Tajik Charades

I must own up. My progress in learning Tajiki has been disappointing. I’ve been diligent with the homework, I bought the book – that’s going to be a bargain for someone at the next Dunfermline car boot sale - and I’ve struggled through the lessons in the face of incredible pain……etched on my teacher’s face. But it just hasn’t stuck.

There is the “old git with a failing memory” theory, which I don’t buy. Who else can remember when you could get a night out for 12½p in today’s money? Nothing wrong with my memory. I put it down to not being able to use the language on a day-to-day basis. People expect a Caucasian to speak Russian, logical I suppose, and turn off quickly as I struggle with what I believe is their language. My colleagues mostly speak good English.

Communication challenges are compounded by the fact that there are no Tajiki/English pocket dictionaries. Where are the tourists when you need them? There is a very useful free “app” developed for the US armed forces with lots of phrases and even audio of pronunciation. It tends to be most useful in situations where you want to say things like “We are Americans, we are here to help” and “put your hands on your head and stand against the wall”. It is of limited use in negotiating the purchase of carrots – unless things are getting really fraught.

So, of course, much communication is done by smiles and pointing and gestures. A few weeks ago I wanted coat hangers. Now you tell me; how do you imitate the purpose of a coat hanger standing in a crowded bazaar in front of a shopkeeper who is convinced a washing machine hose would solve your problems? Or shoe laces? That nearly did cause a punch-up when I picked up a shoe and started taking the lace out to illustrate what I wanted. This is apparently not a normal thing to do and I’m not completely sure of the offence – but it was serious. I did find out in the end that shoe shops do not sell laces; cobblers do. Remember them? Now try the actions for finding one. Price eventually 48p; cost in time at minimum wage rate, about £300.

Looking for coat hangers at my local hardware store

Today I went for a haircut. Now I‘m not too fussy about coiffure and there’s not a lot to be fussy about. So I wanted a light trim, with layering at the sides, no attempt at a comb over and, of course, a coffee and a biscuit. I made my requirements very clear and sat in the chair.

A few initial passes with the electric trimmer seemed to do the job and I thought I might forego the coffee and biscuit and settle with that. A firm hand on my shoulder kept me seated as one of the largest cut-throat razors I have ever seen appeared. I decided it was no time for charades, unless I was pretending to be Nelson’s statue atop his column (not a good comparison as I think about it, given the problems he had with missing body parts).

Anyway, my barber wiped the razor and then poured a clear liquid over it. I thought, oh – the after shave. He then set alight to it. He then wiped it again and heated it directly with a lighter. I presume this was all to clean the blade but, as I sat there, I began to ruminate on what he was going to do with a a large sharp edge that had been so elaborately sterilised? What did he think I meant with my “snip, snip – just a little bit” mime? What did Jamie Coomarasamay say about early morning circumcision parties? Are the “additional services” provided by barbers in Tajikistan different from those offered in the UK?.....

 (There are no pictures of me doing Tajik charades; and if there were, you’d be the last to find out. So instead here’s a picture of me before I had a haircut. Still something to smile about).