Overland Journal Day 72-81: Tajikistan (Panjakent and Dushanbe)

In the border town of Panjakent we’re met with incredible hospitality at the car workshop, although they don’t have the car parts we need. Undeterred, we drive through the notorious “Tunnel of Death” to the capital Dushanbe, where we’re welcomed at the best Toyota garage we’ve ever encountered. However, our journey takes an unexpected turn when we find ourselves caught in a corrupt power struggle between the customs and the State Committee for National Security (SCNC), after the customs confiscate our drone. We meet a local guy named Lucky, who – eager for a challenge – takes it upon himself to get our drone back.

Unparalleled Hospitality in Panjakent

Our time in Uzbekistan abruptly ends when we discover a puddle of oil under our car. The issue? A leaking oil seal on the transfer case and a gasket for the powersteering that needs replacing. Although not catastrophic, the car workshop in Samarkand doesn’t have the parts we need. The mechanic suggests we drive to Panjakent, just across the border in Tajikistan. Here, Toyotas are more common and we’re likely to find the parts.

Surprisingly, getting out of Uzbekistan proves difficult. We have to unload all our stuff from the car and pass it through X-Ray scanners. Eventually, they let us through. The Tajik side is much faster; taking just a few minutes. In hindsight, we suspect this swift passage might have something to do with an inexplicable “tax” we had to pay. The customs officers are quick to collect the money and welcome us into their country.

Once through, we race to Panjakent, as we want to fix the leak before it worsens. We reach out to a Tajik tour guide we met in Uzbekistan, who connects us with a reputable Toyota mechanic in the area. We inform him via WhatsApp that we’ll arrive at 8 PM and he replies that he’ll wait for us.

Arriving at 7:59 PM, the mechanic and his English-speaking son welcome us warmly. Everything was closed already and they were obviously waiting for us for a couple of hours already. After inspecting the car, they confirm the previous diagnosis but, unfortunately, don’t have the necessary parts either. However, they refill the fluids, give us extra oil, and urge us to head to the capital Dushanbe. They’re sure the car can be fully repaired there. Despite their time and effort, they refuse any payment, leaving us deeply moved by their generosity.

The Best Toyota Car Workshop… Ever?

To reach Dushanbe, we first need to pass through the infamous “Tunnel of Death,” officially known as the Anzob Tunnel. This 5-kilometer tunnel, which connects the north of the country with the other provinces, opened in 2006 but was far from complete. With no lighting, ventilation, or drainage, the tunnel became a treacherous passage filled with toxic fumes, standing water, and near-zero visibility. Despite some improvements in 2014, it’s still a nerve-wracking experience. Fortunately, Marcel navigates it successfully, and we emerge on the other side, eager to find a reliable car workshop.

Our first attempt at a car workshop in Dushanbe is a disaster—chaotic, slow, and careless. After wasting a day, we decide to try the official Toyota garage. What we find there exceeds all our expectations. The entire staff jumps to help us, making us feel like royalty. While the mechanics thoroughly inspect the car, the director joins us for tea and we share our travel stories. Toyota provides a detailed quote – something quite rare in this region – and assures us the car will be ready for the upcoming Pamir Highway. We’re even invited to an exclusive party, though we unfortunately have to decline because Charelle isn’t feeling well. Instead, we enjoy a nice dinner with the director, who also shows us around the city. We leave with a new friend and confidence in our car.

The Saga of the Confiscated Drone

We previously sent our drone from Turkey to Tajikistan, due to drone bans in Iran, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. Unfortunately, the Tajik customs don’t like our move and confiscate our drone upon arrival. The Toyota director uses his connections at the customs to help, but after two days of negotiations, the customs officials still refuse to return it.

Frustrated, we visit the customs ourselves and are told we need permission from the State Committee for National Security (SCNC), the former KGB. With time on our hands while waiting for the car, we decide to give it a shot and take a taxi to the SCNC office. It takes a while, but eventually, someone in uniform cracks the door open and eyes us suspiciously. We try to explain our situation using gestures, but the man doesn’t speak English. Hours pass, with us ringing the bell repeatedly, only for the door to be cracked open briefly once an hour. Then it shuts again, leaving us waiting in the scorching sun.

Any sane person would have given up by now, but feeling wronged, we persist. Eventually, the SCNC officers send us away with an email address engraved on the building’s facade. When we return to our apartment and try to send an email, it bounces back—the address doesn’t exist. The next day, Marcel returns to the office to inform them, but no one seems to understand, and hours tick by again. Finally, they call someone who speaks English. The guy who shows up is “Lucky,” a former SCNC employee who left just two weeks ago. The SCNC wants him back, so they’re willing to do him a favor. Lucky, currently unemployed and with his girlfriend studying in Turkey, is bored and decides to take on our case as his new mission.

Wild Goose Chase

Through Lucky’s wit, charm and persistence, he secures permission from the SCNC to release our drone after hours of negotiating. The SCNC informs the customs, and Marcel is told to head to the airport to retrieve it. It turns out to be a wild goose chase between customs and the DHL office, and in the end no one is willing to help. Defeated and irritated, Marcel returns to our apartment. After days of fighting, we’re ready to give up. The drone seems lost. We text Lucky to thank him for his help. His reply: “Come to the SCNC office tomorrow morning at 8 AM.” I guess we’re going to try one more time.

With nothing to lose, we show up at the SCNC office the next morning. For the first time, they allow us inside—a rare occurrence, Lucky tells us. He charms everyone in sight, sharing our story with the higher-ups. His angle: this isn’t good for tourism, a key focus of the current president. Plus, the SCNC already approved the release, and customs refusing to comply is simply unacceptable. We sit in a wooden waiting room with a small table when Lucky approaches us excitedly with pen and paper. We’re to write a letter to the SCNC boss, the second most powerful man in the country after the president. I can’t remember the exact wording we used, but it went something like this:

“Dear SCNC Boss,

Our drone was confiscated by customs, although we have no intention of using it in Tajikistan. Despite the SCNC granting permission, the customs refuse to release it. We hope to leave this country with positive memories to share with our friends and family. It would be a shame to leave with such a negative experience.

Sincerely,
Charelle and Marcel.”

Our Hero ‘Lucky’

Lucky ensures the letter lands on the boss’s desk that very day. After leaving the SCNC office, we’re promised a follow-up call later. About an hour later, Marcel’s phone rings: “Marcel. 1 o’clock. Airport.” Then, the line goes dead. It feels like we’ve stepped into an action movie, but we’re ready for it!

Marcel drops me off at the apartment and picks up Lucky (since we only have two seats in the car) to head to the airport. There, two secret agents in black suits and sunglasses, holding a signed letter from the SCNC boss, await Marcel. We know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. They instruct Marcel to wait while they fetch the customs officer who confiscated our drone. Under the watchful eyes of the SCNC agents, the customs officer hands over the drone to Marcel, then gets taken away in the SCNC car.

Lucky and Marcel are ecstatic. Lucky shouts: “Wow, it worked! I’ve got goosebumps. This is the best day of my life. We won!!!” We have to promise not to use the drone in Tajikistan, but it’s back in our hands. We’re still amazed by this story, unsure how it all happened, but we did it! Lucky truly lives up to his name, and our drone saga became one of the most unforgettable experiences of our journey so far.

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