We took a one-hour flight from Turkmenistan to Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan for a four-day visit. Our goal was to visit three remaining former Soviet Republics in Central Asia on this trip but it became clear that Turkmenistan was not going to allow tourists in 2022 so we settled on ticking off Uzbekistan and Tajikistan.

There is still a “Soviet vibe” in Dushanbe, starting at the airport. Maybe that is because Tajikistan is more dependent on Russia than the other countries in the region. Tajikistan first came under Russian control in the 1860s, and its influence continues to this day, long after Tajikistan gained its independence in 1991. Almost half of the country’s GDP (48%) comes from remittances of Tajiks who work in Russia and send money home to their families.

 There was a bloody civil war from 1992 - 1997, and their current president Emomali Rahmon came to power during the most chaotic year of 1994. Amazingly enough, he’s been reelected with about 96% of the vote ever since! Of all the 15 former Soviet Republics, Tajikistan remains the poorest. It is also among the most corrupt; the media is government-controlled, and freedom of speech is repressed. (All facts were gleaned from some of Michael’s favorite sources: The World Fact Book, Transparency International, and Reporters Without Borders).

However, the most striking difference between the cities is the massive monuments in Dushanbe. There is still a lot of cool Soviet-era architecture, but now towering statues of ancient heroes, poets, and one particular president dominate the cityscape. There are squares with fountains and flowers with tributes to Independence and The Fatherland. There are massive marble-clad buildings dedicated to the Ministry of one Department or The Ministry of Another.

And, like many countries run by egomaniacs, there are official portraits of Tajikistan’s fearless leader Emomali Rahmon plastered on nearly every official building. He’s been in power for over 25 years, so you can gradually watch him age along with each new building that bears his image.

 And while there is plenty of new construction, many older buildings, especially apartment complexes, are cracker-box Soviet housing for the masses, and most are in disrepair. We know because we lived in one! Remember how I’ve often said, “don’t let the outside of a building put you off. That nice Airbnb you rented will surely be on the other side of a “dingy door.” Not in this case. Besides our host (five-star), everything about our four-night stay in this Airbnb was less than stellar. Granted, there weren’t many listings in Dushanbe to choose from, and the average nightly rate was around 35 USD per night, so we kept our expectations in check. But this listing is definitely among the worst of our 300 Airbnbs.

I will give high marks to our young host Porso. He picked us up at the airport and was very honored to have us stay in his Airbnb. But he was out of his depth in creating a place where guests would feel comfortable. We pulled up to the building and could see it was in sad condition - but we’ve actually stayed in lovely Airbnbs in buildings that looked worse. So we remained optimistic - until we reached the dilapidated elevator. It was tiny, so we sent our bags to the fifth floor one at a time with one person. But you had to quickly get in or out because the doors would catch you in a shark-bite grip, and you had to pry them apart to save yourself. For our entire stay, we prepared for the elevator to just shudder and die.

 Once we reached our dimly lit floor, a metal barrier opened with a code onto a landing where Porso led us to our apartment door. It was like stepping back in time to the 1950s. He inherited the apartment from his Grandmother, and I think it is safe to say he hadn’t touched much since she lived (and probably died) there. I won’t go into every detail, but we kept telling ourselves this was a "cultural moment." We were actually experiencing what it must have been like to live in a Soviet-era apartment. Not that different it turns out.

Our next “real life” adventure was a trip to the nearest supermarket. The kitchen in our Airbnb was not meant for actual cooking, so we just needed our usual basics. Breakfast cereal, non-fat milk (always hard to find), real orange juice (also hard to find), fruit, diet coke, instant coffee, snacks, water, and wine. The small store near us had a lot of products, just not the ones we were looking for. A friendly employee who was delighted to use his English helped us navigate the aisles, and we left with most of what we wanted. There was way more vodka on offer than wine, but we took a chance on a local red (terrible) along with some new and usual snacks.

It was time to explore the city. Free walking tours weren’t available, but Michael found a guide under Guru Walks that provided private tours for a modest fee, so we booked a city tour. We figured out how to flag a taxi and met Ardasher Jahongiriyon at the appointed meeting spot. He was an earnest young man, probably in his early twenties, but he smiled a bit when he said we could call him “Shar” that means lion in Tajiki. He was a great guide - and very proud of his city. I am not sure he fully understood how old we are because he walked us from one end of the city to the other as if we were his age. If we mentioned taking a bus or taxi between sites, he would just say, “no, no, it’s just a little bit further!” By the end of the day, we had logged 22,830 steps - the equivalent of 9 miles!

 One of the first stops was Friendship Square, where an impressive monument dedicated to Ismoil Somoni, a ruler from the tenth century and a national hero, looms over the square. He shows up a lot - in fact, the currency is the Somoni or “Som.

Next, we set off to find The Palace of Nations, where the Second Tallest Flagpole in the World is located. Until very recently, it was in First Place. But then, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, took over that spot. Third place goes to Baku, Azerbaijan, Fourth to Panmunjom, North Korea. And Fifth to Ashgabat, Turkmenistan. The common theme, in my opinion, is that all five countries are ruled by autocrats with obvious flagpole issues.

This set the tone for most of Dushanbe's monuments and important buildings. Each one was massive. And clad in marble or gold or intricate tilework. Broad avenues were lined with flower beds and dazzling light features. And fountains. Lots of fountains. The impression we got was the Government was putting up a facade of stability. "Nothing to see here, folks! It’s all good.” Despite a stagnant economy and a growing dependence on China for desperately needed infrastructure.

 We ended the tour with a taxi ride (finally) to the Medina. Unlike many souks, most of this market was inside a vast two-story building with a rotunda. The second floor specializes in spices, dried fruit and nuts, and household goods. On the main floor, food groups had their own territory.

Dairy products like cottage cheese, yogurt, Kefir, sour cream, and curds are popular here. Women were busy making their goods behind the counters, so you knew it was fresh, unlike the slabs of meat and hundreds of scrawny chickens piled on stainless steel tables. I cannot bring myself to buy flesh or fish in one of these markets.

 I do, however, like to buy fruit and vegetables. Having Cher with us made that less daunting because he could help me pay with the wacky Tajikistan Somoni (currently 10 to the dollar). Tajikistan is a very affordable country. A taxi across town cost 2 USD, and I think dinner that first night was around 6 USD, so I wasn’t going to get robbed blind purchasing some nuts and a few tomatoes - but it’s nice to get it right.

The next day Michael and I spent some time at the National Historical Museum of Tajikistan. An impressive structure built in 2013 for multiple millions of dollars to unite the people. I have a feeling “the people” might have preferred the money be spent elsewhere.

 Here is a quote from their fearless leader: “The museum is a shining mirror that reflects the life and history of the people, its rises and falls, scientific and cultural achievements, and the destiny of the famous and glorious sons of the Fatherland.” (Tajik President Emomali Rahmon, 2013)

The museum offers free English-speaking guides so we requested one for our visit. . We had two different guides - a young university student at the University took us through ancient (very ancient) history on the first floor. Her English was good, but some of the nuance was lost.

 She handed us off to a somber young man on the second floor who took us through the last hundred years of Tajik history. We spent a lot of time here because this is what we came to study. Of course, not much of the information was in English, so we relied on the politically neutral commentary from our guide. His English was very limited - maybe by design. But heck, there we weren’t able to speak either of their official languages: Russian and Tajik, other than hello, how much and thank you.

In the afternoon, Bobo, our host’s brother, took us to a part of the city that was definitely not on any tourist map. Bobo is a budding sculptor that makes ends meet working as an art teacher's assistant at a private high school. When he’s not working, he spends time creating whimsical forms from found objects at an artist’s collective. Basically, an abandoned building repurposed as art studios and a communal workspace where some of the artists live. He wanted us to see it, and I am glad he did.

 We spent time with some talented young people, including painters, mosaic makers, and printmakers. Some workshops were outdoors, where Bobo and his friends work with clay, metal, wood, and plaster.

Tucked into a corner of the large courtyard, we came across a forlorn statue of Lenin. Under his watchful eye, men were using plaster and cement to create yet more deities, including a set of majestic lions - no doubt destined for yet another Ministry building. 

 You can’t say you’ve seen a country by spending four days in the capital, but nine-tenths of this land-locked, mountainous country is virtually uninhabitable. But we are glad we were able to see at least part of it with our own eyes. Nothing brings history alive like experiencing a place and meeting people who live there and can share their stories. Always be curious!

 Thanks for following along,

Debbie and Michael Campbell

The Senior Nomads

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