May 5, 2012

Ryan had confirmed the departure time for the trip to Iskandarkul for 12:00, so I made my way to Oigul’s house, whose father had died of stomach cancer at only 45 years of age, and made it there before ten. She had to come down and get me since I could not remember how to get to her unit. She was wearing a blue and green print tunic and pants outfit and her head was covered with a white scarf. There wasn’t a drop of makeup on her face. I don’t believe she was supposed to be seen in public at this time. I hugged her tightly and expressed my deepest condolences and when we got to her entryway, her mother, who was dressed exactly in the same way, also hugged me tightly and started to cry. I had been able to print a condolence card in black and white and had included some money in it as my students at the PedInst had advised me to. Both Oigul and her mother protested the present, but I told them I knew they had incurred lots of expenses for the funeral. In fact, the tablecloth was laid out in the living room replete with cakes, sambusas, candy, fresh fruit and other goodies. I had had breakfast before getting there, but was told that if I didn’t eat some cake and sambusas and drank some tea, the spirit of the deceased would be angry at me. So chow down I did.

Someone knocked on the door and two women in traditional garb came in and the crying resumed. After sitting around the cushions for a bit, one of them started singing what sounded like Koranic verses in a crystalline voice. It was very moving and I respectfully waited until she was done to make my exit pleading the need to be ready for my trip. Oigul told me they were expecting people to drop by all day long and had cooked soup and other dishes to offer to them. She will be in mourning for three weeks before resuming regular activities. She was resentful that her high school classmates hadn’t come to visit her, but the PedInst students had done so.

I had a quick lunch of leftovers and packed my bag. When I approached Ryan’s building, I ran into Aireen, the Pilipino English teacher at Bactria with whom I was supposed to meet quite some time ago. She and her family were also going with us along with her Tajik boyfriend and two other Pilipino English teachers, Linda and Anna Marie. We got 12 people in the SUV including the driver and headed out of town about 2:00. We passed by the Varzob Region, a touristy area I’ve been meaning to visit, and then up the mountains through several tunnels until we got to the 5 kilometer one with no lights or ventilation shafts where work crews were still digging and maneuvering heavy equipment around with the workers not even bothering to wear hard hats in spite of the water dripping from the ceiling and rocks sliding from the sides. We spent about 45 minutes inside this tunnel breathing carbon monoxide the whole time while waiting for the road to clear so we could proceed. The scene was almost surreal with men scurrying around like moles and drivers flashing their lights and honking incessantly to warn other drivers of the dangers ahead. The road continued with a series of switchbacks giving away to most wondrous of scenery and I let Ryan take the photos since he has an impressive camera with a long telephoto lens. We had to leave the main road to head to Iskandarkul and this road was unpaved and narrow. There was evidence all around of the frequent landslides that happen in this region and the huge boulders on the side of the road did not alleviate my anxiety about being blown down into the river. This road continued for 34 kilometers and then we could see the turquoise waters of the lake down below. The somewhat dilapidated Soviet-era camp where we were going to spend the night sported an army person at the gate.

I had inquired about the coffee situation and being informed it would be served beginning at 7:00am, rather late for me. Anna Marie told me they had brought something called 3-in-1, a mixture of sugar, cream and coffee, and offered me one in the meantime. 

Our cabin had three miniscule bedrooms and a dining area with a TV set. Each person was to pay 40.00 somoni or about $10.00. Aireen had packed enough food to serve her family all three meals before returning to Dushanbe. There was a canteen and I had dinner and lunch there while joining them for breakfast only so as not to exhaust their supplies. The lake was a serene surface reflecting the majestic peaks nearby, but it was cold and windy around there. The other group, with whom Hillary, Erika and Ilana had come, had already staked out an area near the lake for a bonfire that night. I stayed for a few minutes, but it was too cold for me as I didn’t even have a jacket. I went to bed to try and sleep in the army-style cot sporting a metal mattress and a thin korpacha (duvet) over it, but the bed sag at the center and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t avoid sagging into the middle. When the Pilipino gang came back, it was time to sing and play games and it seemed to take forever for them to go to bed.