March 21: Navruz
I was pretty excited to be spending Navruz (the Muslim New Year) in Bukhara, the former jewel of the Islamic world! We started the day off by watching some traditional Uzbek music and dancing performed near the apartment (each neighbourhood seemed to have one of these ‘micro-celebrations’). Just as in Tajikistan, two close Uzbek women (usually sisters or best friends) wear identical dresses. For Navruz, everyone was dressed in their finest, many with the traditional multi-coloured atlas fabric in more modern designs. Most of their hats were square and gold with dangling tassels of beads. As I walked through the crowds, many women smiled at me and some even asked to take pictures with me, saying that they appreciated my wearing an Uzbek outfit for their holiday; I was of course happy to oblige!
We made our way to Independence Park to soak up the party atmosphere amidst a couple historical sites. Chashma-Ayub (Spring of Ayub) was established when the prophet Ayub (or Job, in Christianity) struck his staff into the ground and found a spring. The building now houses a well and the water is considered holy; people often come here to pray and drink the water. My octa-lingual friend noted quite wisely that water is sacred in all religions. In a desert-surrounded city like Bukhara, religious values are often rooted in environmental restrictions.
The nearby Somoni Mausoleum was established in the 9th century and is the final resting place of Ismail Somoni, the leader of the vast Somonid empire that lasted 120 years, a formidable political and military accomplishment in an area that was historically constantly under threat from new alpha males angling to establish their own empires. Somoni was of Persian descent and is often considered (at least by Tajiks) the father of modern-day Tajikistan (hence the massive gold-plated statue in the heart of Dushanbe). The architects and artists were forced to be even more creative with material restrictions (i.e. the lack of stone and wood in the area at the time) and what they produced is truly stunning. The mausoleum is comprised of baked bricks and adorned with intricate geometrical designs, in keeping with the Islamic taboo against depicting life forms. Complex yet simplistic all at once, the thick walls ensure that the inside is kept at a cool temperature, and light filters timidly through the latticed brick ‘windows’ onto Somoni’s gravestone. As the sunlight changes throughout the day, the bricks appear to change colour – all part of the designers’ impressive artistic intentions.
For a rather untraditional (though still delightful!) Navruz lunch, we went to our Korean friend’s grandparents’ house for an outdoor BBQ. Their home is set in a quiet part of Bukhara and has a very peaceful set-up with fruit trees, vegetable patches, and a chicken coop. It seemed like we were in the countryside, and as I sat on the swing with our friend’s precious 2-month old daughter – maybe it’s just the arrival of spring and the buds on the trees – but I felt incredibly un-nomadic for once…
Later in the evening, we went to the massive Baha’uddin Nankshbandi complex. Nankshbandi is one of the most revered Sufi leaders, establishing his own branch of Sufism in the 14th century and leading a life of modesty and simplicity. The complex includes a section specifically for the female members of his family and following, including a mosque, medrassa, and mausoleum. The tall pole above their graves topped with a white flag and metal hand symbolize their status as women and followers of the five pillars of Islam.
When Nankshbandi returned from his first hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca), he brought back prayer beads, holy water, and a staff. Legend has it that Prophet Muhammad told him in a dream to put the staff into the ground and from it would grow a tree, one of the most valuable things in a desert climate; today there is a petrified portion of a tree that was allegedly the same tree that grew from his staff (though some sources say it is only a few hundred years old). The Prophet also told Nankshbandi to pour the holy water into an ordinary source and it would all be as holy as the water in Mecca; this alleged water source still stands today and is drank by pilgrims.
Nankshbandi’s grave is marked by a tall pole topped by a white triangle at a different angle, a bundle of horse hair, and a metal symbol that looks like the silhouette of a turnip to me. This interesting combination of Mongolian, Zoroastrian, and Muslim symbolism indicate his extremely high status as a spiritual leader. Various other dignitaries over the centuries insisted on being buried in the complex as well, for the clever but rather egotistical reason that everyone who came to honour and pray to Nankshbandi would also by default pray to them. Kings and warriors would also come to pay their respects to their predecessor leaders to gain wisdom and strength before battle, but notably had to enter the mausoleum complex unarmed.
March 22: A little bit of everything
To round out the ‘Emir Ali Khan experience’, we ventured slightly outside Bukhara to his Summer Palace, which he used in addition to the Arc. I was pleased to see several peacocks strutting their stuff around the courtyard and spent a few moments practicing my wildlife videographer skills. The peacock is a symbol of happiness in Uzbekistan and is even on the Uzbek flag; they also feature prominently in Zoroastrian folklore.
The summer palace was a strange mix of Uzbek, Russian, German, Chinese, and Italian art and I wasn’t particularly taken by it. Most interesting was the outdoor pool, which, during the Emir’s reign, was filled with milk and frequented by his official harem of 70-80 women. Each evening, he would stand atop a rather pretentiously tall set of stairs and throw an apple to the woman of his choice…
A Soviet sanitorium was randomly just around the corner from the summer palace, where our friend’s father works as a physiotherapist. We went in to check out his workspace – I got a bit nostalgic to see a treadmill, however rudimentary it was – and I was treated to a wonderful electronic massage chair. Though I much prefer non-robotic massages, it was a massage nonetheless and much needed after spending every day on my feet. The chair also had a built-in sound system with (who else?) Canada’s own Celine Dion.
In the afternoon, I had the distinct pleasure of spending some time with my octa-lingual friend and his lovely new wife and her grandfather, who also happens to be a well-known Tajik poet! Even though there are many obvious cultural and historical similarities between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, I felt noticeably more at 'home' being with Tajik-speakers and having the familiar spread of nuts, candies, and naan, as well as the delicious wheatgrass sumalac, prepared only by women for Navruz. We had a great discussion about his own life, Central Asian water politics, and censorship (his poetry was banned during the Soviet era and then in independent Uzbekistan because it was Tajik, not Uzbek). The grandmother then outfitted me in traditional Uzbek wedding garb, which she personally embroidered, and she proceeded to try to set me up with one of her sons (which I politely declined). True to Tajik form, they insisted that I join their entire family for a post-wedding celebration later that evening, which I happily obliged!
On the way to the celebration, we stopped at Chor Bakir, another vast complex of mosques, medrassas, minarets, and mausoleums. It is also considered a holy place, as Nakshbandi prayed here for 40 days straight and is also the burial site of two of the Prophet Muhammad’s grandchildren.
Having had my fill of the 4 Ms for a while, I had a lovely time at my friend’s tolban (post-wedding celebration) and reveled in the notably Tajik atmosphere, which will get increasingly less prominent as we head to western Uzbekistan tomorrow…
