As November Winds Down...

Let me look back on the month of November. It’s rained at least half of the month, sometimes for a week at a time. The streets are full of puddles, and though the deeper ones often have makeshift paths of a couple bricks scattered across them, the rest are just left for us to struggle through. My shoes have been wet since the first of the month, so every time I put my feet in them, it takes a lot of effort not just to get back into bed. And on that note, some days the cold is so intense that all I want to do after class is crawl under my thick fleece blanket that could fit nine of me comfortably and warmly underneath it and cuddle up next to my space heater, but I feel bad if I’m not interacting with my family. Our power flickers on and off, and sometimes we lose it for the best part of a day or two. When that happens, there’s often no water either, and if you’ve ever tried to use a squat toilet in the pitch dark… In the streets, the colors of coats and umbrellas and hats range from black to dark gray (with, perhaps a few navy ones for the more adventurous Tajiks), and my bright red coat stands out like a sore thumb. I am cold literally all the time. While the temperature is nothing to write home about (though believe me, I have), there is just no relief from it. I am cold in my room (I can see my breath right now, sitting at my desk) and while I sleep and in the kitchen as I scoot as close to the stove as possible and in school since our heaters only work about 40% of the time and as I walk down the streets of Dushanbe (though my motivation to do that is decreasing significantly with the temperature) and in every store I go into. A couple months ago, I said that I was glad it was cooling off because it made covering my shoulders was becoming unbearable. I take all that back. Bring on the scorching sunshine, Dushanbe. So November in Dushanbe could be the gloomiest place I have ever been. And yet…

And yet, I am writing this at my desk next to the only source of light and heat around right now: a small red candle sitting in a mug and dripping wax onto its matching saucer, while the smoke alarm above my head beeps indignantly, and I am listening to Christmas music, wearing my huge and colorful Pamiri socks. Every time the power goes out I sit with my host mother and sisters making shadow puppets by candlelight in the living room while we pile on more and more blankets. The last remains of Saturday’s snowstorm are melting and turning into ice and everything looks beautiful outside. And yes, it is cold everywhere, and I’m feeling nostalgic for Dushanbe in September, but I still have a great host family, who I’m happy to spend several hours a day with, just sitting and watching crazy Russian TV (lately they’re really into a “Fear Factor” show, except with children and with Barbie dolls and race cars as prizes for reaching into boxes of spiders) when I can’t bring myself to go outside and find something to do. I’m still loving taking only language classes (though I admit, some more than others). And I know that I will be sad to leave when the time comes, in just a few weeks.

We had a great Thanksgiving celebration on Thursday. Our classes were cancelled for the day, and the Tajik guys who work in the office cooked us a fabulous lunch feast of osh (the Tajik national dish: rice, cooked in a lot of oil with beef, carrots, and other vegetables) with turkey substituted for the beef, and cranberries and walnuts thrown in. The osh was great, and a few of us also made hot apple cider (a nice change from the pots and pots of tea I drink here). Our director had gotten some pies (apple and pumpkin) from the American style café nearby. While they weren’t great (somehow all foods in this country always taste just a little bit like Tajikistan), it was very Thanksgiving-y, and I really enjoyed it. Thanksgiving Day also happened to be Tajik National Flag Day, and for a country with the longest flag and the tallest flagpole in the world, this is a big deal. There was a parade of Tajiks along Rudaki Avenue, waving flags. It was almost like the Macy’s Day parade, except with fewer beloved cartoon characters, and more Tajiks.

So, despite the cold and rain and unreliable power, I am still loving Tajikistan. I’m excited to come home, but I’ll definitely miss things here. There are things that are hard to deal with, but it’s an amazing, beautiful country. Don’t believe me? Look at my Pamirs pictures.