Today G and I went to the market with J and her sister, getting there by 9am. Sunday in Dushanbe seems no different from any other day in the city, business as usual. People have to work as G says. We get a mashrutka there, even with G complaining about waiting for transport, it is usually much faster to get moving than in London.
We met the others at the entrance to the market and I quickly realised that this was not just any old market trip, but to buy J’s trousseau as it were for her forthcoming wedding. I knew that she was involved in one, but not that it was hers!
The market was huge, with guys wheeling carts up and down filled with wares, out of whose way the shoppers had to spring. Underfoot is uneven, not easy when you can’t see the ground for people. There is usually a big gully in the middle of the path – with or without water, but usually with some rubbish there. However in general the market was fairly clean. It sold a myriad of things, from fabric to sellotape, saucepans to pens.
While J said she just had to buy some shampoo even that was fraught with decision and smelling and discussion of the price. We spent over half an hour just deciding what should go in a basket of toiletries, both for him and for her. Nivea was a favoured brand, and think it might have been the real thing, in amongst the Collate and Apeafresh – each with the branding design of their better known brothers. There were perfumes from Paris which were made in Guangjou – Marquise and Cobra, there was Blue Laby [sic!] with a picture of Paris Hilton, there were perfumes which would convey power and riches on their owner, or so the names promised: Millionaire, King, Queen, Warrior, as well as nail varnish called Golden Rose, and an aftershave called Do it!.
In all we bought nivea cream, safety pins, a mirror, nail varnish, bras, knickers, combs, ribbon, basket, shampoo, foundation, saucepans, two pillows, four serving plates, twenty saucers, two large metal trays, selllotape, eyelash curlers, toothbrushes, toothpaste, clothes pegs, lip gloss, deodorant, eye pencils and socks.
J told me about how her husband-to-be, a Pamiri boy of course, was kind and good and that’s why she chose him.
I also managed to fit in buying some material to take to the tailors tomorrow, green with pink roses. So let's see how my traditional dress turns out.
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