Our trip to Uzbekistan was mainly characterized by pre-Soviet structures. The tours we went on highlighted remnants of fortresses and towns, old mosques, and the old parts of modern cities. The sites we saw were beautiful; hand-tiled mosques reaching into the sky, giant towers each with unique histories, and remains of fortresses from which you could imagine the approaching enemy (much more than just rocks.. As some of the group members might say). These sites inspire awe.
This is not to say that the remaining Soviet structures did not inspire awe. We saw many buildings which we have become accustomed to in Almaty (the Soviet architectural style has yet to grow old for me). However, the most striking remnant of Soviet times that we encountered on our trip was found, or rather not found, in Moynaq.
Moynaq was a town located on the bank of the Aral Sea. Now, Moynaq is a town located in the middle of the desert in Uzbekistan, the sea nowhere to be found. While approaching the town, it was hard for me to imagine this landscape dominated by the sea. The landscape is flat, sandy, and covered by small shrubs. How could such a disaster have occurred in less than 50 years? The answer: the Soviets.
Uzbekistan’s main export during the Soviet period was cotton. This crop is not native to Uzbekistan. It was introduced during Soviet times for the main purpose of turning the region into a major cotton producer. To achieve this goal, Stalin vowed to irrigate the entire southern region. He achieved this goal by redirecting the main feeding rivers of the Aral Sea to farming land. In doing so, the Aral Sea gradually shrunk. Eventually, what once was the Aral Sea split into 2 sections: The North Aral Sea and the South Aral Sea. The North Aral Sea, located in Kazakhstan, is able to be saved, and efforts are currently being made to do so. The South Aral Sea, located in Uzbekistan, however, is not able to be saved.
Moynaq used to be located along the bank of the Aral Sea. As is common with many sea-bordering towns, their main export was fish. When the sea receded, this all changed. Some fishers followed the sea. They packed up their boats and left. Others, however, stayed back. As the sea receded, they let their boats become stranded on land, left to rust.
The sight of large, rusting ships in the middle of the desert left me in awe, but in a different way than seeing the mosques, cities, and fortresses. Seeing the latter sites inspires a sense of awe due to human achievements: the cutting and laying of hundreds of thousands of tiles by hand to create beautiful and intricate designs, for example. The former, ships in the middle of the desert, inspires a sense of awe due to human destruction: one of the largest inland seas drained in far less than a lifetime, thus altering the ecosystem throughout an entire region and forever changing the lives of millions. This scene is a poignant reminder of the way the Soviet system functioned: they would take, regardless of the consequences, seeking to benefit select individuals over others, which was in direct opposition to the communist ideals.
While at the ship graveyard, we were greeted by local children. They were proud of their hometown, having gone out of their way to memorize the phrase “Welcome to Moynaq” in at least 2 languages that they did not speak (English and Russian). They wanted to interact with everyone, and they did. They had nothing to lose by talking to foreigners, and everything to gain. They treated the ships as their playground, climbing on them, jumping off, and chasing each other around them.
The kids were young, maybe 8 years old at the oldest. As I interacted with them and watched them play, I wondered if they knew about the tragedy that defined their hometown. I wondered if they knew about the implications of the structures that they played on. Of course, their parents would be aware of the tragedy, and their relationship with the town is likely defined by the disappearance of the Aral Sea from the region. Their grandparents would likely have a different perception of the town altogether; that of a fishing town, defined by its proximity to the Aral Sea.
From a single interaction, I could imagine the story of three generations each with their own perception of the town in which they live. This revelation not only confirms but accentuates the swiftness of the tragedy that we stood on the grounds of. The story of Moynaq is important to acknowledge as the world’s climate faces change: from a port town to a desert settlement in less than 3 generations.
