In America, mascara is usually just a brush with fake eyelashes stuck to it. But here, the women use black sticky stuff that doesn’t come off. It is called osma. We saw a woman doing it (painting it on her eyebrows in the bazaar. I’m in a city called Turkestan, by the way.

Mommy getting osma put on
When Mom took a picture of her, everyone laughed. They wanted us to do it, too. Mom went first and I thought “it might be a little too black.” I did it because the lady told me to.

Me with osma on
When it was done, I thought it looked weird. Do we look like Kazakh girls? That’s a joke!
Mom adds: kids should skip over this part!
Hmmm. Fruit sellers doing their make-up … something interesting there. I took a closer look. One woman was making a dark line across her forehead. She was painting it on with a black stuff in a pot that looked like tar. ”Wow! A uni-brow!” I stole sereptitious looks while pretending to examine their apricots. When my flash went off in the dark bazaar, the women ducked out of the shot. ”Look behind you,” said Paul. I turned to see a line of flashing gold teeth. The sellers all thought this was hysterical. The women I tried to photograph jokingly chastised me and pointed to a stool. ”Okay.” I thought to myself, “Why not look like a woman in a Qajar painting or a fruitseller from Samarkand, or an innocent abroad? Why not?” Katya watched the process and actually agreed to be guinea pig number two. When it was all finished, the women smiled. We’d provided the afternoon’s amusement.
As soon as it was done, I got scared. What if it doesn’t come off? Will I be stuck like this forever? I tried to find the words to ask any sympathetic person I saw how to remove osma. A family selling black things that looked like beans but turned out to be something to smoke, laughed as they regarded us. The husband with gold teeth, shook his head when I made washing motions. ”Kraseevy” (Beautiful). I wasn’t fooled.
“Can we ever get back to the way we were?” I wrote in my notebook as we drank beers and a coke at a cafe. Nearing the end of this wild ride of a trip, my question resonates way beyond this comic situation.

Trying to get my mind off osma
Katya was unfazed and photographed me.
“Vaseline will do the trick, honey, don’t worry,” I said more for my benefit than hers.