What follows is extracted from letters sent to my wife from Turkmenistan and, perhaps, should not
necessarily be seen as a pattern to be followed.
*****
“I have put in a part claim for my DSA and the expenses I paid on behalf of UNICEF, and anticipate that I’ll have some money when I get back - that is, before I am paid my fee. Naturally, when claiming the expenses, I was told two different ways that I had to make the claim, and there was a lively argument about whether some money which they sent to me at the end of my time in Dashoguz was, in fact, an advance or a settlement which was, of course, crucial to know since it affects the way in which the claim has to be made. I said that they could argue the toss with the computer; I just wanted the money. More discussions and no movement. I suggest that the problem is their affair, not mine. Yet more discussion. I casually mention that ‘I have been there before’ and in one case, referred my case to the UN legal division and had a ruling in my favour.
“Surprise, surprise; problem solved almost immediately. Can there be a connection, I ask myself, between my comments and the speed with which the ‘problem’ evaporated ? In this respect, UNICEF has not changed. One can’t help but feel that the computer’s demands on people is at least a contribution to the problem.”
*****
“Saw the handpump (which I had mentioned in an earlier letter) and have discovered that the Turkomen operate under a branch of physics different from the one which Isaac Newton started formulating. It would take too long to explain so I won’t. Photos won’t do the story justice. . . . . . .” (Sadly, at this point, I cannot find the photographs.)
*****
“The day before yesterday we visited quite an interesting school where they had suffered the effects of the same storm that had brought us temporary respite about a week ago. They had lost parts of the loo roof, all the glass in their windows, and two doors in the cubicles. I suspect that the wind had been useful in reducing the smell somewhat, too. But the highlight of the visit was, would you believe it, a wedding. We never did find out why it had had to be at the school but when I saw it coming, I asked if it was allowed to take a couple of pictures and everyone assured me that they would be honoured. Naturally, the bride was not consulted and she was behind an opaque scarf. When the wedding party spied me, I was dragged in to make a speech of congratulations and to open the champagne. Speech made, I then opened the champagne which was not too cold. No problem, but I was very wise to have put the bottle on the table and let the cork go straight up because there was a minor explosion and the cork seemed to go into orbit. We never did locate it. It was Uzbeki champagne, appeared to be very ‘young’ and cloudy and I was obliged to make the toasts with it. Warm champagne is not my most favourite drink, I have to say.”
In the photo, there are 8 men and 18 women so that this former Russian republic has at least ensured that women are generally not hidden behind the burkha; but I found it curious that the bride had to be hidden behind a veil. Had I known that I was to be called upon to make a wedding speech, I would at least have put on a tie.
“When all the appropriate toasts had been made, the bridal couple were given vodka in shallow ceramic bowls from which they drank and then smashed on the floor - no lesser toast may be drunk from these vessels - you know the sort of thing. Amazing how similar we all are throughout the world. I was asked if I had seen this done before and assured them that we share many customs, but that as I had come to see how the school environment had been kept clean, we might need to consider how to do this and not litter the place with ceramic chips. . . . . The one sadness is that I haven’t yet managed to get a snap of a typical Turkoman in his hat and coat; perhaps just as well because Galina (my translator) maintains that they come with an odour strong enough to knock your teeth out.”
*****
“We visited the last school yesterday - and it was one of the most distant, sitting just below a part of the Usturt Plateau. It was a Kazakh school - the second that we have met - and we went all that way just to find that they stored books and broken chairs in the loos. They had built another mud-made affair which works well enough if you can ignore the hive of wasps in one of them.
“And I was stung by a bee. Slight panic because I was unsure how I would react to it but Galina immediately made a mud pack and slapped it on and, keeping it wet for a couple of hours, the swelling went down. It seems that we were able to remove most of the sting or - as Galina put it - the bees there are polite and only sting you lightly. Thank goodness.”
*****
 |
| In younger days! |
necessarily be seen as a pattern to be followed.
*****
“I have put in a part claim for my DSA and the expenses I paid on behalf of UNICEF, and anticipate that I’ll have some money when I get back - that is, before I am paid my fee. Naturally, when claiming the expenses, I was told two different ways that I had to make the claim, and there was a lively argument about whether some money which they sent to me at the end of my time in Dashoguz was, in fact, an advance or a settlement which was, of course, crucial to know since it affects the way in which the claim has to be made. I said that they could argue the toss with the computer; I just wanted the money. More discussions and no movement. I suggest that the problem is their affair, not mine. Yet more discussion. I casually mention that ‘I have been there before’ and in one case, referred my case to the UN legal division and had a ruling in my favour.
“Surprise, surprise; problem solved almost immediately. Can there be a connection, I ask myself, between my comments and the speed with which the ‘problem’ evaporated ? In this respect, UNICEF has not changed. One can’t help but feel that the computer’s demands on people is at least a contribution to the problem.”
*****
“Saw the handpump (which I had mentioned in an earlier letter) and have discovered that the Turkomen operate under a branch of physics different from the one which Isaac Newton started formulating. It would take too long to explain so I won’t. Photos won’t do the story justice. . . . . . .” (Sadly, at this point, I cannot find the photographs.)
*****
“The day before yesterday we visited quite an interesting school where they had suffered the effects of the same storm that had brought us temporary respite about a week ago. They had lost parts of the loo roof, all the glass in their windows, and two doors in the cubicles. I suspect that the wind had been useful in reducing the smell somewhat, too. But the highlight of the visit was, would you believe it, a wedding. We never did find out why it had had to be at the school but when I saw it coming, I asked if it was allowed to take a couple of pictures and everyone assured me that they would be honoured. Naturally, the bride was not consulted and she was behind an opaque scarf. When the wedding party spied me, I was dragged in to make a speech of congratulations and to open the champagne. Speech made, I then opened the champagne which was not too cold. No problem, but I was very wise to have put the bottle on the table and let the cork go straight up because there was a minor explosion and the cork seemed to go into orbit. We never did locate it. It was Uzbeki champagne, appeared to be very ‘young’ and cloudy and I was obliged to make the toasts with it. Warm champagne is not my most favourite drink, I have to say.”
In the photo, there are 8 men and 18 women so that this former Russian republic has at least ensured that women are generally not hidden behind the burkha; but I found it curious that the bride had to be hidden behind a veil. Had I known that I was to be called upon to make a wedding speech, I would at least have put on a tie.
“When all the appropriate toasts had been made, the bridal couple were given vodka in shallow ceramic bowls from which they drank and then smashed on the floor - no lesser toast may be drunk from these vessels - you know the sort of thing. Amazing how similar we all are throughout the world. I was asked if I had seen this done before and assured them that we share many customs, but that as I had come to see how the school environment had been kept clean, we might need to consider how to do this and not litter the place with ceramic chips. . . . . The one sadness is that I haven’t yet managed to get a snap of a typical Turkoman in his hat and coat; perhaps just as well because Galina (my translator) maintains that they come with an odour strong enough to knock your teeth out.”
*****
“We visited the last school yesterday - and it was one of the most distant, sitting just below a part of the Usturt Plateau. It was a Kazakh school - the second that we have met - and we went all that way just to find that they stored books and broken chairs in the loos. They had built another mud-made affair which works well enough if you can ignore the hive of wasps in one of them.
“And I was stung by a bee. Slight panic because I was unsure how I would react to it but Galina immediately made a mud pack and slapped it on and, keeping it wet for a couple of hours, the swelling went down. It seems that we were able to remove most of the sting or - as Galina put it - the bees there are polite and only sting you lightly. Thank goodness.”
*****
As for the hat of the typical Turkoman, here is our former colleague (click) Samphe wearing one.
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