Murgab (Murghab) was promising when it was built. It was a new Russian settlement built as frontier city of Pamir. The highway connecting the isolated mountains to the lowland towns was supposed to bring wealth to the nomadic community. Life had changed ever since. A town was built on the top of mountains. People were educated. Frontier military checkpoints were enforced. But how is life now, after Tajikistan gained independence from the USSR and civil war took place in the new country? The hope of the future had turned to be a bad fate.

I had got a chance to know Gulnara, a 54 year old woman working as a primary school teacher in Murgab. Gulnara is the younger sister of Khalifa Yodgor from Langar. But the last time she saw him was 2 years ago. “It is too expensive to go there,” said her. Langar is not too far from Murgab. It is around 250 km only, but the public transport there is very rare and expensive. At present, Murghab-Langar cost 50 Somoni/pax. Gulnara’s salary is only 80 Somoni per month. She hardly manages to feed her family with that money, needless to say to visit her brother.

How about Gulnara’s husband? Beig is a 56 year old man. As 80 percent of the Murghab population, he is unemployed too. At least Beig also used to earn some money for his family. He worked in Russia. “Working ther is very hard. Life condition for people with no money like us is very difficult. And the salary was not that much either.” Beig used to work in Moscow as a cheap labor. But he returned back to Murghab since a year ago. Now the whole family only relies on Gulnara’s shoulders.

“Q’in (hardship)” and “bicchara (poor)” are Gulnara’s favorite words.
“Life here is so poor and difficult,” said her for dozens of times a day. With the 80 Somoni (25 dollars) per month, Gulnara has to feed her husband and her 3 children. “Even a sack of flour cost 70 Somoni already, and it’s not enough for a month.” Rice, used to be Gulnara’s favorite food, has long disappeared from the family’s menu. Rice cost 3.5 Somoni/kg, about a dollar. Everything has to be bought from market, as most people in Murghab doesn’t have land to cultivate agriculture. And together with the rise of oil price, now all products are also expensive. Even potatoes, which Gulnara used to eat for free in her home village in Langer, now have to be paid with 2 Somoni per kilogram. Luckily her elder brother in Langar still sometimes sends her potatoes for their daily need.

Why Gulnara chose to move to Murghab when she had such a paradise-like village in Langar? Her husband is from Murghab. Her husband’s family is all in Murghab. Now it is only Murghab which is her fate of today and tomorrow. “Even if I decided to move to Langar, I wouldn’t have any place there. Of course, life in Langar is much better than here. Nut now Murghab is our home already.”

Despite of today’s low salary of Gulnara, the family cannot be said completely poor. They have a house. A big one with two rooms. One room for summer days, as it’s big and airy. The other room for cold winter days: smaller and warmer. They have toilet outside the house. It seemed the tradition of the Tajiks, not to put toilet inside the house. The family has a TV, with digital satellite. Gulnara has an old electronic oven to bake bread, and the kitchen’s chimney never stops blushing ashes, to the cold sky of Murghab. Thus said, even Gulnara’s salary is lower than a Jakarta beggar (a beggar in Jakarta may earn 60 dollars per month), she never ashamed of her life. Even if Tajikistan’s national budget is embarrassingly low, no people are allowed to be homeless. The communist days had pushed the lowest class of the society to much higher level, brought all people to almost an equal standard. Other Asian countries with much flourished wealth (Indonesia, India, China, etc) are still troubled by homeless, beggars, street crimes, and so on.

Gulnara has a tragedy, and she might be the reflection of Murgab’s community. She has 2 sons and a daughter. Akim and Alim, 16 and 14 years old respectively, are strong young boys, studying in the local Tajik school happily. But the younger sister, Hadisa, 9 years old, has a brain of a 2 year old child. She is retarded. Saliva never stops flowing out of her mouth. An everyday she needs a book to destroy. When she is happy, she always laughs, showing her incomplete teeth. When she is angry, she screams and kicks the wooden platform with her two legs. The 9 year old girls still cannot open the candy wrapper by herself. She is always curious, and tries to reach any strangers or things that she doesn’t know before. Often she frightens the guests and Gulnara has to push her to the corner. She lives in her own world. She doesn’t posses the worry of tomorrow which Gulnoro, Beig, and other people in Murghab owns. She lives in heaven of her own. After some days living with Hadisa, I started to admire her beauty.

Hadisa might be a shame for her family. They never show Hadisa out. Of course, having a retarded girl is not something to be proud of. But nevertheless, Hadisa wins the love of everybody in her house. When she wants to sleep, she cries out and her father kisses her affectionately until she is quiet. When she wakes up, her mother gives her morning kisses and changes her clothing. Her two brothers also like to tease her the whole day. Hadisa is no more a burden to sorrow but God’s gift to grate. My mute interaction with Hadisa, the poor girl, has thought me a lot of lessons, about grate.

Hadisa is not this house’s unique story. The family next door, just separated by a centimeter thick wooden wall, also has their own version of Hadisa. The Kyrgyz family has a boy which is only two months younger than Hadisa, also retarded. Meterbek, the ‘moron’ boy, has little bit more advanced brain development than Hadisa, as he could run himself to the alley and tease the school girls passing. He can speak simple conversation like, “what is your name?”, “how old are you?”, etc only in Kyrgyz language. My interaction with him was mute anyway.

Meterbek and Hadisa are not the only Murghab’s unique stories of shame. Later I saw two or three other retarded children in the neighborhood, all from the same range of age: 9 to 11 years old. This makes me think, what happened to Murghab. Was that the war? Was that the poverty? Gulnoro didn’t give me any answers. She might feel unease with the questions. Most other people from Murghab, for example those from NGO, denies that the phenomenon exists in their town. Later I met a doctor from Murghab in Osh (Kyrgyzstan) who confirmed about those retarded children of Murghab and discusses about the possible causes with me. “Maybe, it is still a maybe, during the civil war, when GBAO was blocked by the central government, there was no food in the area.” Retarded children can be caused when the mother has bad health during her pregnancy. It might be also due to lack of health service during the difficult years: no hospital, no immunization, no medicine. Other guy from an NGO proposed that mental retard can be caused by genetic or anemia. But I wondered whether all of Murgab citizens are carrier of retard genetic. For me, the most possible factor is the civil war, which might be direct or indirect cause of this. One may ask, didn’t the Aga Khan provide the food supply to all people in GBAO during the war, up till 10 kg per commodity per person? But if you notice the age of the retarded babies, most of them were born (or developed in mother’s womb) during the peak of the war, when even the Aga Khan was still negotiating his way to Pamir. Whether it was lack of food, lack of health service, or prolonged mental stress, the war (which never physically came here) had left scars that cannot be erased during the lifetime of those babies.

Life in Murghab, just like life in any frustrated areas, imitates the life of those retarded babies. About 70% to 80% of people are unemployed. Even those who has job, like Gulnoro the school teacher and Dudkhoda’s wife – the bread seller, only earn 20-25 dollars per month. Everything has to be brought from the bazaar. Tajikistan was hit badly by the oil price, and by its own currency. I don’t know why such a financially poor country has to have such a big currency (1 US$ = 3.45 Somoni), which make people tend to round everything to the closest Somoni unit and give up the dirams (1 Somoni = 100 diram). Everything is expensive here, while most people don’t earn even their country’s biggest banknote (100 Somoni, about 30 dollars).

How frustrated and pitiful the bazaar of Murghab. The bread seller only brings 7 to 10 breads to her own little space, and only sells three of them after three hours of waiting. That is 3 Somoni. Young men with nothing to do during the day got drunk after a bottle of vodka, which they brought in share (the money is from unknown reason, but remind you that Murghab is very dangerous after dark!). These men got drunk in the bazaar at the middle of the day, harassing people who did window shopping (in a bazaar without window at all but what you can do besides window shopping when you have no bills at all in your wallet?). Frustration of life brought people back to alcohol virtual fun. Those who still can resist spend their days by just watching the time passes-by: city walk, gossip, or slaughter the time on a chess table.

Murghab might have sad picture of today and still remember the glorious past days. The Lenin statue still stands at the town center. It is said as the only Lenin statue remained in whole Tajikistan. Just next to it is a police station. In front of it is KGB office. Behind it is border military station. The little town is heavily militarized, as the president Imamali said, GBAO is the golden gate way to the golden era of Tajikistan. But anyway, there is not much to do here. The policemen were very bored during patrol time and did nothing else but stopping the Kyrgyz girls to be photographed together (by my camera). The border policemen also work as shepherds in the morning to take their animals to the pastureland, when the day is still freezingly cold. But at least they still have something to do, na?

Murgab is a unique town in Tajikistan. It has important role as a frontier. But the population is not Tajik anymore. The proportion of Tajik-Kyrgyz population was about 30%:70% to 20%:80%. Most of the Kyrgyz population don’t speak Tajik and vice versa. The communication between ethnics were delivered in Russian, the language of the past, the language that has traveled thousands kilometers away from its birthplace to unite Central Asian ethnics in these high mountains. The fact that it is now under the Tajik flag slowly changed the Kyrgyz community here. From the old generation who only know “Tajiki namidonam (I don’t know Tajik)” to the schoolchildren who can talk little bit more advanced Tajik language. The Kyrgyz dominated the bazaar. You can buy easily Kyrgyz kalpak (traditional hat) here rather than the Tajik scull cap. The military and security is heavily dominated by the Tajiks, maybe they still suspect the loyalty of the Kyrgyz nationals, who might be better to be in the neighboring Kyrgyzstan. There are separate schools for the Kyrgyz and Tajik students, which determined the language of education. One day Gulnoro takes me to her class. She teaches every thing, from Tajik language to math. She handles the 4th grade and when I was there they had test. The class was small, only a dozen of students there. It was a very comfortable classroom. Tajikistan, despite of its poverty, still pay heavy attention to the education of their future generation.

I take a look at the text book of ‘Citizenship education’. It was an interestingly good book about Tajikistan political system, the presidency, until explanation of president’s quotes (like ‘water for life – ob baraye hayot'). There are many photos in the book. Akim says he likes that class very much, as he learns a lot about his own country. But when I tested him about the capital cities of the neighboring countries, he didn’t even know the names of the capitals of Moldova, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Pakistan, Latvia, and even the closest neighbor, Kyrgyzstan. He only knows that Moscow is the capital of Russia. Beig, his father, was very upset and ashamed. “I served my military service in Kiev. My children even don’t know where Kiev is!”

The uncertainty and frustration of life was also reflected now in the mind of younger generatins. I asked Olimboy, Gulnoro’s 14 year old boy, “What do you want to be when you grow old?”
He answered, “a driver!”
“A plane’s driver or a bus driver?” I still tried to find explanation to my surprise.
“A bus driver, of course,” Alim was sure.
Tursunboy, a boy from the Kyrgyz neighborhood, was also there, and gave the same answer confidently, “I also want to be a driver!”
Beig seemed very unhappy with his son’s answer. “What is this??? I don’t want to have a child who only wants to be a driver. What life will be? No ideal at all!”
His wife doesn’t think being a driver is a bad thing at all. “What’s wrong to be a driver? In Tajikistan drivers also study in universities!”

In a place where transport is very difficult and it is only people with cars (Alim family doesn’t have car at all) and drive can earn money with full confidence, don’t blame it if the young generation put drivers as their ideal.

Again, I have to copy Gulnoro’s words to conclude life in Murghab. ‘Q’in’ is never overused here. Works are not available, things are expensive. Frustration is reflected by alcohol consumption and empty looks of the retarded children, the steps of the people on the street going to random directions with random motivation. But here I got very precious lesson to learn: being grateful of anything God has already given.

A friend of mine, Rosalina Tobing, works in social political section of the Embassy of Republic of Indonesia in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. She often gets assignments to make reports about political moments in Central Asia.

These days, the thing which people in Tajikistan like to talk about was the presidential election which is going to happen on November 6, 2006. Besides of this, people in GBAO also like to know more about the spiritual leader Aga Khan who visit the area together with the president. Rosalina asked me to get a book for our embassy’s reference, entitled ‘100 Questions and Answers about Tajikistan Presidential Election”. The book is as mythical as the 1001 Nights. I couldn’t find anywhere in Tajikistan (maybe because I always bumped into wrong places all time) but in election booths in the villages in GBAO.

First I saw the book in the community hall , which was magically turned to be an election booth, in Vrang. I tried to ask permission to photocopy it, but the chief of election committee said there was no photocopy machine at all in the village. When I started to take photos of the book with my digital camera, they started to suspect me as a spy. I was taken to the village chief’s room. The village leader was luckily sister of the owner of the house where I was staying. She called to Ishkashim to ask permission of giving me the book, but the district election committee in Ishkashim said unless I had permission from Dushanbe it was forbidden even to photocopy it.

The next time I saw the book was in Langar. Again, in this village there was no photocopy machine, so I didn’t bother even to ask. In Murghab I didn’t proclaim myself anymore as journalist or on embassy’s behalf. I simply said it was myself who was interested in Tajikistan’s presidential election. I met Mr. Qurban, the president of district election commission in Murghab. Election, or in Tajik language ‘intikhobot’, attracted the attention of the people in the area. Mr Qurban showed me the names of the candidates. The candidate of the Islamic party just passed away recently , thus the party didn’t send any presidential candidate. It was not important anyway, as only Imamali Rakhmanov, the recent president, is known by the people nationwide.

Election in Tajikistan is the country’s party of democracy. People may see that Tajikistan is the most democratic among others in Central Asia. Election here is a quiet matter. There is no huge mass campaign on Tajikistan streets. The candidates delivered their promises politely in a podium broadcasted (not live) through the national TV on the news program. The campaign was coincidental the visit of Aga Khan, the Ismaili leader, together with the current president Imamali, to the bridges connecting GBAO to Afghanistan’s Badakhshan province. For the local Ismaili Tajiks, the Aga Khan visit was more interesting and they changed the channel immediately when it comes to the campaign show. “Be-faidah (it’s useless)!” said Ghafur, a policeman, “Imamali will be the president in any way!”

In GBAO many people preferred Imamali to be the president as he successfully brought peace to the land after the civil war. Some others just don’t care about the election as the result is already known, and it’s the fate that nobody can change. Even though Imamali did much less compared to Aga Khan in term of development of GBAO, he is still a strong figure. You can see, everywhere, the president’s quotes on huge signboards throughout the country, like ‘water for life’, ‘Badakhshan is the golden gateway to the golden era of Tajikistan’, ‘everybody who lives in Tajikistan is equal’, etc. I bet these quotes have to be explained and appear in children’s textbooks, which then reminded me to Suharto of Indonesia, Turkmenbashi of Turkmenistan, or Karimov of Uzbekistan. With the strong figure and ‘free campaigns’ like this, for sure, it’s difficult for Imamali’s opponents to replace his image from the mind of the people.

Back to the ‘100 Questions and Answers about Tajikistan Presidential Election’, satisfied by my curiosity and seriousness about the matter, Mr. Qurban promised me to try his best to help me. At first he asked the book keeper to allow me to photocopy the book, but the little boy refused fearing me as a spy. Mr. Qurban then talked with the head of the district. “Gab nist! (no problem at all!)” said him while giving me the little white book, full of questions and answers (as the title might suppose) in both Tajik and Russian languages.

"Pamir will be better.... Pamir will be better...." - Dudkhoda

My first impression of this 39 year old Tajik man was really not so good. this man tried to hug me and kiss me when I was sleeping next to him under the same blanket on the floor in the Kyrgyz restaurant in alichur packed by the Kyrgyz drivers. He also made me to pay his bills in the restaurant. But later I found that he had story worth to tell.

He arranged for me a seat in the Kyrgyz truck, along with him, who returned to his home in Murghab. He was actually a passenger of the truck, not being able to pay the ride with money but offered the drivers a dinner in his hosue in Murghab. I came along with him, sitting along the way to Murghab (100 km) for free. Just near Murghab, there were two military checkpoint. The Kyrgyz drivers failed to do registration and they became easy target of the military man in the small dormitory. "Hey, brother, you should follow the rule of Tajikistan!" angered the military man, slapping the table and threw away the Kyrgyz passports in front of these giant Kyrgyz men, who were now as quiet as naughty boys in front of their angry teacher. The military officers gave them a long speech about Tajikistan law, and it ended up the Kyrgyz had to pay 20 Somoni each. One of the Kyrgyz men couldnt help crying. 20 somoni meant a lot for him. While they were fined 'only' 20 somoni, I spent total 90 Somoni to do the registration in proper way. Bureaucracy devil and corruption virus was still epidemy in Tajikistan, where lonely military officers in the middle of nowhere need something to support their living.

For the free ride, Dudkhoda in turn provided dinner for the Kyrgyz drivers. He just came from Shegnon with a sack of potatos and some bunches of firewood. Dudkhoda's house in in a complex of 'ghost houses'. a fenced complex of a dozen of small broken houses and a devastated factory. The atmosphere was very awkward in this abandoned 'ghost town'. Dudkhoda's house was in one of that ghost houses, and was actually half a house. The 'house' was only a room of 3 x 4 m, where the whole family of 4 people and a cat lived together.

It was the same room for them to sleep and cook. "Murghab is cold, so we took a small house," excused Dudkhoda. There were in total 6 Kyrgyz drivers plus some local women who hitchhiked the trucks up till Osh, whom Dudkhoda had to serve. It was the potatos to be filled to their mouthes, which Dudkhoda's 9 year old daughter prepared. Dudkhoda's wife just came late from the bazaar and she then handled the cooking. Today there was no electricity, the guests were sitting around the small table lightened by a small candle. The guests were divided into three shifts, first drinking tea without sugar. Dudkhoda couldnt afford sugar. It cost 4 somoni per kilogram. The smashed potato then served, which the starving guests didnt spare any second to digest. Dudkhoda, along with his wife and starving kids, watching. I offered Safar Muhammad, the 8 year old son, to eat with us. "We have eaten earlier," he refused. He lied. The Kyrgyz drivers also offered the poor family to share the food. The woman and kids just smiled, while watching the drivers enjoying the smashed potatos. The food was finished less than 5 minutes by these hungry drivers. It was only the soup left on the plate, which Dudkhoda's daughter then licked by her finger and little tongue. The family's cat just watched with its innocent eyes.

Dudkhoda was geologist. Like most other people in Murghab, he was unemployed. He got wages though, directly from the glorious capital of Dushanbe. The wage came once a year, only 250 Somoni. As a geologist, there was no work far here in poor Murghab. He got free accommodation though: the small room half a house in this ghost town complex.

The arrival of foreign NGOs like Acted from France was greeted happily by Dudkhoda and other poor families in Murghab. The NGOs offered many programs for the poverty reduction, and the most significant one was microcredit program. Dudkhoda took 200 dollars credit to start a business. But then he realized 200 dollars was nothing. His business failed. Now his credit had increased a lot due to the 2.5% interest per month. The credit was used by Dudkhoda's wife to sell bread (nan) in the bazaar. Every night she prepared the flour and in the morning she baked the bread, helped by her daughter. She could make up till 10 nan per day, often less. In bazaar it worth 1 somoni per bread. Then if she sold out all of her breads, she would earn 10 Somoni that day. The flour to make 10 nan weighed 5 kilograms and it cost 1.5 Somoni per kilogram. So her net income was only 2.5 Somoni per day, less than 1 dollars, to give live to the four people in the family in a country where everything is expensive. No money to pay the credit. The interest increased every second.

Living in Murghab was difficult, especially in harsh winter like this. Dudkhoda had to bring potatos and fire wood from his family house in shegnon, and begged sympathy from the truck drivers to take him home. Murghab was a Russian settlement, supposed to be a city, where most houses had no land or garden to fulfill the daily needs. An unemployed in Ishkashim could live from his own garden, but one in Murghab should buy everything from the bazaar, and it was not cheap at all. If you were penniless in this wild town on the roof of the world, you were finished!

Dudkhoda was an Ismaili. For him, being poor shouldnt stop one to be hospitable. That was the reason of suffering huber by himself but still gave the best to the guests. The hardship of life didnt stop him to serve guests.

"Pamir will be better... Pamir will be better..." he was optimistic. "The life under the Soviet was good. Everybody had job, everybody was fulfilled. But we became stupid that way. Everything was decided from the central. We just needed to do what was said. Our mind didnt work. Now it is democratic. Lif is harder, but now our mind works. We have to think how to sustain life. This is better. Even now life is difficult, but I am sure that slowly, someday, Pamir will be better. Pamir will be better."

Actually I planned to stay for some more days in Langer, but I have heard that the transport onward to Murghab would be very difficult to get. This was caused by the high oil price, so people couldnt afford anymore to travel, and instead of going to smaller and hopeless Murghab they opted to bigger Khorog. Suddenly, even when I was not prepared yet, there was a passenger jeep going to Murghab on 27th. The khalifa told me if I didnt take this car, the next transport might be a month after. I had no choice but to leave Langar.

The road continued to east along the river bordering Afghanistan. afghanistan on that side of the river had no more motorable road as it already entered the Big Pamir area. Sometimes caravans of Bactrian camels were visible along the dirt road on that side of the river, while we were travelling in a russian jeep. World differed more than a century in the two sides of the river, which was very shallow and narrow in winter. It should be very easy to cross the border illegally here. The camel caravan must be the Afghan (Pashtun) traders bringing dairy products purchased from the Kyrgyz nomads in Pamir. I regretted not being able to visit the Afghan Pamir to observe the life of the Kyrgyz there.

One of the passengers in the jeep was a driver. He had an accident two weeks before, and caused death of a young child. The child's parents were in the car also. When we passed where the accident happened, just across Afghanistan, all passengers got out and had prayers. The parents couldnt help not to cry. the tears remained in their eyes for hours after, and remained longer in their heart.

After the passport check in Khargush, the road left the Afghan border and headed to the Pamir Highway in interior GBAO. The car stopped in Alichur for dinner, at 10. I decided to stay in Alichur while other passengers continued to Murghab.

This was a small restaurant (stalovaya), packed by Kyrgyz truck drivers. The restaurant owner was a Kyrgyz lady and not speaking Tajik at all. It was dark, scary, with barks of the dogs heard every second. Eerie atmosphere indeed. I was in Tajikistan but I felt being in another country so sudden, without preparation.

When all the Tajik passengers left to Murghab, I was left alone among the Kyrgyz who didnt speak any of Tajik language. My Persian words brought me no more further here. Luckily there was a Tajik man from Shegnon who was going to Murgab (Murghab) by the Kyrgyz truck and promised to bring me along until Murghab. His name is Dudkhoda.

With my broken Russian I suceeded to break the ice between me and the drivers, and even the scary restaurant lady. The ladyowner was Tajik citizen, but Dudkhoda had to speak with her in Russian. Despite of the 15 years independence from the Soviet Union, the Central Asian countries couldnt leave the shade of the Soviet times. Most interesting to know as about Naser, a 10 year old boy, son of the Kyrgyz ladyowner. He spoke Tajik, as he was taught in the school. His name is also Islamic (Arabic), common for Tajik people but not for Kyrgyz, who prefer to give Kyrgyz names derived from the nomadic history. His younger brother, Aziz, 8 years old, spoke worse Tajik. The neighbor boy, Umer, 5 years old, spoke none but Kyrgyz language, because he didnt go to school yet. I looked at Naser's geography book. It was in Kyrgyz language. I saw some chapters about 'our fatherland - Kyrgyzstan', 'our heroes', national anthem, national flag, cosat-of-arms, and information about Kyrgyzstan cities and regions. Tajikistan respeted the Kyrgyz minority in their country as part of their Tajikistan citizens, provide them education about their language and culture. But the textbooks were simply taken from Kyrgyzstan without any alteration, made me wonder whether the Kyrgyz Tajik boys raised under this system of education would have double nationalism. Like Nasir who could sing the Kyrgyzstan national anthem, as well as the Tajik one, "zindabosh e vatan Tajikistan e azadi man...."

The plain around Alichur should be very green and fertile during the summer months, and it should be perfect place for the Kyrgyz nomad to herd their cattle. The town of Alichur had many houses, all in similar block architecture, without gate, scattered around the plain. There were many big dogs, sign of nomad herdsmen community. Majority of the people here were Kyrgyz, Sunni Muslim sect followers. They had very distinctive Mongoloid physical features: small eyes, small noses, which made them very different from the Tajiks. Nasir, in my eyes, looked more like a Chinese boy.

Jehangir, 22, one of the Kyrgyz drivers from Osh taught me little bit Kyrgyz language,. The grammar seemed not that difficult, but I barely knew any vocabulary and my Russian limitation didnt allow me to go further. But now I could imitate the little boys saying: "Ata mekenim..., Kyrgyzstan!!! (My father land is Kyrgyzstan!)"

Three months ago, on July 31st exactly, I came to this little bridge. That time I was coming with the Shah (the King) of Panjah, district officials of Khandud, and Afghan soldiers. At that time, we were there to see the opening of the bridge and overwhelmed by the optimistism of the desperate Wakhi people from Afghan side, about the change of their future by this new border. Today, I am at the other side of the bridge, seeing the barren hills of Afghanistan with all of its hopes, from Tajikistan side, with Mulloev Yodgor Dildorovich, the khalifa (religious leader)-cum-teacher of Langar.

Yodgor was among those who were overwhelmed by millions of mixed feelings when the border was opened, only for one day. On August 1, 2006, there was held an Afghan bazaar just next to the bridge in Langar side. The people from Afghanistan Wakhan Corridor were coming from all directions, from as far as Khandud and Sarhad-e-Boroghel, to attend this rare moment. So were people from Tajikistan side. This was not merely a moment of trading, but also a moment of reunion of families badly affected by the separation done by the colonial powers. Yodgor's aunt crossed the river (there was no bridge) in 1936, then married to a man in Ghoz Khan, the village just opposite Langar at the other side of the river. In 1938, the border between Russian empire and British India was strictly enforced, signified by the existance of British soldiers at the present-day Afghanistan side, and Russian soldiers at the present-day Tajiksitan side. Suddenly, nobody was allowed anymore to cross the river, which they used to cross frequently. Yodgor's aunt never saw her birthland anymore, and Yodgor's father never saw his sister anymore. This 'axe partition' had split families, relatives, for ever, when nobody expected any reunion in the future.

70 years had passed. Yodgor's father had left the world without seeing his beloved sister anymore, sespite maybe seeing the sillhouete of hers, as Ghoz Khan was jsut a village visibile from this side of the river. Yodgor was raised with stories about his lost aunt in the other side of the river.

Meanwhile, Yodgor's aunt had born and raised a child named Wali Jon, who later became the head of the village of Ghoz Khan. This Wali Jon was also the same man coming along with hundreds of villagers from Afghan side of the valley to the international bazaar held for the first time in Langar, with a handheld video camera which made the only record of this moment in Afghanistan.

Wali Jon and Yodgor were cousins separated by a river, but only a very rare opportunity like this bazaar that re-united them. Wali Jon had brought a beautiful precious stone neckless for Yodgor's wife, Gulchera. Gulchera also came to the bazaar and she couldnt express how happy she was when seeing the beloved Wali Jon.

I personally knew Wali Jon. I stayed in his house when I was in Ghoz Khan. Three months had passed. There was a promise to hold this bazaar next to the Langar bridge monthly, but the August party was the first and last up till now. How Gulchera missed Wali Jon. How happy Gulchera was when I showed her photos of Wali Jon and his son which I took when I was in Ghoz Khan. How Gulchera couldnt believe that the foreign stranger coming from nowhere bringing her back the memory of the cousin-in-law at the other side of the river, visible but unreachable. How Gulchera wanted to tell the Highness Aga Khan to hold this bazaar more frequently so she could see Wali Jon much more often. How Gulchera...

Yodgor and Wali Jon were only one among thousands of similar stories here.

The optimistic dreams of the people in Afghan and Tajik side ended up as dream. The border was only opened for that day, the bazaar day. and not opened any more until now. No border crossing was allowed, and even the planned monthly bazaar had never had to its second time yet.

I came back to the bridge, also to recall my memories. I was at the other side of the bridge, with all of the disorientation of Afghan offices with all of their dreams and hopes. I was living in Afghan side of the village and was seeing Tajikistan as a dreamland. Now I was in this side of the bridge. It was quiet, almost died. The eerie atmosphere almost brought the soldiers to death of boredom. These young soldiers were actually serving 2 year compulsory military service. It was compulsory for Tajik youth and they had to prepare to be placed anywhere to do anything, including guarding this lonely bridge. Other than free uniforms, food, and accomodation, they only got 1 to 2 dollars per month for 'cigarette money'.

Temperature went down slowly in Kangar as the days pinched deeper to the other end of the calendar. The leaves turned golden and red, the farmes started to read the field for preparation of spring planting season; children studied happily in the little classrooms. Other than that, Langar was just another beautiful but quiet village. This made me really wonder what the bazaar would be. What Langar had to sell in the bazaar where most of the people were unemployed and not much production. Ghoz Khan was another village with same sense. What made the people of the two sides of the river bothered to come from far away villages to attend the bazaar with dreams that they can obtain everything in their fantasy?

The Afghans came enthousiastically, on donkeys, horses, trucks, and sheep. They were all males. The siashar (literally in Persian means 'black head', denote the Afghan women) were not allowed to come. The Afghans brought with them imported tea and glasses (made in Indonesia!) as well as those exotic dresses and acessories. The Tajikistanis, with reliable good flow from Ishkashim, brought the daily needs from electronics to metal bars for the Afghans to buy. Even that both sides of the river were just tiny villages, the international bazaar was actually profitable. But then why it was halted?

To answer this, I met the captain of Tajik border soldiers, Mr Tillo. His name means 'gold'. He was actually a close friend cum neighbor of Khalifa Yodgor. I saw Tillo three months ago, and Tillo also saw me, from each end of the bridge. Tillo and his commander then crossed the bridge to the Afghan side to sign the agreement with Afghan officials. I was taking pictures of the moment. No words were exchanged between us.

Three months later, I found myself sitting in Tillo's house while he was busy serving me tea and dinner. Tillo still remembered my face from our brief meeting. He had talent of being soldier commander as he almost cant forget any face he had met.

"We stopped the border bazaar because we were lack of facility. There was no customs, passport control, quarantine, nothing. I was there just to collect tax from the traders, that's all. I am only a soldier. But of course we have hopes that the next bazaar will take place soon. But when, nobody knows," said Tillo about the bazaar. Actually I found that people from boths sides, Afghans and Tajiks, were so eager to have the bazaar being held frequently, as it brought so much benefit to the economically sleepy villages. At this moment, the Afghans had to solve the hassle of currency, as their Afghani money was not accepted at all in Tajikistan. they could exchange their money to Tajik somoni from the bazaar of Ishkashim, where bigger bilateral bazaar is held weekly. Will bazaar of Langar develop like that of Ishkashim?

"We hope so," said Tillo, "as Aga Khan will come here, together with the presidents of Tajikistan and Afghanistan. There is even possibility that Hamid Karzai will cross the bridges (there were 3 bridges to be innaugurated: Khorog, Ishkashim and Langar) to come to Tajikistan. This Langar bridge is very important, because it connects three countries together: Tajikistan, Afghanistan, and Pakistan, which has significant meaning. The current connection to Pakistan through the Chinese border in Qulma then to Karakoram, said the Highness Aga Khan, was too far. It is 2000 km in distance. With the border to Ghoz Khan, then continued to Pakistan through Sarhad e Boroghil, Tajikistan will get very close to Pakistan. But still development in Afghanistan side is needed, as currently one needs 3 days to reach Boroghel from Ghoz Khan."

It was indeed a rare opportunity to interview an important man like Tillo. I used this chance to aske everything I wanted to know about the border crossing. "That was true, that there were many illegal border crossers, without passport, without visa, especially from Tajikistan to Afghanistan. But it was when we had war, and we were very weak. That was in between 1993 and 1995. But now we have strong control. You can see our soldiers patrolling along the river. We have money and equipment. I earned my self 100 dollars per month, and the soldiers get free food, clothes, accommodation, weapon, and much money. We are strong. And security in Afghan side is also stronger. Now you can try to cross the river, if they dont put you in jail. It is also the same here!" He mentioned a name of an illegal border crosser from Khandud that was now in Tajikistan jail. The river was indeed very small in winter and easy to cross, but dont play your life by crossing this fatal line.

But with bridges connecting severly separated communities of brothers and sisters, with bridges connecting emerging economic powers, new hope and dreams were to be connected towards reality.

Travelling in Tajikistan side of the Wakhan Corridor was as difficult as in Afghanistan side. Public transport was rare, the oil price got higher as the altitude got higher. It was 3.50 Somoni per liter of petrol here. No one was sure when the coming transport would come. And even when it came, it was often full, no space to share. It was indeed luck to be able to travel according to what one has planned. I was patient enough even though I worried about my short visa.

Dr Akhmed was a doctor in Tughoz. I was waiting for transport to Vrang, 5 km away from tughoz, in his hospital. As the main doctor in this village, he earned only 50 Somoni per month. You would go nowhere with that amount of money in Tajikistan. But everybody was optimistic with his life. Working with little income was still better rather than begging on the streets. I have heard beggars in Jakarta could earn at least 60 dollars per month, about 280 Somoni, or 4 times higher than Dr Akhmed’s income.

I was packed in a passenger’s coach going to Vrang, cost 3 Somoni for a ride. I arrived in Vrang without knowing where to go. I met a woman on the street who happily told me that she met the Shah of Panjah, Saeed Ismail (known as Shah Ismail), the religious leader of Ismailis who now lived in Afghanistan side of the river. She said that Shah Ismail came to Tajikistan side of the river for several times. She herself went to Afghanistan side during the Civil War of Tajikistan and sheltered in Qala Panjah for 4 months. She was one among hundreds of people who fled to Afghanistan. How about the military and KGB? They understood the hardship of the people and let them to cross the bridge, illegally. It was indeed a difficult situation for everybody. The woman, who was chewing naswer (1 in 100 women did this), offered me to her house as her husband was a history teacher and she was sure her husband could recount more.

But I met another villager of Vrang, of which made me adoring how high level of education in this poor country. He was an unemployed since the war, but he could mention the four main islands of Indonesia: Kalimantan, Sumatra, Sulawesi, and Java. He was surprised when I told him that Indonesia actually had 5 main islands instead of 4. But how many taxi drivers in Jakarta could name 3 main provinces of Tajikistan?

I was invited by Khursed, a young man of 33 years old, who was building a shop next to the main road. He was another unemployed man from the GBAO, despite of his education as a geologist. But he was luckier. His younger brother worked in London for the Aga Khan organization and his sister was the head of the kishlok (village). His house was big and beautiful, and his cute baby, Omed, brought the laughter to the whole family every minute. Khurshed had another younger baby, just 2 weeks old.

I had dinner together with the family. I noticed when having meals, it was always the male family members and the eldest son eating with me together and the women of the family together with other children ate on the platform behind. I wondered whether it was part of Ismaili teachings to segregate sexuality like the Sunnis and Shiites. Later Khurshed explained to me, it was because of special condition of having guests. When there were no guests, the males and females of the family eat together on the same mattress.

“I don’t observe fasting, but I perform namaz (prayers)”, said Khurshed. The Ismailis were much relaxed about observing fasting in the Ramazan fasting month, compared to the other Muslims. The Ismaili’s prayer was also different from Sunnis and Shiites. The position only included sitting position, no standing at all. It also included a motion of blessing, in Indonesian we called it as ‘sembah’, to right and left side, which means ‘imam didar’, respects to the Imams. Khurshed said as they didn’t have concrete jemaatkhana (prayers’ hall), the mass Friday prayers were done in a follower’s house, and ever week there was turn in whose house the prayers would be performed. Jemaatkhana, which mushroomed in Ismaili regions in Northern Pakistan and Afghanistan, was actually enforced by the Highness Aga Khan, and at that time Tajikistan was already under the Soviet rule, where there was huge repression to religious activities. This is why no jemaatkhana existed in ex-Soviet Ismaili regions jemaatkhana didn’t exist (yet).

How the Ismailis split from the Shiites? The 6th Imam had two sons, the Shiite followed the one and the Ismailis followed the other one. The line of Imams of the Shiites stopped after the 11th Imam as this Imam didn’t have son, which was important to continue the blood line of the Prophet. The Shiites were now still waiting for the coming of the 12th Imam, whom they referred as Imam Mahdi. The Ismailis continued the line until now and Aga Khan was their 49th Imam. Both sects regarded that themselves followed the most correct line. In fact, many of the Sunnis and Shiites in Iran, Pakistan, and Afghanistan regarded the Ismailis are not Muslims.

The person who brought Ismailism to Central Asia was Nassir Khusrau in the 12th century. At this moment, the main followers of Ismailism in Central Asia included the Pamiri Tajik community in the GBAO of Tajikistan, Hunza and Gojal (Pakistan), Wakhan Corridor and Pul-e-Khumri (Afghanistan), Tashkurgan (China), and some other pockets in India, Iran, and Afghanistan. Ismailis are known for their moderate thinking, high education, and high social role, especially in Pakistan and India. The sect doesn’t have mosque (masjid), and prayers were done mostly as private matters. There was jemaat khana (prayers hall) for religious purposes such as mass prayers or wedding ceremony (nikoh). The religious leaders for Ismaili communities are khalifa and muki. The khalifa dealt more with social problems while mukis with religious problems, like conducting prayers and solving religious questions in the jemaatkhana. But the Ismaili community in Tajikistan, not only missing the jamaatkhana, but they also didn’t have muki. The duties of the muki, for example the nikoh (wedding) legitimating, were done by the khalifa instead.

Being a minority during the Civil War had brought much suffering to the Ismaili Community in Tajikistan. The isolation of the central government had left many people now unemployed. People with high education worked and earned much less than their qualification. Just like Khurshed and most other people in Vrang. People said that unemployment rate in Vrang once reached 95%, but ireally depended on how you define ‘unemployment’. If you regarded people with no formal work and spend their most time in their own garden and field or herding the animals, or car owners who spend their days in the village road to collect passengers and depart once in a week, as unemployed, then it was indeed the fact that almost all of people in Vrang were unemployed. But it didn’t mean that they had nothing to eat as they had some assets.

The village of Vrang, in this cold season, really seemed as village where almost nobody had work and spent time by hanging around on the street. The bazaar was sleepy, and there were only 4 kiosks along the 2 km long main road of the village. There was no beggar here as it was considered a big shame. Somehow the communist years had brought everybody grueling on an almost equal line.

People also didn’t have much expectation with the coming election. There was an audience hall in the village which was zipped to be a voting point. There would be 540 voters in the village and 7 people working in the village election committee. Dushanbe provided some books about information of the election, but even one of the committee members told me that the books meant nothing to him. I wanted to get a copy of a book titled ‘100 questions and answers about Tajikistan presidential election’, but the head of the village couldn’t make decision whether to give me the booklet or not. She made several telephone calls as far as to Khorog to ask for directions from her leaders. The answer was ‘bebakshid (sorry)’.

About the history, Vrang also had curious pre-Islamic relics like the Zoroastrianism fire worshiping platforms (known locally as Kafir Qala – fort of the infidels) and Buddhist caves on the cliff. The village itself was quite big and widespread, facing the village of Izmut on the Afghan side of the river. The road was wide and asphalted, but it was indeed empty and sleepy.

I just stayed in Khurshed’s house for a night, but I already felt I was part of the family. When I was lingering the village, Khurshed’s mother called my name and asked me to go to home for lunch. Actually there was nowhere else in the village selling food and meals only can be had in private houses. Even when I got to leave after waiting for public transport the whole day, Khurshed’s mother insisted me to take some bread for me to eat on road. Even life was difficult that they didn’t have much to share, but there was always the spirit of sharing anything could be shared.

The hospitality of people in Wakhan made me embarrassed of myself.

His name is Tuloev Aliboy Jumakhanovich, an unemployed man who sometimes work as driver, 33 years old. He greeted me, "We, Ismailis, dont go for hajj in Mecca. We dont waste our money for hajj. But our leader says, providing shelter and food for poor traveller, the mosafers, that is our hajj pilgrimage." That is the reason of the hospitality of the Ismailis. No matter that there is no even wheat to make bread, being hospitable to a guest is compulsory. Aliboy sheltered me in his traditional house. There were his old father, Jumakhan, 72 years old, the old mother, sisters, cousins, and children in his little house. People of the Pamir are said to have long ages, like Jumakhan's grand father who lived until 120 years old of age. Maybe it was because of the pure water. Aliboy had no job, even though he had a car. Here we could observe how live reduced dramatically to its modest form since the breakaway of the USSR. From a car owner to be an unemployed whou couldnt sustain sufficient income for basic needs, life have never been easy afterwards.

The situation in Tajikistan was much worsened by the Civil War. But every Badakhshanis was thankful to the great spiritual leader, the Highness Aga Khan, who provided a new life in this almost died area due to the complete isolation. "When we had civil war, Aga Khan Foundation provided us everything: oil, wheat, rice, sugar, milk,...., it's just everything. It was about 10 kg, even 20 kg per person. So imagine, that if a family had 10 people, they cuold get 200 kg or even more, per month!". But as life had turned better now, the aid had been reduced to be only 2 kg per quarta (3 months) now. Nevertheless, it was still Aga Khan who provided life here.

During the civil war, life was bad, that many people turned to Afghanistan to get food supply and shelter. But in 2001, the situatin in Tajikistan was much stabile, and Aliboy was among the luckiest to get a job as truck driver to send food aid to Afghanistan. He mentined some big organization names he used to work with, like Aga Khan Fondation, WFPm and Red Cross. At that time in Tajikistan, the only people with job were mostly drivers.

Talking about the glorious past, Juma Khan liked the Soviet very much. He mentioned, among the modernization, it was the Russian who stopped the opium culture in Wakhan valley. Before the Soviet occupation, the opium was consumption of the people in both sides of the river, but the Soviet then punished the drug users and traffickers, and brought a fullstop to this side of the river. At the isolated Afghan side there, opium was still a rampant social disease, even until today.

As the national presidential election was coming, I was also curious about what people thought and also about their hope in the coming election. "What election! This president will be president again. This is for sure. The first election was in 1992. In 1994 we had election which Rakhmanov became president. The constitution said we would have election every 5 years so we had second election in 1999. He changed the constitution again, that election (intikhobot) will be every 7 years, that will be this year!" How about Aga Khan who was going to visit GBAO at the end of this month together with the president? "Aga Khan is not political. People know that. He just comes to innaugurate the bridges with Afghanistan, nothing more. I am also not political, but I dont think people here will consider Imamali Rakhamanov is connected with the Highness." Aliboy had seen aga Khan twice, in Ishkashim and Langar, in Aga Khan's previous visits, and now he wished to see the adored man for the third time.

Aliboy's house was very traditional, but still much more modern compared to those in Afghanistan side of the river. From this river side, I could see Khandud at the AFghansitan side. The village of Tyghoz is opposite the village of Izzyk in Afghan side, and 2 km upper there are Yamg in Tajik side and Khandud in Afghan side. When I saw Khandud far away from here, all of my memories of the village were replayed again in my mind: about those fanatic Sunni traders from Afghan Ishkashim who asked me why I didnt perform namaz. The river had shrunk in winter. What was majestic 100 m wide river now turned to be small streams. But life of the two sides of the river were not only separated by time dimension, but also by mind evolution.

Almost vertically beyond Tyghoz through the steep hills, there was the meain attraction of the area: The Bibi Fatima spring, which is believed to bring fertility to the pilgrims. Aliboy asked his nephew, Bazaarboy, to accompany me. Bazaarboy was 16, but he looked much younger. The mountain path was for sure not for me, so the small boy helped me a lot in climbing the steep cliff through donkey paths up till Yamchun fort (curiously had a Chinese-like name). About 2 km away, there was the hot water spring, where men and women came for a dip. I went to male's section and saw boys swimming without wearing anything. I just realized today was Eid-ul-Fitr, the day marking the end of the holy month of Ramazan, and always a big festival for the Muslims. Bazaarboy had 1 day holiday from the school, so he went with me to the spring. But hou could I fail to recognize Eid earlier? I was now living in Ismaili Muslim populated area, where most people didnt observe even fasting. I often forgot now was Ramazan since I entered GBAO as I, as other people, ate and drunk freely during the days. Many people said fasting 9 days in the month was enough, but many others just didnt bother to do it at all. "I dont have time," said Fakhriddin, a student of English faculty in Khorog's University of Central Asia. For many, fasting was just time wasting.

For Ismailis, of course Eid was still an important day. They celebrated one day earliar than the Sunni majority, and it was limited to family matter. The most significant activity was visiting graaves of ancestors and relatives. No mass prayers nor dance celebration. Eid just passed, almost missed by me, in the Wakhan Corridor where the Tajik Ismaili lives. It was a normal holiday, where boys like Bazaarboy and other people from nearby villages went to hot spring for a nice hot shower. It was just a one day off, not more than that.

Eid Mubarak!

"Now you are not guest anymore. You are part of our family. Welcome!"
- Muhammad Bodurbekov

Since the first minute I arrived in Ishkashim, I was impressed by the hospitality of the people in the Wakhan Valley. I was invited by Muhammad Bodurbekov, 29, to his house in the village. Muhammad, alias Alisher, worked in Dushanbe in Aga Khan's NGO, MSDSP. He had classes in Khorog and he then had chance to see his family in Ishkashim. He spent a month in the UK for his higher education, and he still maintained his British accent. Alisher was an educated professional and he had so many things to discuss. So before starting, let's sit on the 'kurpacha', the guest welcome matress, which Alisher laid between the pillars of Ali and Muhammad. Sitting on the kurpacha symbolized the acceptance of the welcome gesture from the host.

In this house there were Alisher's father, mother, sister, and some nephews and nieces. Alisher sister was married already but she was staying in her parents' house. She was married to a man from Shegnon and according to the Shegnon tradition, the first child should be born in the mother's parents' house. Alisher's other sister was in Moscow and she let her parents to grow her son and daugher. Alisher's mother still work as a primary school's headmistress and his father was enjoying pension of 93 Somoni per month. Alisher had a twin sister, and now was in local hospital due to last week's car accident.

Alisher's parents' house was a modernized version of traditional Pamiri house, with the main characteristic of the five pillars. This traditional house dated back far before the arrival of Islam, but then each symbol was linked to Islam. The hall was very big, much bigger than those I used to see in Pakistan and Afghanistan sides. It was a very bright room with very big skulight hole, where the sunlight came to illuminate all of the corners of the room. It had also huge glass window, something that was less commonly used in Paksitan and Afghanistan. The wall was covered by traditional designed textile, and as later I found in all Ismaili houses in this valley, this room also had a photo of the Highness Aga Khan.

Alisher's family didnt sleep in this room. I bet this room, considering its wide space, was used in summer. In winter they used a smaller, but much warmer room nearby. "This is a common room in all of Tajikistan. All houses in Tajikistan have this kind of room. But that 'Pamiri house' is unique only in Badakhshan's culture," said Alisher. This smaller room had also a photo of Aga Khan on the wall. Alisher's mother cooked and made the bread here. With all of the modernization the Soviet introduced, thandoor (traditional mud stove to make bread, which is a hole on ground) is no longer used here. Instead gas stove can be found here, making food was much easier. Alisher's sister's little baby was sleeping in the craddle (guwara). He was only one and half month, and yet had a name. Manoucher, Alisher's 7 year old nephew, kept swinging the craddle to kept the baby cousin sleep soundlessly.

Life in Ishkashim was peaceful now. "There were lots of tension in GBAO, between each ethnic group: Shegnon, Wakhani, and even Pamiri. People were hungry and the war brought more tension," Alisher observed about the life during the civil war. He also reminded me the fact that there were more Tajiks crossed the border to Afghanistan during the war here, and not the other way round. It was Pamir Relief, one of Aga Khan's organizations, which brought the food to the isolated GBAO during its difficult time. When the situation was improved, Pamir Relief changed its name to be MSDSP, an NGO to support the development in Tajikistan's GBAO (now extended to Tajikistan's two other provinces). Some interesting projects of the NGO included introducing alternative non-agricultural production to the villages. This was remarkable as people in Tajikistan's GBAO usually had less land and animals compar

India: Negeri Berjuta Warna, published by Harian Analisa (Medan, Indonesia) on September 10th, 2006.

It is just separated by a river. But the live over there is a world away.

Khorog and Ishkashim are connected by a stretch of a 106 km long asphalted road. It is a 3 hour journey with public jeep, but cost as much as 20 Somoni (6 $). Despite of lack of money that people earn, everything in Tajikistan is very expensive as the country produces almost nothing remarkable but water and electricity.

The road to Ishkashim as along the Panj river, with Afghanistan Badakhshan province at the other side. The river itself had not strong stream (as the temperature is already quite low at this moment) and was not wide at all. Afghanistan is just less than 20 m from here, but the life there is a world away.

While we are traversing smooth road of Tajikistan with a jeep, the road over there is complete dirt road and you may observe Afghan travellers wandering the world on donkeys. When women passengers in our jeep in Tajikistan side sit aside the other male passengers, talk and sing freely during the journey, an Afghan woman completely covered by blue veil, wears long loose trousers, and passes the other direction on a donkey behind her husband. In this side of the river, electric poles queue in line, as they were ridiculing the other side of the river which has nothing but yellowing grass.

Afghanistan is visible from here, as Tajikistan is visible from there. An old woman, whose house is just next to the river in that side, was drying animal thongs on roof of her house, waved her hands and smiled happily when seeing our jeeps passing in this side of the river. It is just a 20 metre wide river, but separated both sides at least the distance from earth to the clouds. It is roughly visible, but only imagination is permitted to pass through the distance, land on the limit of fantasy about the live on the other world. The imagination lingering in people’s mind is about the life just across the river, with all of its regrets and gratefulness of fate and destiny.

For the Tajikistan people, aside about the ugly visible appearance of Afghanistan from this river side, not much is known about the life on that world across the river. Muhammad, a fellow passenger, told me, “In Soviet time, they (the Russians) told us to be aware from the Afghans. They said that the Afghans were dangerous people and they would cross the river and come here. We were not allowed to look at that side. We were not allowed to point our finger there, as the Afghans would come here.” There was a certain effort from the Communist leader to propagate, to put the concept that the Moscow government wanted the people to swallow, about the badness of the Afghans.

The border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan was drawn not more than 150 years ago, and it used the Panj River (Amu River) as natural border. Sounds like natural, the Soviet and British actually sliced the world with a sharp axe, which then divided many villages and relatives by completely impassable invisible wall.

The invisible wall between Tajikistan and Afghanistan, the Panj River, for me meant a lot. I have been to both sides of the river. Three months ago I was in the Ishkashim of Afghanistan, looking at Tajikistan and heard what people there imagined about their secular brothers. Now I am in Tajikistan side, looking at Afghanistan and hearing what the Tajik citizens telling about their warring neighbour. Looking at Afghanistan was a pain in my heart, seeing the dirt, undeveloped villages which I just struggled around in past few months. It brought me all of the memory of gruelling around the country, which the people in this Tajikistan side of the river regarded as underdeveloped country locked in history.

“Actually it was not the Afghans who then crossed the border. When there was Civil War in Tajikistan, it was people from here who crossed the river to Afghanistan,” said Muhammad, “and by the time, the Afghan might ridicule us, ‘see we had twenty years of wars and we don’t go to your country, but you just had a short civil war you came to our country.’” The civil war which then isolated GBAO of Tajikistan from outside world had brought so much sorrow the people in this area. Feared by huge wave of refugees, the CIS soldiers controlled the river border in Wakhan area very, very tightly, nobody was allowed to get close to the river. Thus there were many refugees succeeded made their way as far as Pakistan and China.

Now is still the month of Ramazan, the Muslim holy month of fasting. But nobody in our jeep was fasting. The car stopped in a chaikhana (restaurant) and all passengers went for lunch. The driver even drank vodka together with some other friends. Vodka was introduced by the Russians, and most of the Afghans never touched it, especially in the month of Ramazan during fasting time. I know the people on that river side of Afghanistan are also Ismaili Muslims, but I wonder whether most people there also fast 9 days in Ramazan and drink vodka during the days like people in this side.

Sharif, a doctor from Tajikistan Ishkashim, had been to the Afghan Ishkashim. As a doctor he, with some nurses, went there as medical team. They needed neither passport nor visa, as they had special duty. What Sharif thought about Ishkashim of Afghanistan?
“Life here is better than there. Over there the people are not educated. It is also difficult,” Sharif then told me in detail, “for woman patients they only allowed female nurses. When I was there, there were many women patients but not enough female doctors. I wanted to help, but they didn’t allow me. ‘No, it’s not possible,’ said them. The doctors there are also not experienced or educated. Even they make mistakes in writing prescriptions. Medicine is also not widely available.”
Sharif saw Afghan Ishkashim from his spectacles as a doctor.
“So there is nothing that Afghanistan is better than Tajikistan?”
“Nothing.”
“But I have heard that people there saying Afghans had nothing but money, Tajikistan had everything but no money.”
“Yes. For that you are right. Here people don’t have money. A big director here may earn 200 Somoni per month, not even a hundred dollar.”
In fact many people in Tajikistan earn less than 50 Somoni per month while price of everything is crushing the poor souls.

Sharif earn 80 Somoni to 100 Somoni per month, but when he worked in Afghanistan he got 50 Somoni per DAY, with not much work to do. What most interested him, that in the fundamentalist country, when he had to check a female patient. If the patient had a toothache, the patient will be put behind a curtain, where there was a small hole. The patient would open her mouth behind the curtain exactly on the hole and Sharif had to check her from the other side of the curtain, so he only saw the teeth of the patient and not any other part of her body. The same when a patient had a pain in hands or legs.

Ishkashim also suffered a lot from the high price of the goods in Tajikistan since the oil price rise. Sugar cost 1 dollar per kg here, and rice was 3 Somoni/kg. Thanks to isolation of GBAO. But the new bridge with Afghanistan opened nearby, with an access to weekly international market on a neutral island on the river, has brought many good things. At first I wondered what people really could trade here. At this side of the river, there is no production at all, and so was Ishkashim on that side of the river. Later I found that the traders from Tajikistan sold motor spare parts and iron material and they imported agricultural products from Afghanistan. Muhammad’s uncle even sold vodka to the Afghans, and it was a very good business. “It cost 7 Somoni per bottle but I can sell at 15 Somoni. They buy a lot.” Despite the fact that it is an Islamic country, Afghanistan doesn’t strictly implement ban on alcohol.

Corruption scandals also overshadowed Tajikistan. The bridge itself cost 35,000 US$ from the national budget, said a woman resident of Ishkashim, but actually the foundation of the bridge was already laid down by the Soviet. So the Tajikistan government was actually only painted and decorated it, and it should not cost 35,000 US$ for that job. The bridge is located few kilometres from Ishkashim, and didn’t look grand at all. For these two weeks the Afghan bazaar is closed, a pity as I wanted to observe the atmosphere of the international trading. This was due to the visit of the President Imamali Rakhmanov together with the Ismaili spiritual leader, the Aga Khan. One may also question why the president chose to come together with the Ismaili leader while in his policy he neglected much about development in the Ismaili dominated GBAO province. But everything about politics is very sensitive now, as the Tajik election is coming in next month.

Muhammad, whose nickname is Alisher, invited me to his house in Ishkashim. The city of Tajik Ishkashim is a small town with a main road with tidy houses along the road, and a small bazaar. The city is cool and quiet, with friendly neighbourhood where almost everybody knows everybody else. The houses are walled. The main material is stones, as that is what this area rich of. Alisher is an MSDSP staff from Dushanbe, and from him I learnt a lot about the programs of the NGO.

Alisher’s house is a Pamiri traditional house. Actually there are two parts of his house, one part is the normal Tajik style house where the family cooks and has dinner. The other part is the Pamiri house, which has characteristics which is shared by the houses in Chapursan (Pakistan) and Wakhan (Afghanistan). The Pamiri houses date back since the pre-Islamic time, when the area was influenced by Zoroastrianism. The ventilation four edged hole, where the natural illumination from the sun brighten the room comes, symbolized the four elements of the world: fire, air, earth, and water. The five pillars in the main room symbolize Muhammad, Ali, Fatima, Hassan and Hussain (the two brothers, sons of Imam Ali, are the two pillars joined together leading to the entrance door, and located at the same side as the pillar of Fatima). The connection between the pillars to the Islamic Prophet’s family actually started just after the area converted to Islam. The history of Pamiri houses (khuneuni chid) dated far before Islam.

Compared to the same style of houses in Northern Areas of Pakistan and Wakhan Corridor of Afghanistan, the Tajikistan Pamiri houses had been touched much by modernity. The central pit is not used anymore as cooking place. In every room there is noticeable photo of Aga Khan, the spiritual leader. The walls are painted, covered with traditional carpets, posters,and family photos. There is often also a set of table and chair, which is not common at all for the same ethnics who had the fate in the neighbouring Islamic Republics. The modern bulbs enlightened the nights - Tajikistan is blessed by exportable energy. When a guest is coming, the host will prepare immediately a carpet to sit between the pillars of Ali and Muhammad, as symbol of welcoming.

Modernity is the thing makes the Tajikistan side of the Ismaili people different from their brothers and sisters in Afghanistan and Pakistan side. The Russians had put much effort in boasting education in this area and fostered modernization. The people wore modern dresses already, with occasionally traditional caps or simple headscarves. “Tajikistan is a mixture between three cultures: Russian, Islamic, and Western,” said Alisher quoting His Highness speech during the difficult time of Tajikistan, “so all international aid has to consider these elements when providing aid in Tajikistan, to make it more meaningful for the people. The Russian culture is represented by women equity. The Islamic culture is the moral conduct. And the western culture is science and technology.” These mixtures make the Ismaili people at this side of the river very distinct from their counterparts in Afghanistan and Pakistan. The people in Tajikistan side are also proud of their high education, thanks to the Soviet programs.

“When they started to divide us,” said Alisher, “people at time were thinking, how our life would be if we just 20 meters away from here, just at that side of the river. People thought that under the British, it would be a better life.” Afghanistan was considered as part of the British colony, or at least, British puppet. I showed him some pictures at the other side of the river, from Ishkashim and Wakhan of Afghanistan. I noticed expression of surprise on his face. He never imagined that the life over there would be like the photos saying. He only saw Afghanistan from this side of river, just the overall texture of Afghanistan. He knew that it was underdeveloped, but never sees that close like in my photos. He now saw the interior of the Pamiri houses in Afghan side, made by mud and darkened by the oil. He also saw the women covered in veil, and the fact that they were forced to wear burka, known in Tajikistan as ‘paranji’. He saw the darkness of life over there, without any bulb to lighten the nights little bit. Also about the uneducated looking villagers and children taking care of the animals the whole day. “Now I am happy with my fate,” said him. It was a country separated by a river, but history has made that country locked in time, preserving their life like what it was a century ago.

At night we went out a little bit. Ishkashim of Afghanistan is little bit higher, on top of a plain hill at the other side. It was very bright at night, looked like Hong Kong seen from the ocean. “See, they are getting better now,” said Alisher. I looked at my watch. It was 9 p.m Tajikistan time, or 8:30 p.m. I bet it was the time for the Indian serial on Tolo TV, that infamous serial about mother in law, which I imagined attracted the attention of all beard men in the village.

In this side of the river, I also developed my imagination and fantasy about Afghanistan, the country just a river away in distance but a century away in time.

“Thanks to God, thanks to Aga Khan, for their kindness to us” – Mamadrayonova Khurseda

The provincial capital of GBAO, Khorog, is a little town set in a valley surrounded by vertical cliffs of high mountains. It is cool and lazy, and despite of its proximity with Afghanistan, it is quite laid back. The appearance of military still can be felt intensively in the town, thanks to the neighbouring Afghanistan, which is just across the river and notorious for opium export and illegal border crossing. Young soldiers have to patrol every morning along the misty and freezing river. The 1300 km long border with Afghanistan gives much headache to Tajikistan, and its patron – Russia. Russian guards were playing a big role in ‘saving’ the war torn Tajikistan from further deterioration. But as the situation of the country had been stabilized for almost ten years now, the existence of Russian and CIS troops had been much reduced since the previous two years.

If you walk along the main street of Khorog, except for the numerous militsia, police, and KGB agents, you will feel that the life here is quite enjoyable. No beggars on street, no hawkers who will push you to buy things, no pickpockets, just giant dogs which may fight each other or chase the poor fat cows. But the actual life of Khorog is an irony despite of its calm and beautiful picture visible at a glance.

During the civil war right after the independence of Tajikistan, GBAO chose to separate from the country and supported the rebel side. Dushanbe government took revenge by isolating the whole area, blocked all of possible roads to the ‘outside world’. The boycott era during the civil war of Tajikistan brought so much sorrow to the province. GBAO is mountainous area, where thousands of majestic peaks compete to reach the sky and leave little space for agriculture. Water is abundant, but oil is not. The four year boycott from its own government nevertheless put the local people under starvation threat.

At that time money was meaningless as nothing to purchase with money. Primitive life of barter trading returned to GBAO, where at peak of crisis, even money disappeared altogether. Most people were unemployed and those who had job were working far less than their own qualification.

The situation was worsened by the sensitive border with the fundamentalist neighbour. Some fractions of the Tajikistan rebel side wanted to turn the country into an Islamic republic. The CIS (dominated by Russian) soldier sent large troops to GBAO to control the long, vulnerable river border. Thus, product flow was completely blocked from Dushanbe and Afghanistan side. The Chinese border at Qolma Pass had never been opened.

It was Aga Khan, the spiritual leader of the Muslim Ismaili sect who saved majority Ismaili community in GBAO from starvation. International aid convoy came from Kyrgyzstan. It was also the Aga Khan Foundation which introduced work training programs for unemployed local community, provided micro credit programs, built universities and schools, re-connected the severely separated communities from both sides of the river by building road and bridges, and introduced new income sources from tourism. The same programs are also being implemented in Wakhan and Badakhshan of Afghanistan with a clear aim, to bring better tomorrow for the community.

“Thanks to God, thanks to Aga Khan, for their kindness to us,” said Mamadrayonova Khurseda, a 60 year old woman ex-journalist from Khorog. Life had not been easy for her family since the independence day, and it just improved recently as her homestay was approved to receive tourists by the NGO MSDSP (Mountain Society Development Support Program), a sub ordinary of Aga Khan Fondation. If she only relied on her pension revenue, which is only 21 Somoni (6 dollars) she would starve her old days. Her husband died 12 years ago. She had three sons, one died. Timur, 35 years old, her second son, just got married. But Timur and his wife, as more than 50% of Khorog residents (about 20,000 population) are unemployed. Khurseda’s youngest son used to work as a pilot in Dushanbe and only earned 40 Somoni (about 15$ per month at that time), which was even not enough to buy a ticket from the capital to home in Khorog. The son went to Moscow for better job.

Khurseda remembered the days when everything was good. Her newspaper was the only daily in GBAO, but since the war started the financial of the media shrunk, and it was reduced to be a small weekly. The blockade of the central government in Dushanbe made money and food was so scarce. Money became valueless as everything turned to have astronomical price. How can one survive with only 6 dollar pension per month and has to give life to 3 mouths (as her son and daughter-in-law are unemployed)?

“Thanks to the tourists. They came here and we can live again,” said Khurseda. She rents out her lucxurious rooms for 10 $/night and cooks for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the tourists for 2 $ each meal. It was the price set and approved by MSDSP. Khurseda sees many tourists coming in summer, but as now the temperature drops down, her business also goes down. Nevertheless she is grateful to Aga Khan Fondation which encouraged tourism in mountainous villages dominated by Ismaili in northern areas of Pakistan, Wakhan of Afghanistan, and GBAO of Tajikistan.

How is the life of unemployed people? Timur, Khurseda’s son, looked like a very bored guy doing nothing in a town where there is really nothing to do. I think he also developed bad psychological attitude due to his boredom. His wife at least still cleans the house, washes the clothes, and cooks. “Life as an unemployed is boring. Time passes very slowly. People grow old very fast, when they have nothing to do. You know, weaving the whole day is boring,” said Khurseda.

The boy next door, Khanjon, just started to enjoy the unemployed life. He just got diploma in electrical engineering some months ago after 5 years study in a local university. As most graduates, he also doesn’t get any job. “It’s not a bad life at all,” said the 24 year old boy, “look, we still survive!” He spent his days in home or meeting friends, or sometimes works in the gardens where the tomatoes and carrots for the family’s daily food are produced. The tomato plants failed completely, but they still can eat carrots. The carrots are too small to sell in bazaar. “Nobody will buy them,” said him. Khanjon’s father is a journalist, and earns 30$ (100 Somoni) per month from the local newspaper and another 30$ from the TV station.

The stability of GBAOwhich then allows more foreign tourists to come, at least has given chance for the locals to find some survival earning. Malik is owner of a precious stone handicraft shop. He said that he sold much more lapis lazuli necklaces to tourists this year. As Khurseda, he was very grateful to the kindness of Aga Khan, whom he regarded as saviour sent by God. The women in the villages were also trained by the NGOs to make handicrafts like carpets and traditional caps.

Life is difficult, but people are crawling to survive.

GBAO, the Gorno Badakhshanskaya Avtonomnaya Oblast (Gorno Badakhshan Autonomous Oblast) is my main reason to come to Tajikistan. It is dominated by the minority Ismaili Badakhshani Tajiks and Sunni Kyrgyz. It has majestic mountain architectures. But the main reason I want to go to this restricted area was its history. The province was supporting rebel side in the civil war of Tajikistan. The province suffered a lot from the blockade of the central government.

Going to Tajikistan is already something strange for my Indonesian friends in Kabul. “Why going to Tajikistan? It is a poor country.” Going to GBAO is another thing to be objected by my Tajik friends in Dushanbe. “Why going to GBAO? It is so far and poor…” Even the Tajik diplomat in Kabul raised his eyebrows when my embassy staff insisted to get a Tajik visa together with GBAO permit. “Is he really a tourist???” For the ‘GBAO’ four letters to be added on my visa I had to pay a painful 100 dollar fee. It is a bureaucratic country, and my embassy told me to follow the rules, as for this visa I was sponsored by the Indonesian embassy. No playing illegal entry this time, like what I did in Tibet.

After finished all of the bureaucracy honky ponky in the capital, I immediately took the transport to Khorog, the provincial capital of GBAO. The 560 km distance has to be covered in 20ish hours and cost 100 Somoni (30 dollars) a seat in a minibus. I was dragged by two boys saying that they had their own car and just needed one passenger to depart. They quoted the normal price so I agreed immediately.

The two boys were brothers. They were going back to their village near Khorog together with another two brothers, one sisters and a mother. They had an enormous number of luggage with them, looked like more trading goods rather than souvenirs. The small jeep was fully packed by the luggage, and the whole family was stuffed inside the tiny jeep, and still there were two seats left, which then a female passenger and I took.

The journey was a happy journey as all of the passengers in our car get acquainted very fast. Bakhtiyor, one of the brothers drove the car. None of the people in the car was fasting. I thought that it was because all of us were travelling long distance. But Bakhtiyor said that he fasted 9 days in the holy month, that is 3 day at the beginning, 3day in the middle, and 3day at the end of Ramazan. “My mother fasts, my wife fasts, my child fasts, so it’s not necessary for me to fast. There are enough people in my family who fast. If I also fast who will work to ear money?” Later on I learnt that these Ismaili sect followers from Khorog believed that 3 day fasting in Ramazan was sufficient. And yes, most people in Khorog don’t fast during Ramazan. It was no relation of being mosafer or not.

Tajikistan is a poor country with rampant corruption. In the first hour leaving Dushanbe, we were stopped five times by the police. Every time, Bakhtiyor had to get off the card with the ‘car passport’ and his mother slipped some 1 Somoni notes in it. No matter how complete the document is, it’s customary to give money to the police. The first asked 3 Somoni, the second 10 Somoni, the next 4 Somoni, 2 Somoni, and 5 Somoni. The dirams (1 Somoni = 100 dirams) don’t work for the police. It was indeed expensive ‘pocket money’ for the police. A police just cand stand on the road, stopping 100 cars per day and become the richest man in the neighbourhood.

The month of Ramazan in this secular state doesn’t help much. My money was stolen from my bag in my expensive hotel room, during Ramazan. The other occasion, that made me so much impressed by the Tajik police, when I was taking pictures of Ismail Somoni statue in central Dushanbe, there was a police man who tried to extort money. “You know the month of Ramaza? It is a holy month. It’s mah-e-sharif. So please do goodness,” said him. The ‘goodness’ he wanted was 10 Somoni banknote. In respond I acted poor and told him how my money was stolen. He reduced his requirement to be 5 Somoni. I left him away and he still to emphasize the meaning of Ramazan, to give donation to poor (he didn’t look as a poor at all). The second day I visited the same statue, and the same police asked the same donation, with the very same reason, Ramazan as holy month.

As a foreigner doing nothing wrong, I always can choose not to give. But seeing Bakhtiyor paying the police no matter how complete his document was, made me really wonder how the locals being so much suppressed by the so-called ‘community guardians’. They have their helplessness, and the dirty bureaucratic system has always its own way to lubricate its wheels. Just like a poor tourist who moaned about how expensive the paperwork in Tajikistan cost, from expensive visa, permit, declaration, this registration and that registration, and all need dollars. Everything goes to money. In Indonesian we say, ‘ujung-ujungnya duit’.

Rather than being frustrated by dirty bureaucracy and greedy officers of Tajikistan, I preferred to enjoy the beauty of this country. The road was very beautiful, as Tajikistan is full of towering mountains. 93% of this country’s land Is high mountains and it is dominated by the world’s second highest mountain range, the Pamir, roof of the world. Tajikistan scenery is unbelievably beautiful.

At lunch we stopped in a chaikhana. Not much choice of food during Ramazan and many restaurants are closed. But it is still easy to find something to eat. The women passengers went inside the room, and we, the males, were outside. I wondered whether it had something to do with the religion, just like in Afghanistan. Bakhtiyor laughed, “No, no at all. The women sat inside because it is warmer there.” About the Afghans, the people next to the river visible from GBAO, Bakhtiyor showed disgust. “They are animals. The wheat also smells donkeys and horses. There is no car there, so the rice and wheat is transported by animals. The rice has strong donkey’s smell so the people also changed to be donkeys.” It was a rude commentary. Bakhtiyor showed his strong dislike toward the fundamentalists.

I sat next to the female passenger, Samsiah. She sometimes laid her head on my shoulder and we joked freely. After 6 months in Pakistan and 3 months in Afghanistan, I felt little awkward to communicate with women. Samsiah also enjoyed sharing my MP3 player to listen to some music. We sang together along the way, from Iranian, Afghan, Indian, until Russian music. As a small country but sharing ancient history with the great Persian civilization, music from Iran and Afghanistan is also popular in Tajikistan. Samsiah, and even the big grandmother, could sing some hits of DJ Arash, not to mention those songs of Fayad Darya of Afghanistan. I was surprised that she even could sing ‘kuch kuch hota hai’ in Indian version. How Indian movies gained popularity in Tajikistanis still a mistery for me.

When we sang Russian songs, I naughtily changed the lyrics of a pop song in 2004 titled ‘Znayu’, from ‘znayu, skora tebya pateryayu (I know, I will lose you soon)’ to ‘Znayu, skora sumka pateryayu, maya i tvaya …( I know, I will lose luggage soon, mine and yours…)’. Everybody laughed.

Not even 60 seconds passed, suddenly…. BRAKK!!!, the whole luggage from TV sets, DVD players, and my backpack, flew away from the top of the jeep to the road. It was just started to rain, so we rushed to rescue all of our ‘sumka’ and stuffed everything inside the car. Now sitting in the fully packed jeep was much more difficult. And I am worrying whether now I possessed a supernatural ability to forecast bad luck…

The M-41 highway had been completely asphalted but many sections of the road are damaged. I couldn’t help myself to admire the Soviet union, ex-superpower which could build smooth roads until its troublesome frontiers like Tajikistan. Soviet Union had Tajikistan and Indonesia has Papua. Tajikistan was a frontier with civil unrest and Islamization threat. Papua is a frontier with separatist threat. Soviet built road connecting the villages of Tajikistan, supplied it with complex web of electricity network through the impassable mountains from the roof of the world. While in Papua, flight often becomes the only choice of transport and Korowai people living on the trees in the jungle still don’t bother to buy TV and DVD players. Indonesia is not Soviet Union anyway, so indeed there is no point of comparing.

Now, the highway which was built by the Soviet Union turned to be dirt road in many sections. The poor Tajikistan fell to civil war and road maintenance was not on priority in the warring country. It is now the Chinese engineers and workers who flood the country to offer road maintenance aid programs.

Almost 10 p.m. we passed the high pass of Khaburabot, which was covered by snow already. The weather in Tajikistan was not good at all these days with heavy clouds and whole day rains. On tops of mountains, it became snow. We were extremely lucky that we succeeded passing the slippery pass as it was midnight and it was not nice to get out and push the car under freezing temperature like this.

Kalaikum, the gateway to GBAO, has important checkpoint to control the traffic of people and vehicles. Everybody has to show passport. In Tajikistan, passports act as ID cards. Thus, there are two kinds of passports: the local and international one. The young soldiers, I think at most 20 years old, were so happy scrutinizing the passengers’ passports. One of the brothers in our car, a mute boy, doesn’t posses passport. The soldiers also started to ask about my registration. I didn’t put any somoni notes in my passport. Rather than confronting the soldiers, I started conversation with them.
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“Enjoy? What enjoy? This is mountains, you see, only mountains! I miss my wife! There is nothing here!” said a 18 year old soldier from Dushanbe.
Being posted in the middle of nowhere like this and still had to patrol in freezing midnights was of course not among the things people of Dushanbe wanted to do. The other soldiers kept asking about the passport of the mute boy. Obviously they were seeking for bribes. Suddenly a boring soldier asked me the time, as I was the only one with watch. It was 11:40.
“Yawazdah o chihl,” I said. I didn’t know what was wrong with my Persian pronunciation, all of the soldiers laughed to death and let our car pass. They forgot about the missing identity of one of the passengers. We didn’t pay any dirams to the soldiers. Now I found that being jovial can be a solution to escape corrupt officers.

After passing Kalaikum, the road quality miraculously turned to be very good. I wondered that GBAO didn’t experience the civil war at all during the difficult times of the country. The province was merely blocked by the central government but fighting didn’t really come here.

At 6 a.m. it was a cold morning, we arrived in Khorog after 18 hour journey. I didn’t see much scenery along the way, as the weather was bad and Bakhtiyor drove through the whole night. He relied on naswar (nas) to keep him awake and now his breath smelled very heavy.

So, welcome to GBAO, the land on the roof of the world.

It has been about 10 days I am stuck in Dushanbe (and with side-trip to Istaravshan), due to the Kyrgyz visa application. I will post the comment of Istaravshan and Dushanbe later when I get proper Internet connection. Now, if you dont mind, let me share the struggle to get the Kyrgyz visa.

As an Indonesian passport holder, I need an invitation to get the Kyrgyz visa, and the invitation should be approved by the ministry of foreign affairs in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan. I applied through the Indonesian embassy in Tashkent. The Indonesian embassy contacted the Kyrgyz Ministry of Foreign Affairs and they said that my visa was approved, I just needed to go to the Kyrgyz embassy in Dushanbe to pick up the visa.

Monday, October 9th I went to the Kyrgyz embassy. It was well hidden in an alley near Insititute of Teby. The embassy only accepts visa application one day in a week, that is on Tuesdays. Not wanting to repeat my tragical Tajikistan visa (which cost me 250 dollars for the red tape), I called my embassy in Tashkent to ask for confirmation about the approved invitation.

They called by phone to the ministry in Bishkek. Fatimah, the Kyrgyz officer, said that as the invitation from the embassy was personal invitation, the Indonesian embassy had to pay the fee, and the fee had to be paid only in Bishkek. The hospitable Indonesian ambassador agreed to pay for my visa (thank you very much Madam Sunarti), but the biggest problem that we had nobody in Bishkek to go to the ministry to pay for visa.

The day passed. As the Dushanbe Kyrgyz embassy only opens 1 day in a week, I had to wait for another week.

The ministry of foreign Affairs of Kyrgyzstan also opens its counter 1 hour per day (10-11 am) and closes on Wednesdays as well as weekend. We have to get used with this kind of minimal working hours. The only one Indonesian embassy in Bishkek had been contacted on Thursday and made the payment to the ministry. Fatimah told the Indonesian embassy that the application was approved, I just needed to go to the appropriate embassy, and no proof can be sent nor visa index to be given.

I crossed my fingers when visiting the Kyrgyz embassy in Dushanbe, with only having an invitation letter from my embassy. The Kyrgyz embassy in Dushanbe is a very quiet, small embassy. No people was applying for visa nor queues outside the building. All visa applicants are to be entertained by the Consul himself, in his private office.

Mr Lasat (maybe I got his name wrong) was a very friendly man. He read the letter from my embassy, and he was very polite when talking. It was indeed far from the image of Central Asian bureaucracy.

Suddenly the ambassador phoned him, but the phone connection was cut. "Damn, this made in Tajikistan," smiled him complaining the telephone connection. He checked his file and found my invitation was sent from Bishkek since 2 months ago (so Fatimah was lying about the payment to extort some money from my embassy). He signed my application, took the visa sticker sheet, and put it in my passport. I got my Kyrgyz visa in less than 30 minutes with a very nice conversation with the Consul.

So, with the visa in hand, I am ready to leave Dushanbe, very possibly tomorrow, to the mountainous Pamir area of Tajikistan. By then Internet connection would be very limited and the blog probably would be updated from Kyrgyzstan.

After bad weather in last two days in Istaravshan, I decided to go back earlier to Dushanbe to sort out my Kyrgyz visa application. I took a taxi from the bazaar. Actually it was not a proper taxi. There were two men originally from Kurgan Teppa at the south, going back to their town. As there were only two of them (one was the driver), the back seat was empty. Rather than letting it empty, they decided to grab a passenger or two to lessen the burden of the oil price. And without I realizing earlier, I was the only passenger in this car, and they were two completely stranger men. I felt quite insecure when leaving Istaravshan, but I just believed at my luck.

The driver, Muhammad Rasul, was not fasting, but his friend was. Despite of having fast, his friend always tickled all young girls we met on road, made me wonder whether he knows the meaning of fasting rather than only not eating and drinking during the days. The man just smiled naughtily, showing his ugly golden teeth.

The rain in Istaravshan turned to be snow on the Ainy (Shakhristan) Pass. The road was completely covered by snow and all cars had to pas very, very carefully. Now I understand why the traffic in Tajikistan becomes very tricky in all winters. It was not winter yet this time, but it had become already difficult journey. The scenery of snow-capped mountains was brilliant though. And we were really reaching the sky, passing through the clouds. That’s the mountain journey experience in Tajikistan.

Because of delayed journey passing two difficult passes covered by snow, we arrived in Dushanbe after dark. The driver refused to take me to the city and just threw me at the outskirt of the capital. They continued their journey to Kurganteppa. It was scary when I was alone in the dark, waiting for trolley bus to take me near the only place I know to stay (but I don’t really want to go back to that hotel after the theft case). I didn’t know where I was, and just kept asking bus conductors about directions.

Finally I arrived at Hotel Vakhsh. The scary woman in administrator desk (administrator in Russian hotel is receptionist in ours), Khadijah, this time talked to me very sweetly. She sympathized me because of the stolen money. When I came to this hotel for the first time, I tried to bargain down the 10$ price, she was agitated and screamed, “If you don’t have money, how do you travel then!” and promoting his hotel, “If you take 2 dollar hotel, there are many at the bazaars. But our hotel is safe!” Hmm… safe? Later, I lost money in a room which cost unworthily at 10$ per night.

Later I found out that the locals were paying 15 somoni for a bed in that room and I had to pay 35 Somoni. Khadijah offered a ‘discount’ to me, 25 Somoni. She even offered me a dinner.

Even I suspected now everybody in the hotel, I was too tired to think unhappy accidents that happened recently. Now I just wished to get my Kyrgyz visa and leave Dushanbe as soon as possible.

Tajikistan has to dig up very deep into its glorious past to emphasize its identity. Tajikistan had to leave behind its historical luggages, as the Persian Tajik civilization centres, Samarkand and Bukhara, were handed to Uzbekistan by the Soviet government. Among what was left now, it was Istaravshan to testify to glory of this tiny country’s past.

Istaravshan is located about 280 km north of Dushanbe, after passing two high passes of Anzob and Ainy (Shakhristan), both are higher than 3700 m. The passes are covered by snow in winter, making it’s impossible during the period to travel overland from Dushanbe to Khojand – the second city of the country. The only possible transport by that time is by flying. Along the way there were many Chinese workers on road and tunnel construction projects. They navigated the tractors, measured the parameters, and broke the stones. I did really wonder why it was so necessary to have all Chinese workers to do the projects. “Tajikistan doesn’t have sufficient technology,” said fellow passenger in my taxi. But is that essential to have international workers just to break the stones with hammers? Maybe the Chinese contractors didn’t trust the Tajik workers, or the Chinese workes cost less, so they opted to bring all the workers from China.

And the Chinese workers were the only foreigners visible here. Because of them, all locals believed that I was Chinese. “Nihao! Nihao! Hao bu hao?” was the only greetings I received on the streets, together with those “chang chung …chang chung!”, or “Dzhakie Chan!!! (Jackie Chan, a Hong Kong kungfu superstar)”, or “Zhet Li!!! (Jet Li, another Hong Kong martial art movie star)” from boys until old men with white beard. Some locals also came to me and asked many questions that I didn’t know how to answer, like “How wide will be the highway?” or “when the tunnel will be finished?” The Chinese government projected to build a tunnel under Anzob Pass so the road will be all year open.

Tajikistan was not at all prosperous country. The road, mentioned as M-34 highway, was in very sorry condition in many parts, making the 280 km distance has to be covered in 10 hours. And it was the Chinese government which offered help in the highway restoration projects. Tajikistan also didn’t have oil. The rise on world oil price also gave much tension to the economy, as the oil price soared from about 1 Somoni/litre to 3 Somoni/litre. The price of a seat in a shared taxi from Dushanbe to Istaravshan was only 30 Somoni two years ago, but now was 70 Somoni (20 $). Compare to the average income of the country, which was only 68 Somoni per month, or average pension payment at 17 Somoni/month!

Istaravshan was called as Ura Teppa (in Russian Ura Tyube) during the Soviet era. When Tajikistan got independence, as other newly independent states which was then overwhelmed by nationalism sentiment and trend of tracing back national identities, Istaravshan gained back its ancient name. Alexander the Great, 2500 years ago came here, and in 2001, the town celebrated its 2500th birthday. A beautiful gate was built on the top of a hill called Mug Teppa, north of the town.

In its 2500 years of life, Istaravshan rose and fell, became a centre of civilization at once then disappeared at the other time. In the 15th century, it came again as a Persian town dotted by masjids (mosques) and medressas (Islamic schools). One of the medressas, Abdul Latif Sulton Medresseh, hidden in the alleys of the old town, was still operating today as an important religious school in the country. It had more than 200 students, not the biggest in the country, but for sure, the oldest.

Khursid, 20 years old student from nearby Isfara, told me that it cost 15 Somoni/month to study here, with full boarding. They studied mostly religious knowledge like Arabic and Islamic law, bur also English and in the future, computer class. The religious students of the medressa wore western style of clothing, plus a cap – not to be compared with those Afghan medressa talibs with cloak and turbans.

Nearby, there is the 19th century mosque, Hauz-i-Sangin. It had inviting ceiling paintings. But when I visited the mosque was locked. It was the first time I saw a mosque to be locked. I said this to an old man in the neighbourhood. “Yes, you are right. Mosques should not be locked,” he then rushed a boy to find the key of the gate.

For Tajikistan, a new country which was working hard to rebuild its national identity, Istaravshan meant a lot. Istaravshan was for sure uncomparable with Smarkand and Bukhara, what Tajikistan regarded as its ‘lost heritages’ as the two Persian cities were now in the Turkic cultured Uzbekistan territory. But Istaravshan was indeed among the few that Tajikistan now had to prevent and to be proud of.

The people in Istaravshan were mostly Tajiki with about 30% Uzbek minority. I felt that Uzbek accent was very strong when the people spoke, so I often failed to recognize whether someone was speaking Tajik or Uzbek. During Ramazan fasting month, some restaurants chose to stop their businesses temporarily. But food, during the day, was not scarce at all. There were still many kebab and sambusa stalls along the main road and in the bazaar. People also ate in publics without restriction. Beer (pivo) stalls were still selling alcohols. The owner was Tajik (Muslims) and most of the customers were Tajiks (Muslims) and Uzbeks (also Muslims).

Tajikistan is a world away from Afghanistan.

I was invited by a group of businessmen to have itfar (breaking the fast) at the evening. Islom, one of the men, had been to Thailand and he expressed his adore to the modernity of the capital. “Even the airport is as big as our town!” Islom and his colleagues did fasting during Ramazan, and he estimated that 60% Tajiks did fast while 40% remainders didn’t. Tajikistan was considered ‘the most Islamic’ among other ex-Soviet Central Asian republics and the turmoil right after independence almost put the country to be an Islamic republic.

Nevertheless, Ramazan fasting by most was still regarded as ‘tradition’. Itfar was started by prayers, “in the name of God”, then the host split big round bread and distributed to the guests. There were plates of salads on the table. I was thinking how simple the dinner was. I kept eating the salad with the bread and praising how simplicity for itfar was indeed a respectable attitude (actually I wondered why the Tajik big men only ate that little). I was almost full eating the salad by that time, when Islom informed me the main dish was about to come. I didn’t have much more space in my stomach and was just able to praise the extravagant dinner of huge meat balls on extra large plate.

At night, Istaravshan was complete dark. There was no road lamp at all. “The Soviet didn’t build any for us,” said Islom. His vision was as dark as the road.

These last few days, I stayed in a hotel named Vakhsh Hotel. It is the cheapest choice I can find in the town, and it cost 10 $ per night in a room with four beds. Of course with such high price, I expected that the room was exclusively for me alone. I always locked the door and kept the key for myself. After staying a night in Bakhriddin’s dormitory, I went to my room in Vakhsh. I was surprised to see that there was a young man sleeping on one of the beds. I just put my small bag in the room, went shower, and then Internet to check the news from my embassy concerning my Kyrgyz visa application.

I didn’t come back until evening, when I saw another man taking another bed. I just realized that this is a shared room, and I just left my luggage unattended for the whole day. I saw my small bag, and just at glance I knew someone had opened it. I suddenly realized what can be stolen: my money collection. And I was right.

A plastic full of brand new banknotes from Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, India and Nepal, lost. It was a collection of mine which I got not easily. Some of the banknotes were high values like 1000 Rupee banknotes from India, Nepal, and Pakistan. Nevertheless, these foreign banknotes are meaningless here in Tajikistan so I didn’t expect at all these money could be stolen. Some old money from Afghan war time and Iranian Shah era were in the plastic as well, and the money is only meaningful for numismatic collectors.

The old man in the room was preparing to break his fast, and was surprised to hear I lost money. “No, I didn’t steal anything. Now is Ramazan, and I am fasting.” He worried that I might accuse him. Saying so, he showed me his cash: a pile of 50 Somoni banknotes. “I have money. I don’t steal!” He showed sympathy on me, brought me to the floor lady (dezhurnaya). The lady in charge was also surprised. The theft might happen in the morning, and the dezhurnaya of the morning shift had left away. She promised me to talk with that lady the next morning.

The old guest offered me some food, but I really lost of appetite after losing my collection. It was not easy at all to collect the banknotes and it cost a lot with some big nominal values. But the pain just disappeared, just like that.

“Who dared to steal in Ramazan,” the man said, “is really deserved to be punished hard.” I lost my mood of everything.

To my surprise the boy who was sleeping in my room in the morning when I came, entered our room again tonight. Apparently the floor ladies told him about the theft case and he was probably the strongest suspect. The first thing he said was explaining his innocence, and saying, “What is the need of Afghan money? It doesn’t work at all here.” His name is Rustam, a businessman. As the old man, he emphasized that he had money and there was no need at all to steal collection money. I told him we would hear explanation from the floor lady tomorrow, he said, “all of the ladies here are good ladies. They don’t steal.”

I don’t know what made him making the conclusion, as the fact that my money disappeared. I just trusted Rustam not stealing as if he was the real thief, there was no need for him to come back to the same room while knowing that I would investigate the case. But maybe my trust was not at all reasonable.

The next day, all dezhurnayas and cleaner women who got access to the room were investigated. Everybody, just like a choir, swore in the name of God that they didn’t steal the money, and especially now was Ramazan fasting month. “I am fasting, by God, what is the meaning of Ramazan if I steal,” said a cleaner woman.

What was lost, let it lost. I didn’t expect too much my money would come back. Even though it was a high lost loss in value, at least they were only collection money that I don’t use financially. I felt grateful it was only money, not my camera or harddisk which was stolen. I tried hard to calm myself and just accepted my carelessness.

Not to happen again! I am tired of being stolen. Readers of this blog may have impression that it was indeed my hobby to get stolen or I had a sign on my forehead, “Come on, please rob me!” Oh really, not to happen again.

I went early to the Kyrgyz embassy just to find that the embassy only opened one day in a week, that is on Tuesdays. The embassy itself is well hidden in the alley, long way from the city center. It is next to a medicalcampus of the university Teby. When I was asking direction here and there, I met this boy. His name is Alyourov Bakhriddin. He is a medical student in the second year. He is an Uzbek boy from the northern town of Istaravshan, about 200 km away from Dushanbe.

Bakhriddin has a Russified Islamic name. The names of Uzbek and Tajik were following the same pattern as those of the same ethnics in Afghanistan, but since the Russian occupation, the names of the people also consist of 3 parts: imya (name), otchestva (fatherly name) and familia (family name). The father’s name (otchestva) has ending –ovich for males and –ovicha for females, and the family name or grandfatherly name has ending –ov for men and –ova for women. Thus the Tajik president, Imamali Rakhmanov Sharifovich, hasname Imamali, is the son of Sharif and grandson of Rakhman. The Russians follow the pattern: imya – ochestva – familiya. Bujt some Tajiks still follow the traditional pattern familiya – imya – ochestva. This Russian style of naming makes the Central Asian in ex-Soviet republics have distinct name compared to their brothers and sisters in surrounding countries.

Back to Bakhriddin, I met him when he was reviewing his notebook under a tree. He the n offered me to be a guest in his room this afternoon after class. Bakhriddin, as other students in Dushanbe, was wearing a white clean shirt with a necktie plus an elegant Western suit and black pants. It was indeed good looking dress to be wore by university students here. But this is just for formality. I noticed students here don’t bring so many books to school. The bags are flat, thin black folder with maybe two or three notebooks in it. Maybe because they are more efficient.

Bakhriddin shared a room with 4 other fellow students, all are Uzbeks. All of them are fasting during Ramazan. “It is our tradition,” said Bakhriddin. The boys sleep on the floor. It cost them 40 Somoni per month for the accommodation fee in the house, which is actually not too far from the president’s house. I was just impressed by the proximity of the presidential residence and office from the civilian neighbourhood.

Bakhriddin and other boys in the room has part time job, from 3 p.m. to midnight, every two days. And they sleep in the working place as the dormitory owner declared curfew after 10 pm. Bakhriddin works in a supermarket. “Why do you work? Don’t you get money from your parents?” I asked him. “I still get money from them. But my tuition fee is expensive. It cost 500 $ per year. And I still have other brothers.” Bakhriddin still has another 5 years in the university as to be a doctor one needs to study for 7 years.

At night as almost all of the boys went out for work, it was only me and one Bakhriddin roommate, who studies pedagogy, in that simple, but warm dormitory.

Before actually physically stepped on the country, I had heard, and seen Tajikistan when I was still in Afghanistan. It is the country idolized by many people in the Badakhshan province. It is the country of freedom, flourished by goods, electricity, and public services. It is the country where women can walk on the streets freely without fear of not covering properly.

Now, I am in Tajikistan, seeing and experiencing what man of the northern rural Afghans dreaming about. But for me, Tajikistan is not about dream. According to a reference, the average salary of the people in the country was only 61.81 Somoni (US$ 19.93/month, 2005) and average pension was as low as 16.92 Somoni (US$ 5.23/month, 2005). Life cost is not cheap at all, at least in Dushanbe, compared to the low income statistics. Long distance transport was incredibly expensive, comparable to Afghanistan, as oil costs almost 1 US$ per litre.

93% of Tajikistan’s land is mountains, making it only 7% inhabited and potential for agriculture. It has distinct 4 seasons and the extremely cold winters denied all kinds of agricultural activities. It’s not a rich country. Oil has to be imported and world trend of high oil price beats the economy badly. Among the five ex-Soviet Central Asian republics, economically Tajikistan is the poorest, geographically is the smallest, and in terms of political stability it’s not the best.

Right after independence, Tajikistan fell into civil war. Fuelled also by the situation in the fundamentalist neighbour, Afghanistan, Tajikistan also experienced movement towards an Islamic Republic when the rebels with turbans and veils dominated the capital. The bloody war forced the CIS soldiers, mostly Russians, to step in the country and control its long border with Afghanistan, from where not only religious ideas were imported, but also opium was smuggled.

The scars of wars are almost not visible at all in Dushanbe, the capital where long main road of Rudaki with its pastel-colored architectures dominated the scene. It is a peaceful, lazy city, with not many vehicles and people walked leisurely in the parks. Despite of Ramazan, the food stalls in the parks were still busy during the days. Apparently many Muslims here choose not to observe fasting during the fasting month. There are some schools and universities along the road. Students of Tajikistan, if I may say, are the most beautiful and handsome ones I have ever seen. It’s compulsory for the boy students, from elementary school until university, to wear white shirt with tie, a black Western suit and pants. It might be a certain burden for the purents to invest on suits for the children’s school dress, as it should not be cheap at all (remember that average income values).

Rudaki Street also houses the presidential palace, just next to the street. The main landmark of the capital is a huge statue of Ismail Somoni under high golden arches. Who is Ismail Somoni? He was a king from Samanid dynasty 1200 years ago. The Samanid kingdom was a great Persian kingdom with two capitals: Samarkand (in present-day Uzbekistan) and Balkh (in present-day Afghanistan), both are outside the modern-day Tajikistan. While Tajikistan now regards Ismail Somoni as its father, by the time of the great king, the present-day of Tajikistan was just merely periphery of the kingdom. Coming to Tajikistan, I saw statues of many Persian heros. It was a surprise after almost a year in Afghanistan and Pakistan, where due to Islam restriction, statues of idols are prohibited.

Dushanbe, of which name means ‘Monday’ – named after the Monday Bazaar, had a strong atmosphere of a city of an eastern block country: long avenue with trees, trolleybuses traversing avenues, and museums theatres with similar, if not boring, Russian style block architectures. The road was very clean, and almost no beggars visible. It didn’t reflect at all the 61.81 Somoni average income as the people I saw are mostly elegant men and ladies enjoying lunch in luxurious open restaurants.

There was indeed a need for the new government to re-invent their national identity. We can see how the streets are then ‘nationalized’. Rudaki, whome the main road is named after, was a great Persian poet, who was claimed by Tajikistan, Iran, and Afghanistan as their hero. Ismail Somoni was another example. Also the Ainy Square, named after Ainy, writer who invented the Cyrillic alphabet set for the Tajik language. Tajikistan also tried to dig up the history of being part of the Persian Empire. The Persian great men like Ibn Sino (Avicenna), Firdaus, Omar Khayyam, and al-Khorezm are respected as Tajik heroes as well.

In regional relationship, aside with Afghanistan, Tajikistan has quite a problem with Uzbekistan. Uzbekistan imposes visa for Tajik citizens to cross its border, and vice versa. The Uzbek government also often closes the border. It was not only caused by the resentment of the Tajiks of the lost in their historical heritages (Samarkand and Bukhara with big Tajik population is now part of Uzbekistan). The bad relationship between these two neighbours is mostly caused by the international politics. Uzbekistan also played in internal politics of Tajikistan during its Civil War, and now Tajikistan is accused by Uzbekistan to support fundamentalism in the Ferghana Valley.

The border of Tajikistan and Uzbekistan is also highly artificial. The northern part of Tajikistan, Khojand city – the second biggest city in the country, was actually ‘chopped’ from the Ferghana area to be added to the Tajikistan Soviet Socialist Republic to add its population. The border with Uzbekistan is very complicated, specially designed by the Soviet leaders so that the republics would be always linked to each other forever. There are some Uzbek and Tajik ‘enclaves’ in Kyrgyzstan area, making small villages of the countries to be completely surrounded by other country. The main road and railway cuts the area of other countries, making travel is highly difficult as all of the countries now request visa for transiting vehicles.

Despite of the inability of being separated from its neighbours, the language of Tajikistan is distinct from other ex-Soviet Central Asian republics. While others speaking Turkic languages, the Tajiks speak Persian. The Tajik dialect is closely related to Dari of Afghanistan and Farsi of Iran, but is written in Cyrillic script instead of Arabic. The Tajik dialect didn’t experience much change in its pronunciation like that in Iranian Farsi, which makes the speech of Tajik more Persian original. In Iranian Farsi, the pronunciation changes didn’t followed by the script evolution, making pronunciation doesn’t always suit the spelling (just like English spelling problems). Afghan Dari also has the same trend, in much lesser degree. But the Tajik language still pronounces the words as it is written in old Persian script.

With highly artificially formed country’s borders, with periods of identity blurring in its history, with most of historical gems annexed by the rival neighbour, Tajikistan is now working hard to re-build the new national identity, the picture of their past, today, and future.

At last, I arrived in Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan.

The Tajik border is located across the river from the Afghan port of Shir Khan Bandar. It's an expensive fare of 10 dollars per person to cross the river by boat. The Tajik immigration is located somewhere further, and it was another 1 dollar to reach the immigration office by bus. And they still charged 5 dollars for luggage checking (customs).

I befriended the old customs officer. We talked in Farsi and he was so happy looking at Indonesian photos. Actually he already signaled me to leave soon after the custom check, that way I could avoid the 5 dollar fee. But I really didnt know about the 5 dollar game, and I insisted to get a registration slip from him, as I presumed in Central Asia if you leave the country without the slip, you will have problem. He told me that for Tajikistan, registration slip would only be given to people who carry more than 3000 dollars. I only had 2000 dollars with me. But as I insisted, he brought me to his boss' office, where then I bargained down the scam from 10 dollars to 5 dollars.

I was travelling to Dushanbe with 6 Afghan students who got scholarship to study in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. As there is no Kyrgyz embassy in Afghanistan, they had to go to Dushanbe to pick up their visas.

We travelled by taxi from the border to Dushanbe, and it cost another 10 dollars per person. Somehow I felt Tajikistan was a very expensive country. Anyway, a litre of petrol here costs 3 Somoni or about 1 dollar. Tajikistan is a little bit of a surprise after Afghanistan, where you see women in short sleeves and short trousers or skirts, laughing freely on the streets. When passing thorough a horse cart with an old grandma on it, laughing to us, the driver teased the Afghan passengers, "In Afghanistan, women dont laugh, do they?"

The language, Tajik, is very close to Dari of Afghanistan and Persian of Iran. Several words are different and I had difficulties to catch the conversation at the first time. What is different here that they use Russian Cyrillic alphabets, where in Iran and Afghanistan they use Arabic script. It was interesting to see the signboards along the road, like "As a nation, we should defend our culture," or "water for live." Everywhere you will see in Cyrillic: "Rahi Safed (=Selamat Jalan in Indonesian or Safe Journey in English)" or "Xus Amaded (=Welcome)".

The Tajik capital, Dushanbe, at first glance was a small town, but beautifully decorated by green parks and avenues. It looked quite organized, but expensive. After walking around the city, I found the cheapest hotel cost 10 dollars. Quite a surprise. I was luckier than the Afghan students. They had a friend here in Tajikistan who promised to accommodate them, but then when they called their friends, nobody answered the calls. Somehow, I am used to these 'untrustworthy promises' since my time in Iran and Afghanistan. But for them, it meant to stay in hotel, and for sure the 10 dollar rate was too high for these students who only carried 300 dollars cash (to reach Bishkek....)

Welcome to Tajikistan. Xus Amaded.stan

The ex-Soviet countries are notorious for difficult paperwork and expensive bureaucracy. The Central Asian republics are just example of this draconian governments. From my previous experience in Central Asia, the visa fee for Uzbekistan was 75$, Kyrgyzstan 55$, and 5 day transit visa for Kazakhstan was 35$. For Indonesian passport holders, the matter was complicated with 'Letter of Invitation'. This is a procedure where someone should be our sponsor during our stay in the countries. The Letter of Invitation (LOI), or in Russian: priglashenie, or in embassies' term: calling visa, then should be sent by the sponsoring organization to be then authorized by the ministries of foreign affairs of the appropriate countries. The process can take weeks. Fast service from Internet cost me 30$ per LOI.

I am aware of these complexities of obtaining Central Asian visas. I have contacted my embassy in Tashkent who told me that they could arrange the 'calling visa', or LOI, or whatever its name, free of charge. And with the invitation from embassy, it's almost 100% guaranteed that the invitation will be approved by the concerning countries.

I sent an email to the ambassador of Indonesia in Tashkent as early as June this year. They agreed to arrange for me visas for Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, and Uzbekistan. For Turkmenistan, it was very difficult.

All of the invitations were approved, painlessly, as I was invited by embassy. But the Central Asian republics, except Kazakhstan maybe, have a very mysterious way of working. They just made a phone call to the embassy, "hey, the visa support is approved," without giving any prove or calling visa index.

I came to Kabul after the bumpy journey from the Central Route full of worry. I have contacted Indonesian embassy in Tashkent for many times to ask for proof of Tajik visa approval or visa number, but they couldn’t supply me any. According to them, the Tajik officers said that I just needed to go to their embassy in Kabul to pick my visa.

The requirement of getting the Tajik visa in Kabul is an introduction letter from home embassy. When I visited my embassy in Kabul they were also asking for calling visa proof, which I couldn’t provide. They gave me an introduction letter anyway.

Wednesday, September 24, 2006, I went to the Tajik embassy in Kabul, full of confident. The embassy was very difficult to find, hidden in small alleys of Wazir Akbar Khan. Apparently it has moved to a new address, from St.10 to St. 13. The flag of Tajikistan seemed had never been changed for centuries, as the colors were bland already, and the coat-of-arm of the country at the middle of the flag had been invisible. What an embassy flag.

Just arrived there, the security guards told me to come back 2 weeks later. I misunderstood as 2 hours. But then when I realized, it was indeed 2 weeks. The consul went home to Tajikistan for 2 weeks, and thus the visa application is closed for meantime.

"What an embassy!" my friend working in Indonesian embassy in Tashkent cried, "that is an embassy or a shop? When the owner goes for holiday, the embassy closes just like that? If they don’t have mood of working, then why don’t they close their embassy for good?" The consular staffs in Indonesian embassy in Tashkent were so much agitated, and they called immediately to Dushanbe, the Tajik capital, for confirmation.

After fighting for 2 days by telephone, at last the Tajik ministry of foreign affairs agreed to send the visa support by fax. It was indeed a long debate which I prefer not to know. When the visa support was sent by fax to the Indonesian embassy in Tashkent on Thursday morning, the Indonesians were terribly busy as the embassy ladies were going to have cooking show on Uzbekistan National TV.

I received my visa support on Thursday night. But I had to wait until Sunday to apply for the Tajik visa, as Fridays and Saturdays are holidays for most offices in Afghanistan.

This time I am more prepared. I have talked to the Consular diplomat of the Indonesian embassy in Kabul to arrange someone to accompany me to go to Tajik embassy. Mr Hamdani, the head of consular section, agreed to try his best, but he couldn’t promise me anything.

Sunday morning Mr Kasim and I went to the Tajik embassy with diplomatic car. The Tajik embassy, as before, looked very deserted. The guard also told Mr Kasim that the embassy was closed for 2 weeks. After a short debate, the guard told him that it might be possible to get visa from the Ambassador's residence.

We went to the Ambassador's residence. Here, the national flag was even risen upside-down, half the pole. Doesnt look like they respected their own flag. This time Mr Kasim didn’t allow me to get out of the car. Everything would be handled by himself. To our surprise, our embassy driver was a close friend of the Tajik ambassador's driver. To this (Afghan style) connection, Mr. Kasim successfully met the only one left Tajik officer in the office. They went inside and talked.

After 10 minutes Mr. Kasim came to the car, asked 150$ from me for the payment of the visa. "150$ 3 waiting day, 200$ 2 waiting day, 250 $ same day service," said him to me. I didn’t mind to wait for 3 days. I chose the cheapest price. But I reminded him, "Don’t forget to include the GBAO restricted area in the visa."

He went back to the embassy office.

After 10 minutes, he came again. This time he asked for 100$ more. "It's very difficult. They at first quoted 150$ extra. But I bargained down to 100$. They said GBAO was difficult. The consul is going to leave soon, so there was no choice."

I got the visa after 20 minutes, with an unbelievable, rip off price of 250$.

"I never see an embassy like that," said Mr. Kasim, our embassy staff, "the embassy is actually closed. The only man there was vice-ambassador. He was wearing singlet and short only, just like someone in holiday. If you want to wait for 10 days, then the price is 150$, and it's still not guaranteed that you get the visa. At least we got the visa now."

But 250$ for a Tajik visa is very expensive price. I have got the visa approval from Dushanbe which means that visa fee should be cheaper for me, 70$. But now is special, the Tajik embassy is in long holiday, maybe for their independence day. And the only one Tajik diplomat is going to leave the office the day after. We had no choice, but to pay. Otherwise no visa until 14th of this month. I couldn’t wait that long, as my Kyrgyz and Uzbek visa would be expired by the time.

The Tajik embassy is notorious for dirty practices. My friend works in UN told me that the visa fee was bargainable from 120$ to 60$. "I can't believe that we can bargain for visa like in bazaar," said her. I was not that lucky, I applied at wrong time, with wrong officer. Mr. Kasim said that the visa officer he saw even had already stickers of visa in his pocket, and issuing visa was like spreading coins. An Afghan businessman, also applying visa when I was there, paid 500$. He also had to rush to Tajikistan as his Kyrgyz visa would be expired also. There is for sure visa mafia that backdoor visa without support letter (a must for business visa) still can be obtained with astronomical price.

I felt disappointed with the price. My visa support from Dushanbe also was completely useless. But I also felt very relieved, that I got the visa, in almost impossible situation. Apparently only special persons are accepted to apply for visa these days. If it was not my embassy that helped me, I wouldn’t get the visa all together.