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. 

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.

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.

A Five-Paragraph Essay in Response to the Question I am Asked Everywhere in Tajikistan

Dedicated to the people I am teaching to write essays. (Universities here focus on translation and oral exams rather than writing, so thesis statements and topic sentences are mostly new ideas.) 

Whether in a taxi or at a university, whenever I meet people in Tajikistan, they are invariably eager to ask questions. Most have never met an American in person, and want to find out whether their ideas about America are correct, and what my corresponding ideas about Tajikistan are. They are particularly excited that I can speak Tajik, although at times the conversation gets confusing when I do not understand what they have asked, and instead answer from my mental list of expected queries. These interactions, I sometimes think, are more important than my formal teaching here. So this is my response to the most important question: yes, I do like Tajikistan, because of the great natural beauty, the hospitable people, and the opportunities to learn.

Outline, on ХГУ notepaper.

My first impression of Tajikistan was from photos of the mountains and rivers, and I thought that it was beautiful and that I wanted to go. Since arriving in the summer of 2011 and again in the fall of 2012, those pictures have been surpassed by my own awe at the 93% mountainous country, both in Badakhshan and in Sughd. I admire the peaks of the mountains that frame Khujand, as well as the valley's water features: the Syr Darya ("Secret River") and the Kairakkum Reservoir (the "Tajik Sea"). I cannot wait for the spring, when the mountains will spring up in green and the trees will blossom. The fruits of those flowers are sweet, juicy, and endless: apricots, peaches, figs, mulberries, apples, pears, pomegranates, persimmons, and more. These delicious fruits take over my kitchen and fill my stomach in many forms. Whether in tasting or viewing, in Khujand or Khorog, the natural wonders of Tajikistan make every short trip a chance to see and taste something amazing.

Not only is Tajikistan's nature worth experiencing, but also the kindness and generosity of its people. Tajik people treat me not as a foreigner, but as a guest. The questions about my well-being are underscored by concern that I have been treated as a guest ought to be. "Come to my house for tea," they say. "I will make you plov." "Thank you, thank you," I reply, and even though I do not go to most of those houses, it is the earnest offer that is special. Every culture has a parable about welcoming guests, but Tajik culture fulfills this universal value in a way that is not universal. In America we are taught to think about our own grades, our own profession, our own close circle. Tajik culture teaches people to be more generous, and to spread that care beyond yourself to others, whether as a host or as a guest. This teaches me to think more about others, and also makes my time here so pleasant, since everyone is always eager to welcome me. 

Draft, with edits.

The people in Tajikistan welcome me enthusiastically, and also make every interaction a source of new information about history, culture, or language. I talk with people around a dastarkhan and they tell me about the three-day invasion of Khujand just after the Civil War. I teach an English class about Halloween and trick-or-treating in America, and I learn about Navruz and boichechak. I think that "archa" means "New Year's Tree," and then I learn from following a six-year-old around a park that it actually means "evergreen." Though I can read about history, culture and the Tajik language in books, it is through meeting people that I learn. 

My experience in Tajikistan is the sum of more than learning, people, and nature, but together they provide a good beginning to answer what I most appreciate about this place. And once I have begun, they can continue: "Do you like plov?" "Are you married?" "I will find you a Tajik husband." "What is your work?" I reply with invitations to the American Corner and my own questions: "How many children do you have?" "When did he leave for Russia?" "What is that called?".  The conversation ends with one or both of the pleasantries that do not mean goodbye, exactly, but well wishing. The first is хуш омадед (khosh omaded), which literally means "(your) good coming,"and is translated in dictionaries as "welcome," though they say it both when you arrive and when you leave. The other is саломат бошед (salomat boshed), which means "be healthy," and is added at the end of any store interaction or conversation. So: хуш омадед, саломат бошед. 

Зарбулмасал. Proverbs.

I have my Tajik lessons twice a week at 9 am. I am often running late from finishing my homework after waking up in the morning, but I really like my teacher. She is a Fulbright FLTA alumna, and after her year teaching in the U.S. has returned in the summers to teach at one of few universities where Americans can learn Tajik. 

She has mostly given me short fables to read (some titles to pique your interest: "Father's Treasure," "The Most Important Riches," "The Monkey Teaches the Cats a Lesson"). My homework is usually to write sentences with the new words I have learned, as well as a paragraph summarizing the tale, or discussing the traits of the characters. In class I must come up with Tajik clues to new vocabulary so that she can guess which word I am defining - and vice versa. I have even had two quizzes. 

One day early on she decided I  would learn some Tajik proverbs. It was a good exercise for me to understand the literal meaning, then the 'aha' moment of the message of the proverb, and then wonder how it compares to proverbs I heard growing up. I liked them enough to share: each one in Tajik, Latin transliteration, and simple translation.

A page from my Tajik notebook, with the proverbs and other vocab on the left and my homework listed on the right.
(On the bottom right I was showing Sarah what "zabon doni jahon doni" looks like in Farsi.)

Олими беамал - занбури беасал

Olimi be-amal  - zanburi be-asal

A scientist without action is a bee without honey

Аббал андиша баьд гуфтор

Avval andisha ba'd guftor

First think then talk

Забон дони - ҷаҳон дони

Zabon doni - jahon doni

To know a language is to know the world

[I hear this one all the time]

Офтобро бо доман пушида намешавад

Oftob-ro bo doman pushida nameshavad

The sun cannot be covered with a skirt

Бо моҳ шини моҳ шави

Бо дег шини сиeҳ шави

Bo moh shini - moh shavi

Bo deg shini - siyoh shavi

If you sit with the moon you become the moon

If you sit in a deg* you become black

*Deg is the pot/wok/cauldron they use to cook plov, the national dish. 

фол. Fortune.

This woman sits near Panjshanbe Bazaar on busy days calling out that she has fortunes. I was curious about her and her bird, but I did not stop until I was showing visiting friends around the city.

When you stop, she asks your name, and whispers it to the bird. She recites something as she holds the bird over the bundle of fortunes and it picks at a couple before choosing one for you. The bird chose several for me; the woman told me that was lucky. One somoni per fortune. I demurred and took only one.

I went back later to ask if I could take her picture, now that I am slightly less shy of my camera.  Of course I got another fortune. I asked her bird's name and she smiled.

My fortune:
Бахт шарику хамрохи шумост. Дар тичоратмуваффак мешавед. Корхои шахсиатон барор мегирад.

Шумо мехохед оиладор гардед, бахтатонро бо дустоштаатон бинед маданиятатонро аз даст надихед. Накшахоятон амали мегардад. хушбахт мешавед.

Luck is your partner. You will succeed in trade/commerce.  You will be successful in your personal work. 

You want to get married, You will see your luck with your love. Do not lose your culture. You will be lucky. 

She is far from the first person here to tell me that I want to get married, but is the first to mention going into business. With my experience driving the Astro van I think I could become a great mashrutkeh driver....


[N.B. a 'mashrutkeh' is public transportation: these vans have routes in the city and serve as taxi/bus. Usually 1 somoni per ride, or more depending on the distance. People often get packed in as tight as they can fit.]

Abraham's Stars; or Many Holiday Thoughts

Friday was Eid-i Qurbon (Иди Қурбон), known elsewhere in the Muslim world as Eid al-Adha (adha and qurbon are both Arabic words for sacrifice, the later used in the Persian world). Somehow amongst all of the times I have heard and read about Ramadan and Eid al-Fitr, the second great festival of Islam escaped my notice. Tajikistan has helped me rectify that omission, by hearing about Eid-i Qurbon from Tajik friends, and reading about it, and experiencing it. Like the holiday, this blog post encompasses too much: celebration, language, giving, religion, contradictions, traditions, vacation and family.

I asked the American Corner Coordinator, Madina, to explain it to me. She explained that it is the "Feast of Sacrifice," celebrating Abraham's near sacrifice of his son, and thus passing his test of faith. It is the end of the Muslim year, and the time when people go on Hajj to Mecca. The festival always two months after Ramadan, and so cycles about eleven days earlier each year. Some people fast for ten days before Eid-i Qurbon. During the holiday, people spend time with their families, and visit older relatives. Those who are able should sacrifice a sheep, and share the meat with family, friends, and those less fortunate.

When a thirteen-year-old on student said "Congratulations on our holiday!" Thursday morning, I explained that though "Eid-e mubarak" does translate "congratulations," that's not usually what we say in English. We like to say "Happy [insert holiday]," or "Have a good holiday." Imagine my delight when I learned later in the day that many people say "Иди нагз гозарид (Eid-i nagz gozareed)," which translates almost exactly to "Have a good holiday."

On Thursday afternoon, I spent time with some American Corner volunteers taking food to families in need. One of the volunteers had been inspired to put out a donation box earlier in the week, and on Thursday the money was collected and taken to the grocery. They came back with flour, rice, buckwheat (grechka), sugar, oil, black tea, soap and shampoo. We grabbed at the items hastily to put together fourteen bags in the road behind the taxi so we wouldn't have to lug the food to the Corner on the fourth floor. Five of us piled into the taxi to look for the homes on the list that the mosque had provided. The others joined us later via mashrutkeh and walking. As we walked to a house, we played the "What is this in English/Tajik?" game ("Sunflower" is офтобпараст - oftobparast - lit. sun-worshipper, which is delightfully similar. We spent ages as they tried to explain to me a small bird is in the hopes I would know the English name.). The experience was entirely similar to Thanksgiving and Christmas volunteering run by schools and churches at home.

I first heard Abraham's story at church when I was young: God tested Abraham's faith, asking him to sacrifice his son. Abraham was ready to cut Isaac's neck when an angel appeared to stop him and he sacrificed a ram instead. Since he has passed the test, God made a covenant with Abraham: he would have as many descendents as stars in the sky.

When I heard the story in church it was mostly upsetting ("Mom, would you kill me if God asked you to?" The answer better be 'no'). Of course that is exactly why it is a powerful illustration of faith.

But I got a very different reading junior year in a seminar entitled "Bible as Literature" with an inscrutable old professor named Leslie Brisman. It was a secular class based in the English department, and involved comparing different translations and discussing the text in relation to the documentary hypothesis of the Pentateuch (four different authors). Brisman delighted in surprising us with literary analysis, and I particularly remember his explication of Genesis 22. If there are different authors, one intends the story's moral much as I first understood it: God sends his angel to stay Abraham's hand. Another reading - if verses 11 and 12 are excluded - is that an angel did not appear, but the ram did, and Abraham took advantage of its presence to sacrificed it instead of his son. The moral of this story is not blind obedience but ingenuity and problem-solving in the face of a difficult task; can he obey to the extent that is reasonable, and figure out when not to obey.

I was interested to read (a translation of) the passage in the Koran. I had heard that it is Ishmael who is nearly killed, not Isaac, but figured the message is the same. There is an interesting twist, though: Abraham actually asks his son whether he is willing to die. Ishmael agrees, which is seen as a sign of his own faith and maturity. The faith of both father and son is important. This is in contrast to Genesis' Isaac, who seems to be ignorant of what is going on, though smart enough to catch on to the fact that something is not quite right since he notices that there is no sheep as they are headed to the sacrifice. Abraham basically lies and tells him not to worry about it. Both versions of Abraham show him as a father to one boy - in one personal and emotional moment. This is more relatable than Abraham, Father of Three Religions. The scripture gives a story which is then layered and refracted through the rituals of Hajj and Abraham's vast legacy; this is a time to celebrate.

I experienced the celebration on Friday mostly as a holiday in the British sense; no work or school. The streets were quiet without the gangs of black-and-white-uniformed children. Somon bazaar was closed. It rained for the first time in the months I have been here, which led to Sarah and I sleeping in and then making a luxurious breakfast of crepes (banana and nutella) and American coffee. The afternoon was clear and chilly, but not cold. So we went out on a walk, and realized that fall has come as we walked over fallen leaves and past yellow trees. We walked over the river and through the mosaics to Ismoil Somoni's statue.

I was obligated to take photos for my parents and my local coffee shop. My parents sent me the coffee via a coworker's husband's visit to Dushanbe and then an Embassy delivery north. The coffee is from Misha's, the Alexandria coffee shop  that my dad and I visited every Saturday morning from when I was three years old through high school.  On their fridges, Misha's posts photos of people holding their coffee cups in far away places. I would like to think I have made some sort of record.

I held a cup from home and it felt like a fall holiday, so Sarah and I started talking about our Thanksgiving traditions at home. For our Thanksgiving holiday here, we plan pumpkin pie and a bird and some cranberry sauce via Bishkek if we are lucky. Perhaps even some American Football - we have a ball at the American Corner. I can practice being thankful for what I have learned and had time to think about, and plan for how to explain our own holiday in its own glory of story and history and contradictions and tradition all wrapped in language.

Some Tajik Media (and Links)

News: For news about Tajikistan in English, I end up reading Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty and Eurasianet. The former has more frequent and timely news stories, and its Tajik-language service is an important source of independent journalism as the moment (so important that its website was blocked earlier this year). The latter seems to have better feature stories, like the piece on foreign investors and the photo essay on Now Ruz.

Movie: Last weekend we watched a movie set in Tajikistan! Spies Like Us is probably the only Hollywood feature film that mentions the country. It stars Chevy Chase and Dan Aykroyd, and is a ridiculous send-up of Cold War spy movies. There is actually nothing particularly Tajik when they are supposed to be in the country, but we cheered when they mentioned that they were on the "road to Doo-shan-bee" (as opposed to Du-shahn-beh). Lots of fun. 

Music: My slightly-ingratiating answer if asked my favorite musician is "Daler Nazarov," one of the most famous musicians in the country. I got to see him in a concert in Dushanbe before I left, and he was absolutely amazing. (I will post if/when we get the BBC Persian recording of the concert.) He plays old Persian poetry on guitar with a back-up band that mixes traditional sounds with more international/modern sounds. By the end of the concert I was in love with him and his sax/flute player. A previous ETA described him as a Bob Dylan-character: he is seen as intellectual and a good songwriter, but is popular more with parents than their teenagers. He does make young people want to play the guitar. This is his website, but you can also search his name on YouTube.

Poetry: The staple of Tajikistan and the rest of the Persian-speaking world. Part of the reason I started studying Persian. Omar Khayyom seems to be the most favored Persian poet here - perhaps because Samarkand is closer than Hafez's Shiraz or Rumi's various homes in Iran and Afghanistan and Turkey. One of the local embassy workers sent me this Word Doc of a few of Khayyom's poems in Tajik and two different English translations.

Тоҷики

Tajiki is the national language of Tajikistan. Depending on who you ask, it is either a dialect of Persian, or a distinct language in the close-knit trio with Farsi (spoken in Iran) and Dari (spoken in Afghanistan).

I studied Farsi at Yale, which means that I learned the Arabic alphabet, learned my professor's Tehran accent, read modern short stories, and wrote my senior essay about the historical context of Simin Daneshvar's novel Savushun. Tajiki uses the Cyrillic alphabet, because it was part of the Soviet Union for over 70 years. Tajiki uses many Russian words, and much of the Farsi I learned is considered literary Tajiki, and not used in everyday speaking. 

This means that I speak weirdly. People ask me if I am from Iran, more for my wrong-vowels than for my word choice, I think. The long ah in Farsi becomes a long oh in Tajiki, and the long ee is a shorter eh, and so on. I make lots of spelling mistakes when I write - but fewer now. Some people say they think it is a beautiful sound; I think the relationship may be a little like Americans' relationship with British English. Nonetheless, when people ask how I learned Tajiki, I say, "I studied Farsi for two years at university. I arrived here a month ago, and now I am trying to change from Farsi to Tajiki."

I plan to share some of what I learn here, both my ridiculous mistakes and the stories or phrases that I like from my lessons.