Home Precious Stones The Tajik Artisans Guarding the Nation’s Cultural Legacy

The Tajik Artisans Guarding the Nation’s Cultural Legacy

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The Tajik Artisans Guarding the Nation’s Cultural Legacy

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IN A REGION well-known for historic cities, Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan, is new: 100 years in the past, it was solely a dusty village between Samarkand and Kabul. Starting within the Nineteen Thirties, the Soviets despatched architects to remodel its scattering of mud-brick buildings right into a metropolis whose official identify, for many years, could be Stalinabad. In the present day Dushanbe, a metropolis of about 1 million in a rustic of 10 million, continues to be recognized for its huge boulevards lined with previous chinar aircraft bushes that give shade to residents taking night walks in the course of the ferociously sizzling summers; for neo-Classical structure within the Stalinist model, like its opera theater, in whose motifs St. Petersburg meets Bukhara; and for the good colours of its buildings’ dazzling mosaics — of Tajik miners, farmers, dancers and weavers, of stylized atoms, cotton bolls and skeins of thread.


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Tajikistan: Whereas the nation’s historical past is being hidden behind glimmering new facades, its artisans maintain on to custom with quiet dedication.


But over the previous decade, the nation’s president, Emomali Rahmon, has chipped away at this Dushanbe to construct a brand new metropolis, one which takes its inspiration extra from Dubai: glass and metal rising from the mud. Within the face of uncommon public protests, Rahmon’s authorities has flattened landmarks just like the Home of Peasants — the place the Tajik state was first created in 1929, and the positioning of the nation’s first theater — and razed condo blocks to create sightlines for brand spanking new buildings just like the Nationwide Museum and the Nationwide Library, which is famously in need of books. “The authorities simply wish to demolish individuals’s reminiscence,” the Tajik author Abduqodir Rustam has mentioned. “For the long run technology, historical past will begin from this time, as if there had been nothing earlier than.”

Not fairly nothing: A lot of Dushanbe’s new artwork and structure is supposed to evoke the glories of the Persian Achaemenid Empire, based in 550 B.C., which as soon as stretched from the Aegean to the Arabian Sea and which lasted till Alexander the Nice invaded within the fourth century B.C. Though Sunnism is the dominant department of Islam right here, Tajikistan in any other case has shut cultural and linguistic ties to Iran, which is majority Shia. Most Tajiks communicate a variant of Farsi or different Iranian languages, whereas their northern neighbors have Turkic-speaking majorities. Other than the Achaemenid references scattered all through the town, Rahmon’s dynasty (his son Rustam Emomali, mayor of Dushanbe, is extensively anticipated to take his place when Rahmon, who’s 70, dies or lastly steps down) is usually portrayed because the successor to the Islamic Samanid Empire (A.D. 819-1005), when “historic Tajikistan” stretched over what’s immediately a lot of Iran, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan and Kyrgyzstan, and its courts impressed a Persian literature of nice brilliance. All undesirable historical past between then and now — Mongol invasions, Turkic overlords, Russian colonization, the Soviet empire, civil conflict, the introduction of Western capitalism with out Western European social security nets — has been elided.

On my first week in Dushanbe, I went to see maybe the head of the nation’s neo-Persianate structure, the Navruz Palace. Conceived because the world’s largest chaykhana, or “teahouse,” the palace, accomplished in 2015, serves as a spectacular stage for visiting commerce and diplomatic delegations. Flanking the doorway’s marble staircase, frescoes echo historic reliefs from Persepolis in Iran, full with the Zoroastrian winged Faravahar image and bearded emperor. There are additionally scenes from the Eleventh-century epic “Shahnama,” with the legendary King Jamshid celebrating the primary Navruz, or “competition of spring.” The phrases “Nationwide Identification” are painted beneath one of many tableaus.

Inside, the official information threw open door after enormous door into shimmering halls so huge that they seemed like computer-generated photos on a cinematic inexperienced display screen. “This tiny closet impresses you, does it?” she requested an Uzbek couple as they gasped at its scale and posed for selfies. “However it’s only one little antechamber!”

The Navruz marries the grandiose with the flimsy: pure gold leaf and glitter, Pamiri lapis alongside rendered chipboard and glue. It’s probably not a chaykhana, both. These open-air teahouses are intimate areas the place mates meet, on the market or in neighborhoods known as mahallas — mazes of whitewashed mud homes with corrugated roofs and orchards behind excessive, windowless partitions. Every mahalla has its personal teahouse.

And but nothing within the Navruz Palace invitations a mahalla’s emotions of connection. “The palace isn’t meant to be a public area,” Tim Epkenhans, the writer of “The Origins of the Civil Battle in Tajikistan” (2016), advised me. “Rahmon is reconfiguring the town like one thing out of Minecraft. These new buildings are theater units, they usually exist to be threatening.”

However one should still discover nice magnificence contained in the palace’s halls. Whereas Twenty first-century Dushanbe is being constructed on a intentionally inhuman scale, it’s nonetheless being made by people, and the designers and craftspeople who’re making it, generally known as usto, are heirs to a few of Central Asia’s richest — and most culturally resonant — artisanal traditions. The phrase comes from the Center Persian ustad, which means “realized particular person,” and refers not solely to grasp artisans however to anybody with exemplary ability; the sociologist Irna Hofman, who has studied Tajikistan’s rural financial system, together with its textile industries, advised me that whereas a positive tailor is perhaps known as an usto, a gifted automotive mechanic would qualify, too.

I HAD COME to Tajikistan to satisfy a few of these artisans. I wished to understand how they advised their very own tales about customized and innovation in a rustic whose historical past is continually being erased and rewritten. What makes the usto ply their craft when their very own tradition strikes past them? Some discover work by updating previous strategies for brand spanking new patrons. Others create as a result of that alone is what provides their life function. However for every artisan, by way of strains join the previous, with its deletions and innovations, to an unpredictable future.

Tajikistan is the poorest of the 15 former Soviet republics, all of which emerged out of the shatter zone of empires. Because the Nineteen Twenties, it has been formed by each the contesting forces of Soviet energy and ethnic nationalism, caught in a century-long wrestle of making a brand new id for itself (one not so simply declared by way of fresco). Debates about what the nation ought to change into — some Tajiks welcome the glittering modernity of the brand new Dushanbe, whereas others view it with suspicion, as they do China’s rising affect within the area — are mirrored by regrets of what the nation may have been, if solely issues had taken a unique flip a thousand years in the past. Think about, the artist Hassan Jumaev mentioned to me, if the Mongols had by no means invaded: “We’d be New York Metropolis by now.”

Jumaev, the primary usto I sought out, is famend for his virtuosic expertise carving wooden and ganch, a gypsum-rich materials used since medieval occasions to create intricately patterned inside partitions and ceilings. He spent 4 years engaged on the partitions of an unlimited corridor throughout the Navruz Palace, the Guliston, or “backyard of flowers.” 200 carvers adopted his plans, utilizing principally Siberian cedar.

He retains a two-room Soviet-era studio off Dushanbe’s Omar Khayyam Avenue, the place skyscrapers look down on the intimate gardens and walled labyrinths of a mahalla. His workshop was filled with unpainted carved wood panels and, in golden frames, summary aid work known as kundal, an artwork type that developed in Fifteenth-century Samarkand to make flat surfaces appear to be three-dimensional textured brocade. Jumaev gestured to a kundal he had painted of the medieval polymathic Avicenna, whose picture stood on the coronary heart of a starburst of gold, inexperienced and yellow. Circling the portrait in calligraphy had been the phrases “I’ve solved all of the universe’s puzzles apart from Dying.”

Jumaev, who’s 65, first got here to prominence in 1984 with a woodcarving impressed by Jack London’s novel “The Name of the Wild” (1903) and tales he had heard as a boy from shepherds in his small mountain village north of Dushanbe. “They advised me about wolves they’d seen hunt,” he mentioned. “And once I slept, I dreamed about an eagle chasing a fox who chases a chicken.” Jumaev pointed to the panel’s middle. “Solely right here can a chicken feed her nestlings. Sanctuary is all the time elusive.”

The piece triggered a furor. Russian observers understood it as a critique of Soviet rule. Some Muslims had been offended by its zoomorphic motifs. “I used to be threatened,” he mentioned. “The deeply spiritual mentioned it was blasphemy. The politically minded mentioned I’d be jailed. I used to be criticized a lot that I virtually gave up.” He lastly resolved to destroy the work, however then a well-respected artist locally known as it a masterpiece, making his profession.

Jumaev’s work features a luminous 46-foot-long wall of ganch carvings at Toronto’s Ismaili Centre with the 99 names of Allah rendered in valuable stones by the artist Minaz Nanji, and ganch panels in Dushanbe’s Istaravshan teahouse, completed within the late Eighties and one of the crucial stunning areas within the metropolis. However regardless of his prominence, Jumaev has not but been capable of finding an apprentice who needs to learn to, say, match colours in a kundal. “In the present day, college students can solely take into consideration money,” he advised me. “They’ll deal with a single decoration, and what they create is by some means off.”

This younger technology was robbed, he mentioned. As kids, that they had smartphones and the web as an alternative of the knowledge of fairy tales. “I’m nonetheless ready to show the fitting pupil,” he mentioned. “And what’s life, anyway? Solely hope.”

LONG BEFORE THE web, different forces threatened Central Asia’s inventive traditions. The Soviets had been suspicious of any trace of individuality; some designers had been imprisoned for “unauthorized exercise.” After the usS.R. collapsed in 1991, new borders led to a severing of connections between artisans. The Soviets by no means meant the boundaries they drew to mark divisions between unbiased states, and the vagueness of those strains could make for chaos immediately, generally resulting in deadly clashes (this previous September, greater than 100 individuals died at Batken, the place Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan meet — virtually half of the 600-mile border has but to be totally outlined). Villagers should typically cross worldwide boundaries to attend college, go to their ancestral mosques, bury their lifeless and even gather water. Ethnic enclaves inside states of different nationwide ethnic teams — Kyrgyz inside Tajikistan, Uzbeks inside Kyrgyzstan, Tajiks inside Uzbekistan — have led locals to nickname these areas “chessboard” borders. Central Asia’s frontiers “don’t have any rationality, whether or not geographic, financial or ethnic,” the French political scientist Olivier Roy as soon as wrote. For Tajiks, maybe the worst instance of capricious Soviet demarcation was the choice to connect Bukhara and Samarkand, which had Persian-speaking majorities, to the Soviet Socialist Republic of Uzbekistan in 1924. Tajiks remained livid concerning the division for many years, with one historian evaluating Tajikistan with out Samarkand and Bukhara to “France with out Paris.”

I made a decision to journey from Dushanbe to the southwestern province of Khatlon, which borders Afghanistan: A number of of Tajikistan’s best historic websites are there, like Takhti-Sangin, with the ruins of its third-century B.C. monumental Hellenistic temple devoted to the Oxus River, now known as the Amu Darya, and the stays of a spiritual advanced the place archaeologists uncovered what’s now Central Asia’s largest surviving historic Buddha within the Nineteen Sixties.

However few areas in Central Asia have suffered as a lot as Khatlon over the past century. Right here insurgents held out towards the Soviet revolutionaries into the Nineteen Twenties, and right here among the worst atrocities of the 1992-97 civil conflict occurred. The historian Parviz Mullojonov, whose new e book, to be revealed this month, “The Historical past of the Tajik Civil Battle,” would be the first complete account of the battle, which killed 50,000 to 100,000 individuals (casualty estimates are simply among the details beneath dispute), writes that the conflict started with protests held by these locked out of energy and oppressed in the course of the Soviet period: regional elites, spiritual teams and intellectuals who dreamed of establishing Baltic-style democracies. A lot of them hoped for a return to the golden age of Tajik historical past, as seen by nationalist historians: the Samanid Empire. What occurred as an alternative, in response to a area commander who was quoted in a 1993 Human Rights Watch/Helsinki report, was a fratricidal conflict that was fought “with out guidelines, and with out wounded, solely corpses.” That yr, the nation’s two most distinguished warlords killed one another in a shootout, and Rahmon, who was already head of state, gained the presidency in 1994 after an election marked by “fraud and intimidation,” in response to the U.S. State Division. Political figures and journalists had been assassinated, and the opposition was shut out of the federal government. It might take Rahmon one other decade to eliminate the community of unbiased area commanders throughout the nation and really consolidate energy.

In the course of the civil conflict, there was all of the sudden intense bloodshed between communities that had lived facet by facet for generations — southerners versus northerners, the descendants of mountain populations compelled emigrate to collective farms versus these already on the plains. John Heathershaw, the writer of “Dictators With out Borders: Energy and Cash in Central Asia” (2017), advised me that Tajikistan had not skilled any type of nationwide reconciliation. Though June 27 is now generally known as the Day of Nationwide Unity, many Tajiks don’t deal with it as trigger for celebration. When Heathershaw requested his Tajik mates why, they advised him, “The conflict was strife between brothers — nothing we wish to keep in mind.”

Grey smoke smudged the horizon on the route I used to be taking by way of Khatlon; tires had been burning close to the inexperienced seam the place the sluggish Vakhsh River flowed south by way of marshes, on its method to merging with the Panj on the nation’s southern border to change into the Amu Darya. In the course of the civil conflict, tens of hundreds of determined individuals forded that river and crossed into Afghanistan. Tajikistan, against this, accepted only a few Afghan refugees after the Taliban retook energy in 2021, and plenty of of those that did enter the nation rapidly moved on. Not too long ago, lots of of Afghan refugees have been repatriated, no matter whether or not or not they is perhaps punished by the Taliban.

As I listened to the automotive’s chassis rattle like a nail caught in a spice grinder, I questioned what would occur if it broke down. Forward, energy strains and street stretched to the horizon; behind, the view was the identical. No villages. No individuals. No animals. Simply rocks and sand.

“Are you afraid?” the motive force requested. “Not less than round right here there’s some visitors! It’s best to see what it’s prefer to be stranded within the mountains. Typically no automobiles move for days. Let only a single stone fall and also you’ll end up caught the place you’re. No means out.”

We drove by deserted fuel stations, together with one with an A.T.M. that had been dragged out of a wall. On a hill, the cranium of a markhor goat was nailed over a graveyard’s gate. My driver advised me the poet Rumi was born close by. Jewel-bright oases sometimes appeared, bushes and water in shining colours seen by way of the haze. At one roadside cease, a superb white marriage ceremony costume was on the market alongside luggage of cement.

“Water Is the Supply of Life,” learn a placard on a gateway over the street to the Chiluchor Chashma, or Forty-4 Springs. Locals consider that beside these waters lies the grave of a saint, and pilgrims go to each day. Contained in the gate, desert dunes rolled away from horizon to horizon, however the Forty-4 Springs flowed by way of lush greenery, lapping on the roots of previous bushes and new flowers. Plastic bottles had been lined up on one financial institution, ready for the trustworthy to fill them with water they believed to be sacred. Above the stream, an previous man beckoned to us. His identify was Hakberdy, and he talked concerning the therapeutic properties of the water, which he claimed might treatment each sickness from the pinnacle to the guts. Based on legend, anybody who eats the fish right here will die, and so the waters had been thick with silvery our bodies.

Hakberdy was born in 1937, however even he knew of no usto close by. The civil conflict had uprooted households on this area, lots of whom had been right here within the first place as a result of their kinfolk had been relocated in mass deportations from the north starting within the Nineteen Thirties. Warmth publicity and polluted ingesting water killed many settlers who had been made to farm cotton. “My household was despatched right here from Ayni, within the mountains. After I was 10, each my mother and father died,” he mentioned. “I’m an orphan.”

THE DIRECTOR OF Dushanbe’s Ethnographic Museum advised me that only a few grasp weavers remained within the nation, although she knew of 1, a person who constructed his personal looms and knew methods to make fabric the previous means. His identify was Saidmurod, and he lived in a distant village west of Dushanbe, within the Karatag Valley. I set out for the gorge the place Saidmurod is perhaps discovered.

Within the late nineteenth century, a German traveler to Bukhara recorded 96 dyeing workshops close to Samarkand and 270 within the Ferghana Valley, the place the borders of contemporary Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan interlock. When the Soviet Union took over, nevertheless, dyeing cooperatives virtually went extinct. Guilds had been dissolved and artisans put to work paving streets. After independence in 1991, Uzbekistan started reviving its personal weaving custom by way of financial incentives and partnerships with organizations like UNESCO and the British Council. Tajikistan, nevertheless, has not had the identical success. Dushanbe’s well-known textile collective — a metropolis throughout the metropolis that when employed a number of thousand weavers — was broken in the course of the civil conflict, its looms later bought as scrap metallic.

We handed a small cotton gin, the place individuals took previous mattresses to be fluffed again to life, earlier than leaving the primary street for a slender monitor that adopted little canals lined with sycamores and willows. Finally, we stopped in a village the place a shepherd directed us to the compound during which the weaver lived together with his kids and their households. In preparation for a marriage, a bull had simply been slaughtered beneath a fig tree; blood darkened the gnarled roots. Saidmurod invited us to sit down on a dais in his interior courtyard, within the shade of pomegranate bushes and grapevines, and advised us about his materials, such because the atlas fabric, a satin weave, with a silk warp and weft, that his mom had taught him to make. Its designs and colours can have limitless variations, from multicolored stripes to ikat patterns which are fashionable for robes. He handed me a bolt of undyed ivory material streaked with indigo, the final that he had woven. It had the nacreous sheen of an oyster shell. But as of late, many of the material bought in Tajikistan comes from factories throughout the Chinese language border. Many of the cushions on Saidmurod’s dais did, too.

Earlier than industrial colours turned widespread, flowers and crops had been floor into dyes. Walnut skins might create a vibrant inexperienced; a plant known as hiri, a wealthy yellow. Saidmurod, 84, mentioned a particular black shade, constructed from an herb known as zabonigov, or “cow’s tongue,” was his favourite “as a result of it has so many potentialities. You’ll be able to’t make something with out utilizing black.”

When Saidmurod was a boy, weaving households crammed the valley. “As soon as, you’d adapt the material to match the particular person,” he mentioned. “You’d take into consideration who they had been, and solely after that might you sit down at your loom.” In the present day, he’s alone, his eight-harness handmade loom sitting dismantled within the attic of the home of certainly one of his grandsons — the one different member of the family who might weave completely. However the grandson, alongside together with his father and uncles, skilled as an electrician in an effort to work in Russia. Saidmurod was not nostalgic; he himself had wished to be an engineer. He was pleased with his grandson for rising on this planet.

ON THE STEEP street that leads north towards the traditional cities of the Ferghana Valley, inexperienced mountains blocked out the sky, and the air smelled of diesel and wild fennel. Simply earlier than we entered the three 1/4-mile-long Shahriston Tunnel, which a Chinese language building firm accomplished in 2012, a bulldozer was backing up slowly towards the abyss. The ravine lay greater than 9,000 ft under, and no guardrail lined the street.

On the opposite facet of the tunnel, we pulled over in Shahriston. A ruined citadel stands right here, a part of an eighth-century community of fortifications constructed by the Sogdians, an Iranian-speaking inhabitants whose descendants nonetheless inhabit Tajikistan immediately, to guard themselves towards Arab invaders and different roaming bands of raiders. Sogdian buying and selling networks as soon as stretched from Samarkand into historic China and India. Soviet archaeologists excavated frescoes within the area (now in St. Petersburg’s Hermitage Museum and Dushanbe’s Nationwide Museum) depicting scenes from Aesop’s fables. Different tableaus function hunters, heroic tales and harvest festivals.

Throughout the nation, the Tajik state is constructing replicas of strongholds from the identical period: miniature fortresses ready for phantom armies. Most are vacationer follies or function the backdrop for weddings and — in a single case — an ostrich farm.

Lower than an hour away from the Sogdian ruins was Istaravshan, well-known for its many medieval mosques. One usto nonetheless labored within the metropolis’s huge market: Karim Saidov, who makes a speciality of carving combs. The courtyard of his household dwelling, deep inside a mahalla district, was a quiet place composed of austere geometries — a tree, flowering vines on the partitions, a drying home for grapes, an previous effectively. “The smells and emotions of the nineteenth century are right here,” Saidov, 56, mentioned. He picked up a grandchild and kissed him. “You’d by no means know that the web had been invented.”

Saidov studied winemaking in Tashkent however, simply as he graduated, the Soviet Union got here aside. Tajikistan’s state vineyard, based beneath the czars, folded, too. So he fell again on comb making. “After I was a boy, combs paid for my life,” he mentioned. The Soviet authorities by no means closed these workshops: Capitalist counterrevolutionaries and proletariat hero staff alike wanted to brush their hair. “My uncle made 10 combs a day and acquired a ruble for each,” he continued. “We felt so wealthy! I generally nonetheless discover these combs out there. I can instantly acknowledge our household’s work. After I was rising up, Istaravshan had 12 comb makers. However after 1991, when the river of plastic began flowing into our nation, all the opposite workshops shut.”

He wakes up every morning at 4 a.m. to carve a couple of. “Yearly, I select the trunk — by no means branches, by no means roots — of a terrific tree, apricot or walnut, that villagers have chosen for felling. After I slice it, I’ve to work quick. For those who wait longer than three days, the wooden spoils,” he mentioned. “I scatter the items to dry within the solar for a couple of days after which age the slices for 14 years. Look how arduous they’re!”

Saidov whacked two combs towards one another forcefully after which spun one on his palm. The blows left no mark. The apricot wooden, particularly, had a wealthy luster that softly mirrored mild.

BEYOND ISTARAVSHAN LIES Khujand, a metropolis some 2,500 years previous. It was my final cease in Tajikistan and, the morning I left, crowds had been milling round a brand new citadel with its fake crenelations, constructed 20 years in the past upon the ruins of the fortress that when stood there. The town’s historical past was on sale at a market on the pavement — previous cash, samovars, a Ural bike, spinning bobbins and pocket watches.

A slender bridge traces out an extended arc towards Konibodom-Patar, one of many checkpoints between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. We drove by way of previous apricot groves. Past a fountain left dry in an empty lodge courtyard, a couple of tesserae glittered on a Soviet-era bus cease; it was unattainable to inform what the unique mosaic would have been. Then we hit a stretch of street the place, in 2021, clashes between Tajiks and Kyrgyz had left fuel station after fuel station burned out. The petroleum fires had warped the street’s asphalt.

I acquired out after Konibodom and dragged my suitcase towards Uzbekistan. The border was an impediment course. Every stage required its personal set of papers, its personal rehearsed strains, its personal choreography.

As I waited for the ultimate official to beckon me ahead, I remembered one thing Jumaev had mentioned after we had been in his atelier, taking a look at a map of the area. He had pointed to the enclaves the place one group of human beings was walled off from one other group, the place the inexperienced strains between nations doubled again on themselves and looped into zeros, into nooses. “What the hell is that this?” Jumaev requested, tapping one of many synthetic islands. “Hundreds and lots of of divisions! This is our sorrow.”

Then he took the map and folded it slowly. “The surface world creates battle and wars, however regardless of,” he mentioned. “Inside ourselves, we are able to create magnificence. We will be at peace.”

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