March 3, 2012

An overcast day greeted me as I made my way to the American Corner where three teachers were already outside waiting. I dropped my bags and went across the street to get the snacks for the break as Bakhtyor hadn’t arrived yet.

When I went upstairs, I found that only chairs were available for the attendees since all the tables were laden with books now that the American Corner is moving into the new library building. I told Bakhtyor that I needed tables as the workshop would be on writing poetry and the teachers needed a surface on which to write and I insisted on moving the few remaining tables from the other room. Ruth came at that point and helped out with the distribution of the Forum magazines, matching cards and handout. The attendance was lower than from our previous workshops, but after a two weeks hiatus I wasn’t surprised some teachers simply forgot. The dean from PedInst showed up along with a few students from the interpreter’s program. I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the poems some of the teachers were able to produce on the spot. At the end, one teacher commented that she’d been tempted not to come thinking the session would be boring, but had found it very interesting and fun.

Ryan came by to get us to the Uighur restaurant we so much wanted to try and we took a shared taxi since Ruth is not able to walk long distances. The place was quite pleasant with the walls and ceiling covered with bamboo reeds and artificial vines. The menu was entirely in Russian and Ryan helped translate as even the diminutive photos didn’t clarify much as to what the dish contained. We had appetizers, soup, noodles and rice and I ate like a pig since it was the first meal I had had in Dushanbe that actually contained spices, even chunks of garlic. As we were about to finish, in walked Daroush accompanied by a pretty girl he introduced to us as his “girlfriend”. Two customers started to smoke and I prompted Ryan to get the bill so we could leave. We took another shared taxi and I asked to be dropped us at the Megaphon office so I could pay for my Internet access and cell phone. Luckily, my favorite clerk was there and even asked other customers to step aside, which didn’t seem fair, so she could take care of my bill.

I then walked back to my flat so I could drop off the things I had taken to the American Corner. Tohir, an acquaintance of Pariso she had been hounding me to talk to until I relented, called then to set up a time to meet. I agreed to see him in an hour at the Koko Café. When I got there, the place was closed and the guards outside told us it was closed for good. Could it have been another one of those places where drug money is laundered? I only saw one other customer while we were previously. I suggested we go to the Grand Dame after exchanging money and was served macchiato coffee by a pretty student of the PedInst who recognized me. Her English was quite good and then she told she was not Tajik but from Turkmenistan. I need to find out why there are so many students from that country at the institute.

Tohir’s story was that he is a graduate of the PedInst where he subsequently taught French for six years. He then became a French interpreter for an NGO until this organization left the country. He’s now trying to obtain a job as English interpreter, but has been told he’s barely intelligible on the telephone and to try again when his English improves. He’s currently unemployed and taking English classes at Polyglot, the language institute where Pariso moonlights. His English is heavily influenced by his French pronunciation and he makes many mistakes in the uses of articles, prepositions and vocabulary. I told him I have many commitments and little time in the remaining three and half months of my fellowship, but I’d be willing to meet with him when time allows. He didn’t offer to pay for his coffee and I had to pay the entire bill.

Tohir insisted on carrying my bag all the way to Marydean’s house. I was so tired I could barely walk anymore. I had purchased some flat bread along the way and had that for dinner along with a chunk of cheese while trying to relax and watch one of the movies, “Hereafter”, Marydean had left next to the TV. Instead of a regular TV set, Marydean has a 12” computer monitor with a built-in DVD player and the picture looked so very small and the sound was pitiful. I gave up on it and went to bed instead.