The irony of beginning the first post from the field on the topic of death is not lost on me. In some ways I embarked on an expat life as a form of rebirth. Recently retired and single, having seen my children finish college, and with the confidence that buoys an adventuring spirit – I was ready to live my passion – to explore the world and partner with others to make a difference. And so, with Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières – MSF), I took a year-long post in Tajikistan, arriving 7 weeks ago.

Through the warm and welcoming spirit of the Tajiks, within the first few weeks I had already participated in many forms of local life – dinners, weddings, and even a funeral. Today though marks the second funeral, and this one stings. Avaz, one of the most joyful and beloved of our staff, died of a heart attack last night.

Despite knowing little English, he had an uncanny ability to communicate, with large gestures and an even larger voice. And he unabashedly told it like it was. I’m smiling now as I recall his reaction when he learned I was taking fabric to a tailor to have an outfit made in the local style. As he drove the car he pointed to one old woman after another, then back to me, laughing hard the whole time. It was straight up reminder that I am 58, despite feeling 35 on the inside…  🙂 I was both mildly annoyed and greatly amused by him in that moment.

Just a week ago he escorted our expat family to Khovoling, a scenic area to the north, for a day of relaxation and laughs. And on Tuesday he was dancing at our project leader’s farewell gathering. As death often does, it feels unbelievable and I am fully expecting to see his big smile and hear his booming voice at the office tomorrow. How can it be that he was laid out in his family’s home today, surrounded by so many grieving people?

We attended the portion of the rituals that women from outside the family and religion are allowed to attend in this Muslim society, and now we are home, with time to reflect.

Another time I’ll write more about funeral traditions.

Today I’ll bid you a very fond farewell, Akhai Avaz, and wish you great adventures in your next journey.