Chapter 9
It was the middle of October and the air was definitely cool. Turkmenistan in the middle of October was supposed to have high temperatures in the low seventies, but that day had only seen temperatures in the low fifties. The dry barren landscape didn't have grasses of any kind. Afghanistan in comparison looked like an oasis. It was hard to imagine how such a land could support life, but there were people here.
The transition from desert to town had been rather sudden. One minute they had been surrounded by desert and the next by low standing buildings made of cement. The building material and strict utilitarian design of the buildings was a reminder of the days of Soviet occupation.
Georgia stepped out of the truck and stretched. Looking around, she was surprised to see people in western style clothes. After months of seeing women in Burkas, the sight of a woman wearing a dress was almost shocking to her. Looking down at her American fatigues, she felt very poorly dressed for a change. She looked around for a second before spotting a store with a handful of dresses hanging in the window.
"Where's the Mosque?" Georgia asked.
"I'm not visiting a Mosque. That building over there is a Russian Orthodox Church," Oscar answered pointing to a small building beside the shopping center she had been looking at.
"Church? What are you doing visiting a church?" Georgia asked. They hadn't stopped by a church since leaving Iraq.
"I'm helping to bring an end to war in the Middle East," Oscar answered looking over at church. It was another reminder of the Soviet occupation. The church was built after a large number of Russians were exported into the outlying regions of the Soviet empire in a process called Russification. Whether the process had been successful or not, the result was that enclaves of Russians, Russian architecture, and Russian culture remained after the downfall of the Soviet Union.
As was often the case when strangers came to a small town that was well off the beaten path, their presence was noted by everyone. Without even attempting to be discreet, people stepped out of stores to openly stare at them. The features of the people were a strange mixture of European and Asian. Regardless of the shape of the eye, all eyes were on Oscar and Georgia.
Used to such attention, Oscar ignored it. Glancing over at his wife, he said, "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Georgia watched him cross the street towards the church. She turned and saw a small bakery. Little pastries and cakes were in the window. They looked delicious and she was tempted to enter it to buy some. Instead, she turned back to watch the church. What was going to happen in the church was going to be more interesting.
Oscar stopped in front of the doors of the church. Confident that he had the attention of all those who were watching from across the street, he struck the door with the staff. The noise produced was supernaturally loud. A half a minute passed before the door was opened by an old man with a graying beard wearing the black robes of an Orthodox priest. The man looked at Oscar and, in Russian, asked, "What do you want?"
"I am the Druid Oscar Meyers and I seek entrance," Oscar answered.
"This is a church, not a mosque," the Priest said glowering at Oscar. Even in this out of the way place, they had heard of the Druid who was going from Mosque to Mosque speaking out against Jihad. He wondered how a Druid could mistake a church for a mosque.
From inside the church, a deep voice echoed, "Bid the Druid Oscar Meyers to enter."
On hearing the voice, chills ran down the spine of the Priest. Stepping back from the door, he said, "Come in."
The Priest followed Oscar into the Narthex of the church. This area represented the part of the church where those who were prevented from entering the church proper could still listen to the service. Passing through the Narthex, Oscar entered the Nave where worshippers normally gathered. He stopped below the dome of the ceiling and looked up at the representation of Christ the World Ruler. The heavy scent of incense was driven out of the room and replaced with the scent of roses. The Priest moved to stand between Oscar and the Iconostasis. Oscar said, "I have come to hear your message of peace."
"Tell them to embrace what people have in common and to ignore the differences," the voice said echoing through the room and carrying to the crowd outside.
It was such a simple statement, but Oscar knew it could have far reaching consequences. Bowing his head, he said, "I shall tell them to embrace what people have in common and to ignore the differences."
"Go forth and spread the word, Druid Oscar Meyers," the voice said.
"Thank you," Oscar said. He turned and left the church.
Oscar was followed out the door by the Priest. The Priest grabbed his arm and asked, "What do you think he meant?"
Turning to look at the Priest, Oscar smiled and answered, "It is not my place to interpret the words of the God you serve. If someone asks me what Jehovah said to me, then I will answer that they are to embrace what people have in common and to ignore the differences. What do you think?"
"I think that you were well chosen to serve as the messenger for the Gods," the Priest said looking at Oscar with a smile. Touching Oscar on the shoulder, he said, "Go in peace."
"Thank you," Oscar said. He looked across the road and saw Georgia waiting for him. She was not the only one watching him. Behind her was a huge crowd of people; all of whom were watching him and most of whom were making the sign of the cross.
Rather than walk directly to Georgia, Oscar detoured to the pastry shop. One of the women who had been on the street followed him into the store keeping as much distance as possible. There was a disfiguring scar on her face that rendered ugly what would have been a pretty woman. She moved behind the counter never taking her eyes off of him. Oscar stepped up to the counter and put a small piece of gold on it. In Turkmen spoken with the local accent, he said, "I will trade this piece of gold for two pastries."
The woman looked at the gold, then at Oscar, and then at the church across the street. In a soft voice, she said, "Keep the gold. I will give you the pastries. Which ones do you want?"
Oscar pointed out two simple cakes and said, "Those will do."
Taking a small box, the woman carefully packed the two cakes. She closed the box with exaggerated care and then tied a small ribbon around it. Holding it in both hands, she held it out for Oscar. Smiling, Oscar took the box from her and started to leave. Glancing at the counter, the woman said, "You forgot the gold."
Turning to look at the woman, Oscar said, "Take it to your husband so that he can give it to the Imam of the mosque on your behalf."
"Thank you," she said staring at the small piece of gold. When he started to turn, she said, "Excuse me, but may I ask you a question?"
"Yes."
"I heard the God of the Christians say to you that they are to embrace what people have in common and to ignore the differences. What does Allah say to you?"
"The senseless killing must stop. Allah will not tolerate any man declaring Jihad by the Sword in his name," Oscar answered.
Having heard the words from the man to whom Allah talked was the thrill of her life. With tears in her eyes, she said, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Oscar said.
He left the store and walked over to Georgia. Holding up the box of from the pastry shop, he said, "I bought a little treat for us to eat on the road. Are you ready to go?"
"I watched you from the door. You made that woman's day," Georgia said with a smile. She figured that the woman would return home and tell her husband that she had talked to the man to whom Allah spoke. She also believed that the small piece of gold would become a major source of pride for the small town.
"She was nice," Oscar said with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Right," Georgia said opening the door of the truck. She climbed in and waited for Oscar. The crowd of people moved closer to get a better look at them.
Georgia looked out the window and asked, "How much longer?"
"Just a little further," Oscar answered. He slowed down the truck and looked around for a moment. He turned down a little road and said, "We are almost there."
After traveling down the road for a ways, Georgia noticed little details about the terrain. In front of them was a grassy plain with camels grazing amidst lumps rising from the ground. Further examination revealed that the lumps were the ruins of ancient buildings. Some were in better shape than others. A few had been restored.
"You brought me to see ruins?" Georgia said looking around at the remains of ancient buildings. Unlike the most of the area that they had been traveling through, this spot was full of plant life. Outside of that, it was pretty disappointing.
"Not just any ruins," Oscar said.
"Where are we?"
"We are at the ancient city of Merv. There are almost fifteen square miles of ruins here," Oscar answered.
Georgia frowned and said, "I've never heard of Merv."
"This site has been settled for five thousand years and was, during the twelfth century, the largest city in the world. It sat on the Silk Road; the route by which silk traveled from the Far East to the West. It was said that Alexander the Great visited it, but that is just a legend. The city was called Alexandria for a while," Oscar said. For a moment he wished that the gift of foresight worked in reverse. It would have been nice to look back in the past and see this place when it was teaming with people.
"We are in the middle of nowhere. It is hard to believe that at one time it was one of the most important places in the world," Georgia said.
"This whole area has been forgotten by the modern world. Most people have never even heard of Turkmenistan. Even fewer have heard of Merv," Oscar said parking the car.
"What are you doing?"
"It is close to lunch time and I thought it would be nice to have a little picnic here," Oscar said. He got out of the truck carrying a sleeping bag and two MREs.
The weather was warm and the sky was clear. Looking at the ancient buildings, Georgia had to agree that it would be nice to rest there for a while. She climbed out of the truck and joined Oscar on a small patch of grass on which he had laid the sleeping bag. Sitting down, she asked, "Why the sudden interest in history?"
Oscar handed her a MRE and said, "I don't know. Maybe it is because I'm involved in what could be considered historic events that I've become interested in history. I look at this site and think about how it was once so important. Now it is nothing but ruins that only a handful of people even care about."
"So you think that while you might be famous for a while, that you will vanish into obscurity like Merv?" Georgia asked thinking that it was a shame that a once vital place had turned to dust.
"I hope so," Oscar said opening the MRE.
Surprised by his answer, Georgia asked, "You hope so?"
"Yes. The happiest times of my life have been spent in the arms of my wives. You and Debbie complete me, but history will not record that. No, history will only make note of a few hours of my life spent here and there. From those few hours, some picture of me that has nothing to do with reality will be generated and revered. In the stories, I will stride across war torn countries like a giant. The problem is that I'm a man, not some sort of immortal heroic figure," Oscar said looking at the remains of a nearby building.
"Oh."
"The way I want to be remembered is how you and Debbie will remember me," Oscar said. He pulled out the contents of his MRE and spread them on the sleeping bag in front of him.
Georgia turned the MRE over and over in her hands thinking about what Oscar had said. She wanted to remember the words he had just spoken for the rest of her life. Smiling, she asked, "Are you sure of that? Our memories include you announcing that your horse was broken."
Oscar laughed and said, "That's exactly what I want remembered about me."
Georgia opened her MRE and dumped the contents out on the sleeping bag. Curious, she asked, "What moment of time would you like people to know about?"
Oscar opened the can of fruit cocktail and looked inside. There was a cherry right on the top. Looking over at Georgia, he said, "This moment would be good. You and I sitting here, eating a meal, while sharing our love for each other. I can't think of a better moment of time."
It was late morning when they pulled into the city of Turkmenabat. Looking at the sights of civilization, Georgia said, "I want to sleep in a hotel room tonight."
With most of their time spent sleeping outdoors, it was understandable that she would want to experience a little comfort from time to time. Oscar had no idea where there was a decent hotel and looked around at the city. It was a fairly decent sized city for this part of the world. Noticing some railroad tracks, he said, "We'll go by the train station and see if we can find out about hotels there."
"Good idea," Georgia said.
It took an hour, but they found the railway station and from there found a hotel. The hotel was far nicer than they expected to find there. It had been built for visiting members of the Communist Party back in the early eighties. Although it had not been all that well maintained, it was in reasonable condition.
At the check in desk, the man behind the counter looked at Oscar for a full minute and then over at Georgia. Speaking in Russian, he said, "You're him."
"Who?"
"You are the man who talks with the Christian God and Muslim God."
Nodding his head, Oscar replied, "Yes, I am."
"She is the woman who was touched by a God," the man said pointing to Georgia's white hair. Although the stories were about Oscar, they never failed to mention the white haired woman who accompanied him. Rumor was that Allah had appointed her to serve as his protector and had turned her hair white as a sign of his favor.
"Yes, she is," Oscar said. Georgia stared blankly wondering when she had become a significant person in the events.
The man looked at the register and then over at the pair. The check in procedure required that he take their passports and record the information for the local police. He suspected that they didn't have valid visas. He said, "I'll need your passports."
"That could be a problem," Oscar said.
The man took a sheet of paper and wrote on it that room 212 was under repair. Turning back to where the keys hung above mailboxes, he took the key for room 212 and hung the paper on the key hook. Handing the key over to Oscar, he said, "It turns out that room 212 is being repaired and we can't rent it out. I hope you enjoy your stay in it."
"Thank you," Oscar said.
"Thank you," Georgia said noticing for the first time the gold cross that hung from a chain around his neck.
As Oscar turned to head up the stairs, the man asked, "Is it true that God said we are to embrace what people have in common and to ignore the differences?"
"Yes," Oscar answered.
"I heard that on the radio going home from work last night. I drove for a bit and then it dawned on me what it meant. For the first time in my life I really thought about how the other guy felt. I thought about how they have the same worries and concerns as I have. I thought of the differences and realized how minor they were in comparison. I had to park by the side of the road for twenty minutes," the man said. Looking at Oscar, he said, "It was an epiphany."
Georgia looked at the man and said, "It sounds like you had a life changing event."
"I did."
When they reached the room, the first thing that Georgia did was take a nice long hot shower. The chance to luxuriate under the stream of water was so great that she even chased Oscar out of the room. He went over to the television and turned it on wondering what kind of entertainment was popular in Turkmenabat.
He settled on the bed and watched the one channel that was available. The show was the Turkmenistan version of a talk show complete with a small audience seated in rows of chairs. A man was interviewing the audience about their reactions to Oscar's visits to churches and mosques across the country. It took him a few minutes to realize that the show was being broadcast out of the capital.
When Georgia, wrapped in a towel, came out of the bathroom, she said, "It is your turn."
"Thanks. The receptionist will come up here while I'm taking a shower. He is going to suggest that we allow his wife to deliver some lunch and dinner to us. Accept his offer. He's also going to ask if we would be willing to be interviewed by a friend of his who is a television reporter. Let him know that we'll be happy to do it tomorrow morning, but that he is to let no one know that we are here before then," Oscar said.
"Okay," Georgia said. She looked down at the towel wrapped around her body and at her clothes in her duffle bag. The idea of getting dressed just wasn't all that appealing.
It didn't take any special powers to know what Georgia was thinking. Oscar headed into the bathroom. Just before closing the door, he said, "Go ahead and make his day."
"I think I will," Georgia said sitting down on the edge of the bed to watch the television. The chance to lounge around comfortably undressed was just too tempting to ignore. A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the door.
Georgia rose to answer it; taking a moment to adjust the towel around her body. Opening the door, she said, "Hello."
The man, surprised by the vision standing in front of him, averted his eyes. He stuttered, "Sorry to disturb you."
"Actually, I was expecting you. We accept your kind invitation concerning meals," Georgia said watching the expression on the man's face change from embarrassment to one of stunned surprise.
"How did you..."
Georgia shook her head to avoid answering the question. She said, "Your friend, the one who is a reporter, can interview us tomorrow morning right before we are to leave. We ask that our presence here be kept a secret until then, though."
"Thank you," the man answered. He looked at her and then realized where he was looking. Moving his eyes back to the floor, he said, "I won't disturb you any more."
"Thank you," Georgia said with a smile.
The reporter fidgeted nervously in the lobby having just discovered the identity of the individual his friend had arranged for him to interview. The previous evening, his friend had called and said that he had arranged for a special guest to be interviewed. He had assumed that it was another of the frequent low level government officials who came through the area, so he had not taken the invitation as anything special despite his friend's insistence that it was a once of lifetime interview. That morning he had dressed in his typical work suit. It wasn't his best one and now he felt embarrassed about it. It still had a small stain from where some food had dropped on it, although the stain wasn't really visible on the camera. He wished that he had enough time to return home and change clothes.
The cameraman, carrying a Russian made video camera, paced around the lobby wondering where would be the best place to perform the interview. It was important to choose a place where the lighting and sound quality would be the best. He wished that he had brought the better camera, but it was heavier than the one he had brought and he only used it for special interviews. There had been no warning that this was going to be a once in a lifetime opportunity.
Having enjoyed a lazy afternoon filled with sex, Georgia stepped down the stairs in front of Oscar. She made sure to swing her hips in an exaggerated fashion; giving him a view that he often commented upon as being very pleasing. Georgia stepped into the lobby carrying her duffle bag and then stepped out of the way for Oscar to enter the room. She did not realize that her actions reinforced the rumor that she was his protector.
The cameraman had turned on the camera just in time to capture her arrival. Oscar walked over to the reporter and said, "Hello. I'm the Druid Oscar Meyers. I take it that you are Ivan Gorsky."
"Yes," said the reporter, his mouth suddenly going dry.
A thousand questions came to mind and he struggled to select one to ask. Looking down at Oscar, one question fought to the forefront of the queue and begged to be asked. Fortunately for Ivan's career, Oscar said, "I am four foot, eleven and a half inches tall. Despite my small stature, the Gods and Goddesses selected me to serve as a conduit between the Powers That Be and humanity. I serve my Gods and Goddesses in that capacity."
Ivan raised his eyes to heaven and made the sign of the cross. He
thought, 'I can't believe that I was going to ask him how tall he was.
Thank God he saved me from making a complete ass of myself.'