DO YOU NEED ANY HELP?

Every nation has its own intrinsic traits. Azerbaijanis have one such trait for which they deserve every respect, and that is an ability to help, an inclination towards mutual support and neighbourliness. If you are facing a difficult situation or problems arise which you cannot solve yourself, you can ring your Azeri friends, wherever they may be, because the Azerbaijanis have never lost this trait even when they have moved abroad. At any time of the day or night, and whatever the situation, a friend will be there to help you or even your companion if you ask him. You can telephone a friend during the night and say: listen, I've got a problem (and you could be 200 kilometres away!), I need you, or your car, or whatever…And your friend will drop everything and rush to help you. And that's quite normal! But when I was in Moscow the number of times I heard the opposite: "Sorry, mate, I'm busy!" At a pinch they'll offer to pay for your petrol.

But in Baku, if you give a friend money for petrol you can no longer consider him as your friend. Or to be more precise, he will cease to be counted among your friends. Because a friend's request is something sacred. Incidentally, Azerbaijanis are prepared to help not just friends. Once, when I was in Moscow buying a ticket to Baku, I got chatting to a neighbour in the queue. When she learned that I was from Moscow she handed me her card, saying: "I'm from Baku, if there's anything you want please give me a ring and I'll be glad to help." On another occasion, a Baku man, sitting at the table next to mine in a caf? and hearing me mention the words "Abseron", "Baku" and "Icheri Sheher", shyly approached our table, apologized and said that he was drawn by familiar words, tore off a piece of paper and wrote down his telephone number. He turned out to be the deputy director of a Baku theatre. He said: "If you want to go to the theatre in Baku, I'd love to take you to any show in any theatre." He excused himself again and left. My Muscovite friend stared blankly, whereas I was used to this and took it as read.

One of the best examples of this tendency of Azerbaijani people to help one another occurred on my very first visit to Azerbaijan with a film crew. It was winter and daylight was limited and so when we woke up it was dark. We travelled to the site and had breakfast in various cafes along the way. One day we noticed a number of men standing quietly in the morning gloom. This was not the first time we had seen men like these: they appeared like magic on our travels and just as quietly disappeared. But this time we wondered: "What are these people doing at this time of day? Why are they standing there silently, what do they want?" Our guide was not at all surprised by this question. "What are they doing? They are waiting. Perhaps you'll suddenly need help? This chap is a director of a forest reserve, the other one's the director of a museum, and this third chap is the head of the district administration." "Did you call them here?" we asked him. "No, of course not. They came themselves. The world is full of rumours. They heard that a film group from Moscow was coming so they came along, too."

When I started living in Baku I came across this generosity and desire to help all the time. As I didn't know the city very well I often used to ask how to get to this or that street. And I came to the conclusion that Baku was a very kind city. You couldn't possibly get lost in it! Approach any passer-by and he will gladly explain how to get to the street you want, and if he sees just a trace of bewilderment on your face he will accompany you to the last part of your journey, right to the very end, even. Or else he'll take you in his car - that happened to me more than once. If you talk to someone who doesn't speak Russian he will find someone who does, and there is no problem of that sort in Baku.

This desire to help can also be seen when shopping. People will smile at you twenty times when you are in a shop, they'll put everything in the bag for you (the bag, of course, is free!), take it to the door, and if the shop is in the basement they'll carry it upstairs to the street. If you don't have the right money, they'll change it for you at the shop next door. If they don't have the thing you need, just tell them and they'll get it for you tomorrow, or even this evening.  Or they'll go next door and see if they have it and they'll get it for you for the same price. At first you are amazed, then delighted. The next day you get used to it and it seems perfectly natural. And why not? After all, what's good is natural, what's unnatural is bad.

But when you get to Moscow your troubles begin. I arrive from Baku and go into a shop, get some things, pay for them, and wait. And the woman on the other side of the counter is also standing there silent and unsmiling, waiting, as if to say, are you lost or something?  And I wait for her to pack everything for me and bring it out from under the counter. That's the way they do it in Baku! But, my goodness, how I waited! She didn't have any bag, it wasn't her problem how I carried my things.  I had to go to the section next door to buy my purchases and drag everything there myself.  In Azerbaijan this would have been simply impossible! I remember going into a shop in Baku to buy a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. They placed my purchases not in a crinkly "t-shirt" bag, but in a colourful, flat-bottomed one. "How much is that?" I ask. Whatever the cost of the bottle and the box of chocolates, they say. "What about the bag?" I ask. The assistant looked at me aghast.  I start to make my excuses: "It's just an ordinary bag, I know, but why haven't you charged me for it?" He says: "Are you a stranger here?" And he smiles inquisitively, as if to say, are you surprised?  Feeling rather stupid, I beat a retreat as soon as possible. 

Later, I was able to trace the roots of this remarkable Azerbaijani characteristic - the desire to help. Since I live in Baku I know the ways of this city most of all. Old Baku was built on the courtyard system - small houses of one or two storeys huddled together like swallows' nests. My good friend, a well-known Moscow journalist, screenwriter and writer Farhad Agamaliyev, who unfortunately died recently, described the courtyards of Baku in one of his books as "Italian neo-realism". Yes, in these houses, most of the courtyards have no elementary mod-cons, but they have a spirit, a mood, a way of life that says "a good neighbour is better than a bad relative".

I myself currently live in such an "Italian" courtyard, with another five families close by. But I get the feeling that it is not five, but one whole family Aware that my apartment is rented and that I may be short of something, people are always treating me, inviting me into their homes or taking out my rubbish. Some people will say: "They've taken out the rubbish? That's nothing!" No, it's not nothing, it is concern, a desire to help without asking for anything in return. Just like neighbours and brothers.  It was here that I understood for the first time what it means to be a good neighbour. In Moscow, where everyone lives in his shell and doesn't know his neighbour, they wouldn't understand! In the 1990s I worked as head of the literary section at the Moscow "Sfera" Theatre. On one occasion our theatre heard a weird story that one of our actresses had died outside her house, having had a heart attack. But she died not from a heart attack; she froze on a cold winter's day and nobody approached her, nobody was interested in why a young, beautiful, well-dressed woman, not like any drunkard or vagrant, was lying in the gutter. Such a thing would have been impossible in Baku! If, God forbid, someone should collapse in the street, people would not pass by looking squeamish, everyone would rush up and call an ambulance, get some water, dash to the chemist's or start phoning friends or doctors on their mobiles. Even if it were a vagrant it would make no difference. I also saw this, more than once. It may be something to do with mentality, but perhaps a city in which the rhythm of life is slower and more humane does not turn people into robots that are indifferent to other's misfortunes.

Here's another instance. I had bought some goods, left a heavy bag near one department and went to another. When I got back the bag wasn't there. It seemed that the assistant's son had taken it to my flat and put it near the front door in the street. My mind immediately went back to Moscow. First, if I had left anything near the counter it would have "vanished" from under my nose. Second, no assistant's son would have taken my bags to my home. Third, how long would other people's bags stay outside their front door in Moscow? Answer: six seconds.

As far as the neighbourhoods in Baku are concerned, people all pool together. If anyone wants something repaired - the whole block will do it. The whole block will help carry out repairs in someone's apartment. In my block an 80-year old grandmother lives on her own. Last autumn a noise woke me up one morning: the old lady was sitting on a chair in her courtyard whilst in her flat her neighbours were doing her washing and painting and putting up fresh wallpaper. Apparently, they had decided it was time the old lady's apartment was given a face lift. Basically, they meant nothing to the old lady. They simply decided that since she was old and alone she could not do any repairs for herself. So they all chipped in, bought what was necessary and set to work. Incidentally, this old lady cooks practically nothing for herself; the neighbours bring her in something every day. They do her shopping and wash her floors. After all, she's an old lady!

The attitude to old people in Azerbaijan doesn't even "turn me on" - though that's not the right word. It's a shame things aren't like that in my native Russia. No, I am not trying to say that it is like that everywhere in Russia. Of course, there are kind people everywhere. But unlike my native country, in Azerbaijan things are like that with this old lady everywhere. 

The essence of this attitude to neighbours is very well reflected in one Azerbaijani saying "Wish two cows for your neighbour and you will be healthy with one." I don't want to make any parallels but for some reason it reminds me of the Russian proverb "Lord, take out one of my eyes, so long as my neighbour's cow drops dead!" 

In the summer the whole neighbourhood cleans carpets and washes and dries wool which they stuff into feather-beds or quilts. Together they put the lids on the jars with pickle for the winter (vegetable, of course, everyone has what they like) and together they bake bread in a tandoori, if we are talking about the rural areas. Each woman brings her own dough but they bake together. If someone has a wedding, and again we are talking about rural areas, then it is celebrated not in a restaurant but in the courtyard. In this case all the women in the village help to prepare the celebratory meal. Because no single woman, not even the most skilful, can prepare food for 200 people by herself.

If anyone in the neighbourhood prepares something tasty and aromatic, then it is considered bad form not to invite the neighbours. After all, they have sensed the aroma, so how can they not be invited? That would be shameful! I remember how for the first time they brought some treat on a tablecloth, and then the time came to take the tablecloth back…Fortunately one of my friends had sat down at that moment. Seeing the empty tablecloth in my hands, she asked where I was taking it. I explained that I was returning it to a neighbour who had entertained me. The friend said: "It is discourteous to return it empty. At least put a couple of sweets in it." This custom is not even a custom - it is a way of life.

The neighbourhood celebrates the birth of someone's child in exactly the same way - all together. Incidentally, it is considered improper to come and celebrate, even if you have come for just a moment, not to bring a gift of some kind. Not a run-of-the-mill souvenir or a toy, but something useful: clothing, nappies, pampers, or even a pram - if you can afford it.

One is immediately reminded of the old song: "Oh, how I want to go back to the little town! Where you can call on people without being asked, where there is no envy or malice. My dear home! Where the whole neighbourhood celebrates birth and bids farewell together." After all, this is how it used to be in Russia. Why has my native country lost this?...