I stood in front of my ironing board, re-reading the white cursive writing on my olive green T-shirt spread on top of it, waiting to be ironed. You are always one decision away from a totally different life. I studied the message again. How is it possible that I never noticed it before? The message is imprinted on the front of my new T-shirt, which I bought for its colour, not for its motivational text. When I purchased it, I only paid attention to the much bigger text above it, which announces to anyone willing to study that region of my body that there is Nothing To Lose. I remember briefly thinking, yeah, if you don’t count $20 that I just paid for it. I read the text again, and that’s when I noticed a small stain near the bottom edge. I had only worn this top once. How did I get the stain on it? Sometimes I feel that I am a magnet attracting all stains, just so they can bear witness to all my activities, including culinary engagements.
In the past, while making my plans, I am sure that, ever so often, life was howling with laughter. Many years ago, I decided not to give it more fodder for its cruel merriment, so I stopped making plans. My new motto became, ‘One day at a time, enjoy the moment.’
I pondered the message: One decision away from a totally different life. Ok, so I made my decision. It might lead to a poorer life, but that’s the chance I take. When it comes down to it, I’d rather lose my pay than inflict on myself 18 hours sitting on a train.
I was ready to start ironing the top because I was planning to wear it on my 1.5-hour flight to Tashkent. The trip came up quite unexpectedly. In fact, a mere three days earlier from this piece of news landing in our laps, nobody had a clue that we would be travelling to the capital to spend a week and a half in workshops and seminars. We had returned from our summer break and spent several days prepping for the new school year when our Admin informed us about this plan. Asking: didn’t they know about this grandiose plan involving all 14 schools ahead of time? is pointless. The chaotic situations that sometimes arise from the lack of planning and communication is something that comes with the school territory here.
Within minutes of being informed of the event we found out that all airfare to Tashkent was sold out because the dates coincided with the Independence Day holidays. Admin suggested the train, which all the local teachers were expected to take and already had the tickets booked. It is an 18-hour ride and the tickets are sold by level of comfort. Some cars are air-conditioned, some have sleeper facility, but most are the lowest level of comfort (4th Class), juggling for space with the masses.
“Of course, only the cheapest tickets are available this late in the game,” Dave informed us, the International teachers, after a quick internet search. We all looked pretty gloomy. We are the school furthest from Tashkent and yet we were expected to get there somehow to attend the program organized by the school so we could ‘work,’ so we would be paid. It was an interesting conundrum.
“We could drive to Urgench. They have an airport there. Maybe we could fly from there,” suggested Sam, my Kenyan colleague. Wonderful, I thought. Drive for 2.5 hours to another city just so we could fly from there. I also suspected that people of Urgench had probably the same desire to visit Tashkent as the bored, well-off denizens of Nukus. After a quick search my suspicion was confirmed. All flights from Urgench were sold out. I flatly refused to subject myself to 18 hours of sitting on the train, or 12 hours in a car over VERY rough roads, which came as the next option; hire a car and driver, and drive all the way. I managed to get an air ticket arriving in Tashkent two days after everybody else and, if they dock the time from my salary, I will chalk it up in my ‘money well spent,’ column. Four people, including Dave, ended up hiring the car and driver, and endured a tiring ride that took them over 18 hours while avoiding potholes and taking frequent breaks. “I would never do this again,” was Dave’s summary of this cheerless road trip.
My South African colleague Erin is so paranoid, she would question the motivation of a 6th Grader giving her a birthday present. When I told her I managed to find a ticket that would get me to Tashkent two days after everyone else she said without hesitation, “You’ll never see that money.” Then she sat there for a while with a look of deep concentration on her face, like a cat in a litterbox. “It’s not that I am suspicious, but I can’t help wonder. Is it possible that someone had foreseen all this, in fact planned all this? By springing this on us on such short notice the Admin basically absolved themselves from paying for our airfare, forcing us on cheaper transport.” Maybe Erin was onto something. The Admin has proven on several occasions that they want to save money on us, The Internationals, whichever way they can. “You will have to start buying your own drinking water. The water coolers will only be available to the student dormitories,” was the latest cheerful announcement after our return from Tashkent. Maybe I am reading too much into it, but the Independence Day has been falling on the same day for the past 30 years. The Admin is either totally clueless as to the increased mobility of their own citizens during this weekend or they are really cunning in their effort to save money on us. And that begs another question to ponder. What is worse? Ignorance or duplicity?
I gave the top one last swipe with the iron, and tried to cheer myself up by starting to think about fun things we could do while in Tashkent. They can’t expect us to be in seminars all day long, I reasoned. We are teachers. We are not used to sitting on our bums all day long. Oh, but I can be so naïve sometimes.