GETTING ROBBED IN TAJIKISTAN

SUMMER 2017

“Hey you,” I hear in the distance as I approach the emigration desk at Dushanbe Airport in Tajikistan. He’s a fairly well built customs official. “Show me your passport and show me your visa as well.”

“No problem Sir” I reply. He then glances through my visa and begins speaking Tajiki to another airport worker. “You have the wrong visa” he says “you have just broken the law.”

“Wrong visa?” I reply, “no, that’s the E-visa, I got it online from the official government website about two months ago.” “No, I mean, you have the correct visa, but you don’t have the Afghan permit.”

“Wait, what are you on about?” I reply, still puzzled. “You needed to apply for an Afghan permit before arrival in Dushanbe.” “I never went to Afghanistan” I reply. But all tourists go the to the Wakhan Valley” he replies. “Not me, I stayed in Dushanbe for the entirety of my trip.”
I was aware about the Tajikistan/Afghanistan weekend market and did some research beforehand. The Tajik locals meet the Afghan locals at the border every weekend and sell their crops and products and tourists are welcome. The customs officials let you cross to the Afghan side and keep your passport until you return. I was half-considering doing it, but I was warned against it because of the high threat of terrorism at the time.

He directs me to a small room, relatively close to the emigration desk. “Show me your phone,” he asks. I show him my phone and he looks through all of the pictures and once again begins speaking in Tajiki to the other customs official. “Why didn’t you go to Afghanistan?” he quizzes. “I heard that it wasn’t safe and I wasn’t willing to get into any easily avoidable situations.” “Why didn’t you hike then? Tajikistan has some of the nicest mountains in the world.” “I just had a knee operation a few weeks ago and I’m not fully recovered yet, hiking is the last thing that I’m capable of doing now.”
“How much money do you have in cash?” “I have about $700 and some Tajik money.” “Wait, you just broke the law,” he says, “you can only bring $500 cash into Tajikistan, so you need to pay a fine.” “That’s ridiculous” I reply, “I’m going to phone the Tajikistan embassy now and explain to them that you have misinformed me, not once but twice.” Luckily I had a local contact number saved on my phone aware that he would help deal with complaints because there is no Tajik embassy in Ireland.” It just happens that it’s the middle of the night, so there’s no answer from his phone. The customs official continues to tell me that I’ve broken the law and that I didn’t declared the money pre-arrival in Tajikistan. “I know that you’re lying, you’ve already accused me of breaking the law about the visa, and now you’re changing your story.”

“Well, maybe I will be able to help. If you want to catch your flight to Dubai, then you must make decisions quickly as he hints about paying him a possible bribe. Otherwise, you will stay here and miss your flight.” “I’ll wait for the Tajikistan embassy to open and call them again in the morning and my local Tajik contact will translate” I reply. He looks shocked. “But you will miss your flight,” he replies in a humorous tone. “I’ll get another one tomorrow, paid for by the Tajik embassy” I reply, I’ll explain to them that I’ve been misinformed, not once, but twice, and then I’ll also contact the Irish minister of tourism and explain to him that Tajikistan is not the most ideal holiday vacation in the world.” He leaves the room and comes back with another customs official.

“How much money do you have in cash” the second customs official asks. $700 and some leftover Tajik money,” I respond. “Let me count” he requests. Then I hand him my wallet and before I know it he has the money in his hand. It’s now about 10 minutes until my boarding time. I already have my ticket to Dubai, though I haven’t officially been stamped out of Tajikistan yet, so returning to my hotel won’t be problematic. He returns the money to me and then tells me to run. “Wait, what about me breaking the law?” He tells me that he’s letting me away with it and that I’d need to run to catch my flight to Dubai. He gifts me the opportunity to skip the departure line and I’m given a shortcut to my departure gate. Once I arrive on the plane I count my money, now only $600 in cash. I was raging, he slipped the cash up his sleeve while he was counting it. Back to Dubai, I go, with a lighter wallet and a horrible story to tell my friends, completely turned off the notion of returning again in the future!