That said, at least my host mom is cool. Whenever I head out in my running clothes she says, “stadion getjakmi?” (are you going to the stadium) and when I say I am she responds with a smile and “maladetz” (Russian for ‘good for you.’)
Still, it’s hard not to get angry at the people of Balkanabat because it’s not a small village that hasn’t had an American before. Balkanabat has had Peace Corps volunteers for at least the past eight years, probably the whole eighteen we’ve been in Turkmenistan. At one point there were five or six serving here simultaneously. Sure, not everyone knows me personally but the rumor mill is such that everyone should know that there are two Americans here. So it should come as no surprise when they see an American running because I know I’m not the first volunteer to engage in the activity either. It’s just that Turkmen are rude in general. Because it wasn’t just stares; people yelled things at me and cars sped up and honked as they saw me crossing the road.
There’s a difference between curiosity and rudeness and Turkmen cross that line all the time. They know it’s wrong because if they stare and I make a point of staring back, they get uncomfortable and look away. And if they shove in line and I give them the death look, they get sheepish. If they try to overcharge us for a cab, once we tell them we’re samsyk dal (not stupid) they shut up and accept the correct fare. They know what they do is wrong, they just do it anyway because they only ever think of themselves.
Of course there are exceptions and some Turkmen (like my family and the kids that go to my clubs) are great and really friendly and helpful. And sometimes we meet a Turkmen who’s just tickled pink when they meet us and learn we know some Turkmen. Those Turkmen are great and really brighten our days. I just wish there were more of them.