Dedicated viewers of Tajik TV yesterday were treated to a silly all-encompassing tribute to an impromptu holiday: a National Day of Solidarity in Honor of the Construction of the Rogun Hydropower Station. Or something along those lines.
Basically Rogun (technically "Roghun" in Tajik) has been the quiet theme of all the ever-present yet continually changing large billboards in Dushanbe throughout December. New Year's wishes couldn't be avoided, so Rogun couldn't have center stage all to itself, but it was there waiting in the wings.
Once New Year's was over, Rogun quickly jumped in to dominate the billboards: "Have YOU contributed to the foundation of Rogun HPS??" sternly queries the banner hung over the recently opened and now smoothly asphalted Tursunzade Avenue. (Somehow they resisted the urge to have a photo of either President Emomali Rahmon or national historical hero Ismoili Somoni there with a finger pointing, a la Uncle Sam or the Soviet equivalent.) Billboards in the usual places were joined by those at unfamiliar points, like right outside the recently constructed (in grandiose post-Soviet style) Youth Palace where we hope to take a try at the sauna this weekend, and at other random street corners where you normally just see a guy in a quilted chapan wobbling by on his bike with a pile of brooms tethered to the rear.
Then yesterday it all really reached its zenith, with performances on those unexplained stages that had been erected on Opera Square and right by aforementioned Youth Palace, and (somewhat small) crowds and TV cameras gathered round. And it was all capped off by the simultaneous TV coverage at night: as far as I could see all the stations were broadcasting the same thing, kind of like during a State of the Union address with the American president on at least all the network channels as you surf through them.
Rogun power station was started under the Soviets but abandoned after the union's collapse and Tajikistan's slide into civil war, in the mid 1990s. Now, plagued by the difficulties of being dependent on other independent countries (mainly the spiteful one in Uzbekistan) for power at the colder points in the year, when Tajikistan's means of generating power tends to be all locked up in snow and ice, Tajikistan is intent on completing Rogun and gaining true energy independence.
The trouble is, to build it they are "requesting" that the population of the country -- one of the poorest around -- invest in the construction and buy shares in the company. Yesterday was dedicated to that, and the TV coverage jumped all over the map of the country -- interviewing people in the South, in the North, in Hissor, in Khujand, everywhere -- about their pride in that investment and what it means for the future of their country (and interspersing these mini-interviews with silly music videos of songs dedicated to Rogun). Interesting how nobody they talked to seemed to have any problem with giving their hard-earned money over for this purpose...
To me the whole thing is so very sad: where will this well earned and saved money really go? Why couldn't the government gain the confidence of any foreign investors in this project? How many of the somoni invested will truly go toward supporting the project? For that matter, will the station even really get built?
And as if all of the forced hoopla to mobilize support for heroic, earth-moving projects meant to wrench a country out of its misery and into modernity and independence didn't give Russian historians enough deja-vu, true to form, just as Dan predicted (and those who've read Richard Stites will chuckle to learn), today a little baby boy named Roghunshoh (King Rogun) came into the world in a district close to Khujand.
(I'm surprised to learn that, not only could he possibly be rocked by great-grandma Elektrifikatsiya or dandled on the knee of great-grandpa Traktor, but he could conceivably have a cousin in Russia named Viagra?! I guess say what you will, but at least in Tajikistan, the more things change, the more they really do stay the same -- for better and for worse.)
Showing posts with label media. Show all posts
Showing posts with label media. Show all posts
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Sunday, February 22, 2009
A February Update
Some recent video:
http://www.youtube.com/lkwalker71
Other recent Anya activities:
What we're listening to/watching:
Sigur ros
I'm on a boat
Finally, the last bits of Scrubs, season 6
What we're eating:
spinach and greens quiche (first time! not bad)
coffee cake muffins a la Bittman (surprisingly quick and not overly sweet)
tasty mantu (boiled dumplings) with chakka (creamy fresh cheese) at the teahouse
http://www.youtube.com/lkwalker71
Other recent Anya activities:
- watching water in the ariq go "up and over" a rock and a leaf
- going 75 paces away and watching the neighborhood kids playing streetball, coming back, going away again to watch the kids, etc.
- progress on the temper tantrum front: a new ability to relent, stop crying, and ask nicely and calmly for what she wants
- words & phrases: iagodki (strawberry hair bands); bear says "salaam"; "Anya's running-Anya's running-Anya's running-Anya's running!" (while, of course, running); "A-B-C-D-Elmo-Judy"
What we're listening to/watching:
Sigur ros
I'm on a boat
Finally, the last bits of Scrubs, season 6
What we're eating:
spinach and greens quiche (first time! not bad)
coffee cake muffins a la Bittman (surprisingly quick and not overly sweet)
tasty mantu (boiled dumplings) with chakka (creamy fresh cheese) at the teahouse
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
A Week Down
The second week of February wasn't the best for Dushanbe.
Already many in the capital have been limited to 15 hours of electricity per day, thanks to power cuts introduced in January. (The bulk of the country's population, living outside Dushanbe, has gotten as little as 3 hours per day since the rations went into effect.)
On Tuesday, the 10th, it was announced that Dushanbe's 15 hours of power per day would be reduced to 11 hours in most large residential neighborhoods. We of course are lucky enough to have a generator, which makes the frequent switching on and off an annoyance that's barely worth mentioning. The poor electricity grid and variation in how the power cuts are actually carried out means that not all locals or non-official foreigners experience the troubles in the same way, though. Some neighborhoods have damage that causes power to go out for days at a time; other apartment buildings are either geographically well-placed or have a patron from some ministry among their residents and can escape some of the hardship that way.
But in the midst of all of this, transportation in the city was thrown for a major loop when the minibus marshrutki, the primary mode of getting around town for the majority of people (including Dan, who commutes this way now), were banned from the most important major thoroughfares in town. People woke up and started on their way to work on Monday unprepared for a complicated and confusing journey, unable to predict what alternative route their usual minibus would take or how they'd make any connections that are required to get to their end destination. (Unfortunately for those taking the buses to the US embassy, it's located waaaay at the end of one of those now-forbidden major thoroughfares, so the changes present a particular problem.)
The official announcement from the Dushanbe mayor's office says the bus-taxis can still operate as long as they register with one of the "legit" fixed-route taxi companies in town (I think this is pretty-speak for "as long as you get in bed with (and grease the palm of) the mayor and/or his associates"). And of course even then, truly effective "operation" is off the table, since they still have to avoid those major boulevards.
On Monday afternoon, Dan and I left the embassy together and got in a "tangem," as the buses are called in Tajik (something about the name of a nurse in a Chinese soap opera -- the thousands of little buses that tootle along the streets of the capital are virtually identical white models of a Chinese made minivan), and we heard firsthand from the driver about the havoc it was wreaking. Not only are passengers confused and frustrated, but the drivers have risked a lot in buying their vans and now are worried about losing their investments. The number of drivers has jumped with the return of many migrants from Russia, where work has slowed thanks to the economic crisis. As our driver complained, the government seems to just be toying with its people, when it ought to be behaving responsibly and looking out for their welfare. They turn off the power and watch the financial crisis and add this on top of it? 'What do they expect us to do, how are we supposed to feed our families,' the driver asked, shaking his head in bafflement, but still trying to figure out how to get us to the connection we told him we needed to make in order to get home.
One has to wonder how much Tajikistan's citizens can endure before they can't endure no more. Oh, wait, the International Crisis Group is already spinning out that scenario in its loving little Friday the 13th Valentine to President Rakhmon and his administration, entitled "Tajikistan: On the Road to Failure," complete with tender sweet-nothings such as "failed state" and (probably hyperbolic) analogies to the country's neighbor to the south, Afghanistan.
It may seem like a minor factor, but the weather last week -- constant grey, chilly rain for 5 days out of 6, until Sunday burst forth with sunshine -- didn't help anyone's mood, either. For me personally some new trouble with my laptop and an overheating screen was kind of the icing on the cake.
Not a pretty week in Market-Monday town. Here's hoping this one will be a bit better!
Already many in the capital have been limited to 15 hours of electricity per day, thanks to power cuts introduced in January. (The bulk of the country's population, living outside Dushanbe, has gotten as little as 3 hours per day since the rations went into effect.)
On Tuesday, the 10th, it was announced that Dushanbe's 15 hours of power per day would be reduced to 11 hours in most large residential neighborhoods. We of course are lucky enough to have a generator, which makes the frequent switching on and off an annoyance that's barely worth mentioning. The poor electricity grid and variation in how the power cuts are actually carried out means that not all locals or non-official foreigners experience the troubles in the same way, though. Some neighborhoods have damage that causes power to go out for days at a time; other apartment buildings are either geographically well-placed or have a patron from some ministry among their residents and can escape some of the hardship that way.
But in the midst of all of this, transportation in the city was thrown for a major loop when the minibus marshrutki, the primary mode of getting around town for the majority of people (including Dan, who commutes this way now), were banned from the most important major thoroughfares in town. People woke up and started on their way to work on Monday unprepared for a complicated and confusing journey, unable to predict what alternative route their usual minibus would take or how they'd make any connections that are required to get to their end destination. (Unfortunately for those taking the buses to the US embassy, it's located waaaay at the end of one of those now-forbidden major thoroughfares, so the changes present a particular problem.)
The official announcement from the Dushanbe mayor's office says the bus-taxis can still operate as long as they register with one of the "legit" fixed-route taxi companies in town (I think this is pretty-speak for "as long as you get in bed with (and grease the palm of) the mayor and/or his associates"). And of course even then, truly effective "operation" is off the table, since they still have to avoid those major boulevards.
On Monday afternoon, Dan and I left the embassy together and got in a "tangem," as the buses are called in Tajik (something about the name of a nurse in a Chinese soap opera -- the thousands of little buses that tootle along the streets of the capital are virtually identical white models of a Chinese made minivan), and we heard firsthand from the driver about the havoc it was wreaking. Not only are passengers confused and frustrated, but the drivers have risked a lot in buying their vans and now are worried about losing their investments. The number of drivers has jumped with the return of many migrants from Russia, where work has slowed thanks to the economic crisis. As our driver complained, the government seems to just be toying with its people, when it ought to be behaving responsibly and looking out for their welfare. They turn off the power and watch the financial crisis and add this on top of it? 'What do they expect us to do, how are we supposed to feed our families,' the driver asked, shaking his head in bafflement, but still trying to figure out how to get us to the connection we told him we needed to make in order to get home.
One has to wonder how much Tajikistan's citizens can endure before they can't endure no more. Oh, wait, the International Crisis Group is already spinning out that scenario in its loving little Friday the 13th Valentine to President Rakhmon and his administration, entitled "Tajikistan: On the Road to Failure," complete with tender sweet-nothings such as "failed state" and (probably hyperbolic) analogies to the country's neighbor to the south, Afghanistan.
It may seem like a minor factor, but the weather last week -- constant grey, chilly rain for 5 days out of 6, until Sunday burst forth with sunshine -- didn't help anyone's mood, either. For me personally some new trouble with my laptop and an overheating screen was kind of the icing on the cake.
Not a pretty week in Market-Monday town. Here's hoping this one will be a bit better!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Shaky News
We've had a few mild earthquakes lately, the most recent one about a week ago and the very first experience I've had of being aware of a quake while it's happening. Even all that time in northern California, and apparently I'm really not observant of my surroundings enough to feel the ground shake.
The last one lasted for what seemed like quite a while, and it came at about 1:30 in the morning. For some strange reason we were awake at that hour, but I was in bed, reading. The surface I was lying on seemed to turn into a water bed, and the chandelier above me swayed to and fro. I wondered whether I should get up and stand in the doorway. I wondered it some more. I probably had enough time for wondering that I really should have gotten up and stood there, like they say you are supposed to. But then it stopped.
But none of this empirical evidence for a quake was at play in what happened here on Friday, when apparently "thousands of residents in Tajikistan’s capital city of Dushanbe went without sleep, kept awake by a bogus rumor about an impending earthquake." I honestly don't quite know what comment to make on this story, it is so strange to me and so hard for me to imagine acting in this way. Let's hope the "poor flows of information" improve before anything really serious happens here!
The last one lasted for what seemed like quite a while, and it came at about 1:30 in the morning. For some strange reason we were awake at that hour, but I was in bed, reading. The surface I was lying on seemed to turn into a water bed, and the chandelier above me swayed to and fro. I wondered whether I should get up and stand in the doorway. I wondered it some more. I probably had enough time for wondering that I really should have gotten up and stood there, like they say you are supposed to. But then it stopped.
But none of this empirical evidence for a quake was at play in what happened here on Friday, when apparently "thousands of residents in Tajikistan’s capital city of Dushanbe went without sleep, kept awake by a bogus rumor about an impending earthquake." I honestly don't quite know what comment to make on this story, it is so strange to me and so hard for me to imagine acting in this way. Let's hope the "poor flows of information" improve before anything really serious happens here!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Babes in Boots
Thank you to a friend from our Vladivostok days for pointing out to me a recent New York Times piece on how valenki (felted wool Russian peasant boots) have become quite the fashion accessory. Apparently Anya is a pretty darned hip little munchkin.
Valenki are a very rare sight here in Dushanbe (and, to be fair, winter here typically is not quite harsh enough to warrant wearing them). When Anya showed up to sadik on the first snowy winter morning we've had in the flowery boots we bought last winter in Vlad, Anya's sadik teachers oohed and aahed very admiringly.
As I remember that purchase, I can't help but think how well that cute little pair of baby valenki illustrates the remarkable distance between Vlad and Dushanbe in economic terms. Those shoes are a good-looking, rather stylish, well-made pair of Russian-made boots bought for a reasonable price in this curiously Russian kids' "super-store" called "Bubl'-Gum" (a funny play on the words "bubble gum" and "GUM," the classic Soviet state department store). I remember having been told when we arrived in Vlad in October 2006 how the first outlets of that chain in town had radically improved local shopping options for toys, kids' clothing, and diapers.
But there is absolutely no store like that here in Dushanbe -- nothing even close. And there are really no comparable goods like that here, either (I know, I made that clear in my musing after a downer of a visit to Sadbarg). Most manufactured goods you find here are depressingly ugly, poorly-made, and overpriced, and virtually nothing is mass manufactured or distributed from within Tajikistan. I remember many times thinking that it seemed like "everything" for sale in Vlad was from China, but here in Dushanbe that seems much more literally to be the case. Anyway, I guess it's kind of interesting that a little perspective can give me a new appreciation of one aspect of Vlad!
Valenki are a very rare sight here in Dushanbe (and, to be fair, winter here typically is not quite harsh enough to warrant wearing them). When Anya showed up to sadik on the first snowy winter morning we've had in the flowery boots we bought last winter in Vlad, Anya's sadik teachers oohed and aahed very admiringly.
As I remember that purchase, I can't help but think how well that cute little pair of baby valenki illustrates the remarkable distance between Vlad and Dushanbe in economic terms. Those shoes are a good-looking, rather stylish, well-made pair of Russian-made boots bought for a reasonable price in this curiously Russian kids' "super-store" called "Bubl'-Gum" (a funny play on the words "bubble gum" and "GUM," the classic Soviet state department store). I remember having been told when we arrived in Vlad in October 2006 how the first outlets of that chain in town had radically improved local shopping options for toys, kids' clothing, and diapers.
But there is absolutely no store like that here in Dushanbe -- nothing even close. And there are really no comparable goods like that here, either (I know, I made that clear in my musing after a downer of a visit to Sadbarg). Most manufactured goods you find here are depressingly ugly, poorly-made, and overpriced, and virtually nothing is mass manufactured or distributed from within Tajikistan. I remember many times thinking that it seemed like "everything" for sale in Vlad was from China, but here in Dushanbe that seems much more literally to be the case. Anyway, I guess it's kind of interesting that a little perspective can give me a new appreciation of one aspect of Vlad!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Bzzz
When you arrive into Dushanbe airport, one of the first things you see, and by far the brightest color you see in at least the first thirty minutes after landing, is the yellow and black ad for the Russian "Beeline" mobile telephone company. I find that kind of amusing.
Beeline was the company whose shameless use of product placement throughout the 2007 sequel to the classic Russian New Year's movie "The Irony of Fate" went above and beyond anything I've seen in American movies. (If you look carefully at the movie poster here you can see the prominently displayed yellow and black Christmas tree ball. None of the other very obvious products placed in the movie, including Toyota and Calve mayonnaise, got even close to that kind of a boost.)
You do have to admit, Beeline's logo does have a great visual element in those yellow and black stripes, which are easily stretched and pulled to fit new images.
In Tajikistan, from what I can see, they must have just recently begun to enter (muscle their way into?) the market. They also must have some comfy relationship with the government to allow their big "welcome to Tajikistan" ad to greet you as you wait for the passport control officials to do their job. Oh, and although on our first arrival passport control had run out of immigration forms, on my second arrival they had a fresh batch. With guess-whose ad printed on the reverse side? You got it: Beeline. And in the center of town, their billboards and ads stand out pretty well -- especially when you consider that probably about 50% of billboards in Dushanbe actually don't carry ads at all, but sayings from the government and usually quotes attributed to President Rahmon.
I find their attempts to use Central Asian imagery in their ads a little clever -- I'm not sure what Tajiks think of it. I need to take some pictures of the print ads I've seen around town. Online I couldn't find the most interesting attempts to incorporate local visuals into their material.
Obviously they can fit the yellow and black into a classic Russian image, too, like the nesting dolls. Although I think it's possible that they may only feel the need here in Central Asia. On Beeline.ru you just see lots of modern Europeans smiling and living the good life with the ease of communication that Beeline apparently affords. I don't see any matryoshki there.
Anyway, the Central Asian teabowls (piala) below will have to serve as my best example here, until I can get out there with a camera.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Seen Today in Dushanbe
- Snow: big, fat, wet flakes falling in a beautiful mess, and still falling steadily now, at 3 in the afternoon (and forecast to last into a chilly weekend!)
- Turkeys: 30 somoni (a little less than $10) per kilo, labeled for some reason in Greek, in the supermarket
- A Russian guy buying only hot sauce, and nothing else, at the same supermarket (I guess stereotypes are made to be broken)
- Historically inaccurate bright orange bell-bottoms in the 1976 Soviet film version of Firdausi's Shahnameh, "Skazanie o Siyavushe" (this afternoon's offering on TV Safina, one of the 3 local channels we get at home)
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