I just returned from some villages in Azerbaijan-- being in the country (with the horses, sheep, chickens, cows....hearing tractors) made me miss the simplicity of being on "the land" (in New York) and relaxing. Looking forward to getting up there this summer for a few days. I just wish my friends from here could join me-- it would be such a great experience! Tuesday morning I left Baku for the regions-- which was a welcomed break from the windy, cold city. Xayyam, Chengiz, Nana, and I grabbed a marshuka heading to Agjabedi for 6 manat-- 5 hours of bus fun and Xayyam's stories--- I don't know how I survived! :-)
Spring has really arrived in the regions-- we left the gray skies, wind, and blowing sand behind us... and slowly we began to see green fields, sunny skies, and people busily working.
When we arrived in Agjabedi, Chengiz and Nana got off the bus, but Xayyam and I continued onward toward the Aghdam Rayon (region). The bus dropped us off outside of Agjabedi's city limits and we caught a taxi from there to the village of Garadaghli. It was quite an interesting taxi ride-- we found out quickly that a pair of its brakes weren't working. What do you do... laugh!?! We made it to our destination safely... that is all that mattered.
Xayyam made a call to his friend in Baku-- who had an uncle living in this village. We then began our walk and search for his friend's uncle-- whom Xayyam had only met once. When we found Mehman (the friend's uncle), we were welcomed into his home with open arms and excitement. Mehman, his two sons, and his wife joined Xayyam and I for a picnic lunch and some chay. They talked about everything and asked a lot of questions (it was at this point that I was kicking myself for not knowing Azeri or Russian well enough to communicate effectively). A relaxed, comfortable feeling settled in around me though... making it hard to be pulled away when the time came to tour the village and the "front-lines". The simplicity reminded me of my grandparents and their yellow house in Hunt-- how I loved being there with them.The village museum was very eye-opening. The building itself was crumbling and had definitely seen better days, which is why I was surprised to find out it was erected in the 1930's. The fact that I could touch anything... journals, books, artifacts, tools, etc. was mind boggling, and yet understandable at the same time. The mayor was eager to show me around and give the history of what he could of each of the things in the museum-- all the while a couple of other men snapped photos of me with their phones, like I was some sort of celebrity (yes, I posed... great fun).
I started to wonder if either side (Azerbaijan and Armenia) would ever be able to see that their suffering and loss is probably comparable to one another. It seemed to be doubtful because of the anger and resentment that was evident still-- 15 years later.
When people hear "front-lines", many things go through their heads.... and the "front-lines" that I saw are definitely different from others that are in Azerbaijan and most other countries with conflicts similar to this one. Not knowing what to expect... after hearing that it is very dangerous, snipers are still out there, firing between the two sides still exists.... I was quite shocked at the way in which the people in the fields alongside the line itself (Kokaltma-- the "front-line" area) went about their work and life with what seemed to be relative calmness and ease.
The mayor, Arzuman, and Mehman told me that there were live mines in the zones and that firing could be heard at times. Xayyam got a bit sad and resentful while we were there looking at what he calls "his mountains" and "his home". He grew up in the city of Aghdam, and fought hard to keep Azerbaijan's land while in the military. I could tell that lingering around this area for too long would definitely make a significant impact on the rest of the travels we intended to have, so we didn't stay on the line for very long.
On the way back toward the village center we stopped in the fields and talked with some of the villagers working the fields. I was trying to change the subject and lighten the solemn mood that had settled in, so we talked of the crops that are grown, the amount of land each person had, where they sold there crops, what they depended on more livestock or crops, and compared the tools to those used in the United States. I always find myself having to explain that the United States is a huge area and that the land varies from region to region, state to state-- and it is so hard to get the point across that every area isn't rich. People still work hard and use the some of the same tools and methods that Azerbaijanis use to do their work. Of course there are definite modifications that have been made to the American's way of life-- but by no means are we all rich westerners. However, after visiting some of the homes and refugee areas, I can see why westerners are deemed "rich"--- our way of life has definitely evolved into a more complex and less simplistic way of living.
The village of Garadaghli is quite big, with about 10,000 people living within the village limits. There are a few refugee "camps" or areas set up within the Garadaghli limits-- and we were fortunate enough to be able to visit and talk with the people living in one of these areas.
When entering... it is like many village roads... basically a dirt road with huge potholes and chickens, sheep, cows, and other animals wondering around or alongside the pathway. One brick/stone wall was erected on the outside of the area itself, separating the homes from the semi-main road. The rest of the walls were made from sticks that were similar to bamboo. The homes varied, but most made use of the scrap metal that could be found, had a thatched (stick) roof, used mud to cement the walls and fill in the gaps, and were at most 2 rooms. The barns were built in much of the same way-- no milking machines, no big tractors or manure spreaders for the fields, just plain old hard-work and strong bodies, minds, and hands. Surviving off the land, animals, and very little modern technologies. Using everything to its fullest-- making do with what they had available. It was like stepping into a "Little House on the Prairie" episode-- except even in those episodes some of the people lived a ricer lifestyle then the way in which the refugees and villagers were living. Xayyam and I returned to Agjabedi late in the evening on Tuesday, but we still had rounds to make. He has a lot of family in Agjabedi, so we visited his aunt, his cousins, his uncle's wife and son, and of course Chengiz's brothers. It was a very exhausted day-- so many people, stories, questions, chay, and things to take in... my mind was jello when I finally made it to bed at 1 am.
Xayyam's family welcomed me with open arms... and even killed a chicken for lunch-- I felt terrible about not being able to eat it! His aunt fed me some of the best pickled "stuff", homemade pendir butter, yogurt, and of course chay. We visited (or rather played charades while Xayyam wandered around with his cousins and some friends), but most of all we laughed. It was a great experience for me-- his aunt and cousin were so helpful and just kept talking away, which made me feel very comfortable. It was hard to leave that environment-- but we had some more traveling to do.
Although before leaving, we visited the village cemetery, which has a definite mix between what was and what is now. The stones seem to have become a way to show status, but in a delicate and memorial sort of way. It was interested to see the mixture of "modern" times and "old" times all in one area-- the old abandoned and not cared for and the new adorned with embellishments that make you believe each of the people lying beneath were kings and queens. It made me wonder where the simplicity went? How is it possible to live the way that they do-- very poor-- and yet spend tremendous amounts of money on the graves for those that have passed on? Xayyam and I discussed this at great length later on, and he said that he doesn't understand it either, but it is the family's will and that is that.
We caught a ride with some aspiring journalists-- 5 of us crammed into a little Lada, lovely. AND again Xayyam was chastised for what he was wearing (these guys expected it from a foreigner), but not from Xayyam. :-) It was funny because they knew he didn't belong in the village, but they couldn't figure out his job. He had to work really hard to have a conversation with these guys-- the level of conversation had stepped up a bit, making translating a lot more difficult. I was amused by the things that they were talking about-- cost of flights, governments, jobs in the villages and in the cities, learning the English language, and the books. The ride went fast-- not only because the driver was speeding along, but because of the nonstop chattering.
Chengiz's brother owns the Chay Hana, and they refused to leave me out. I was hanging with the Mafia at the Chay Hana-- feeling pretty darn special, and having a ton of fun. Ilham (my adopted brother and Xayyam's cousin) was telling all sorts of stories-- entertaining us all. We sat outside having chay and chocolates for quite some time-- I didn't even notice that the sun had slowly disappeared... the day went so fast.
Nana cooked a fabulous meal for us and then we were off to visit some more family. The women in each family always made sure that I was sitting, and practically forced chay down my throat. They were very concerned about me being happy and feeling okay while the conversations swirled around my head. I picked up a few things here and there, but never asked Xayyam to translate while with his family-- they were catching up and talking about matters that really didn't warrant translation.
By the time we made it home on Wednesday night, I was yet again exhausted! I feel asleep while Nana and Xayyam visited -- for lord knows how long! They stay up so late-- I couldn't hang with them-- even after the billionth cup of chay and singing the chay song with Nana!Thursday mid-morning, Xayyam and I meandered through Agjabedi, stopping to say goodbye to family and friends along the way. We visited the bazarre, a salon, a wedding dress shop (where I was completely embarrassed and made to say that I liked the overly embellished tooling and sparkly dresses), another chay house, and a school. I don't know what was wrong with me-- I didn't document any of this with my camera. I think that the whole overwhelming feeling of being shuffled along, kissed, and put on display was a little too much on this particular morning. I do have to say that I would love to visit Agjabedi again-- there are definitely a number of places that need to be explored and experienced.
Xayyam and I had to wait for the marshuka to fill up before we were to leave Agjabedi-- so we sat, had some chay, and played some games. His rules for checkers are all backwards... we had to change games because we were arguing! He taught me another game-- which I really did enjoy, but we had to leave before we figured out who the real winner was-- probably better to end in a tie anyway.
I was sad to arrive back in Baku-- mainly because being in the regions made it easier to breathe and feel relaxed. The wind was not a great welcoming committee... and the knowledge that a routine was yet again about to start, made me long to get back onto the marshuka.
