation yesterday at the American Corner, they not only made friends that they left with tears, but also learned about the roles in Karl Popper, what clash points are in a debate, more ideas about Digital Freedom than they ever thought to have, the importance of team-building and sportsmanship, and how to communicate with people from other countries when it is difficult. That's a success to me.

Formality and Faux Pas; or Manners and Mistakes

Sughd, this northern region of Tajikistan, is known for being more formal. Everyone here always uses шумо (shumo), the formal "you" (think usted in Spanish), whereas in the south, in Khatlon, people use ту (tu) frequently. I knew this before coming, like I knew that Tajikistan is renowned for its guest culture, but I didn't realize the many other ways in which that politeness would manifest itself in daily life, and I certainly didn't anticipate that it would take me months to figure out.

When someone invites you to his or her house, they repeat "хуш омадед" (khush omaded - welcome) many times. I used to put my hand on my chest and repeat "thank you," unable to think of anything else to say. Only six months into my time here did someone tell me that the customary thing to respond - especially to older hosts - is "хушбахт бошед" (khushbakht boshed - be happy). It was both relieving to hear that there is a ritual and frustrating - how did I not know this sooner!

Similarly, I was aware from the moment I arrived that hosts tell you to eat many times. "Гиритон, гиритон, гиритон" they repeat ("take," literally, or "help yourself"). Knowing how important the guest culture is here, I would studiously take food, and figured out to pace my eating and time big bites for when the host returned. What is on the dastarkhan at the beginning is just that, the beginning, and there is always more food coming. I joke that people do not know the meaning of the word "full" - when I say that "ман сеур шудам" (I am full), people bring me more food! People laugh appreciatively, because of course that is the job of the host - to give you more.

But only after living here seven months did I realize the other half of this Tajik courtesy. They say "гиретон" three times - and the guest is not supposed to accept the first few times. There is a dance of offering and demurring until people finally eat. Oops. Luckily, I have probably not offended anyone too badly - I just seem like an impolite pig. Since realizing this, I have heard countless stories from people in Sughd who have traveled to the United States and suffered their own cultural misunderstandings. "Do you want ice cream?" an American hostess asked a teacher friend. "No," the teacher replied, and then, as she told us, "the whole table ate ice cream and I sat there with none! I really wanted some, but I couldn't ask!" Another friend who said it took him a week of being hungry to realize that Americans were not going to ask again, and he would have to say yes the first time.

And I only realized a week ago that one does not talk while eating. Parents here teach their children not to do so. In the United States, parents also tell their children not to talk with their mouths full, but we also expect dinner to be a time for conversation, and people schedule lunch meetings in order to talk. I tried to think back to the many times I have been a guest: have I spent it chattering to fill silence? I think mostly I am quiet and try to let the host take the lead - remembering not to be uncomfortable in the silence (thank you, Sidwell).

Unfortunately I cannot regale you with tales of the hilarious faux pas I have made that people laughed at or judged or ignored and otherwise never pointed out to me. You will have to apply to my friends and acquaintances here for more details.

A table filled for Navruz at the library.

Баҳор омад. Spring comes.

This past week was Tajikistan's most important national holiday, Navruz. It literally means "new day" but is the Persian New Year and marks the spring equinox. When I wrote this to my Grandmother, she replied,

The people over there certainly have the right idea – new year beginning in the spring.  How sensible.  

I have to agree.

It means almost a week off school for concerts and parties. Everyone wears national dress. There is much dancing. There is much poetry, much of which involves the phrase баҳор омад (bahor omad, spring comes).

Here, people are eager to say that it is an International holiday, which someone declared a few years ago, since today people celebrate Navruz in Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Turkey, parts of China and probably elsewhere I am forgetting. Sarah and I were interviewed to discover our thoughts on Navruz as foreigners, but we didn't see the TV special when it aired. Several of our students and neighbors did, though, and some have approached me since to excitedly, "You speak Tajik!"

At the library, the celebration on the 20th included: a competition of who has the most beautiful table of food (scores could be augmented by poetry recitation), poetry recitation, dancing, a holiday tableau, the arrival of girl in white as "spring", who showed off the haft seen and haft sheen, a poetry contest, a humorous skit, displays of national dress, and speeches. I was encouraged to stand up and congratulate everyone on Navruz in Farsi and English, and later a representative from the Iranian embassy's ministry of culture presented me with a gift. It ended with everyone dancing as the women cleaned and put everything away.

Navruz (21st) in Khujand seemed to be an excuse for kids to run off and play with their friends. Two of the volunteers from the American Corner showed me around the crowded park, where people were selling shashlik every three yards. We went on the Ferris wheel, on a boat ride, and talked as we walked past everyone in their finest clothes.

Sarah and I missed the official Khujand celebration on the 22nd, because we were guest-ing in different parts of Sughd for the rest of the weekend. On the 21st we went to Mangit village in Ghonchi, where one of Sarah's students lives. He took us immediately taken to the village party and we danced. I chose the 11-year-old girls as my partners instead of the teenage boys. 

 

We stayed two nights, and went to many other family members' houses to be guests, which means introducing ourselves and drinking tea and eating food. Both nights included dance parties with all of the neighbor kids outside of the house. Sarah and I apologize for being poor representatives of our country when they put on a J-Lo song and told us to "dance American".

 

We also visited some women making сумалак (sumalak), the traditional Navruz dish. I was only told the story of sumalak the next day, but it is beautiful and goes something like this: Once, long ago, a widow had nothing to feed her children. The children cried to their mother that they were hungry, but she had nothing to give them. One night, the mother threw seven stones into a pot with wheat and some flour and fell asleep with despair. While she slept, thirty angels (see malak) came and stirred the pot. When she woke up in the morning, the woman tried the dish and found that it was delicious.

  

Now people make sumalak in the spring, when the shoots of wheat are young. It must be cooked from 12-24 hours, and women stay up all night, adding wood to the fire and water to the cauldron as they stir and sing to keep themselves awake. If you make a wish while stirring sumalak, it will come true. Sarah and I did not stay so long, but we visited for a little while.

Later that night, I got my hair braided in the traditional style: many little braids finished by cotton tassels at the end of each braid. It took less than two hours, and it is usual for everyone to ask how many braids you have. I ended up with 24 - traditionally one should have 40 braids.

The next day I went to Shahristan. The first night, instead of staying with an English teacher we know, I ended up being the excuse for five 16-year-old girls to have a sleepover. They giggled and talked all night and in the morning we all beautified ourselves with усма (usma). Now, to most Westerners, this is not beautiful. I have plucked my eyebrows at least since I was thirteen. But with usma, you draw your eyebrows thicker, darker, longer, and they are supposed to meet in the middle. It is a green plant that they make into a juice. You paint it on three times, letting it dry some between each application, and then you wash it off - gently! the girls told me, alarmed as I splashed my face.

There is also a story behind usma, which again I learned only after the fact: people believe that on judgment day, all of your body parts will be forced to tell their sins from your life. Your hands, for example, will say that you stole, and your eyes will say that you looked on something covetously. But if you put usma on your eyebrows, they will be so grateful for your care of them that they will lie for you, saying that they are above all and can see everything and that you did good deeds. In conservative villages where fathers will not allow their daughters cosmetics, usma is still encouraged (and some girls sneakily put it on their eyelids as well to simulate the makeup they're not allowed to wear).

My makeover was made complete with либоси мелли (lebosi melli), which literally translates as "national dress." When I mentioned that Sarah had an adras dress (made of this particular fabric and pattern) and I did not, they secretly went to the bazaar, bought some fabric, and brought one student's sister over to measure me "for no reason." In the morning, she arrived with the dress she had worked on all night and took no money for. It might be the most thoughtful gift I have ever received.

This was all for the Navruz celebration that the students had prepared in Shahristan, which involved everyone in national dress, poetry, songs, a skit, and more dancing. Sarah and I were forced to have a dance competition. We walked, played a game, and the reward when I won was that I had to dance for all of them.

 

Photo credit to Sarah and her iPhone.

When we stayed with the teacher that night many more people came to see us, but more exciting was that I finally learned how to make osh-e plov, the national dish of Tajikistan. In the morning we helped bake the bread in the tandur (outdoor oven).

Then we came home and still had a day and a half to sleep before the library opened again.  I tried to answer some emails. I showed my colleague how to make chocolate chip cookies. I welcomed spring.

This house believes that debate is a valuable teaching/learning tool.

I have spent most of my time and energy since January preparing Tajik students to debate in English. 

I must first admit that I used to be prejudiced against debaters. Though I enjoyed debates as a class activity - to learn about the creation of Israel, for example - I am generally conflict-adverse, and it seemed that debate emphasized conflict, and seemed to feature too much of that teenage-male certainty that they are right about everything.

I am glad to report that I have changed my views. I not only think that debate is a great tool to use in a classroom, but also in extracurricular practice and competition. In preparing my students - both school-age and university - I have realized that the tools of a good debater are important tools for success in other arenas as well.  When a friend and I gave a presentation about using debate during our conference in Nepal, we started by talking about the various reasons we chose to start debate clubs. 

Students first came in order to practice English speaking skills. They desperately want practice speaking in English and they don't get that in their school or university English classes. I have had the pleasure of seeing a few of my debaters turn from shy, stuttering speakers who could hardly continue for 30 seconds into confident first speakers who can present their ideas for 6 minutes (plus three minutes answering questions). Obviously this involves not only English language skills but also the art of public speaking. For one girl who would only look at the floor, I moved around an American flag so she would look up (even if not at our faces). The group I have been working with has a ways to go, but is much more confident. 

Debating is an accessible way to approach controversial subjects, and to practice critical thinking. In the words of the International Debate Education Association, whose website we plunder extensively for ideas, 

Debate is an essential tool for developing and maintaining democracy and open societies. More than a mere verbal or performance skill, debate embodies the ideals of reasoned argument, tolerance for diverging points of view, and rigorous self-examination.  

I have seen my patience rewarded as my students have slowly moved towards these ideals. Students don't often get a chance to express their own opinions in the educational system here. We have moved from circular, non-arguments like "it is good because it is the law" or "because it is" to actual arguments in defense of a position that they may not agree with. I banned the use of the phrases "right" and "wrong" in order to move towards logical reasoning. We worked through the ideas that you are not expressing your own opinions and it is not personal - it is about ideas, and how well they are expressed. I think some of them finally understood this in our first competition when a team with better English skills lost to one with much better arguments.  I have repeated many times that debate is about respect: respecting your opponents.

As someone who teaches writing it is also satisfying to see that those same debating skills are ones that students could apply to writing: a clear introduction, outline, evidence and examples, and conclusion. They must do research. They must plan ahead. These are also foreign skills for most of them, and I love to see that it is the same process of thinking that will serve them well in writing.

Now that we have prepared and participated in two tournaments [see many more photos from the first tournament and photos from the second tournament], it is also heart-warming to see the camaraderie and friendship that have built up between students of different ages. The winners of the first tournament were a woman in her mid-20s who graduated from university with a law degree, a fourth-year university student in telecommunications, and an 11th-grade boy. At the second tournament, I inadvertently become a matchmaker in putting together the members of one of the teams.

I enjoyed organizing the tournaments; I remembered that I like producing events, and my experience producing theater shows at Yale served me well.  But I still don't like conflict, and I don't like judging. I would much rather guide the preparation process. I care too much to be a passive audience member; I was tense watching my students and waiting to see who won (and I was a bit crushed when a group lost that I thought should have won). We were lucky enough to have guest judges who would be impartial. As Sarah pointed out, one of the coolest things about these competitions is that they were fair, as opposed to many competitions here, which everyone knows are rigged because of a relative or where you are from or some other factor. 

The students were extra-excited at the second competition because the winning debaters would get the opportunity to debate in Dushanbe. My Dushanbe counterpart has been organizing a National English-language Debate tournament there, and flurries of emails have been flying back and forth about every aspect of the tournament. It is finally happening this coming weekend, and Sarah and I will go with the debaters to help manage and judge the three-day tournament. 

Also exciting, but less tangible and looking less likely, is that we have the opportunity to send some high school students to the Asia Youth Forum, a two-week debate tournament/seminar for school students all over Asia, which is taking place in Kyrgyzstan this year, near Lake Issyk-kul. This would be an amazing opportunity to learn infinitely more than I could ever teach about debate and meet peers from dozens of countries. But the scholarship process has left us in the dark, and it is still unclear what will happen.

More than the competitions, though, training these students has given me the opportunity to spend more time with them. I have gotten to see them think and talk and worry and then go out to lunch with some of them and talk more outside of the confines of debate. I am excited to meet more debaters in Dushanbe this weekend, but for me this national tournament is less important than the work that we have already done in Khujand. I am proud of all of the debaters I have been working with.

More information about training a debate team and many sample debates at idebate.org.

Buzkashi and Links

Buzkashi literally means "goat (buz) - pulling (from kashidan)".  It is the Central Asian horseman's game, similar to polo but with the headless body of a sheep. There aren't many rules; the goal is to  get the goat in the pit at one end of the field. Only there are no field boundaries - spectators periodically must run out of the way of the galloping horses.

When I was in the Pamirs in 2011, I went to a sort of Buzkashi exhibition/practice in Murgab, the Kyrgyz area, with some other expats. A friend took some photos, and then later I was introduced to a professional photographer who has won international awards for his Buzkashi photos (he also happens to be a Yale grad). Check out his amazing photos at www.theodorekaye.com. (Going to his website again informs me that he has published a book with his photos and an essay.)

All rights reserved Theodore Kaye. From http://www.theodorekaye.com/buzkashi/#2

I went to my first real game a few weeks ago. It was in Aperlevka, near a gold mine where some Americans we know work. Men kept crowding around to talk to the foreigners. I acquired a bouncer who would field questions to me as we talked in Tajik, and then periodically remind the crowd, "The goat is that way! Watch the game, not these people!" Mostly, I think, so that he could talk to me himself, about how we should come next weekend to Adressman, his town, which is much more beautiful and less dusty. He also informed me that almost everyone at this game was Uzbek. Buzkashi is is mostly/traditionally played in southern Tajikistan, but Kyrgyz and Uzbek (countries to the north) also play, so there are games in Sughd, but few of the players are Tajik. (I apologize if that is confusing, but that is life in these squiggly border areas where nationalities and ethnicities are thoroughly mixed.)

Below is a less-professional but more local video that one of the geologists made of his photos from Aperlevka (comments and discussion near the end are not necessarily condoned by me). The video was from the weekend before I went.

A short film made in Kabul was nominated for an Oscar this year (the two young stars were flown to Hollywood and went to Disneyland - what an impression of America!). I have not seen it but want to.

A documentary made about Buzkashi players in southern Tajikistan:

The other week for a movie night we watched the 1971 movie The Horsemen, starring Omar Sharif, set  and filmed in Afghanistan, and featuring an extended Buzkashi segment near the beginning. Apparently it can be viewed in full on YouTube.