My Role in Uzbekistan (or, How I Became the Family Dog)
An Uzbek Telling
In every woman’s life, there comes a moment when she realizes who she really is. Mine came one late summer evening in a small town outside Tashkent, Uzbekistan. It was back in my training days when I knew almost no Uzbek except how to tell people, “yes I like apples but please don’t touch me.” I’d come home after a tiring day of language mis-retention with the hopes of a calm meal and some stilted conversation with my host family. But my hopes had reached too high, and it wasn’t just because we were out of apples.
There was a buzz of work activity in the kitchen and throughout the courtyard. There were women I’d never met before, and even a few sons were pitching in. Who were all these people? None of them seemed to notice me. I sat down in a corner of the kitchen and watched.
Conversations washed over me. Older women snapped orders at younger ones. Plate after plate of scintillating food was passed unceremoniously over my head. Perhaps I was in the way, but no one barked at me to move. I gathered that there was some sort of event, but that was about the extent of my comprehension.
Slowly, a new realization came to me. It wasn’t a very modern approach, but I was like a passively tolerated mentally impaired child. Sit me in a corner when company comes and pray I don’t make a scene. I was mildly depressed about this, as one would imagine, and began a new, more rudimentary, thought process.
I was hungry. I saw much food. Could I eat the food? When?
I sniffed tentatively and hoped I looked pitiful enough to be fed. I heard a small whimper behind me and turned.
That’s when the moment crystallized for me.
Rex, our faithful canine, was sitting by the kitchen door while dish upon dish of savory provisions evaded his quivering muzzle.
He was hungry. He saw much food. Could he eat the food? When?
And I knew. I was not an abilities-challenged child.
I was the family dog.
-Winter 03/04
The Uzbek Tellings are true tales of my time living and serving in Uzbekistan as a Peace Corps volunteer. This one is dedicated to Rex, who used to escort me to the outhouse during night-time potty trips.
If you enjoyed this telling, or if you’ve ever felt like you were a common canine, consider giving me a few claps — or comment below.
Other Uzbek Tellings:
- Taxi Traveling — I wonder if anyone taking an Uber has ever had this experience.
- Finding the Switch — Sometimes losing control, means finding your sense of peace.
