January 6, 2012

There was no greater accumulation of snow on the ground when I looked through my window this morning. It was only 25 degrees and thus the snow had hardened overnight on the sidewalks and alleyways. I packed my laptop and decided to take the marshrutka as the weight of the computer would make my walk even more perilous. I stuck to walking on the streets next to the parked cars until I got the underpass, a brand-new construction where some genius decided to use polished granite on the floor and steps thus providing the conditions for pedestrians to skate as best they can when it rains or snows.

Corrie started out her presentation on using the Internet to stay connected with colleagues and to share ideas and materials. All the males were familiar with the Internet, but few of the women raised their hands when asked if they knew how to use it. Even I learned how to create a new group on Facebook and a few other ideas on creating groups online. We stayed at the hotel for lunch and joined three of the male students at the bar when the server agreed to bring our meals there so we didn’t have to walk outside to enter the restaurant per se. My soup petit was the usual watery broth with chunks of beef and some slices of potatoes and carrots. When the conversation turned to comparing world cuisines, I had to ask why it was that seasonings, except for salt apparently, seemed to be absent from Tajik dishes. Of course, I was asking the wrong audience as none of these men cooked and they all concurred that Tajik cooking was their favorite and seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.

When we regrouped, Caroline asked participants to reflect on what they had learned during the conference and to make a list of what had been most useful so future participants could also benefit from them. Power went and those of us that had brought our laptops, quite a few in fact, started to work on our own projects while waiting for the ambassador to show up so he could hand out the certificates of participation. Sandy and Tahmina showed up first and made small talk with the participants until the ambassador came in and an official photographer took an individual photo of each participant accepting his/her diploma. We then took a group photo and he was gone. It was time to pick up and pack all the materials. No one bothered introducing him to the EFLs.

                                                         Time for a group picture

One of the participants, Botir, offered to upload Skype again on my laptop. He also confirmed that Tajik men chew on something called nos, the root of a plant that is ground and mixed with an alkaloid, and has a narcotic effect, probably similar to the coca leaf preparation in Bolivia and Peru. Another participant, Jamshev, confided that his wife had left him to go to Russia and he filed for sole custody of his one-month old baby boy and won it. I gave him some electronic materials to prepare him for his upcoming TOEFL as he plans on applying for a scholarship in the United States this summer.

On the way home, I stopped at the bazaar to buy a few more staples so I don’t have to go out during the weekend. I ran into Bahruz and Zoir there. It was bitterly cold and not the place to chitchat. My sore throat had kept me from sleeping well the last two nights and so I stopped at the pharmacy in Ryan’s building. He remembered me well and remarked that I was probably not to happy with all the snow on the ground as he remembered I was from Florida. He didn’t have any cough syrup with codeine, for which he said no prescription was needed, but hoped to have some on Saturday if I wanted to venture out. He gave some tablets to help me sleep through the night.

I had the leftover sambusas for dinner and watched an eye-opener documentary on the BBC channel about racial integration in that country that started in the early 1900s but really took off after WWII and how it was mainly white women who chose to marry men of other races and the abuse they were subjected to for doing so. It was all too similar to what was happening in the United States’ South during Jim Crow’s laws.  

January 5, 2012

Woke up to copious snow falling on the ground and dressed as warmly as possible to make it to Megaphon and pay my Internet bill. It felt weird not be able to fire up my computer first thing in the morning and catch up on the news and my Facebook friends’ latest happenings. The Megaphon office was practically deserted and I was able to pay my bills, Internet and mobile phone, very quickly even when the clerk spoke no English. It was a long walk to the hotel where the conference continues today, but it seemed more efficient than riding in the trolley which stops everywhere.

Caroline had already started trying to get the participants warmed up about trying their hands at writing an article for publication. Given the low level of their writing skills, this was hard going. We had sambusas again during our coffee break and I decided to save some for lunch and avoid going out in the snow. Botir, our computer tech in the room, offered to take a look at my laptop to find out why Skype cannot be downloaded into it. Jamshev has offered to serve as my personal guide next time we go to Qurgonteppa and Matluva would love to take me shopping when the weather improves.

                        Participants, and Caroline, at the English Teacher Mentor Program conference

Caroline covered the topic of putting on a local conference after lunch and that ended the second day. I asked Matluva to accompany me across the street to the shopping center to select a proper pillow and pillowcases, something my apartment lacks and that I’ve been meaning to do for the longest time. I’ve been sleeping on the cushions found there and they’ve been hard on my neck. Although it continued to snow throughout the day, I was able to walk to the Ziloni Bazaar from there and get my two knives sharpened and also my hair cutting scissors. The young guy insisted it cost 2.00 somoni for the knives even though I knew it should have been just one per my neighbor Maryam.

Zoir came by just a few minutes after I got in and wanted to know if I’d listen to him read “The Old Man and the Sea” aloud. I couldn’t possibly subject myself to such torture as I know he doesn’t know how to pronounce half the words contained in it. He then asked me to retell the story to him so he could memorize it and then regurgitate it to his dean. I refused to be complicit in this scheme and told him the most I’d be willing to do would be to find some questions about the book to give him a chance to answer them as he read the book. I tried to convince him that if he were able to answer all the questions, he’d have a good grasp as to what the book was about and could talk confidently about the subject without having to memorize it. I printed three pages for him and asked that he completes them before returning for more assistance. His talk then turned to the invariable subject of what he could do to get himself to the United States and I rehashed the same answers as before. It’s getting a bit tiresome. I made him a cup of tea; he said his prayers and then left.

I’ve been asked by the embassy to give a talk about Washington, D. C. at the Operation Mercy NGO next Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. They have been graceful enough to ask me to stay for lunch after I’m finished. The talk will last an hour including a Q & A section. I hope the Internet will provide a trove of resources so I can put together a decent PowerPoint presentation.

 I haven’t heard from anyone at the PedInst, but my students told me exams should be finished by the 14. I wonder if the dean has gotten around to talking about the speaking classes for the teachers. I’m not in any hurry, so it will be up to them to holler when they need me.

My landlady hasn’t called or come by to collect this month’s rent. Temperatures are supposed to drop down to 9F tonight again and just pray the pipes won’t freeze again.

January 4, 2012

The Poytakt Hotel where the English Teacher Mentor Program’s conference was being held is an old, Soviet-style blocky building occupying a large block near the train station and the five-story Sakrbar Shopping Center. The lobby is a dim affair furnished with dark, overstuffed pieces and too small lamps and sconces. The elevator seems too narrow to accommodate even a relatively healthy individual and could not be located unless you happen to see someone exiting it.

I took the staircase and walked to the third floor expecting there would be some kind of signs leading me to the conference room. There was none along the dark corridors or on the landing of the third floor. I turned left tentatively and a young woman came up behind me and asked if I was her trainer. I was relieved to hear someone speak English and confirmed her suspicion. Because of the cold weather, all activities had been relegated to one room where a stocky air conditioning/heating unit was keeping everybody happy. The teachers had grouped themselves according to region or because they knew each other well from the previous conferences and had already being given a binder and a generous pouch containing a pens/ loose paper. highlighter/stapler/staples/pencils/scissors and other goodies.

The hotel staff set out the exact number of tea cups and an electric teakettle and at 10:00 brought a few plates with cookies and biscuits. I was delighted to see that the Multikid staff had brought in hot sambusas, both vegetarian and beef ones, for those of us not the least bit interested in biscuits and candy. When we retreated to our tables to resume the session, hotel staff came in and took away all leftovers including cups, tea and instant coffee. I couldn’t believe it and this in a hotel that Caroline swears the teachers are paying $100.00 a night.

Matluva, the only teacher attending from Dushanbe, offered to show us where to get a cup of soup in a dreary cold day when it didn’t stop raining for even one second. The soup was quite savory and the flatbread thick and fresh. We returned to conference room so I could start on the grant writing portion of the conference. The teachers straggled in at different times and many appeared to be falling asleep during the PowerPoint presentation. I decided to cut it short so as to give them a chance to gather ideas on a local project they’d like to obtain a grant to see it done.

                                   Helping a participant narrow down her choices for a grant.

                                    Observing Caroline carry out most of the tasks for the conference.

Most of the teachers opted for the option of putting on additional training sessions for local teachers even though they could not articulate how that would have an impact, a visible one at that, on the present state of the school. When one of them mentioned the roof of her school needed replacement, I got all excited and told her many corporations and foundations would love to take part in a project of that type as they can clearly document and before and after situation where their money made a difference and get tons of publicity for doing so. She remained unconvinced and wanted to proceed with her project for additional training.

                                                 Dismantling the New Year's Tree

When the conference was finished for the day, Caroline and I parted ways as I needed to pay for my Internet. The Megaphon office was jumping with people with about four or five people positioned at which station and with only three clerks doing the work. The thermostat was set at some infernal degree and I just turned right around and left.

Zoir, Aziz and Bahruz were on their way to my apartment and we got there at the same time. They turned down the tea I offered and we talked about how they had celebrated the new year with Aziz going to bed at 4:00am, while Zoir had dinner with his brothers and Bahruz spent it with his family watching TV, listening to music and dancing with members of his family. All three of them want to travel to the United States under the “Work and Travel” program they have heard so much about.  I promised to take a look at it once my Internet was restored.

I learned today that the reason men in Tajikistan can be seen spitting left and right almost compulsively is because they are chewing on some type of drug. They didn’t know the name in English. I need to find out the name of this drug.

January 3, 2011

Still a bit wobbly, I made my way to the Teachers’ Training Center and noticed that the weather wasn’t that cold while watching a parade of women dressed in ankle-length coats with fake fur at the neck and cuffs, wearing heavy boots and knitted hats. I find it surprising that most of these women never wear gloves. Caroline ambled in and we went inside the cavernous, completely dark building to find all the teachers milling around in the hallway as no one had been able to produce a key for the classroom. Caroline initiated some small talk with the teachers about how they had celebrated the new year, what kind of presents they had given to their relatives and what they had served for dinner, but most responses were extremely terse and lacking in any interesting details. I chose not to participate in the exchange having nothing to add anyway.

When no key could be produced for the classroom, we were ushered into the cramped library/cum office space where a round table could accommodate perhaps ten people. Teachers continue to stream in as they found out the session had been moved to another place and Caroline seemed to be put off by the improvisation necessary to carry out the tasks we had planned. We played the song, went over the distinction between gerunds and infinitives and gave them a drill to do before proceeding with a quiz. The teachers with very low levels of English, including the fashionable young woman who spent almost the entire time texting from her phone, could not complete any of the tasks. The two men continued to rely on the older women next to them finish theirs. I was willing to spend more time going over the fine points between the two categories, but Caroline was out of patience and felt it would be time simply wasted on that audience.

We stopped at the nearby bistro for lunch, the usual soup and bread that has become our staple since nothing else appealed to me anyway. We then walked toward the Poytakt Hotel to inspect its facilities and make sure things were in place before the conference tomorrow. We went passed the swanky newly opened Serena Hotel and Caroline suggested we stop there and use their bathroom since both of us were in desperate need of one. I was a bit uncomfortable with the idea since one could see the lobby crawling with employees with nothing to do, but she didn’t care. We had to go through a metal detector, something I had never seen in a hotel. The lobby is one of most gorgeous ones I’ve seen with plenty of tastefully-furnished areas brighten by the use of cushions covered in some of the beautiful, bright textiles produced locally. Their bathroom garnered the first place in my classification of bathrooms in Dushanbe followed by the ones at the Ismoili Center.

We didn’t see any guests come in or leave the place while we lounge in one of the soft chairs and used Caroline Notebook to check on the materials needed the following day. I could see the staff eyeing us and Caroline got up and got menus for us to check the prices on snacks and drinks. Snacks ranged from $12-25.00 and the drinks followed a similar range. This is the same hotel that offers a Sunday’s buffet for 99.00 somoni or $40.00. I have not felt comfortable spending that kind of money on a meal here.

We went to the Poytakht Hotel, a dismal, dark, and narrow collection of hallways where Manzura was proceeding to set up the furniture and advise the hotel on the technology required. I suggested braking up the long arrangement of chairs into three round tables closer to the screen as the group consists of only 13 teachers. A long table was set alone one wall for refreshments. We were assured an LCD projector would be available along with a flip chart.

It was on to the embassy now where Caroline had to provide the required paperwork to get her passport renewed prior to the trip to Kathmandu to attend the NELTA conference. I had prepared my expense report and couldn’t believe it took five stamps to get it to Georgetown and four for Caroline’s. Sandy grumbled that the postal service was complaining about the language fellows getting mail through the diplomatic pouch, but I chose to ignore her comment. I have only received one package in three months of being here and that doesn’t seem excessive to me.

Went up to the second floor and saw Vali so I could cash another check. We chitchatted about his attendance at the Hyatt’s New Year’s Eve celebration and having danced until 4:00am. Tahmina confirmed we need to obtain transit visas to India and Almity on our own and should do so two weeks’ prior to our departure.

I was glad to get back home and relax while going over the many new books I was able to loot from the embassy’s library including Alain de Botton “The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work”. 

January 2, 2012

I was pleasantly surprised to find a trickle of warm water coming out of the tap. Time to do the mountain of dishes piling up in the sink and to take a long, leisure bath. The phone didn’t ring all day and I spoke to one. Caroline and I emailed each other to coordinate the material to present tomorrow at the teachers’ training center including showing them the difference between the uses of gerunds and infinitives.

My lightheadedness and queasy stomach seemed to be subsiding finally and I felt energetic enough to vacuum the apartment and tidy the place. A weak sun shone for a couple of hours, but not strong enough to entice to go outside.

Nilufar didn’t show up for her class and I decided I won’t call her anymore to reminded her. I watched the movie “A Little Romance”, which I had never even heard mentioned before. It was filmed mostly outdoors in Paris and Venice and just for the breathtaking views it would merit a viewing even when the plot is full of holes and the end highly improbable.

I finished reading “A Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time”, a tender, sad and highly complex look at the thinking process of a teenager affected by Asperger Syndrome. A masterpiece of a novel.

January 1, 2012

I got up at 4:00am unable to sleep any longer. I continued to feel lightheaded and queasy. Turned on the TV and was treated to compendium of all the new year’s eve celebrations around the world. Australia had spent the modest sum of six million dollars in fireworks and China had tried to outdo everybody else since they invented fireworks and can’t afford to be called laggards on that front. I then switched channels and found that TVe (Television Espanola) was presenting a musical potpourri including singers and groups around the world so that I was treated to the sounds of Engelbert Humperdick, Jairo, Nelly Furtado, Glenn Medeiros, Los del Rio, Juan Luis Guerra and Oscar de Leon. It was a feast indeed. I heard songs I hadn’t heard in decades and saw the faces of some artists I only knew through their records.

Dilya responded to my email about the lack of running water when I sent it to her a second time. She claimed to have been on vacation until today, but I’m doubtful. She said the landlady was sending her assistant in a few hours to check on the problem and he did show up with another guy, but was unable to fix the problem as apparently the pump was not working properly and a part needed to be replaced and the hardware stores were closed today.

Caroline sent me the details about the New Year’s Eve dinner and dance she had attended. I only regret not having been at Marydean for dinner as the spread she described sounded sumptuous. Sitting around a table in a nightclub with people from the embassy does not appeal to me in the least and then I realized I don’t even have a cocktail address to attend that kind of an event.

Nilufar called to check on me and said she’ll be here tomorrow to resume her classes. Aziz, one of my favorite students at the PedInst, called as well to inquire about my health and to tell me he had had a lot of fun at the Ismoili plaza the night before.

I completed the expense report I needed to send to GU to be reimbursed for the expenses related to the workshops I’ve presented. They have yet to acknowledge receipt of the first one I sent to them more than a month ago. I had enough time to corral all my stray receipts and other extraneous paperwork and sort through it all to decide what needed to be kept and what to throw away. It was a good way to begin this artificial new year.

December 31, 2011

I almost tripped when getting out of bed as I still felt lightheaded from the motion sickness the previous’ day car ride had caused. Could I be suffering from vertigo just like my mom? My stomach was also still unsettled and on top of that my throat felt like it was being attacked by thousands of germs.

Caroline wrote to say she had agreed to go to the New Year’s Eve bash at the Hyatt after all as Yoomie had convinced her to attend. She told me later on that Marydean was hosting a dinner party at her house prior to going to the Hyatt and would I agree to go with her. I turned down both invites. I felt dizzy and queasy and knew I’d not make for good company.

Yoomie called later on concerned about my having skipped both the Christmas Eve and now New Year’s Eve party and I reassured her that I in no way felt left out as these celebrations are basically meaningless for me these days. She also wanted to come by and use my washing machine now that Ryan is out of town, but I still only have a trickle of water. I sent Pariso a text message asking her to please contact my landlady and let her know I needed running water to do the laundry. She didn’t acknowledge receipt. Oh, well, rent is due tomorrow and I’m not paying until water is restored to my apartment.

I ate the leftover pasta for lunch and made a pot of mung bean soup for dinner, watched the news and put the finishing touches on my PowerPoint presentation on grant writing for Wednesday. The power went out at 7:00pm and I took my laptop to bed to read one of my electronic books. I now regret having purchase the cheap replacement battery I did as it only lasts about 1.5 hours, not enough to wait until power comes back up even though this time it came in less than one hour.

I heard fireworks in the distance. Corrie said she’d try to make it to the Ismoili Plaza where the celebration was scheduled to begin at 7:00pm. I asked her to take photos for me.