Turkmenistan:
The Ministry of Silly Walks
Just some of the colours seen on a cloudy morning in the Tolkuchka Bazaar situated in the desert outside of the capital Ashgabat. There is no doubt in my mind that this is the finest and most impressive of the markets in ex-Soviet Central Asia. And that's quite an endorsement in a region famous for its markets
If the biggest enemy of the long term traveller is ennui, then the surest antidote to be blasted out of this stupor is to enter a country that its own planet unto itself. It's not a coincidence that these countries are usually run by highly repressive regimes and populated with some of the most blissfully unjaded and sincere people. Though I remained only 5 days on a Turkmenistan transit visa (not enough time typically to justify its own page here), the heady vapours of a world gone awry linger long after the visit. Anytime travellers who've been to Turkmenistan meet, they get excited and start sharing their stories enthusiastically. Few places in the world generate the kind of buzz and wicked wonder.
Modern Turkmenistan is the creation
of one man,
Saparmyrat Niyazov, who prefers to be known as the Turkmenbashi
(meaning leader
of the Turkmen people). Appointed by
Mikhail Gorbatchev as the Party leader of the Turkmen SSR because he
was an
orphan believed to be less attached to nationalist causes, the
Turkmenbashi
nonetheless quickly drew Turkmenistan into a nationalistic timewarp
upon independence,
and subsequently into his own personal and absurd slipstream. The cult of personality that he's created
might only be surpassed today by that of the North Korea founder Kim
Il-Jong.
The architecture of Ashgabat is a
giant open air
museum of the Turkmenbashi. Most often cited is the 12 meter high gold
statue
of the Turkmenbashi atop the Arch of Neutrality in Neutrality Square,
the focal
point of the city. With his fluttering
golden cape and back arched slightly backwards, the Turkmenbashi looks
up to
the heavens and rotates his gaze around the city, the sun following him
around
throughout the day. Innumerable
golden
statues of an enthroned Turkmenbashi are scattered across the city,
often in
front of government ministries which he creates for his pleasure, and
guarded
by Kalashnikov-armed soldiers. Giant
posters of the Turkmenbashi are ubiquitous on buildings, and on street
corner
billboards, often portraying him as a smiling, benign paternal figure. My personal favourite is a billboard across
from the Turkish-funded Yimpaș mall, showing the Turkmenbashi standing
nobly erect
and looking down at his wristwatch.
In the Independence Park south
of the city centre past the "Olympic" stadium, colossal monuments to
the Turkmenbashi are flanked by modern gleaming white buildings
ostensibly
built as luxury hotels but which are in practice almost completely
unoccupied. The park highlights are the
Monument to
Independence (a giant golden inverted plunger housing a museum), a
pyramidal
shopping mall which has the largest fountain in the world with the
water
streaming down the sides of the pyramid, and a giant statue of his
first book
the Ruhnama, or Book of the Soul, offering spiritual guidance for the
"Turkmen way of life." The
white buildings are lined up on long axes emanating from the city
centre and
extending out to the deserted countryside.
The longest one that I counted was 23 buildings before they
disappeared
over the horizon. As a former urban
planner in the communist government, the Turkmenbashi relishes his
artistic
freedom and with the help of his court builder, Bouyges Construction of
France,
feels empowered to beautify the city with his vision.
The function of any of these buildings appears to be
somewhat random. It could be a luxury hotel, it could be a new ministry
that
he'd think up overnight, or simply just left empty.
The real estate for development along these
grand axes is confiscated by the government without any compensation or
concern
for local residents left homeless.
The stories about Turkmenbashi's
whimsical tendencies are legendary.
Once, he was said to have stopped in front of a cotton farm
where the
elderly manager was berating a young boy on his cotton picking
techniques. Displeased, the Turkmenbashi
came out of his
car and ordered the two to switch positions permanently, the boy taking
over
the farm and the old man ruined for life.
Incidentally, cotton is the secondary export from Turkmenistan
after
fossil fuels and all citizens are obliged to spend time every year
picking
cotton for the state without compensation.
Plenty of damning stories can be heard in neighbouring
Uzbekistan, where
residents in the Nukus area have been separated from their ethnic Uzbek
relatives in the adjacent part of Turkmenistan following the breakup
and
partitioning of the Soviet Union. Not
only does the Turkmenbashi restrict his citizens from crossing over to
Uzbekistan,
but Uzbeks who drive across the border to see their relatives must pay
$250 for
the privilege, a few months' average salary.
Turkmen soldiers have instructions to shoot to kill any Uzbeks
violating
the immigration laws.
If you ask your average
Turkmen
on the street his or her opinion about the Turkmenbashi, however, you
may be
surprised to learn that he is adored by some.
On TV, he is shown receiving poor families into his palace, and
upon
learning of their financial and health woes, giving them money to
salvage their
lives. Television is, not surprisingly,
completely controlled by the state. A golden head profile of the
Turkembashi
appears on the upper right hand corner of the screen on all channels. Only Turkmen programming is allowed. Foreign contamination such as ballet or
motion pictures or literature are deemed un-Turkmen and strictly
illegal. This may explain why the
Turkmenbashi's own
books always remain atop the national bestseller lists.
Apart from the usual folk dancing and
singing shows, I watched one TV talk show with two teenage girls
discussing
passages excerpted from the Ruhnama, which is mandatory reading for all
schoolkids. Turkmenistan is rich in
celebrations of its culture and proud history.
I regrettably missed the national Melon day holiday, but I was
fortunate enough to
have arrived in Ashgabat on Neutrality Day, the anniversary of the
Turkmenbashi's 1998 declaration of political neutrality.
Indeed, he prefers to steer clear of
American and Russian alliances, despises the Karimov regime in
Uzbekistan, and
was quite cushy with the Taliban in neighbouring Afghanistan. The lavish fireworks show in the Neutrality
square was very professional and the most impressive one I'd seen in
years.
One of the most ambitious
building projects of the Turkmenbashi is the Serdar Yoly, a 37 km long
"Walk of Health" built along the steep slopes of the Kopet Dag
mountains, not altogether unlike a concrete version of the Great Wall. A red marble archway greets you on arrival,
adorned by pictures of the Turkmenbashi of course, and where you'll
pass by a
280 kg, 1.2 metre wide marble ball perpetually spinning on a fountain. Though he encourages all Turkmen
citizens to
do the gruelling walk annually for their health, his ministers are
obliged to
do so every year, and the Turkmenbashi flies out by helicopter to greet
them
warmly at the finish line. It's perhaps
a signal to his subjugated employees to show humility, and indeed the
Turkmenbashi's ruthless suppression of any competing political figures
is certain
to lead to a chaotic succession when he dies.
Getting to the Serdar Yoly, well out of the centre of Ashgabat
is
convenient and cheap by public bus, costing about $0.02.
This is still expensive relative to the cost
of a local bus ride within the city (50 manat, or $0.002) or the cost
of fuel
($0.01 per litre), but cheap enough that payment is still done by
honour
system. You put your money into a
cardboard box when you get off the bus, taking whatever change from the
box
that you need.
Turkmenistan's artificial
economy is a variation on the Soviet controlled economy, and the
Turkmen manat
is not changeable anywhere outside the country. It's today's
surviving economy that is the closest to the original Soviet system and
arguably the most socialized economy in the world along with Cuba.
The people haven't known a free economy or personal liberties in
over a
century, dating from Tsarist colonization through to the Bolshevik
revolution
and passage from the Soviets to the Turkmenbashi.
Fuel and transport are heavily subsidized (a
domestic flight costs about $1 to $2), food is not well subsidized and
quite
expensive for the average salary, and alcohol almost as cheap as
bottled
water. A bottle of decent local vodka
sells for $0.50, about the same as a 1.5L bottle of tasty Turkmen Cola. Bureaucratic procedures remain antiquated
(think of the film "Brazil"), inefficient,
and laborious. All transport
tickets are hand written. The only
computerization that I saw was at the border immigration posts.
Internet cafes
do not exist and only foreigners who pay $20/hr for a slow dialup
connection at
the Sheraton have access to email at all.
Supposedly, some government censor reads every email that gets
sent out
of the country. To mail letters,
citizens bring their letters to the post office clerk, who then insert
them into proprietary envelopes and copy by hand the destination
address furnished
by the client. International airmail is
no longer dirt cheap and heavily subdized (like Myanmar's for example)
but all
of the stuff I mailed out of Ashgabat reached their destination, even
posters
and greeting cards of the Turkmenbashi.
I loved the 5000 manat stamp of a Turkmen horse, the largest
ordinary
stamp I've ever seen at 9 x 11.5 cm.
I realized my first day in
Turkmenistan that the Turkmenbashi is unaware of the conditions on the
ground
that his citizens have to deal with because of the artificial economy. I was told in the Mary train station that I
would have to return to the ticket window at 7 pm to buy a sleeper
berth on the
night train to Ashgabat. No problem I
thought, and I went out to eat dinner and came back at 6:45 pm, staking
a position
with a layer of about 3 people in an unorganized mob between me and the
ticket
window. When the window opened for
sales (30 minutes late), I was astounded at the brutality that my
fellow passengers showed to
fight to the front. Those well placed in
front of the window took passports from those further back (I'm
guessing for a
fee) and I did not advance at all in half an hour. I made the mistake
the first
time of ceding passage to someone who'd bought their ticket and was
trying to
get out of the mob. I lost ground and
realized that nobody was letting anybody out.
Anybody who wanted to get out literally had to push their way
out, and I
do mean I saw bodies flying to the ground. I
didn't make that mistake a second time.
When in Turkmenistans, do as the Turkmen do, as they say, and to
share
my lifestyle with them, I had to get ornery too. Whenever
someone was coming out, I had to
brace my shoulder low and lock my back foot for leverage.
Eventually I fought my way to the layer just
behind the front row and managed to shove my passport into the window
over
other people's shoulder (as my neighbour was encouraging me to do). The unfriendly ticket baboushka then told me
that the sleeper berths were sold out but kept my passport and said
that I
should come back later. It turned
out later that
she was doing me a courtesy and a big favour
for a foreigner. There are always
last minute
ticket openings available, but she decides who gets them.
One guy who worked for the Turkmen natural
gas company seemed unconcerned about the possibility that he might not
get a
ticket, and invited me for a coffee.
Sure enough we both got sleeper tickets, 3 hours after the
opening of
the ticket scrum, the worst I've ever experienced (and I'm including
India). The dirt cheap tickets (about
$0.70 for a very comfortable overnight train) are what caused the
madness, as
it's cheaper than the unsubsidized shared taxis. The
flights for that matter are cheaper than
taxis too but tickets are always sold out soon after they go on sale,
and weeks in advance, so it's not an option for the traveller not on an
organized tour. The inefficiencies of the
Soviet system remain
and by all appearances, the Turkmenbashi takes more pleasure in
constructing
his ideal society like a Lego set, using proceeds from oil and gas
exports
without which he couldn't fund the trappings his personality cult
frenzy, than
he cares about his loyal and brainwashed subjects.
I really liked the Turkmen people, a gentle
desert culture where people don't try to harass or cheat you (unlike
in neighbouring Uzbekistan and Iran) but will try to be genuinely and
unselfishly
helpful to a traveller in need. This
hospitable grace, which must be in part cultural and in part due to its
isolation and lack of foreign visitors, is very much a part of
Turkmenistan's
charm. If and when they ask about you and your country, they truly are
curious
and open about what you say, because they have no preconceptions about
what it
must be like. They are truly perturbed
when they learn that almost nobody outside central asia knows the first
thing
about Turkmenistan, and that the veil of world ignorance about their
country is
as complete as theirs is of the outside world.
This refreshing naivete, like in Paraguay, must result from
information
control and a lack of observations of outsiders with which they can
form
opinions. And unlike Cuba or
Myanmar,
there is really no imminently foreseeable risk of Turkmenistan being
spoiled by
foreign tourists in the coming years.
I found travelling independently
in the country less frustrating than some others have reported. I encountered many police checks and
"registratsi" which consists of the police taking you into a back
room and copying your passport information in a notebook with the
Turkmenbashi
on the cover, but nothing unpleasant.
Invariably the stoic demeanor and somewhat brutish behaviour of
the
officer melted into warm and curious chitchat once we were outside of
the
public view. They are quite happy to see
foreign tourists and help out if they can.
At my entry border (from Uzbekistan), the price of an
extortionate shared taxi ride to the
nearest town was fixed at $5 by the taxi mafia, exponentially higher
than
market rates. I refused to pay this and
an impasse developed, which I was ready to wait out.
Finally, a police officer came out of his shack, grabbed me by
the
nape of my jacket and brutally threw me into his office.
I was more than a bit worried as this was my first hour
in the country and knew that Turkmenistan was a police state, so I was
thinking
through all the things he could do to me behind closed doors. But the
second the doors closed, he started
smiling and chatting with me (in my feeble Russian) and later he told a
taxi
driver to come in and to take me to my destination at the price of my
choosing. A similar taxi mafia situation
happened at my exit border (to Iran).
The monopoly van transporting passengers across the neutral zone
charged
the manat equivalent of $10, which could be enough to take public
transport all
the way to Kazakhstan, 3 countries away.
I balked at this price and after chatting with the driver, again
in
Russian and out of earshot of the other passengers, he was quite happy
to take
a US $5 bill which he deftly slipped into his pocket.
It was clear that this was a common
procedure for him. Corruption is a way
of life in many poor countries, and Central Asia is renowned for its
version. I am not proud of participating
actively in corruption, which I'm a fierce opponent of, but it does
save me significant money
and playing the game provides interesting insights into the fabric of
daily
popular life that package tourists would never see.
There are definitely
cultural
and historical sights to be visited in the country, despite its vast
deserts
and small population. Turkmenistan has
two UNESCO world heritage sites, Konya-Urgench and Merv, and that's
more than
the total in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan combined. I must say though that I found Merv to be
disappointing. Not much left there
of
the legendary Silk Road town on the main trading route between Bukhara
and
Baghdad. With a 5 day visa and fixed
entry and exit points, it's really impossible to give the country a
fair look
around. A longer duration tourist visa
must be organized through a tour agency and that option is considerably
more expensive as
it requires lodging in government approved hotels at fixed tourist
prices. The Tolkuchka bazaar in the
desert outside
Ashgabat is without a doubt one of the greatest markets in the world,
spanning
kilometers on its long axis, with beat up vehicles clunking in from all
over
southern Turkemenistan for the thrice weekly extravaganza.
The famed carpet market sells souvenir size
rugs which can be easily taken out of the country without customs
restrictions,
and the house sized carpets hanging off of the makeshift partitions in
the
desert is a sublime subject for photography.
Prices are excellent, and I imagine the best place in the world
to get a
steal on a high quality "persian" rug. Incidentally,
the national carpet museum in
Ashgabat is named after Ete, "the hero of Turkmenistan."
She is the mother of the Turkmenbashi, killed
in the 1949 earthquake that annihilated Ashgabat but was kept secret by
the Soviet
propaganda machine. Turkmenistan seduces
us like an odd and eccentric curio found in a dusty chest in the attic,
that
takes us through a time-and-place-machine to a planet that is
impossible to
shake in your memory. Love it, hate it,
or be creeped out by it, but you will never forget it.