The Foreign Service Journal, March 2006

92 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / M A R C H 2 0 0 6 R EFLECTIONS Letter from Turkmenistan: Life in the Twilight Zone B Y J ESSICA P. H AYDEN As the plane prepares for landing, I look up and my eyes are drawn to the two framed portraits of Turkmen- bashi, as Turkmenistan’s president is commonly referred to. They are hung so close together it is as if I am seeing double. His dyed black hair and cater- pillar eyebrows stare back at me eerily. My thoughts drift back to a friend’s return flight to Ashgabat. As the plane prepared to land, it tipped to the left and then, with a thud, hit the runway and crashed over onto its wing. The passengers conferred — everyone okay, but a little shaken up. They wait- ed for someone to take charge. The stewardesses stayed behind the curtain, the pilots in the cockpit. No emer- gency crews approached the plane. Eventually, an airport minibus arrived and the passengers were taken to a small, dark room in the airport. Bottles of vodka were passed out. An airport official addressed the crowd. “You will not tell anyone about this,” he commanded. “No one.” The pas- sengers accepted their vodka in return for their vow of silence. The next day the local newspaper ran a story about the late-night occur- rence. The paper reported, “While you may have heard that a plane crashed last night on the runway at Ashgabat International Airport, it did not. There was no plane crash.” It’s as apt an introduction as any to the bizarre world that is Turk- menistan. It is hard to describe the full spectrum of oddities that make the country a surreal place, but most stem from the schizophrenic rule of the president. In 2004, Parade magazine ranked President Saparmurat Niyazov as the eighth-worst dictator in the world, noting that the president has “developed an extreme personality cult.” Like any country with a dictator with a cult of personality, you’ll find pictures of “the great leader” hanging from any available wall space. Several years ago when Niyazov dyed his hair from white to black, gov- ernment workers were quickly forced to update the pictures. Employees from all sectors were seconded, black paint in hand, to head out into the streets and make sure not one gray hair was left visible. He is omnipresent, if not in reality, at least in his own mind. Niyazov published the Ruknama , his “bible,” which hints at the extent of his messiah complex. The work was intended to serve as a handbook on how to be a true Turkmen. He decreed that it be taught in mosques, with passages to be read on televi- sion. He also ordered a monument be built in honor of the pink and green book. Every mosque through- out the country must display a copy next to the Quran. One evening, flipping through the television channels, I came across three Turkmen channels, each featur- ing young people reading, singing and praising the Ruknama . There were no sitcoms, no news, no talk shows or political discourse, and no social pro- gramming. It is no wonder every apartment building has dozens of satellite dishes, growing like mush- rooms from the walls and roofs. Walking around the capital city of Ashgabat, it feels as if you’ve ended up on an empty movie set. Grand marble apartment buildings line the streets, but they are vacant. Landscaped parks line the roads, adorned with dozens of bubbling fountains, yet no one is out. As my husband and I walked down- town by the ministries and the parlia- ment, we counted policemen stationed every 50 meters. Unlike other cities — there are no people. The markets are quiet, the roads empty. This isn’t a liv- ing, breathing place. It is the creation of a madman. In many ways, visiting Turkmen- istan is a sad venture. Niyazov’s poli- cies, practices and personality offer lit- tle hope for economic and social development in this country. As histo- ry has demonstrated in places like Kyrgyzstan, a corrupt or inept govern- ment working at cross purposes to its populace can only survive so long. Vodka may buy silence from airline passengers, but eventually those hid- ing behind the curtain will have to leave the plane — hopefully before the entire craft goes up in flames. n Jessica P. Hayden is a freelance writer who worked for USAID in Central Asia from 2003 to 2005. Stamp courtesy of the author.