The most ethnically remote part of the Soviet Union in many ways suffered more repression than most. The practise of their muslim faith was severely repressed and this far flung desert out post yielded prolonged resistance against their occupiers. In 1995 the unknown Saparmurat Niyazov was elected General Secretary of the Communist Party of Turkmenistan. When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, Niayazov declared independence for Turkmenistan and so was born an even more repressive and bizarre rule than was enjoyed by the Kims in North Korea!
Of course he banned all other political parties and started a cult of personality with the order that everyone henceforth call him Turkmenbashi which, translated, means “leader of the Turkmen. Suddenly golden statues of him appeared everywhere and plastered buildings with his image. His slogan ‘Halk, Watan, Turkmenbaşi’ (‘People,Nation, Me’ – an eerie echo of Hitler’s ‘Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Führer) was ubiquitous.
He bulldozed cities and suburbs on a whim and without regard for the peoples he displaced and replaced them with grandiose white marble edifices glorifying his own reign. He assumed total control of the media. He banned ballet and the listening to music in people’s cars. He renamed the months of the year and days of the week after members of his own family and replaced the bible and the Koran with his own version of “how to live life” known as the Ruhnama. He declared himself President for life, a term cut short by his death in 2006 from a heart attack.
Niyazov’s successor as dictator has relaxed most of the excesses of Niyazov. Even the massive gold statue of Niayazov in Ashgabat which rotated to follow the sun has been dismantled. Nonetheless Ashgabat is still one of the strangest cities on the planet.
Ashgabat has been rebuilt out of the devastation of the earthquake that levelled the place killing 110,000 people in 1948. In Soviet times a grey bleak outpost it has been rebuilt in the last 20 years all in dazzling white marble. There is no high rise but rather massive white marble edifices, often covered with gold domes and gold trimmings. Bellagio style fountains abound. Individually of themselves beautiful but the massed effect of large city where every building has a similar theme is less than beautiful and more plain crazy.
My first task is the ever recurring theme of visas. I arrive back mid afternoon and it is off to the Tajik embassy first which is in the same suburb as my hotel, but where? I have no map of this area and noone at the hotel I am staying at speaks English nor cares. Finally another chap in the lobby gives me directions in broken English. Twenty minutes later in the 40 degree heat I find it. Finding a gate ajar I walk through the green, leafy garden and walk into the modest mansion into a sitting room area beneath the stairs. There is no office, desk or counter here so I sit on the plush sofa and arrange my paperwork for the visa on the coffee table. I clear my throat to alert themm i am here and a welldressed lean young man emerges from another room with a faint note of surprise in his eyes. I say “visa” and he sits down examines my documents asks for $50 and goes into another room. Minutes later I am the proud owner of a Tajik visa! As I leave I now see that the gate has been locked and someone has to let me out. I reflect on my luck, any other time and the gate would have been locked and I would have failed in my mission/
The contrast with this morning could not have been more stark. Uzbekistan has been the thorn in my side and I catch a taxi down town bright and early. This morning the receptionist in the hotel speaks English so I get her to teach me the word “embassy” in Russian so that I could ask the taxi driver. The Uzbek embassy is an ugly grey concrete jungle and there are 30 people milling outside 30 minutes before opening. Lucky it is an overcast day the temp would only be just on 30 degrees today. Bad photography weather but good visa weather. A tiny side window facing onto the street opens and the crush begins. Mine is the only foreign face and the embassy official with calls from a preexisting list of names. This goes on for 20 minutes and as the crowd thins I get right up to the window and a guy looks at my documentation and I am allowed inside the building. All goes well except that to pay for the visa I have to go on a 20 minute trip to the bank by car. A nice local drives me over and refuses to accept payment. In the bank the queue is only a short 5 people in front of me but it still takes 40 minutes all up to pay and then it is a taxi back. I am apprehensive, though, as the payment was only $75 when it should have been $190. I noticed on the paperwork reqest done by the agency that the 14 day period and double entry was specified but in the length of time section it had 7 days. The guy asked and I explained that I wanted 14 days and in that time to go out to visit Afghanistan. I get my passport back and have an Uzbek visa but it is for 2 batches of seven days and I have to leavve the country in between. Not a good fit for my plans. Back to the drawing boards!