by Sian Glaessner, radio researcher, 15 November 2005

I recently returned from my first overseas BBC trip, in Turkmenistan, where the regime has created a state of terror reminiscent of Moscow, 1937.

It makes neighbouring Uzbekistan look like a functioning democracy.

The Turkmen regime is ridiculed in the foreign press for the ostentation excesses and whimsical decrees of its president for life Saparmyrat Niyazov (Turkmenbashy the Great).

He has banned long beards and gold teeth, repeatedly renamed the capital’s streets (most recently with an anarchic numerical ‘system’) and outlawed ballet.

A statue of his mother stands outside the Palace of Justice, while his late father is celebrated in a large Soviet style war memorial. The golden statue dedicated to his own glory rotates so the sun is always on his face.

Just behind it is another statue, a large bull with the globe on its horns, depicting the destruction caused by the 1948 earthquake.

White city in the desert

The part of town destroyed in 1948 is now home to a huge mosque rendered in marble and gold. Faux classical columns stand functionless around the central dome.

The mosque is part of a plan to rebuild the capital, Ashgabat, in white marble so it once again becomes a shining White City in the desert.

People unlucky enough to live in the way of their leader’s vision are given little warning that their street is to be demolished, and are rarely paid compensation. They are simply expected to ‘disappear’.

It is difficult to overstate how grim the situation is.

In spite of that, Turkmenistan is just on the tourist map, providing a cover for myself and broadcast journalist Lucy Ash, with whom I went on the trip for World Service’s Assignment programme and Radio 4’s Crossing Continents.

We were women in search of the exotic, and that’s what we found.

Hotel bugged

By day we were driven to sites dating back to the 3rd century BC, stud farms, and underground lakes; by night we would go into Ashgabat’s backstreets, in search of people willing to talk to us.

It wasn’t easy.

The stories we heard were of a medical system close to collapse. Most specialists have emigrated and resources are scarce, in spite of much publicised purchases of up-to-date technology (which no one knows how to use).

There are bans on reporting infectious diseases, and we heard that in one region the response to an outbreak of cholera was the construction of a wall around the affected area.

Officially there is no Aids and no syphilis. A sacked nurse who is now a prostitute told a different story.

Our hotel room was bugged and nowhere felt safe.

The stories we heard in snatched conversations revealed the sinister reality of life in Turkmenistan.

‘This is not a normal country. Nothing is normal here,’ said one person with an air of sad resignation. ‘They have us... under control’

Even outside the hotel, we couldn’t relax. Were we being followed? How attentively were our mobile phone calls being bugged?

We suspected everyone around us, and altered our actions accordingly. By the end of our week, we too had fallen victim to the fear and paranoia that is used by the regime, alongside desperate poverty, to keep the country on its knees.

On landing in the UK, I was so pleased I wanted to kiss the runway and embrace the man at immigration, but settled for: ‘You have no idea how glad I am to be back.’

He asked how long I’d been away, ‘One week,’ I answered. He looked at me as if I was crazy. But a week in Turkmenistan is a very long time indeed.

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