140208_curfew

Having a late office day I happened to be going home around 9 pm on 12 February. And it was not -10 degrees which were giving me the shivers, but the way streets looked.

It was on the 12 February too, back in 1990, when Tajik parliament imposed the military curfew in Dushanbe after the demonstrations turned into riots. Here I am, walking down the same empty streets, exactly 18 years after that bloody day in Tajik history. 25 young men were killed and about 70 were injured by police and army bullets on that day. Nobody remembers them now. Once upon a time there was a memorial stand in Rudaki Avenue with the names of innocent Tajik victims carved on red granite, but the Mayor of Dushanbe decided to remove it from there. They promised it would be only re-located elsewhere in the city. Another unaccomplished promise.

Today the streets are empty again. It's again a curfew, but not military one; this time it's curfew of darkness. The difference is that then, people would go home and their lives continued indoors. But today even their homes are no refuge to them. Most homes will be cold, dark and spooky as outside in another 20 minutes or so.

People rush home before it is 10 p.m. to make sure they prepare themselves for ten o'clock power-cut - accomplish all they have to deal with in terms of basic needs before electricity is gone. They store water, carrying it in buckets from lucky neighbors', heat up some to wash the kids, feed themselves and their pets, make beds, and look around once again to remember what stands where before the light is off.

I am also nervous for the drivers delay - I hope to get home sooner to get to see my daughter's face in light at least for five minutes before the lights are off.

"33rd micro-rayon was already in darkness when I was driving by, apa, I think they've switched it off earlier today in your area too," - the driver declares recklessly.

They don't cut out the city in one switch, it takes around half an hour or little more till the whole city is absorbed in darkness. They may cut you off at 9:30 today, but the day before yesterday it was at 10:07. So, it adds up some thrill - whether you are done or not - you might be left stuck in the middle of a dark and hollow universe with your toothbrush in hands.

An almost archaic passenger in a marshrutka (minibus), who has probably survived numerable famines with the country since the beginning of the last century, mumbled: "In no condition I wanted to leave my country, thinking that motherland is like a child and leaving your baby when it is sick instead of taking care of it, is not the right thing to do. But now I ask my sons to leave it. What's happening now is different. What is happening now, reminds me of 1930s..."

Trying to ignore the shiver which I get from hearing the morbid monologue, I want to believe the voice in my own head, which says the guy is too old and tired and probably doesn't even remember things very well to compare.

But then, recalled my aunty from the village crying over the phone. Her only cow, like hundreds of other or more cattle and poultry died from cold and famine. She couldn't afford enough fodder for the cow this winter - to warm her own kids and feed them was the priority of course. And what about thousands of villagers who already were suffering from tuberculosis because of malnutrition and harsh living conditions? Will they make it through this winter too?

I didn't make it on time, as the taxi driver predicted. I entered the dark house carefully and tried not to get irritated by unpleasant smell of burning coal coming from the furnace, thinking of thousands of my fellow citizens who cannot afford buying coal to warm their houses. A warning is circulating around the town now about the increased rate of the firewood and coal theft. People do not even trust their neighbors� Another bitter association with civil war... But then I remember a voice of a lady weeping on radio BBC radio: "Maybe it's my children's misfortune that their mother can't steal, she can't rob people, and they have to suffer in cold?!"

Only place in town where fortunate kids do not feel cold is Rudaki Avenue. Somehow they manage to have electricity on unlike the rest of the country. This avenue is blessed by having the Presidential Palace and many more strategically important objects in it. It happens to be a street where most of the ruling elite reside and it happens to be the one from where the memorial granite stand for the 25 victims of February 12, 1990 was removed in 2004, perhaps not to be an eyesore for the high-ranking residents.

But today, Fabruary 12, 2008 the number of the power shortage victims is not known. Although the government doesn't inform the public about the real situation in maternity wardens, international community chose these institutions as a priority for their immediate assistance, providing them with generators, heaters and coverlets after the news about several deaths of the newborn in maternity hospitals broke in media in the beginning of power-cut season in capital.