Meetings and greetings

22/10/10

It has been a busy few days juggling attending a conference where I understand nothing but there are academics I want to meet, meeting new friends and having impromptu Persian lessons and being introduced to other scholars.

Have been trying to work through the intricacies of Iranian taarof and balance peoples’ needs, both stated and unmentioned, from different directions and cultures. Which is all normal life, I suppose, and part of staying put somewhere for a while!  

So on Wednesday, I had plans, people to see places to try and find (!) but when I checked my email they all changed as the President of the Institute of Sciences, Professor Ilolov, was happy to meet with me. I had to hurry, wearing the wrong clothes and arrive as soon as possible. S had fixed it for me!

He met me in the boardroom near his office and he was really helpful, said that he would speak to the Director of the National Museum who works with him so that I can go and research the collections, which is fantastic. I have also learnt from him and one of his colleagues at the Institute of Sciences, a Professor of Anthropology more about what the Samanids mean to the scholars. It is important to them not just that the empire stretched far and wide, ruled by a strong dynasty, or that it was just the resurgence of Persian culture and language  but that it was a time of great intellectual prowess, with the best minds of the age such as Ibn Sina, Biruni, al-Ghazali. These scholars are still highly rated today.

People are more polite here on the bus, certainly they will get up for older people, the infirm, people carrying bags etc. (rather worryingly that also includes me, as a woman, or a foreigner – or maybe just old!). More disturbing however is the number of children working on the buses taking money for the rides, during the school day. I do not know how many children don’t attend school on a regular basis here.  There are no tickets here, just as there used to be no receipts,  meaning the opportunities for corruption were and still are rather large.

I have just returned from J’s comfortable home, where I ended up staying last night. Where I am living is not on the main road, and the thought of trying to explain to a taxi driver the snaking path through the tower blocks did not really appeal. Even with my map drawn by G – look out for the nine storeyed tower block.

J is an Iranian woman living here in Tajikistan doing research on the Shahnahme, which I am reading at the moment. The book is the Persian book of kings, which tells the story of creation until the beginning of the Arab invasions. It is full of heroes, dragons and evil divs or devils. It is one of the great works of Persian literature, claimed by Iranians and Tajiks alike. The book can be compared to the great Homeric epics or to the Hindu Ramayana. It is full of deeds of derring do, battles and feasting, clever women and beautiful men built like cypress trees. Great way to end my day, reading from it.

We spoke about so many things, J is a lovely, open and fascinating woman, who feels close to all cultures, thoughtful and good fun too. She gave me a Persian lesson, and has promised more in the future.

She cooked a delicious lunch of Gorme Sabzi – chicken and spinach with rice and beans, which does sound rather Caribbean, now I write it, but the flavour is completely different, subtle and saffron scented. Very Iranian dish. An Iranian could serve you a feast fit for a queen in their own palace and still complain about their poor cooking and the desert that is their home!

The Professor came round for lunch and I managed to ask him some questions. Interesting hearing about the differences between now and the Soviet era.  He was kind and spoke good English, even though he enjoyed having someone else translate for him. There were continuous exhortations to learn Persian, and then he could really have a proper discussion with me.

Later we watched a Robin Hood cartoon that I remembered from my childhood, with fox as Robin, Prince John (PJ) is the thumb sucking lion and his evil snake henchman. It brought back old memories. Now it is watched by Iranian and Tajik children on a Persian satellite channel. Strange!

Staying in an Iranian house is fraught with taarof dangers! Don’t whatever you do, complement anything too profusely, it  might be offered to you. Do not, like I did, enter such house with holes in the toes of your socks  (shoes obviously come off at the door), you are likely to be given some new ones!  It was safe to praise the wallpaper – which I did, in the kitchen, as it can’t be removed. J kept on saying “I know your customs are different Katherine, but you are in the East now, and this is how we do it here”!

My dress is nearing completion at the tailors, S who is making it for me is a sweet faced nineteen year old studying fashion design who wants to go to USA and continue her studies. The place rang with “Hello Katherine” and offers to come for lunch. Such a wonderful, welcoming female atmosphere.

Later I got back to the smell of baking bread, made in the traditional Tajik way with pinched edges and patterned with imprinted circles on top. The loaves are usually circular and a hand span thick. G told me to try the bread baked in tandoors on the street, which is delicious. Her mother can bake it like that but she doesn’t have the knack, as it means stretching your arm into a boiling oven, without blistering it.

 It is full moon tonight, I saw it looking over the family groups on flashing rollerskates as they circled the Circus, or Circa as it is known. Many Soviet cities seem to have their permanent circus building, I think it is still in use, on an irregular basis as its original function.

Cyrillic letters are funny, the word can start quite 'normally' T – A – X – for example, and then as it continues you realise you are at sea, that this is not the tax office. The sounds are not what  you expect and there is no dry land of the Roman script to cling to.  At least with Persian script you know that it is totally different and there are going to be no clues offered, but no false friends either, to those who know the Roman one. People strangely seem to be impressed with my Persian writing, which is good (that they are, not that the writing is), if only in comparison with my awful speech.