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Published: September 9th 2012
Quick quiz: which of the above-mentioned place names is NOT actually a place in Tajikistan?
Strange place names out of the ancient past aside, I have finally arrived (as of last Wednesday) in the place I will call home for the next 10 months. And what a home it is!
Khujand is in—well, right next to—the mountains, so the air is clean and fresh and not as dusty and dense as the capital. With the help of our hard-bargaining embassy liaison, we found an apartment so cute that it may beat out any apartment I’ve lived in in the states (even—yes Britt, it’s true—our lovely pad in Fountain Court, remember the days?). In contrast to many apartments we looked at, it has a wide-open kitchen with tons of sunlight, a washing machine, and windows that seem like they will seal against the cold when that monster comes. It’s technically only a 1-bedroom, but we (I and my roommate Kyle, she’s a Fulbright Teaching Assistant here) have oh-so-ingeniously made a second bedroom by hanging a curtain across the middle of the living room. Pictures coming soon, I promise.
Since arriving, we’ve been on a bit of a new-place-high: the
food is better here! The air is so clean! Look how we can walk everywhere we need to go! We are even in the middle of a 3-day weekend because tomorrow (Monday) is Tajikistan’s independence day. We’re not sure what that will mean celebration-wise. We did find out last night that it meant some fireworks, but true to being strangers in a strange land, the sound of them freaked us out at first, so much so that we sent a frantic text to a new acquaintance of ours, a British ex-military man who’s here doing…not sure…something with oil and gas. He nicely reassured us that those were fireworks, not gunshots.
Speaking of expats, we have met quite a crew here, mostly German and British people doing the European equivalent of the Peace Corps, along with some burly ex-military types doing…work? Anyway, one of them told us that his first Christmas spent alone in Khujand was so miserable that the following Christmas he risked it all to drive over The Deadly Pass from Khujand to Dushanbe. In the winter. With no brakes.
So, whilst I am currently in the honeymoon phase, I have a feeling that stuff is about
to get, as they say, real.
I met with my counterpart at Khujand State University last Thursday, as well as with the rector. Oh, former Soviet system, how you bewilder me. Things can be a bit opposite of what I’m accustomed to. For example, in my university experience in the United States, things like meetings and introductions can be alarmingly informal. My professors wore jeans, no one felt the need to bow and scrape to anybody, and you often could not tell who was in charge. However, when it came to the actual teaching and planning and carrying out of university business, you had to be on your game. Classes start in 3 days and you still don’t have a schedule worked out? I don’t care how much tea you give me, you’re fired!
Anyway, that’s the American way, the way I’m used to. Time to get used to the Tajik way.
I will be excited to actually start teaching, though I’m very nervous also, especially because I just don’t know what to expect. I will be teaching English for English teachers, and I’m really not sure what their English level will be, so I have about
a million things planned *just in case.* I also got a call from my supervisor yesterday telling me that I should come up with another idea for a class—her suggestions were History of England (!) or English literature. In line with my new-found patriotism, I’m going to counter-suggest History of the United States (textbook? Nah, my brain!) or American literature. Unknown territory, here we come!
I consider myself blessed beyond words for many things, and one of them is the simple fact that I have a guitar and a roommate who likes to sing. We’ve already serenaded many students at their request, mostly John Denver, and have big plans for you, Tajikistan. You won’t know what’s hit you, especially when homesickness hits me, and I accost you with renditions of I Shall Be Released until you beg me to stop.
Speaking of music, I close with an image that I hope comes to your mind every time you hear Celine Dion, as it will forever come for me. While on our way to Khujand from Dushanbe, Kyle and I were taken from State Dept.-funded English program to English program, presented with food and bread and apples at each one, and quite literally welcomed by the wonderful high school students (one group scared us out of our wits when they screamed in unison “YOU ARE WELCOME HERE!!!”). A group of sweet students in a particularly rural area regaled us with songs, ranging from “Someone’s in ze keetchen vees Dinah, strumming on ze old banjo” to “Oh my darlink, oh my darlink, oh my darlink Clementine.” But the climax, the zenith of the performance was reached when the teacher eagerly offered—amidst Kyle’s and my efforts to steer the class from singing to, you know, talking—to show us that students had learned “My Heart Will Go On.” Straight-faced, sincere, all the verses. “Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feeeeel you…”
Kyle and I stared at spots on the back wall to avoid laughing and match their sincerity. Ah, music.
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Ooh! Ooh! I know! I know!
Khazad Dum, underground dwarf kingdom (and they call it a mine...)! Sarah, I love your blog! The people sound so lovely. And your apartment seems perfect...I am looking forward to pictures. So glad you got a guitar! Can we skype soon? I sure do miss you... Final comment: I can say, without any reservations, that I would need to be blind-folded to make that drive from Dushanbe to Khujand! Love you!!!!!