Returning to Uzbekistan from two weeks in dreamy Turkey is a lot like waking up with a hangover…you either want to stay in bed, or order up a double Bloody Mary. Better yet, have the damn Bloody Mary in bed…or head back to Turkey.
My one hour flight from Tashkent to Andijon on Uzbek Airways alone encompassed all that I was returning to…a two year-old seated in the Emergency Exit row, twelve ten year-olds turned around in their seats to practice speaking English with an American (me) – like field mice peaking out of their hovels – peppering me with questions while half their seatbelts were undone during take-off, a flight attendant too eager to over sugar and caffeine the kids with multiple doses of soda, but not to make sure that the overhead compartments they opened mid-flight were closed for landing, and finally, getting hosed double the going rate for my five minute taxi home – on account of too much fatigue to argue, the rain, the cold, and it was dark with no other choice that was obvious to both of us.
Back home, everything was (unfortunately) still in order – sticky dishes in the sink, mud on the floors, and the pervasive chill. Last night I exterminated a spider laden with huge egg sac. Tonight I bleached three generations of cockroaches out of my bathroom. (Did you know that an olive green sweater will spot into salmon pink dots if it gets accidentally sprayed with bleach?) And just when my skin stopped crawling, I opened the fridge to find a Petri dish fit for what I could not achieve in advanced biology. There were quite a few science experiments brewing from many weeks of neglect. (Let me know if anyone wants the recipe.) This is clearly retribution from eight luxurious years of having a part-time maid while living in Singapore. I hope that I’m nearly paid up.
And yes, the recent parliamentary elections took place on December 26th without incident. The results are as anyone anticipated, with the house now divided into upper and lower (whatever that means), and a newly appointed senate made up of friends of the President…I mean, specialists from various fields of expertise. The OSCE has, predictably, declared that it was not a completely democratic process. So should we start counting the days until they get “Soros’d” (as we should now coin the process by which “anti-establishment” do-gooders get their arses kicked out of this country…er, I mean don’t get their NGO registrations renewed)?
And on the safety and security front, everyone will be happy to know that the Ferghana Valley was described by the U.S. Embassy’s Regional Security Officer (or rather his stand-in) as one of the most dangerous hot-beds – the likes of being the “Compton and Watts of Uzbekistan”!!! Even Peace Corps has made the decision to “reduce” the number of volunteers assigned to this region on account of inadequate emergency evacuation procedures. So there won’t be any new volunteers assigned out here in the most densely populated part of the country. That makes really good programmatic sense, huh? Let’s put even more volunteers in Bukhara or Samarkand. Once the UZ16’s leave this coming November, I will be one of only 7 volunteers left in the region. I’ll be 20 km away from the nearest volunteer, and the furthest away from Tashkent. But don’t worry folks, the U.S. Embassy’s Regional Security Officer (or rather his stand-in) was firm when he said that they have the resources to assist us in the event of an evacuation, and Peace Corps keeps saying, “Don’t worry. We won’t leave you guys behind.” Sir, Yes Sir! Seriously, while I am fully aware of the potential dangers here and have personal opinions about the taxed patience of the general population, I do not feel that I will be directly threatened in any way. Past and potential violence in the region has typically been localized, and foreigners have not been targeted. Still, I can’t wait for the Spring thaw over the tenable mountain pass – our only access to the rest of the country.
The best thing about my return has been answering “One year” when asked how much longer I will be in Uzbekistan. My poop-eating grin caught me unaware on the plane when I replied and I almost choked on the good feeling. But that also means only one year left to accomplish all the professional as well as personal goals set a year ago. Just like last year, it is bound to go by in a flash. (btw, it’s really one year, two months and around twenty six days…)