Housing Control: Knock Knock (not the beggining of a joke--the sound effect)
Natasha: Yes, what can I do for you?
Housing Control: Do you live in this apartment?
Natasha: Yes.
Housing Control: I'm from the housing commission. What registration do you have in your passport?
Natasha: I have a Balkanabat registration, but I got married last month to someone with an Ashgabat registration so we moved here together.
Housing Control: You live here with just your husband?
Natasha: Yes.
Housing Control: If you don't have an Ashgabat registration you can't move here.
Natasha: But I'm married. I have to live with my husband.
Housing Control: You can apply for your registration while living in Balkanabat and move here after three years.
Natasha: 3 years!? I'm married. How can I live five hours away from my own husband?
Housing Control: If you aren't registered you can't be living here.
Natasha: People move in with their husbands all the time. That's normal. How can this be?
Housing Control: you would be allowed to stay if you were living with your husband's parents like you should be. (Turkmen tradition has the new bride moving into the husbands house to care for the agin parents. They wear scarves over their mouths and aren't allowed to speak to anyone older than them. Natasha, not being Turkmen, has NO relation to this tradition. It's just one more diwscrimination to try and get all the minorities to give up on life here and leave.)
Natasha: That's not my culture!
Housing Control: That's Turkmenistan law.
Natasha: I won't do that. How else do i get registered.
Housing Control: You can have registration with your first child. (After Turkmen women are married, they must get pregnent within the first year of marriage to retain honor. The baby should also be a boy)
Natasha: What?!
Tears.
Jul 12, 2005
Act II and analysis
Men: Yeah, after six beers all we need are girls.
Six? I drank more like 10! Do I get two girls for that? (laughter.)
Sasha: Yup, it's about 3. If we're going to get to Natasha's by 4 we should go now.
Me: Ok, remember we have to pick up pictures for her at the kodak.
S: Yeah, we have time. Can I run and find the waitress, pay, and I'll be back in a minute. Is that ok?
Me: Of course, you know you don't have to ask permission. You can even go to the bathroom if you want. (smiles)
The three men get up from their table, see me alone, and stop in their tracks.
Men: Good evening young girl. What are you doing sitting here alone?
Me: (mean glare, no answer)
Men: You shouldn't have to sit there all alone. . .
My friend returns. The men walk off.
I walked out a bit angry--I'm so often thought of as a prostute. How am I not used to it yet? What can I even complain about? They didn't say "how much" like the last time I walked out of a restaurant alone to meet a friend outside. Maybe it was the time of day or the amount of time I was alone. I can't even be alone at 3 pm in a public building for one short minute without being bothered! We walked out and I proceeded to break down crying in a park across the street. Of course Sasha thought it was his fault for leaving me alone. Which almost makes me feel worse. I'm not even responsible for myself. As a youn woman I have so little power over what happens to me. Natasha can't even move TO her husband (seems moral and safe to me). I can't even be left alone for one minute. We are both children. Natasha by law must be living with either her own or her husbands parents. I too can't be trusted alone. And when do we become adults? Childbirth. After having a child we are suddenly allowed to be left home to cook, take care, aron, clean, push our way through the bazar. Children make us whole.
Six? I drank more like 10! Do I get two girls for that? (laughter.)
Sasha: Yup, it's about 3. If we're going to get to Natasha's by 4 we should go now.
Me: Ok, remember we have to pick up pictures for her at the kodak.
S: Yeah, we have time. Can I run and find the waitress, pay, and I'll be back in a minute. Is that ok?
Me: Of course, you know you don't have to ask permission. You can even go to the bathroom if you want. (smiles)
The three men get up from their table, see me alone, and stop in their tracks.
Men: Good evening young girl. What are you doing sitting here alone?
Me: (mean glare, no answer)
Men: You shouldn't have to sit there all alone. . .
My friend returns. The men walk off.
I walked out a bit angry--I'm so often thought of as a prostute. How am I not used to it yet? What can I even complain about? They didn't say "how much" like the last time I walked out of a restaurant alone to meet a friend outside. Maybe it was the time of day or the amount of time I was alone. I can't even be alone at 3 pm in a public building for one short minute without being bothered! We walked out and I proceeded to break down crying in a park across the street. Of course Sasha thought it was his fault for leaving me alone. Which almost makes me feel worse. I'm not even responsible for myself. As a youn woman I have so little power over what happens to me. Natasha can't even move TO her husband (seems moral and safe to me). I can't even be left alone for one minute. We are both children. Natasha by law must be living with either her own or her husbands parents. I too can't be trusted alone. And when do we become adults? Childbirth. After having a child we are suddenly allowed to be left home to cook, take care, aron, clean, push our way through the bazar. Children make us whole.
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