May 22, 2012

I was able to get more sleep than the previous two nights, but had developed a kink on my back from trying not to toss and turn too much to avoid the friction from the bed sheets to exacerbate the itch. It had rained throughout the night with a lot of thunder punctuating the intervals. As a result, I had another gorgeous morning to look forward to and set out for the market early on to buy the mint as recommended by Ryan to apply to the bites. He had called early on to find out how I was faring and asked me to add salt to the crushed mint leaves to insure the blisters would dry up faster.

The market was buzzing with vendors and buyers making difficult to make my way between the different stalls. I finally located one selling mostly herbs and bought three bunches of mint while being peppered with questions by the female stall owner. She was also selling bunches of fresh garlic, something I had never seen in a market in the States, and I asked if I could take a picture to which she agreed. The two women in the next stall asked to have their picture taken as well when they heard I was from America.

                                Fresh garlic- Tajiks add it to salads and eat it raw

                                                 

                                     Market vendors

Daroush came by a little while after I got back home and we got into a spirited conversation about homosexuality. I was dismayed to learn that even as a doctor, he didn’t know how homosexual men had sex, and when I described it, he cringed and wanted to know nothing more. Of course, as a traditional Muslim man, he referred to the Koran as the ultimate authority on the subject and therefore only men and women were intended to have sexual relations. Anything else was an abomination in his book. I copied some movies from my portable hard drive into his and printed the list of documents he would need if he ever follows through on his desire to study English at FSCJ.

I spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies, first “The Killing”, which I had never heard of, but kept me at the edge of my seat for the full two hours, and the remake of “The Postman Always Rings Twice” to compare it to the original with Lana Turner which I had seen ages ago. I couldn’t see the point of the whole movie as there are no revelatory details about the characters or what drives them to do what they do. I was almost a waste of two hours.

Zoir called to say he’d come by to pick up the documents I need for him to deliver to the PedInst as I refuse to go back there. He made it just in time before another deluge started. He was dressed all in black and looked thinner than ever. He confessed he hadn’t been to the doctor, but knew he was running a fever and didn’t feel well. I told him I’d pay to take him to a private clinic to have a medical exam and blood tests as he’s definitely ill and take care of the bills. Eraj had reminded me about the clinic across the street from the PedInst where I had gotten my medical certificate issued for a measly 20.00 somoni. His face brightened at the prospect of having medical care and we agreed to meet at 10:00 in front of the university. I gave him the handouts for Ms. Mamataliev, the CD containing the photos I had taken in his village, the one Headway book and CD I had left for a bright student I had met in his village, and the book “A History of Islam” he had previously requested. I plan to give him the keys to different rooms at the PedInst tomorrow and be done with it.

Jamshed called while Zoir was still here and asked if he could come over, to which I said yes. He said he had run to my flat and joined us just a few minutes later. As it turned out, he is also from Dangara and quickly struck a friendship with Zoir who looked at him with amazement not quite believing how fluent Jamshed was after working with both American and British English trainers. I offered both of them pistachios and two pots of teas and Zoir almost consumed the entire plate of the nuts and most of the tea. I’m sure he hadn’t eaten anything most of the day. Before departing, Zoir asked me for the grammar textbook for the fourth year students that I never got to open, and I gave it to him. I still need to get rid of my fiction books if I want to leave the apartment at the end of this month.