Azeri girl embodies a nation’s dream

"Please, Uncle, buy my seeds. No one has bought my seeds today, Uncle. Please, I must sell my seeds, I need money." She has appeared out of nowhere, this little girl, holding a plastic bag filled with black sunflower seeds, as she tugs at her quarry’s wrist.

At first, the foreigner demurs, and tries to shoo her away. But she doesn’t discourage easily. "Please, Uncle, give me money for my seeds." She eases through her script in English like a polished actress, a natural little con artist who surely could have separated even W.C. Fields from his money.

The intended target looks down at the child, taking stock. But this is no dirty, homeless waif. This little girl is clean and neatly dressed. What takes the American visitor by surprise is the level of her conversational English. For a moment, the target wonders whether the girl might somehow have been born in an English speaking country, for her English seems far beyond anything that she could have learned in school at her age. The visitor notes the young girl’s striking linguistic talent, her persistence, her personality, and ponders: what kind of future might she have in Azerbaijan?

Will she have to sell sunflower seeds on street corners to survive? Or is there greater promise for her future?

It is late on a hot summer night. Nearly midnight. The foreigners the little girl has spied are about to wind up their evening exploring downtown Baku’s central gathering spot, Fountain Square. Several large fountains, statues to poets, and many benches set beneath tall shade trees grace the Square. On hot summer evenings, the cooler air here is a natural draw to romantic couples or families of five. For teens, it’s their mall.

Nizamy Street, once the most prestigious avenue in all of Baku, empties into Fountain Square near Azerbaijan’s only MacDonald’s. The street is now a walking boulevard filled with trendy shops owned by newly minted capitalists, Internet cafes and street vendors selling a wide variety of nearly everything a tourist could want. This historic avenue is still graced by the lovely mansions built by Azerbaijan’s first oil barons at the turn of the last century. Solidly built, they were designed in eclectic style by both master Azeri architects and imported European builders.

"Please, Uncle, buy my seeds. Uncle, you are rich, and I have no money. Please, Uncle, buy my seeds." The little girl was now trying her luck on another visitor in the group. They smile as they listen to a "pro" at work, trying to extract some money from them.

"Do you know what time it is?" asks one, getting slightly exasperated by the pestering. "You should be home in bed!" This back-and-forth continues for several moments, and then the target makes the fatal slip.

"If I give you money, will you go home and go to bed?" he gently asks.

Seizing the opportunity, the little girl presses hard. "If you give me money, if you buy enough seeds, yah, I will go home," she promises.

The visitor digs out some of his unfamiliar Azerbaijan currency and presses it into her hand. It isn’t enough, she states. She asks for more, and gets it. And in return she hands over a paper cone piled high with sunflower seeds. The little girl then spins on her heel and walks quickly away, immediately homing in on her next customer. Of course, she goes right back to work.

Gunay (pronounced "goo-NIGH") Gasimova is 11 years old and is in the sixth grade. She says her first name means "sun and moon" in English. Born in Russia, she is the daughter of a Baku journalist. She has two sisters in their early 20s, but a brother died at 14, apparently from polio.

She works during the summer but infrequently when school is in session, and gives all the money she earns to her sick mother, a Georgian by origin. Gunay learned her English at school, and practices in Fountain Square on English-speaking tourists. But as good as Gunay’s English is, she says it’s her weakest language. Besides her native Azeri, which she speaks "very, very well," she speaks Russian and Turkish "very well" - the single "very" indicating her ability is a mere notch below her native Azeri level.

When she is grown, Gunay wants to work in England, "speaking English, Italian, many languages, and working on computers." Like so many of her countrymen, she is smart, hard working, and proud of what she can do. She vividly personifies a visitor’s questions about Azerbaijan’s future.

Will she realize her dream of being a linguist, working abroad and speaking many languages? Or will her dreams be dashed? Will she grow up with no opportunities, remaining a sunflower seed seller, working hard all her days just to scrape by?

And, what of her country? Will it be able to develop all sectors of its economy, not just its oil? Will the economic growth and political development be there to provide little Gunay the opportunities to fulfill her dreams?

The answer depends in part on the policies of the Azerbaijan government, in part on how much oil will eventually be discovered, in part on the development of the rest of the economy. And in part, it depends on whether Uncle Sam adopts policies that permit him to keep his promise to help build democracy, to further develop the economy and, by his presence, help keep Azerbaijan’s powerful neighbors at bay. One can only hope that the right decisions will be made. For Gunay. And for the millions of other Azeris like her.