Everyone's Changing And I Don't Feel The Same

Written April 11, 09

The president visited Mary in early March. This was when I didn’t have a flash drive so couldn’t describe the festivities. Most school children and nurses had to go to various locations to wave flags and stuff. As part of his trip, the President gave the welyat a public transportation system. There is now a system of buses that links most obas to the regional and district centers. This has some serious pros and cons.

On the pros, its cheaper. I can go from my village to the city for about 20 cents. It used to cost 50. Also, as a result of the cheap buses, the Marshrutkas (personally operated minibus taxis) lowered their prices to be competitive. They cost about 35 cents. It is safer. The buses are big, new, and well made. They drive at reasonable speeds and because they aren’t competing with each other for passengers, they aren’t taking stupid risks to overtake each other.

On the cons, there is an unemployment problem in Turkmenistan. For a lot of people working as taxi drivers is an important source of income, and the buses have seriously undercut them. I doubt that the government has some sort of program to transition these people into this new economy. It also takes a lot longer on the bus. A 40 minute marshrutka ride can take an hour because the buses stop more and don’t take those stupid risks. (they are dangerous, but they do get you to your destination faster.) Finally, the number of people I interact with is exponentially increased. A marshrutka fit at most 15 people, the buses can cram at least 30-50. Most of the time I know someone one the bus who wants everyone else to know they are talking to an American. This in turn incites curiosity in everyone else.

On the plus side, people have recently become slightly less interested in my name, year of birth, salary, and marital status. Those are generally the first 4 questions a Turkmen will ask you. Now, they want to know about Obama. This is a transcription of a conversation I have had more times than I want to count.

Turkmen: Are you really American?
Me: Yes, I lived in Washington DC
Turkmen: Your president lives there.
Me: Yes. Obama lives there. He lives in a white house.
Turkmen: Your president is a (politically incorrect term for African American)
Me: Obama is a black man. We don’t say (politically incorrect term for African American) because it is very rude.
Turkmen: Interesting. Is he Muslim?
Me: No, but his father was Muslim
Turkmen: He is young.
Me: Yes, but he is smart. He studied at ‘Garvard’ (The ‘h’ sound often becomes a G in Turkmen)
Turkmen: really? Where is little Bush? (as opposed to big Bush—the father)
Me: I don’t know.
Turkmen: What year were you born?