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Turkmenistan - visited in September 2008

"Welcome in Turkmenistan" was the only English text I read during my whole stay in this isolated Central Asian country.

"Welcome to the land of the largest hand woven carpet in the world" I was told minutes after my arrival.

Welcome to the land where it takes 3h45 to get out of the airport at arrivals, regardless of the fact your flight arrived at 3am and that there were less than 30 people on the plane (and no tourists except yourself).

Welcome to the land where petrol at the pump costs $0.02USD/liter and a 2hour flight costs $1.50USD for locals.

Welcome to the land where your passport will pass through 16 pairs of hands in order to get approval to get inside this dangerous and mostly inaccessible country.

Welcome to the land where every single street and building are unbearably well lit throughout the night, even though a curfew of 11pm has been in place for more than 17 years.

Welcome to the land where the president's son is the only one allowed Internet access in his home.

Welcome to the land where the largest banknote is worth less than $0.50USD. Just imagine your pockets after exchanging 50USD...

Welcome to the land where most people keep their gas stoves burning 24hours a day because natural gas is free but matches are not.

Welcome to the land where girls need to wear two braids in their hair and a uniform when they are at school... and at university.

Welcome to the land where most of the streets have three or four lanes, even though there is, at most, one car to pass for every four minutes you are driving. Apparently, the president needs space when he drives on the streets.

Welcome to the land where the desert accounts for more than 90% of the country's territory yet has more fountains per inhabitant than anywhere else in the world.

Welcome to the land that, for the very first time accepted a foreign photographer working on behalf of an international NGO inside their country and their educational institutions and schools...

Turkmenistan: Rarely seen by foreigners, and even less by foreign photographers and educators. After an uphill battle, I was granted my Visa, my golden ticket, inside the high walls of this complicated and misunderstood nation. I had no real way of preparing for this leg of my professional journey as founder and volunteer of Art in All of Us, and although dissuaded by most international warnings and the complexities of the Turkmen governmental hierarchies, my experiences in Turkmenistan proved to that this nation is one of the most contradictory, and surprising nations my work and passion has taken me to.

Arriving at 5am at my hotel in Ashgabat, I was confused to see so many lights filling the empty city streets. In a restless and sleepless state I couldn't resist the temptation to take some of my first pictures of Turkmenistan. I found a little window in the bathroom that gave me a perfect shot of the bright street below. I pushed the trigger of my Nikon camera...

"Tveeeeeeeeeeet!" My heart jumped into my throat as a police whistle blew furiously, out of nowhere, from below. I tore myself away from the window, downloaded the photographs I had just taken, erased the evidence from my camera and quickly got into bed. I was woken abruptly two hours later by the phone next to my bed. It was my contact at Unicef in Ashgabat who had been waiting for me downstairs while I ignored my alarm. In an exhausted state, I gathered myself and prepared for a new day to start, with translators, challenges, more surprises, and new children to teach and learn from.

It had been such a long time since I'd seen so many smiles beaming at me. The Turkmen children in the classroom in front of me looked radiant in their green uniforms. The colourful and detailed embroidery made them seem almost elegant. I realized that if this is how Turkmen children are brought up, with such attention to detail, it is no wonder this nation has one of the most detailed flags in the world.

As the educational activities I had prepared with photographs, cameras, pencils, and paper unfolded, the Turkmen children proved to be engaging, extremely creative and unbelievably quick and well educated. They exuded a curiosity and thirst to hear more about the world beyond their borders. They spoke out, and realized their voices were being heard, by me, this strange sounding foreigner. To my surprise, their teachers did not reign in this curiosity, as I had been expecting. Instead, the teachers sat back, and observed their student's imaginations expand. The director and TV journalist who were in the classroom to record this unique event in Turkmenistan also showed little concern for the exchange of ideas that was occurring before their lens. Clips from my workshop in a small Turkmen school were played later that evening on the national TV station.
Freedom of expression was part of this great week for Turkmen children, and I was proud to have helped contribute to it.

It took me more than 9 months of preparation, negotiating, lobbying with one of the most paranoid government in the world to have access to the school and work. To my own surprise, I finally received parliamentary approval only 3 weeks before my planned visit...

The following day, as I walked through the streets of Ashgabat, young and old men stopped me in my steps. As I had decided to grow a beard for an upcoming educational project to Afghanistan, I was easily recognized with my unshaven face. I was greeted warmly and asked for my autograph, something unexpected and very unusual for me. It seems as though the 6 million inhabitants of this country all have the same TV obsession since the 11pm curfew was put in place in 1991.

My work allows me to interact with the children of a nation, who are usually the most excited individuals I meet on my travels. Yet in Turkmenistan, I found that even the adult's smiles are as uninhibited and broad as a child's grin. Not since Burma, another "evil" country, had I seen so many genuine expressions on the people's faces. The sheer happiness that emanates from the average person on the street is sharply juxtaposed by the harsh grimace of the large number of law enforcement you see on every street corner. There are more traffic police than there are cars in this country. It is impressive, and terrifying, at the same time.

The strangling grasp over the nation's people is made all the more evident when you consider the large number of "spies" who lurk through the shadows of Ashgabat. The old wives tale states that for each inhabitant of Ashgabat, there are two spies. Unfortunately, this probably isn't much of an exaggeration. These "spies" are easy to spot as they sweat in the 50C° degree heat of Ashgabat's shade, wearing leather jackets and chatting on mobile phones.

I read somewhere that Ashgabat was a mixture of Las Vegas and North Korea's Pyongyang. I am unfamiliar with either of these cities but I would expect this comparison is not far from the truth. Personally, I would compare it to a Shanghai in the middle of the desert, with more golden statues and megalomania and with fewer homeless and poor people strolling the white marble streets. I'd guess there are also probably more flies that are also doing battle against the temperatures. Supposedly, last summer's heat reached 70C°and last winter the mercury dipped to -38C°. Even in temperature, this nation is one of extremes.

Within Turkmen borders, the President's name is never to be spoken out loud. In the few days I spent interacting with a large number of Turkmens, I managed to breach the topic of politics with three individuals. The first one was an opera singer that I met through a French friend. She was known as a revolutionary because she refused to wear her hair in braids while she attended university. Unsurprisingly, this caused her a huge amount of grief. In her words, she told me that she thinks both presidents look the same and that there are even rumors that the new one is actually the son of the former. Regardless of the new president's blood lineage, she believes he is undeniably worse than the first. She didn't delve into how much worse or why.

The second individual interviewed was a high level individual at an NGO (I cannot name it for obvious reasons). He was angered by my political questions, but did say that there was no doubt that the new president would raise petrol prices from $0.02USD/litre to more than $0.50USD/litre in the near future. As found in the rest of the world, almost everyone seems to be able to talk about the price of petrol these days.

The final interview I attempted on the subject was short. It was with one of the men that approached me in the street. When I had stated my carefully worded political inquiry, he glared at me for a moment, suspiciously, attempted to change the subject, then started to mumble in Russian to no one in particular and left.

Like in many communist and ex-communist states, control determines the way of life. Good news is the only news and you will never hear about murders, AIDS, drug problems or floods that would push you to question the power of your government. Unlike the western world, where only pain, destruction, and suffering sell newspapers, the Turkmen people hear of national and international affairs through a broad web of exaggerations and fine tailoring.

Having interacted with children who are growing up under varying degrees of government control, I have learned that if you give children an opportunity to use their voice, and some tools to express themselves, you will witness only hope, smiles, and sometimes pain. Regardless, the truth will always present itself, a truth that comes from the heart. Turkmen children were no exception, and the work I did with them made this complex and inaccessible country full of contradictions seem like any other nation who's future relies on the next generation.

Turkmenistan was an extremely difficult place to get into, and a very difficult place to leave, although for different reasons. The hope and potential that gushed from the children in the few schools I interacted with was unique and inspiring. Even when a country's dictatorship bears down on its people, life and love can still exist, and stands out more than the hassles and bureaucracy that I experienced and was warned against.

Welcome to Turkmenistan, the land of golden statues, genuine smiles, and hearts full of quiet hope.



Anthony
Uzbekistan, 25th October 2008

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