You don’t need cotton to make cotton candy

[And now a travel dispatch from the front lines of the Fergana Valley from guest blogger code-name: Dorzhiev (seems suspicious) – YH]

Chugging up the Syr Daryo at night we look ahead to see swirls of smoke dancing amidst beams of neon light. The scene reminds me of the one in Apocalypse Now where captain Willard and his men encounter a surreal encampment on the Mekong river; an ephemeral outpost that marks the last stop before they reach Kurtz. Having read an account of Curzon and Younghusband’s forays into Central Asia just hours before the association came naturally enough. The melodrama of the scene, however, was somewhat diluted by the fact that our vehicle was not a PT gun boat or imperial caravan, but an oversized paddle duck my guide and I had rented for the half hour. We had wanted to hire the blue water bicycle, but some punk had nicked it from us by jumping in line.

The neon lights reflecting off the water emanated from a forest of technicolor palm trees, and the mingling smoke wafted from nearby barbeques on the bank. Apparently eating grilled meat under gaudy lawn furniture is somewhat of an institution in Tajikistan. At least it’s a popular activity at the fair grounds in Khujand, the capital of Tajikistan’s share of the Fergana Valley. For those whose impression of Tajikistan is either of Soviet styled bureaucracy or rural, subsistent peasantry the sights and smells of the Saturday night carnival might seem out of place. Gaggles of unattended children run between students and young families strolling along the riverside laughing, snacking, or waiting to ride the “mystery machine”.

Surveying the crowed from atop my perch on a rickety Ferris wheel I could be looking down at Perry, Georgia or Des Moines, Iowa. The only giveaway that I am in a precinct of a one time Persian province is that the ride attendant is well groomed and competent. No Carnie hailing from Dothan, Alabama could approach this level of professionalism or number of solid teeth. Granted this attendant is probably a high level bureaucrat employed by the “Ministry of Rotating Attractions” whose wages are paid from an ever shrinking public coffer instead of Barnum & Bailey’s.

If there is one bummer to this surprisingly happy scene it is the knowledge of Tajikistan’s current economic woes seen in the light of the countries young demographic. Like many struggling countries, Tajikistan’s population is growing faster than its economy. What effect will this downturn have on a restless generation who in the past few years have seen their hopes of upward mobility diminish? Will the effects of inflation, failure of the cotton crop (a chief export), and the drying up of foreign remittance push them over the brink? On the whole Tajiks live subsistent enough to be fairly shock resistance. This is, however, not as true for the minority of urbanized Tajiks living in cities like Khujand and Dushanbe whose economies are more tertiary. In times of trouble these people are, paradoxically, less able to cope.

A pithy example of this phenomenon could be seen in the winter of 2007. For Tajikistan it was the coldest in 40 years, and made worse by further rationing of energy from neighboring Uzbekistan. Ironically, this had the worst effect on those living in cities who had become reliant on infrastructure for their heat. In contrast, the villagers who are accustomed to going without electricity proved more resilient. On the whole 85 years of communist rule, civil war, and poverty have toughened the Tajik people. How exactly they will weather this particular storm remains to be seen. Tonight, however, they seem more interested in cotton candy and popcorn. Like the T-shirt of the guy in front of me reads, “No money, no crisis”.