A regular week, a good week, for 44-year-old Matobsho Nazrishoev, a
police officer in the former Tajik Soviet Socialist Republic, consisted of
going to work, putting in his time patrolling the streets in the quiet mountain
town of Khorog, nestled between banks of the Pyanj and Gaunt rivers along the
Afghan border, and spending the weekend with his young family. But on an early
September morning in 1991, following the failed August coup in Moscow and the
resulting collapse of the Soviet Union, Tajikistan declared itself an
independent republic and Matob, an imposing bear-of-a-man with long curls falling
over his shoulders and an endearing laugh, swears that, "in this single
week it felt like I lost 7 years of my life.
""After the collapse, there were demonstrations
everywhere– people were going back and forth along the Afghan border. Prisoners
were released from the jails. There was no order. And since that week, things
still haven't gone back to normal."It's difficult to understand how anyone can long for the good old
days of gulags and bread lines. One young Tajik girl explained to me that,
"if it wasn't for the Revolution, we'd be like Afghanistan now." This
Diminutive girl concluded with a surprising and powerful, "I hate
democracy. I am a Communist." Unlike the former Baltic and EasternEuropeanRepublics,
the CentralAsianRepublics
had limited traditions of nationalist aspirations and can credit the majority
of their institutions, infrastructures and industries to the Soviet Era.
Following the October Revolution, overall standards of living in the region
were significantly raised and education and health care reached all levels of
society. "The president rode the bus with the rest of us," is a
saying often used to explain Soviet society to outsiders. In 1994,
in an act of patriotism and possibly rebellion, Matob
named his newborn daughter USSR
(SSSR in Russian and CCCP using Cyrillic script)."I loved the USSR," he explains while
gesticulating with powerful hands. "I gave all of my life to it. It was a
great and powerful country. It was even strong enough to beat Hitler. We were
all brothers and the USSR
was our mother. There is a tradition in our culture where if the mother dies we
name the daughter after her. After the collapse of the Soviet Union I named my
daughter USSR."When pulled away from playing with her sister, USSR answers with a series of shy
smiles and nods that she likes her name but still doesn't quite understand what
it means. Her friends at school don't make fun of her and she likes it when she
sees her name on old movies and sporting event on TV or on retro t-shirts that are
now popular in Central Asian capitals. Hiding under her long bangs she shares
that she's turning ten this year and when she grows up she wants to be a
teacher, a dancer and a magician.Tajikistan, one of the Soviet Union's and now Russia's farthest and most
strategic outposts in curbing the infiltration of Afghan narcotics and Islamic
militants, has the unfortunate distinction of being the only former republic to
fall into civil war after independence. From 1992 to 1997 the civil war, often
referred to as "a great misunderstanding", claimed over sixty
thousand lives and created over half a million refugees.Khorog, cradled in the towering PamirMountains
(also known as the Roof of the World), experienced little fighting but famine
became an acute concern.Since declaring a ceasefire and signing a peace agreement, Tajikistan
has succeeded in incorporating opposing militias into a pluralistic power
sharing system that the UN touts as a model for post-conflict reconciliation.
However, emerging from the war, Tajiks were quick to learn how far behind their
untended economy and infrastructure had fallen and how distorted democracy and
corrupt markets had replaced Moscow-dependent communism as the ideology of the
day. "The one thing I like since the fall of the Soviet Union," Matob shares without prompting,
"is that I rediscovered my faith. During the civil war all the roads to
Khorog were closed. We were completely isolated, but it was Islam that saved us
from isolation." When asked how he feels when he looks at his daughter as she
plays in the corner with her younger sister Matob answers, "First I see
her as my daughter, but then I also remember the USSR and how good things used to
be. When I was young I travel;;ed to Baku, Murmansk, Leningrad.
I visited all these cities as a student. Today I can't even take my daughter
out of our own city: not only because I can not afford it, but now these same
cities are all in foreign countries." "And what kind of future do you want for your
daughter?" I ask as we sit down on Afghan carpets to meal of rice pilaf,
coriander-spiced soup along with cured meats and pickled vegetables."I hope that these times, these times of transition, pass
very quickly," he begins after a brief pause. "I don't want her to
live her entire life in times like these. I don't know what she will be in the
future, but I want her to be leader in her society and to live up to her
name."As hard as it was to imagine 20 years ago, recent events
clearly suggest that there are worse enemies to face in this world than
Communists. Some in Washington are even yearning for the days when we knew
exactly who are enemy was and we at least shared with them a mutual concern for
education, equality and the preservation of life, even if we couldn't agree on
the means of production.With the recent passing of Ronald Regan, America's great Cold Warrior, an era has truly
ended but for those in the former SovietRepublics, like USSR and her father, it seems the
fall out from the Cold-War era will hang over their heads for years to come.