Day 49 Wednesday

Picture Day!! (You can click these images to see a bigger version)

10th day of no sun.

How's the weather? Cold and grey... day number ten--no sun. We had to get out of the house today or go crazy, so we walked down to Ala Turka for lunch and snapped some photos along the way. Here are some images and some thoughts.

The city has numerous monuments and statues and such, I'm sure they all have great historic significance, so I will make my best interpretation of a few. Like this one, this must be an early representation of a "Neighborhood Watch" sign. See, there is a guy looking out of a window...

This one is of a famous hero named Mohammed Something. I can't read the last name because it's in the Russian alphabet. Beloved is doing her best to win a staring contest, but she didn't last...

There are numerous little shops that make rugs, (remember the word for shop? No giggling now...) rugs are a very important piece of the Azerbaijani culture. And don't call them persian rugs, they are Azerbaijani rugs or carpets. Some of these shops offer the option of having a photo image woven into the carpet, and this place had a sample hanging out in the weather. Crazy!

Here is a typical truck, the ZIL 130, there are hundreds of these running around. Like the trustworthy Lada, Russia stamped out these trucks virtually unchanged for nearly thirty years. So, this creampuff of a workhorse could be a 1968 model, or a 1986 model, Cool.

And here is a fine example of the companion to our modern infrastructure--modern building practices. What do they say, "Necessity is the mother of invention?" Well take a look at this fine craftsmanship. It also cleared the back yard of more than twenty bits of tin and other junk lying around. A little wire, a few nails and Viola! The gap in the wall is fixed! Should be strong enough to hold the goat in...


Okay, when you're done laughing I will tell you about a couple things that are not funny. Both are sad, but one will touch your heart.

The first thing that a westerner will notice about poor Ganja is it is filthy. Here are some photos of the riverbed, which, unfortunately, is treated as a trash receptacle. Even as we were standing on the bridge taking these photos a man walked right by us and threw a cigarette box into the riverbed. He probably didn't realize we were taking photos of trash.

It makes me almost mad that these people have no more pride in their city than to treat it this way. Yeah, I know you're poor, maybe you don't have anything to speak of, but that doesn't mean that you can just toss your trash anywhere--which it seems like they do. But it's not the poor, it's everyone.

If you take the time to look at these images you will see all manner of objects in them. I suppose it would not shock me to see cigarette butts and boxes, and pop bottles and cans, but there are cooking pans, shoes, garments, shoes, we saw a large kitchen knife, more shoes, clothes hangers, car parts, a toilet seat, diapers by the dozens, paint cans, building materials, yuck.

It is a most unfortunate situation. C'mon folks, how about a little civic pride? It ain't that hard to put trash in a trash can. There are trash cans, use them.

I am careful not to grow too callused to those that we occasionally encounter with a hand out. And what I am trying to say is this; there are probably some genuine needs out there as opposed to the racket of the organized bilking of the generous. One of the first times we were in the city center we were with a local guy that was helping us make a purchase. We were approached by a healthy young lady who asked us for some money. It appeared the whole family was working this block. Our guide pushed on by, and we followed suit, a few steps later his explanation was, "Don't give, they don't need." We, as people who have a desire to help, must balance this against giving when we sense a seemingly authentic need.

Such was the case today. We passed an old lady of sallow complexion, with the leathery skin of a hard life. Beloved asked me to stop, "Give her a manat." So I did, it's only $1.25--very little to me, but a lot to this woman--I would suppose the few people that put something in her had would drop only 10 or 20 cents. Her eyes were grateful, and I considered my good deed done. Twenty steps later Beloved spoke again, and she was right on the mark. "Let's give her five manat." We did, Beloved walking back and smiling, holding back tears. The little old woman did not hold her tears, and it made a difference. $7.50 made a difference in this woman's life today.


What a blessing to be part of a moment like this.