The full name of our school is the Presidential School in Nukus. This is not some randomly picked name saluting some long-gone politician. This educational project was initiated by the current Uzbek President himself. As such, it often places our school in the limelight, regardless of whether we enjoy all this attention or not. The school is often visited by official delegations and, on these occasions, the use of cameras is second only to the Oscar Awards ceremonies. We, the International teachers, are also expected to travel once a month to rural schools in different areas to dispense our words of wisdom to local teachers.
There are always some extra projects going on, so I think of our school as a school on steroids. Recently, as a part of a Mini TED Talk project, I was asked to deliver a short speech to our students on the topic of Honesty and Integrity.
“Your audience will be the lower Grades 8 and 9,” I was told by the VP. My initial reaction, which I kept wisely to myself was: Oh great! How am I ever going to explain these abstract concepts to them? With lots of examples, was my conclusion. Honesty was relatively easy to talk about. Even with limited vocabulary, everybody grasped the idea of an honest shopkeeper, and of an honest student, who refuses to cheat. Integrity was harder to pull off, but it was fun tackling it.
“You all know Donald Trump. You can think of him as the Big Boss of a political party.” I wanted to make sure that they did not mistake a party for a place that people go to have a good time. Although some politicians might dispute that.
“Let’s think of it as a club.” I had their attention, so I continued.
“Like any club with lots of people in it, there are some bullies.” I don’t believe that there’s any bullying going on at this school, but the kids certainly understand the concept.
“In fact, one of the big bullies is the leader of the club, the Ex-President himself.”
This was a radical idea for them, since their democracy is still wet behind the ears, and claiming that any President or Ex-President could be a bully was a novel idea. But I figured it was never too early to introduce the little munchkins to some unusual ideas of the big, wide world.
“Now, imagine, how hard it would be for you to stand up and oppose the leader of your club.” I was looking for some glimpses of understanding from the first row and, when I thought I got it, I continued.
“And that is exactly what happened in the past. Some people from his own party, his own club, opposed Donald Trump, even though he is their leader. And that was brave. Those are people with personal integrity.”
I have no idea how much sunk in, since the TED Talk format doesn’t really leave any room for Q&A, but it certainly gave me the opportunity to reflect on the topic in the context of Uzbekistan.
Our first month in Nukus we went shopping for a couple of small appliances; a floor heater and a toaster oven. We found a small appliance shop near the huge bazaar and successfully negotiated a price. We also needed to buy some produce so, after we paid for our purchase with cash, I told the shopkeeper that we would return in one hour with a taxi to pick up our boxes. He nodded his understanding and I, impressed with my own communication skills, asked for some receipt of our purchase. Evidently, I had pushed my luck. I should have quit while I was ahead. The only thing I understood from his reply was his offering me his phone number. This time, it was my turn to sagely nod my head. I declined his phone number and we left. We went off to the Bazaar, finished the rest of our shopping and Dave grabbed a taxi. After weaving our way out of the market parking lot, which is always an adventure, we pulled up in front of the appliance store. Dave stayed with the taxi and our fresh produce, and I went into the store. It was supposed to be a quick ‘in and out’ operation, like a well-executed robbery. The store owner was busy with a customer so I waited a bit, hoping that the taxi driver was not getting annoyed. Before he had a chance to deal with the next customer, I told him in fluent Russian a phrase I had prepared beforehand.
“I came to pick up my stuff.”
Through our earlier dealings, I noticed that he was struggling with Russian. He proved it again, when he started answering in Uzbek mixed with Russian. The only thing I picked out from the stream of words was ‘money.’ I told him in Russian that I had paid him already. Again, he bombarded me with a mixture of Russian and Uzbek. Several times I caught one word, ‘paper.’ I started to sweat. Was he trying to rip me off, asking for a receipt he had never given to me? I went to a display model of our purchased oven, knocked at it, used a universal gesture for money and repeated that I paid already. The owner said something to the customer who stood there watching my charade with palpable amusement.
It occurred to me that perhaps the owner was playing a practical joke on me and would start laughing at any moment, and then pull out the boxes, maybe hidden under the counter, and then I would laugh too, wipe my sweat off and go home. I looked at him expectantly, willing him to start laughing and end his practical joke. Except that he did not start laughing. I felt my sweat building. What do we do? Do we call the police and try to explain how we bought our goods and left the store without any proof of purchase? And I would have to convey this unlikely situation in Russian?
The customer said something, the owner shrugged, walked from behind the counter and started walking towards the exit beckoning me to follow. Now he is trying to get rid of me. Next thing I know, he will probably put a sign ‘Closed’ on the door, leaving me on the sidewalk with my puddle of sweat. I followed him reluctantly. He stopped by the front door and pointed to two nicely packed boxes prepared for pickup the whole time, if only I had paid more attention to my surroundings.
Generally, except for an occasional taxi driver who confuses a foreigner for a milk cow, we have only experienced honesty and friendliness. I also feel safe walking around by myself after dark, even though I realize that my perception could be colored by the fact that I hardly ever leave my cozy room past 8 p.m. Oh, I am getting old … When has the evening spent at home watching the Nature Channel changed from boring to relaxing? Of course, it is unrealistic to assume that all Uzbeks are poster children for honesty. There must be some crooks amongst them.
The point was driven home during my last Pedagogical tour to a rural school. On our way back to Nukus we had to stop at a Police roadblock. The officer glanced through the window and then asked our driver to open up the trunk for inspection. Back in Kuwait our school bus was regularly inspected at the gate before entering the school grounds. The security guard there used a long pole with a mirror attached at one end, to check underneath the bus for any unwanted surprises – a procedure I had only seen in movies before that experience. Kuwait, being a rich oil country and a source of envy to many had good reasons to have some extra security measures in place. But Uzbekistan? I was unaware of any domestic troubles in Uzbekistan. I asked the Ministry guy who accompanied us to act as a translator.
“Why the Police? What are they looking for?”
He just shrugged laconically, “Somebody reported a missing cow. So, they are looking for it.”
I laughed, picturing someone trying to herd a cow into a sedan and then it hit me how utterly impossible this would be and the gruesome implication of this conclusion and I laughed no more.