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| Gulbahor et Aygul (debout) à Proletar-Gulakandoz. |
Zilola is within the norm : 20 years old, bride since June, expecting a baby. She speaks with a nasal tone which makes her hard to understand. She suggests I go in her village 40 km from Khujand. Her husband will accompany me because she cannot herself do it for reasons of convenience. City or country, the behavior need to adjust.
Thus, I go to Gulakandoz by following the instructions Zilola sent by SMS. I have first to take a bus to a little city with the quaint name of Proletar which includes the "urban village" of Gulakandoz. I have time to visit the bazar with its white hessians stretched over the labyrinthine passages. Besides foodstuffs and tradional items, we find there cotton bales, an abundance of grape and, of course, melons, mountains of melons. A woman walks with a bunch of smoking herbs she shakes over the stalls to drive away evil spirits and increase trade. I like the atmosphere of these small markets and their spicy aromatic scent. Javohir leads me first at his uncle's. A house in a quiet street where a certain ease is perceptible. Beautiful flowery garden. On the tapshan in the entrance, his aunt is occupied with bookkeeping works. The uncle is in Moscow. Like almost all the grown-up men in this family, he deals with a network which recruits Tajik workers to bring them in Russia. Judging by the comfort of the house, it is a lucrative business, certainly more lucrative than the work of immigrants themselves.
We go in the chaykhana, Davron Samatv Street, where Javodir's father works. He is a charming man with a friendly face. He suggests I stay in his house, where we go then. Here also, it is an opulent home. There is here a soft freshness and a relaxing calm. The young man invites me to setlle in a lounge furnished with deep sofas and a big flat screen TVs with satellite channels. No tapshan in the garden but a pavilion with sculptured columns is used for this. Only an old woman is present. I will always be welcome in her house, she told me, after Javodir presented me his grandmother. He leaves a few minutes and comes back dressed up in his school uniform, pleat-front pants, button-down shirt, tie. Without the tie, it is impossible to enter the campus. He suggests me to drive me back to Khodjent. He puts also in the car two friends of him and his wife. Long before Zilola appears, he warns me that I shall have to give her my place in the front passenger seat because she cannot take place with the boys at the back.
Thus, I go to Gulakandoz by following the instructions Zilola sent by SMS. I have first to take a bus to a little city with the quaint name of Proletar which includes the "urban village" of Gulakandoz. I have time to visit the bazar with its white hessians stretched over the labyrinthine passages. Besides foodstuffs and tradional items, we find there cotton bales, an abundance of grape and, of course, melons, mountains of melons. A woman walks with a bunch of smoking herbs she shakes over the stalls to drive away evil spirits and increase trade. I like the atmosphere of these small markets and their spicy aromatic scent. Javohir leads me first at his uncle's. A house in a quiet street where a certain ease is perceptible. Beautiful flowery garden. On the tapshan in the entrance, his aunt is occupied with bookkeeping works. The uncle is in Moscow. Like almost all the grown-up men in this family, he deals with a network which recruits Tajik workers to bring them in Russia. Judging by the comfort of the house, it is a lucrative business, certainly more lucrative than the work of immigrants themselves.
We go in the chaykhana, Davron Samatv Street, where Javodir's father works. He is a charming man with a friendly face. He suggests I stay in his house, where we go then. Here also, it is an opulent home. There is here a soft freshness and a relaxing calm. The young man invites me to setlle in a lounge furnished with deep sofas and a big flat screen TVs with satellite channels. No tapshan in the garden but a pavilion with sculptured columns is used for this. Only an old woman is present. I will always be welcome in her house, she told me, after Javodir presented me his grandmother. He leaves a few minutes and comes back dressed up in his school uniform, pleat-front pants, button-down shirt, tie. Without the tie, it is impossible to enter the campus. He suggests me to drive me back to Khodjent. He puts also in the car two friends of him and his wife. Long before Zilola appears, he warns me that I shall have to give her my place in the front passenger seat because she cannot take place with the boys at the back.
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| Tapchane hexagonal, chaïkhana de Proletar-Gulakandoz rue Davron Samatov. |
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| Double tapchane, même lieu. |
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| Quatre hommes sur une terrasse, même lieu. |
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