visited a tajik home and had the privilege of spending a couple of hours(!) there. fed a steady stream of food: yoghurt (very sour), naan with warm cheese (delicious), warm milk, chai, then vegetarian手抓饭and more freshly baked naan. the family reared goats and even offered to slaughter a rabbit for us, which we politely declined. we were offered spoons but they ate with their hands.
[A had a bad reaction to the yoghurt. personally had no adverse reactions to any food during the trip. no matter how cheap it was, noodles were always freshly prepared. it was a world away from one in which baby milk and eggs were faked and mushrooms bleached for profit.]
the house was built in 1965, with an opening over the central living/sleeping space. the inside walls were decorated with colourful carpets and served to act as insulation. there was also a large stack of blankets for the 8 people in the house (plus guests). there was the head of the household (sabir mehmet?), whom arken had known for 7-8 years, his wife, his son’s family (wife, daughter donna and 4-month old baby) and an 18-year old daughter. the baby was in a hammock which was swung vigorously by grandma. donna was absolutely adorable, though very shy at first, running to her uncle(?) at every opportunity. like the uighurs, the tajiks married early, around 20-21 for the men and 18-19 for the women. the village we were in had a population of over 30,000 and marriages took place across villages as well.
living off the land meant that they age quickly and the difference between the 21-year old uncle and the weathered 25-year old son was striking. they refused to believe that A was over 40 (‘older than the house!’) and claimed her passport to be fake.
we’d been really lucky in meeting people and it seemed that the tajiks were a warm, friendly and welcoming people with strong ties to the land and their fellow uighur brethren. the women folk dressed in bright colours and vibrant patterns, though red seemed to be a favourite.
before leaving, A gave the family her sarong and a recently purchased pashmina scarf. i gave the old man the Tylenol i had on me. he told us he had been having gastric pain but did not have medicine for it. donna we fed (bribed) with a muesli bar and a packet of raisins from the flight. the family refused to take any payment from us.
on the way back, arken stopped to say goodbye to the kirghiz woman. he told us that he makes this trip five to six times a month.
our final stop before reaching kashgar was the tomb of mahmud al-kashgari (12 each), an 11th century linguist and uighur patriot. inclusive of the ticket price was a brief explanation at the casket of the poet. the dome-shaped motif was the cradle, from which we were born and to which we returned. babies slept on top of it and the dead were buried beneath it. prayers were offered while we were there. a mellifluous calm descended. supposed that it was free for uighurs since it seemed to be a picnic spot with entire families with 5, 6 children in tow on the grounds.
after using the ‘toilet,’ (worst one on the trip, temporary sheeting while a permanent structure was being built), found our way back to the entrance by another track, which emerged right beside the gated entrance.
dinner back at intizar where we got the 小老板 to get us seats. he asked this Chinese man with a little girl to sit at a larger table with other customers. the man later walked off. we felt kinda bad but小老板waved it off. dinner came to 40 for 5 skewers, 家常面and大盘鸡.
another day caked with dust. arken’s car (taxi actually, in bright green) had sand and dust in every cranny, it got noticeably more difficult to wind the windows.