Still Number Two

November 5, 2008

Everywhere in Turkmenistan is different, and certainly my experiences aren’t the same as others in other parts of the country.

And being American gives me special privileges also, I know. People often want to help me out, talk to me, etc.

But sometimes it’s really hard to be a woman out here, and I’m reminded of this from time to time. It’s those instances when I must sit in the back of a car even if the front seat is open, when I’m the last served in a shop full of male customers and when my vodka shot glasses are removed from my place at the table at weddings that make me say oh yeah…I’m a woman and that’s tough here.

I also don’t like watching my male American friends laugh and shake hands with new people we meet while I just slightly nod my head in acknowledgement.

I was walking home with my Tartar friend tonight and she asked me to stop in a small shadow on the street corner so she could smoke a cigarette without anyone seeing her.

About ninety percent of men here smoke, but if a woman were to do so it would be the greatest scandal.

“I just wish I could be free,” she told me. “I want to wear shorts and cute shirts without everyone saying I’m a prostitute. I’d like to walk down the street and smoke a cigarette without people saying that I’ll never find a husband.”

“Time changes everything,” I told her.

“Ahhh,” she said. “Takи дeлa.

Such is life.