A village house in the capital

As I walk down between carefully planted strawberries, and fig trees beginning to show their wares, I feel happy with the warm morning sun on me. There are geraniums, lemon mint, roses and vines under the cherry trees. When I arrived ten days ago the blossom was in its full glory, but now it has scattered on the ground like confetti for an unknown wedding. The eldest daughter S is getting married next month and has a smile and happy air about her as she cleans and cooks, her phone playing music wherever she goes. This is the family I am staying with, for how long, who knows, but it is good for my Tajik as they speak no English.

So the mother was telling me that when they arrived there was nothing in the garden apart from a couple of trees and lots of stones. Now it is a veritable paradise, all through her hard work. But as she says, it makes her happy. All of this I understood in Tajik. So felt pleased, however basic. I had my first Tajik lesson yesterday, so hopefully this will help.

This wonderful garden is not on the outskirts of Dushanbe down some minor road. But it is just five minutes’ walk from the Rudaki Street, the Oxford Street, Whitehall and West End rolled into one, there is only one main street here. The house is behind the Ped or Pedagogical Institute near the Botanical gardens.

The house is simple with an outside drop toilet and bathroom with concrete floor but shower and hot water. But it is comfortable and I make my bed on piled thin mattresses every night, Tajik style.I feel back to nature, as it were, pissing with a pile of wood near me, looking at the ants crawl in the warm earth.

Last week I went to Kurgan Teppa and gave my presentation at the English Language Day event. How much actually was understood past the general excitement of the day, the microphone which had the opposite effect, and you would be better off shouting. But it was great to be involved, met the English Ambassador Trevor Moore who was guest of honour and got a Royal Wedding party invite out of it, at the Ambassadorial residency next week. Royal weddings are not really my thing, but parties, especially where there is a chance I can say “Ambassador you’re spoiling us”, definitely are!

The funny  thing was that even after being introduced as the guest of honour, admittedly using the poor microphone, and giving out all the certificates, a few of the students came up to me to ask me who is this tall man with the mop of grey hair?

I have danced around the living room with my Iranian friends, J & N and N’s teenage daughters and drunk vodka to the Rumi quotation, “One heart is better than one language” hamdil az hamzabani khushtar ast.

I have met my supervisor who likes the direction of my work and her present, and has even written an article along the lines of my topic.

So I feel happy and am beginning to settle back into my Central Asian life.