VIGNETTES
In never never land
ADITI BHADURI
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A hauntingly beautiful land of great antiquity, but what loomed large over Turkmenistan was the personality cult of its President Saparmurat Niyazov, who died recently.
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Exquisite handicrafts: A Turkmen street vendor looks to sell her traditional hand-made items in the capital. Photos: AP
AS news of the demise of Saparmurat Niyazov, President for life of Turkmenistan, broke, my thought turned to that little known country. Turkmenistan conjured up images of windswept deserts and rugged landscapes, of haughty camels and caravensarais, of men in baggy trousers and women weaving prayer rugs, of minarets and chaikhanas.
Turkmenistan was all this and more as I found out. Lying on the ancient Silk Route, it is a land of great antiquity. Turkmenistan is home to the ruins of Nisa, the capital of the Parthian Empire, and it was on Turkmen territory that the treasures of ancient Merv, the capital of the Seljuk Turks, were unearthed.
Different ethnicities
When I landed in Ashkhabad, the airport was chaotic, bustling with people of different ethnicities — Central Asians, Caucasians and Slavs. Outside, the city stretched out. Women in shining kaftans and ethnic Turkmen headgear were as common as painted blondes in mini-skirts. Russian was the dominant language, but Turkmen was used just as much and official work was increasingly being conducted in Turkmen.
I had read up on Turkmenistan and interacted with colleagues from there before my visit. But nothing prepared me for the personality cult in this hauntingly beautiful country. My first brush with it was at the airport, Turkmenbashi or "Father of Turkmens" — a title Niyazov used. Later, my guide told me that an entire city — Turkmenistan's main port city — was named after Turkmenbashi.
Having broken free from the shackles of the Soviet system more than a decade ago, the country had now turned into Turkmenbashi's personal fiefdom, since he became President in 1992.
Flanked by the Kopetdag mountains to the south, and the Caspian Sea on the west, large swathes of the southeastern region of the country was just desert. The capital Ashkhabad, which translates from Persian as the "City of Love", was decked out if a trifle ostentatiously. Palm-lined broad avenues, dotted with glittering and lavish fountains, stretched out. Yet a little away from the centre, residents had a harrowing experience as they waited hours for a bucket of water to trickle into their homes. In my hotel in the southern "hotel region" of Ashkhabad water would disappear every now and then. Still, cooking gas, public transport and electricity were so heavily subsidised as to be almost free. After all, this is an oil rich country with the world's fifth largest gas reserves.
The city seemed to be on a construction spree. Marble, glass and gilded fantasies seemed to be the order of the day. Towering mosques, swanky apartment blocs — many lying empty because few can afford them — and grandiose government offices vied with each other to be completed. Dominating all was the Presidential Palace, the crowning glory of Ashkhabad's architecture, surrounded by landscaped gardens and situated right in the middle of the city, from where roads branched off into various directions. No doubt, efforts were on to make Turkmenistan resemble one of the Gulf kingdoms. However, the overall impression was one of empty spaces, and too few people.
The President himself was everywhere. He stared down from billboards and hoardings, his statue or bust welcomed one into every government and state building and office.
Important sights
The tallest monument was a 75-metre high Arch of Neutrality, built to commemorate Turkmenistan's declared neutrality as the defining principle of the country's foreign policy. Lifts carried one up to the balcony from where all of Ashkhabad can be viewed and it seemed to be the favourite Sunday destination of the city dwellers. While there was a café at the base, the arch was topped by a revolving 12-metre golden statue of Turkmenbashi.
Another important sight was the towering statue of his mother, Gorbansoltan, with baby Niyazov in her arms. Turkmen couples often made their way there for photo sessions on their wedding day. All Turkmen TV channels carry his profile in a corner. Everything worth a name was named after Turkmenbashi.
Famous as Turkmenistan is for its carpet making heritage and industry, a visit to the Turkmen Carpet Museum is a must for every visitor. The museum housed the world's largest handmade carpet — all of 300 square meters, commissioned by the great leader, and called The 21st Century: The Epoch Of The Great Saparmurat Niyazov. The Turkmen museum, otherwise a treasure trove of history with Buddhist and Zoarashtrian antiquities abounding, did not escape the all-pervading presence of the President. A central piece of the museum was a meteorite that had apparently fallen on Turkmen territory in 1998. When I failed to catch the name of the meteorite, and asked the museum guide to repeat it, the young man gave me a helpless look and answered "Turkmenbashi".
Later, I saw Turkmenbashi make his way into the very private domains of his people. In the dacha (country house) of a friend, I saw portraits of Turkmenbashi adorn the fireplace in the living room and the bedside tables in the bedroom. This was a phenomenon in the homes of the many bureaucrats I visited. But there were some people bold enough to think otherwise, even if cautiously. One even had the temerity to call the President insane. Just on the fringes of the capital, the landscape changed abruptly. Roads were not paved, houses were rundown and many children did not study further than school.
I was never allowed to venture out alone. A guide from the Ministry accompanied me everywhere. This was odd since Ashkhabad was an extremely safe city: no major crimes or assaults on foreigners. Moreover, I spoke and understood fluent Russian. But then there were travel restrictions for all; Turkmens too were strictly monitored. Anyone who wanted to travel out had to apply for an "exit and entry visa". Turkey was the only country Turkmen citizens could travel freely to and many Turkmens moved there in search of a decent life.
Tourism discouraged
Just as foreign travel was discouraged, so was tourism. With its breathtaking landscapes, its exquisite handicrafts and rugs, Turkmenistan should have been a major tourist destination in the world. Yet, most expatriates were diplomatic staff of various countries or business personnel, mainly Turks who were doing most of the building, buying and selling, followed by Iranians and Arabs.
Turkey was big brother. Having suddenly discovered their brotherly roots, most of the contracts were being handed over to that country. Turks owned most of the super markets, retail stores, restaurants, discos and hotels. Books on Turkmenistan, Turkmens, and Turkmen heritage and culture were being published in Turkey. The two people speak a closely related language and the authorities were even mulling over whether to introduce the Latin-Turkish script in Turkmenistan in place of the Cyrillic-Turkmen script that existed.
In order to carry out a trifle like a pair of silver earrings from there, one had to go through a harrowing process of getting official government permits. I could bring home a beautiful coffee-table book on ancient Merv only because my friend intervened. There was a huge black market and the dollar, officially rated at about five Manats, the Turkmen currency, could be changed for as much as 20 in the black market. An air ticket to Mary, two hours by flight cost only $5.
Domineering nationalism
Turkmenbashi strove to inculcate an increasingly domineering nationalism in his people, a nationalism disdained by many Turkmens proud of their heritage. Minorities were discriminated against. Sunni Islam and the Russian Orthodox Church were till recently the only religions recognised by the state. Other sects were routinely harassed. Ethnic Russians, who formed almost five percent of the population, were suddenly asked to relinquish their dual Russian-Turkmen citizenship and choose either one, resulting in an exodus to Russia. Ethnic Armenians were routinely harassed and many migrated to neighbouring Kyrgyzstan.
Later things got more bizarre. Names of months were changed so that January became Turkmenbashi, April became Gorbansoltan, and September changed to Ruhnama. Gold teeth were banned; so were beards, ballet and circuses. Festivals and holidays were decreed honouring watermelons, Turkemenistan's favourite fruit, and famous Turkmen horses. Central Asia's largest mosque, called "Spirit of Turkmenbashi", was built at Turkmenbashi's hometown Kipchak at a reported cost of more than $60 million. And Ashkhabad boasts of having Central Asia's finest racecourse and recently got its $50 million theme park called "The World of Turkmenbashi Tales".
Finally, we received copies of Turkmenbashi's magnum opus, a thick tome called Ruhnama or "Book of the Soul". It is a book in which Turkmenbashi traces the history of the Turkmen people, and also offers spiritual guidance. The Ruhnama became compulsory reading in schools and all official institutions. Copies, I was told, were kept in mosques and worshippers were required to kiss it on entering a mosque.
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