Looking back on my first blog, the sentence, “However, if you offered me a washing machine in exchange for my indoor toilet, I’d be happy to squat,” is painfully ironic. I now live in a home with a washing machine, but I squat outside. I just never guessed the trade would come at the expense of being robbed. Yeah, it’s been quite the week.
Romans 8:28
“All things work towards good for those who love the Lord.” Friday morning (September 25) marked the first time in KZ that I wore my bracelet with that inscription. It made for good reading as I waited for police and investigators that evening. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
When I arrived home from a long day at school, I found the door to my apartment closed but unlocked. I entered, called out a friendly hello, and received no response. I took a few steps to my bedroom door and saw a key sticking in the doorknob. My heart sank. Inside my room, my suitcase had obviously been disturbed. I took enough of a peek to see they had taken all the tenge from my hiding spot. Then it dawned on me – what a bad place to be. I hurriedly left the apartment and embarked on quite the evening, complete with an inside look of the Kazakh police force. But I much prefer looking at the silver lining, rather than the ominous cloud. I’ve been left with enough eerie feelings and images; no need to dwell on those.
Silver linings. They took my money and computer bag (with all included accessories) – everything else is intact. I wasn’t home when the robbery took place. Most of that hard drive is also on a laptop back home. I am surrounded by wonderful, supportive people. And… drumroll please… I have a NEW FAMILY!!!
A New Home
Friday night, I slept in a different apartment (belonging to the parents of my host sister/mother). When I returned to my old apartment Saturday afternoon, I got to pack up everything and head off for a new home. Good grief it’s great to see God work. (Saturday afternoon I was told I may not be able to move until Monday. A few hours later, I had the go-ahead to pack up.)
At 6:30pm, I stepped out of the apartment building and gazed at my first Kazakh rainbow as I waited for my new host brother to drive up. I like to think God was smiling on me. We piled in my bags and piled in the car. Having four people (my host brother, my LCF, myself, and Pat – another PCT) plus my bags made for a tight squeeze. After a short drive, we passed through the gates of my new and very beautiful home.
Inside, a spread of food awaited as we took my bags up to my room. In the words of Pat, watching me take it all in was like watching someone on Christmas. One could say I was pretty pumped. Pat and I drank tea with my mom and sister before he finally went home. A little later, Leah, my PCVTA, stopped by. With her superior Russian skills, I discovered that my family had been told about my ordeal. Apparently they also said, “God is with this girl. We would have loved to have her from the beginning.” They’re really sweet people. Before I brag more about them, I’ve got to brag about other people surrounding me.
The trainees in this village are top-notch. Pat went with me on Saturday to pack. That means he stayed with me from about 4 until 7 or 8, just to help me out. What a saint. And so many people have offered their support in other ways. Phone calls, prayers, hugs… And then there’s Laura. I’m able to type this out at home, only because she’s given me a netbook to use! Simply amazing.
Back to my new host family. I’ve got an 11-year old host sister, a 22-year old host brother, and a stay-at-home mother. Due to the father’s work, he apparently is not home often. We’ll see if I get to meet him one of these days. My host sister is adorable. She’s an excellent student and wants to improve her English. Her mother’s plan: I and her daughter will talk a lot. I’ll speak Russian; she’ll speak English. Let’s hope it works. My host mother was a Kazakh language teacher for 30 years. Maybe my Kazakh will improve, too? And I’m not too clear on my host brother’s job. Maybe an advocate of some sort? What was very clear, though, was my host mother’s message one day into my stay. The conversation went something like this:
Pat. Boyfriend?
–No, not my boyfriend.
Ah. Do you have a boyfriend?
-Nope. I don’t need a boyfriend.
Mmm. *points to her son* Boyfriend?
*Lots of laughter*
-Nope, I don’t need a boyfriend.
*More laughter*
I suppose I can be thankful it took a full 24 hours for the question to surface. And I’m more thankful I made it through without offending them right off the bat. So, they’re great. We laugh often and have already spent some quality time together.
On Sunday we went to a house in the village to participate in a memorial. Apparently it was held to commemorate the one year mark after the passing of a grandmother. It consisted of absurd amounts of food. Six or seven tables were set up outside, completely covered in food. Dozens of people stood around, not eating any of it. That was puzzling to me until we walked inside the house. One room was filled with an equal amount of food. So, people were going inside in shifts. They would eat “appetizers” – fruit, cabbage salad, candy – before the plof topped with meat came out. The meat: definitely horse. I’ve decided horse tastes like it smells. Don’t take that as a complaint, necessarily. The smell of a clean horse’s nose is great. It’s just weird to taste that smell in its meat. After people had eaten their fill, the hosts passed out plastic baggies. Each person filled the baggie with food to take home with them. Interesting event, and I’m sure there’s all sorts of meaning packed into it.
The rest of the week has gone by a bit more smoothly. I taught two lessons on Monday, and I feel like they went well. Monday afternoon, though, I went home early, as my body was saying – hey, you’ve been through too much. Sleep! So sleep I did. Tuesday I felt better and in the evening got to help my little sister hang my first load of clean laundry out on the line. Oh how I’d love to take down all my underwear and dry them behind closed doors… Also on Tuesday, I unpacked enough to feel a bit more settled here. With half of PST left, I think I’ll be alright…
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Yeah, Dad!
Just a quick shout-out to my dad, who finished his first HALF MARATHON on Sunday, September 20th! I'm uber-proud of him and wish I could have been there to cheer him on. I've got to admit I said to myself on Saturday morning, "I can't ET now. I wouldn't make it home in time to watch him anyway." So yeah... I'm proud of you, Dad, and hope that someday I WILL get to watch you run or run with you!!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
1 month down, 26 to go.
On September 18, we marked one month in Kazakhstan! Dang! I (and other trainees) feel like I haven’t been in the US for years. We’ve really bonded, which has been great. Hopefully the 12 of us in this village will have t-shirts to prove it. When we realize training is half over, there seems to be a good mix of sadness and excitement. And with training flying by, you better believe we’re starting to teach classes! Eek! …More on that later. First, laundry!!
Laundry and Bauersak
One beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon, the trainees from this village gathered at the home of our TCF (Technical and Cultural Facilitator) and learned how to properly do laundry. For those of you with washing machines – whether in Kazakhstan or the US – count your blessings. But, to make hand-washing clothes fun, we were split into teams and had a race to see who could clean more clothes. I thought I had put my team at an advantage by bringing most of my dirty laundry, but alas… a trainee who lived very close to our TCF brought his dirty socks. And since one sock was equal to one shirt or one pair of pants, our opponents blew us away. At least I got clean clothes out of the deal!
The perfect compliment to teaching us laundry skills was teaching us bauersak-making skills. Bauersak = fried bread = delicious. Both laundry and frying bauersak happened outside. For the bauersak, we built a small fire and had a huge pot / wok hanging over it, in which we heated up the oil and eventually fried the bread. We got to roll out the dough and slide the diamond-shaped pieces into the hot oil. Stir, strain, and eat. The most difficult part was keeping a distance from the flames while our TCF encouraged us to get closer than we cared for. I think my singed arm hair is evidence that I was plenty close.
Once we fried up enough bauersak to clog all our arteries, we added watermelon, tea, and a tasty eggplant dish to make a real feast. I wish I could remember the name of the eggplant dish… literally translated, it means “tongue of mother-in-law.” Hee hee. It’s fried eggplant topped with a tomato slice, with a bit of spicy mayo sauce in between. The following week, three of us trainees gathered together and made some for ourselves. Mmm mmm good.
A Fantastic Day in Almaty
The second Sunday in September, our TCF planned to go into Almaty to purchase school supplies. When she invited trainees to come along, five of us took her up on it. For some of us, we also wanted to go to a church. Another PCT had discovered a nondenominational Protestant church when she was still in the states. We got the cross streets (thanks Mom!) and relied on our TCF to help us get there. And we did! All six of us went to church! What a fantastic morning. I enjoyed the service immensely and met several people. I should mention the services at International Christian Fellowship are in English. Ah, singing praise songs… listening to a sermon… fellowshipping with believers. It was great. I’m really hoping I can return, at least a couple times. There’s a fine balance to strike between connecting with an expat community and not sacrificing relationships with locals.
After the service, we made our way to the store. To say they’re concerned about shoplifters would be an understatement. The front of the store was dominated by small lockers, in which you were to place any medium or large bag/purse. Small office supplies had to be purchased separately from behind the counter. Interesting place.
When we left the store, we parted ways with our TCF, which is a pretty big deal in and of itself. PC is protective – some may say overly – of its volunteers and trainees. Really, I prefer too much caution over too little caution. But I digress. There we were, five trainees in Almaty, without a chauffeur. We headed off to a café for a tasty lunch, thoroughly enjoyed the taste of independence… then hastily made our way home, with only a quick stop at the Green Bazaar on the way. Hey- it’s a big step in the right direction.
Я преподаватель английсково языка.
If that rolls off your tongue, you ought to come replace me. They’re huge words, representing something hugely difficult: “I teach English.” After four weeks in the country, many of us had (mostly) independently taught two classes.
My first class was with fifth formers (aka: 5th graders) on Monday afternoon (September 14th). It was rough. I felt pretty darn overwhelmed, as I had overestimated them in some ways. I should have recognized that the little guys have only studied English for two weeks. So, surprise surprise, many of them aren’t comfortable writing their name, nor can they understand what I say. Being in a classroom where I can’t easily communicate with my students is a humbling experience. I’m a bit ashamed to say I had a good cry after leaving that classroom. Let’s hope I can look back on that experience someday with a smile, seeing the great lengths I will have come.
The next day I taught seventh formers. The combination of a smaller class and more knowledgeable students made for a much smoother class. I’ll have to work on my time management, but hey – I survived another lesson.
This week, I taught three classes. My PST counterpart wanted me to teach her 9th graders instead of her 5th graders, so on Monday I did so. And if you think these 9th graders have more English skills than the 7th graders, think again. I’m learning that the English level fluctuates a great deal between classes. Some students in higher grades speak rather poorly, and some young students have learned a good bit. As of yet, I haven’t figured out how to predict the level before entering the classroom as a teacher. So for the 9th graders, I quickly came to the conclusion that I’d have to scrap the entire lesson I’d spent hours preparing. No fancy drawings explaining food vocabulary. They needed to practice numbers and simple present verbs. So I made up a lesson as I went along. As you can imagine, it wasn’t the most well put together lesson. But, there were no casualties, so we’ll count it as another successful day. On Tuesday (22nd) I taught two classes of 7th graders. Again, no casualties. I’ve got a long way to go towards being a great teacher, though. Excellent teachers I know are gaining more and more respect with each lesson I teach.
Bishbarmak!
As people celebrated the end of Ramadan, a fellow trainee celebrated her birthday. I joined her family for dinner, and it was quite the spread! First, we snacked on various salads (no lettuce – it’s mostly vegetables slathered in sauce), fried bread, and candy. Once we were all full, we got to start on the main course – bishbarmak. Several of us sat around a platter of homemade noodles topped with a mound of meat. The noodles are slippery buggers, so eating with our hands was tricky. Yeah… sharing a plate with several people still doesn’t seem normal, nor does eating greasy meat and pasta with your hands. Anyway, the bishbarmak was pretty good. I can see, though, how a person might tire of the taste (or lack thereof).
Hub Day
Once a week we have "Hub Day", which is when volunteers from various villages join for trainings and lectures. This particular Hub Day, we were able to ask questions of current volunteers (valuable information!!), and listened to an historian/teacher/journalist speak about Kazakhstan's history. Fascinating lecture. I and many others would have gladly listened to him for hours. He spawned some great critical thinking regarding the effect history has on the culture, even when the facts of history are forgotten. For Kazakhstan and it's history, this is particularly applicable. After the presentations, we were off for a hike. The mountains are gorgeous, and being out for a hike on a beautiful day was just what we needed. Our destination was a waterfall about 30 minutes away. Some of the braver souls walked underneath it. I passed on that, thank you very much.
English Club
Today my group hosted our second after school English Club. Some of us sang songs, some of us played games. Bananagrams was big hit! (Sidenote: If anyone sees old Scrabble pieces at garage sales, BUY THEM!! We'll figure out a way to get them sent over here and for you to get reimbursed. And we can be great friends.) They also loved the songs. And acting like paparazzi. Having many children get out their cell phones to take your picture... I'm not so sure what I think of it. We've also heard small children scream out "Americans! Americans!" as we walk by. I'm not sure if they equate us with wild animals or celebrities. Hopefully the latter.
Laundry and Bauersak
One beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon, the trainees from this village gathered at the home of our TCF (Technical and Cultural Facilitator) and learned how to properly do laundry. For those of you with washing machines – whether in Kazakhstan or the US – count your blessings. But, to make hand-washing clothes fun, we were split into teams and had a race to see who could clean more clothes. I thought I had put my team at an advantage by bringing most of my dirty laundry, but alas… a trainee who lived very close to our TCF brought his dirty socks. And since one sock was equal to one shirt or one pair of pants, our opponents blew us away. At least I got clean clothes out of the deal!
The perfect compliment to teaching us laundry skills was teaching us bauersak-making skills. Bauersak = fried bread = delicious. Both laundry and frying bauersak happened outside. For the bauersak, we built a small fire and had a huge pot / wok hanging over it, in which we heated up the oil and eventually fried the bread. We got to roll out the dough and slide the diamond-shaped pieces into the hot oil. Stir, strain, and eat. The most difficult part was keeping a distance from the flames while our TCF encouraged us to get closer than we cared for. I think my singed arm hair is evidence that I was plenty close.
Once we fried up enough bauersak to clog all our arteries, we added watermelon, tea, and a tasty eggplant dish to make a real feast. I wish I could remember the name of the eggplant dish… literally translated, it means “tongue of mother-in-law.” Hee hee. It’s fried eggplant topped with a tomato slice, with a bit of spicy mayo sauce in between. The following week, three of us trainees gathered together and made some for ourselves. Mmm mmm good.
A Fantastic Day in Almaty
The second Sunday in September, our TCF planned to go into Almaty to purchase school supplies. When she invited trainees to come along, five of us took her up on it. For some of us, we also wanted to go to a church. Another PCT had discovered a nondenominational Protestant church when she was still in the states. We got the cross streets (thanks Mom!) and relied on our TCF to help us get there. And we did! All six of us went to church! What a fantastic morning. I enjoyed the service immensely and met several people. I should mention the services at International Christian Fellowship are in English. Ah, singing praise songs… listening to a sermon… fellowshipping with believers. It was great. I’m really hoping I can return, at least a couple times. There’s a fine balance to strike between connecting with an expat community and not sacrificing relationships with locals.
After the service, we made our way to the store. To say they’re concerned about shoplifters would be an understatement. The front of the store was dominated by small lockers, in which you were to place any medium or large bag/purse. Small office supplies had to be purchased separately from behind the counter. Interesting place.
When we left the store, we parted ways with our TCF, which is a pretty big deal in and of itself. PC is protective – some may say overly – of its volunteers and trainees. Really, I prefer too much caution over too little caution. But I digress. There we were, five trainees in Almaty, without a chauffeur. We headed off to a café for a tasty lunch, thoroughly enjoyed the taste of independence… then hastily made our way home, with only a quick stop at the Green Bazaar on the way. Hey- it’s a big step in the right direction.
Я преподаватель английсково языка.
If that rolls off your tongue, you ought to come replace me. They’re huge words, representing something hugely difficult: “I teach English.” After four weeks in the country, many of us had (mostly) independently taught two classes.
My first class was with fifth formers (aka: 5th graders) on Monday afternoon (September 14th). It was rough. I felt pretty darn overwhelmed, as I had overestimated them in some ways. I should have recognized that the little guys have only studied English for two weeks. So, surprise surprise, many of them aren’t comfortable writing their name, nor can they understand what I say. Being in a classroom where I can’t easily communicate with my students is a humbling experience. I’m a bit ashamed to say I had a good cry after leaving that classroom. Let’s hope I can look back on that experience someday with a smile, seeing the great lengths I will have come.
The next day I taught seventh formers. The combination of a smaller class and more knowledgeable students made for a much smoother class. I’ll have to work on my time management, but hey – I survived another lesson.
This week, I taught three classes. My PST counterpart wanted me to teach her 9th graders instead of her 5th graders, so on Monday I did so. And if you think these 9th graders have more English skills than the 7th graders, think again. I’m learning that the English level fluctuates a great deal between classes. Some students in higher grades speak rather poorly, and some young students have learned a good bit. As of yet, I haven’t figured out how to predict the level before entering the classroom as a teacher. So for the 9th graders, I quickly came to the conclusion that I’d have to scrap the entire lesson I’d spent hours preparing. No fancy drawings explaining food vocabulary. They needed to practice numbers and simple present verbs. So I made up a lesson as I went along. As you can imagine, it wasn’t the most well put together lesson. But, there were no casualties, so we’ll count it as another successful day. On Tuesday (22nd) I taught two classes of 7th graders. Again, no casualties. I’ve got a long way to go towards being a great teacher, though. Excellent teachers I know are gaining more and more respect with each lesson I teach.
Bishbarmak!
As people celebrated the end of Ramadan, a fellow trainee celebrated her birthday. I joined her family for dinner, and it was quite the spread! First, we snacked on various salads (no lettuce – it’s mostly vegetables slathered in sauce), fried bread, and candy. Once we were all full, we got to start on the main course – bishbarmak. Several of us sat around a platter of homemade noodles topped with a mound of meat. The noodles are slippery buggers, so eating with our hands was tricky. Yeah… sharing a plate with several people still doesn’t seem normal, nor does eating greasy meat and pasta with your hands. Anyway, the bishbarmak was pretty good. I can see, though, how a person might tire of the taste (or lack thereof).
Hub Day
Once a week we have "Hub Day", which is when volunteers from various villages join for trainings and lectures. This particular Hub Day, we were able to ask questions of current volunteers (valuable information!!), and listened to an historian/teacher/journalist speak about Kazakhstan's history. Fascinating lecture. I and many others would have gladly listened to him for hours. He spawned some great critical thinking regarding the effect history has on the culture, even when the facts of history are forgotten. For Kazakhstan and it's history, this is particularly applicable. After the presentations, we were off for a hike. The mountains are gorgeous, and being out for a hike on a beautiful day was just what we needed. Our destination was a waterfall about 30 minutes away. Some of the braver souls walked underneath it. I passed on that, thank you very much.
English Club
Today my group hosted our second after school English Club. Some of us sang songs, some of us played games. Bananagrams was big hit! (Sidenote: If anyone sees old Scrabble pieces at garage sales, BUY THEM!! We'll figure out a way to get them sent over here and for you to get reimbursed. And we can be great friends.) They also loved the songs. And acting like paparazzi. Having many children get out their cell phones to take your picture... I'm not so sure what I think of it. We've also heard small children scream out "Americans! Americans!" as we walk by. I'm not sure if they equate us with wild animals or celebrities. Hopefully the latter.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
More on Life in KZ
Jeepers, only a few days ago I was on the Internet. I’m feeling a bit spoiled, but I’m ok with that! And even though only a few days have passed… Each day brings a new adventure, so prepare to swim through some stories – don’t go and drown, alright?
Bell Day
September 1 is a huge day. Across the country, schools begin the school year with a morning full of festivities. Here in my village, children had prepared performances ranging from taekwondo to traditional Kazakh dances. We also were expected to perform. Being the talented group we are, we altered lyrics to “Free Falling”. (Let’s be honest… without Sid’s amazing musical talent, we would’ve been in trouble. He purchased a guitar in Almaty on Aug 31 and played the song with ease.) But I’m getting ahead of myself.
That day, my language group gathered for an hour of Russian before the ceremony began. When we went outside, where everything was to happen, the schoolyard (aka stadium) was filled with hundreds of people. Children and adults stood around the perimeter of a huge paved section. In the middle of them were two rows of chairs: one row for a few school administrators and another row just for us. Talk about front and center!
To begin, two different school staff spoke, followed by a parade of “seniors” leading in “kindergarteners”. (Labeled differently here, but you get the point.) Soon after on the agenda was handing the microphone over to us. Just as we began introducing ourselves, the rain came. Light enough for us to continue, but distracting enough to fluster us and others. We did belt out our song in the rain and watched an adorable girl ring a bell as she was carried in a big circle before ducking for cover. Sadly, the school doesn’t have an auditorium large enough to accommodate the group gathered. Thus, the rest of the ceremony was cancelled. We were disappointed, but have no fear- Kazakhs view rain as a sign of blessings on the upcoming academic year. (Good thing they start school during a rainy season. : )
More on Kazakh Life
We eat lots of ethnically Russian food, so it seems. I’m slowly learning the names of different dishes. Often there’s either potatoes or a type of pasta, with either vegetables or meat. And to have the best of both worlds, I’d describe one dish as potato ravioli (varenika). Sometimes the entrée is accompanied by a vegetable salad, which consists of tomatoes, cucumbers, and maybe some scallions. That’s mixed together with a mayonnaise-type sauce. And at every, every meal, there is bread. Often the whole “loaf” looks like a fluffy flatbread, about the size of a large pizza crust (called leepioshka). Pieces are torn or cut off and piled on a plate. During the meal, each person can take either a whole piece, or tear off a smaller piece to eat, leaving the rest on the center plate. Apparently, sometimes people will bite off a mouthful and replace the piece of bread to the center plate. Bread is rather sacred, so it cannot be wasted. Therefore, you take only what you are going to eat. I’ve heard this mindset comes from the lengthy and involved process necessary to make bread. Also, there have been times in their history when bread was difficult to acquire. So now, we get it all the time! It’s tasty, especially when it’s fresh and soft. More importantly, it seems to be agreeing with me so far. Thank goodness!
Power Outages
These past few days, electricity and water have been much less reliable. Thank the Lord, my timing has been great. Yesterday I had to go with my host sister to her parents’ apartment for a hot breakfast. (They’ve got a gas stove, which was still working.) When I came home from school, the water was back on, so I rushed to get some laundry done. As I was ringing out my last piece of clothing, the water and electricity went kaput. I left to play Ultimate Frisbee for a couple hours, and when I returned, we again had water and electricity. Thank God! I desperately needed a good bath and headed for the tub. I had been clean and dry for five minutes when we lost both water and electricity yet again. But hey- I did laundry and bathed in the midst of the off’s and on’s. Success!
Ultimate!
September 3, 2009. The date of our first game of Ultimate Frisbee in the “stadium” of the school. Johnny, a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) absolutely LOVES Ultimate. So, he mentioned it to a few PCTs that he wanted to play after school. That’s all it took to bring together 8 PCTs and dozens of school children. Thanks to Leah (current PCV in her 3rd year), the kids got basic rules of the game. Thus, team Pizza and team Cheeseburger were formed. (You’d never guess, but some PCTs already miss American cuisine.)
The game actually went really well! The kids were told to shout out their team name, so as to know who to throw to. Hearing kids yell out “pizza!” and “burger!” in Russian accents: adorable. Learning their actual names: impossible. Before, during, and after the game, kids came up to me and other volunteers, wanting to know our names and try out a bit of English. Being surrounded by youngsters was such fun. I must have asked the same children a dozen times what their names are. Yet, Acema is the only one I’ve semi-mastered. With her 10 years of wisdom, she grabbed my hand, opened up my palm, and wrote out her name before I could say otherwise.
As you may guess, the game turned out to be a wonderful way to hang out with a lot of kids. Building those relationships will be huge. I’m sure I’ll recognize that truth more and more as the weeks wear on.
Randomness
I’ve gone jogging once and ran by a harvested wheat field! I got all excited and felt a little like I was at home. Good stuff. I and my co-PCTs have begun observing classes at the school. There may be more on that to come. The differences between a classroom in the US and Kazakhstan are pretty freaking huge. On September 5, my Russian language group and I had our first Kazakh lesson. We’re supposed to focus on Russian and develop survival skills in Kazakh. Oh boy. Also on the fifth, we were taken into Almaty. With that done, we’re free to travel on public transportation between cities. Question is, with our new-found freedom, will we get ourselves lost in the middle of Kazakh steppe?
Oh my! I almost forgot! For those of you who haven’t yet drowned, here’s my best explanation of a banya. A banya is a building, separate from the house. It’s got two rooms, one in which to undress and one in which to bathe. In the bathing room, there are a few containers of water. Two are large containers, one holding cold water, the other holding hot. The container of hot water is part of a contraption under which they build a fire, with the fire being contained outside of the building. (Genius.) The result: super hot water, which in turn heats up this tiny bathing room. Using another container and a pitcher, you combine some of the cold water with the hot water. Again using the pitcher, you dump water on yourself, lather up, and rinse off. Now, this is often done in groups. In that scenario, people may hit each other with a bundle of small branches. My strong preference is banyaing alone, so I can’t say more about the branch bit. I do know banyas can get awfully hot. The idea is to sweat toxins out of your body. For people like me who despise sweating immediately after showering, this holds zero appeal. Also, heating up the banya is quite the ordeal, and is therefore typically done only once a week. For many families, this is their only method of really getting clean. Mmm, showering on a weekly basis… I’ll stick to my tub, thanks.
Bell Day
September 1 is a huge day. Across the country, schools begin the school year with a morning full of festivities. Here in my village, children had prepared performances ranging from taekwondo to traditional Kazakh dances. We also were expected to perform. Being the talented group we are, we altered lyrics to “Free Falling”. (Let’s be honest… without Sid’s amazing musical talent, we would’ve been in trouble. He purchased a guitar in Almaty on Aug 31 and played the song with ease.) But I’m getting ahead of myself.
That day, my language group gathered for an hour of Russian before the ceremony began. When we went outside, where everything was to happen, the schoolyard (aka stadium) was filled with hundreds of people. Children and adults stood around the perimeter of a huge paved section. In the middle of them were two rows of chairs: one row for a few school administrators and another row just for us. Talk about front and center!
To begin, two different school staff spoke, followed by a parade of “seniors” leading in “kindergarteners”. (Labeled differently here, but you get the point.) Soon after on the agenda was handing the microphone over to us. Just as we began introducing ourselves, the rain came. Light enough for us to continue, but distracting enough to fluster us and others. We did belt out our song in the rain and watched an adorable girl ring a bell as she was carried in a big circle before ducking for cover. Sadly, the school doesn’t have an auditorium large enough to accommodate the group gathered. Thus, the rest of the ceremony was cancelled. We were disappointed, but have no fear- Kazakhs view rain as a sign of blessings on the upcoming academic year. (Good thing they start school during a rainy season. : )
More on Kazakh Life
We eat lots of ethnically Russian food, so it seems. I’m slowly learning the names of different dishes. Often there’s either potatoes or a type of pasta, with either vegetables or meat. And to have the best of both worlds, I’d describe one dish as potato ravioli (varenika). Sometimes the entrée is accompanied by a vegetable salad, which consists of tomatoes, cucumbers, and maybe some scallions. That’s mixed together with a mayonnaise-type sauce. And at every, every meal, there is bread. Often the whole “loaf” looks like a fluffy flatbread, about the size of a large pizza crust (called leepioshka). Pieces are torn or cut off and piled on a plate. During the meal, each person can take either a whole piece, or tear off a smaller piece to eat, leaving the rest on the center plate. Apparently, sometimes people will bite off a mouthful and replace the piece of bread to the center plate. Bread is rather sacred, so it cannot be wasted. Therefore, you take only what you are going to eat. I’ve heard this mindset comes from the lengthy and involved process necessary to make bread. Also, there have been times in their history when bread was difficult to acquire. So now, we get it all the time! It’s tasty, especially when it’s fresh and soft. More importantly, it seems to be agreeing with me so far. Thank goodness!
Power Outages
These past few days, electricity and water have been much less reliable. Thank the Lord, my timing has been great. Yesterday I had to go with my host sister to her parents’ apartment for a hot breakfast. (They’ve got a gas stove, which was still working.) When I came home from school, the water was back on, so I rushed to get some laundry done. As I was ringing out my last piece of clothing, the water and electricity went kaput. I left to play Ultimate Frisbee for a couple hours, and when I returned, we again had water and electricity. Thank God! I desperately needed a good bath and headed for the tub. I had been clean and dry for five minutes when we lost both water and electricity yet again. But hey- I did laundry and bathed in the midst of the off’s and on’s. Success!
Ultimate!
September 3, 2009. The date of our first game of Ultimate Frisbee in the “stadium” of the school. Johnny, a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) absolutely LOVES Ultimate. So, he mentioned it to a few PCTs that he wanted to play after school. That’s all it took to bring together 8 PCTs and dozens of school children. Thanks to Leah (current PCV in her 3rd year), the kids got basic rules of the game. Thus, team Pizza and team Cheeseburger were formed. (You’d never guess, but some PCTs already miss American cuisine.)
The game actually went really well! The kids were told to shout out their team name, so as to know who to throw to. Hearing kids yell out “pizza!” and “burger!” in Russian accents: adorable. Learning their actual names: impossible. Before, during, and after the game, kids came up to me and other volunteers, wanting to know our names and try out a bit of English. Being surrounded by youngsters was such fun. I must have asked the same children a dozen times what their names are. Yet, Acema is the only one I’ve semi-mastered. With her 10 years of wisdom, she grabbed my hand, opened up my palm, and wrote out her name before I could say otherwise.
As you may guess, the game turned out to be a wonderful way to hang out with a lot of kids. Building those relationships will be huge. I’m sure I’ll recognize that truth more and more as the weeks wear on.
Randomness
I’ve gone jogging once and ran by a harvested wheat field! I got all excited and felt a little like I was at home. Good stuff. I and my co-PCTs have begun observing classes at the school. There may be more on that to come. The differences between a classroom in the US and Kazakhstan are pretty freaking huge. On September 5, my Russian language group and I had our first Kazakh lesson. We’re supposed to focus on Russian and develop survival skills in Kazakh. Oh boy. Also on the fifth, we were taken into Almaty. With that done, we’re free to travel on public transportation between cities. Question is, with our new-found freedom, will we get ourselves lost in the middle of Kazakh steppe?
Oh my! I almost forgot! For those of you who haven’t yet drowned, here’s my best explanation of a banya. A banya is a building, separate from the house. It’s got two rooms, one in which to undress and one in which to bathe. In the bathing room, there are a few containers of water. Two are large containers, one holding cold water, the other holding hot. The container of hot water is part of a contraption under which they build a fire, with the fire being contained outside of the building. (Genius.) The result: super hot water, which in turn heats up this tiny bathing room. Using another container and a pitcher, you combine some of the cold water with the hot water. Again using the pitcher, you dump water on yourself, lather up, and rinse off. Now, this is often done in groups. In that scenario, people may hit each other with a bundle of small branches. My strong preference is banyaing alone, so I can’t say more about the branch bit. I do know banyas can get awfully hot. The idea is to sweat toxins out of your body. For people like me who despise sweating immediately after showering, this holds zero appeal. Also, heating up the banya is quite the ordeal, and is therefore typically done only once a week. For many families, this is their only method of really getting clean. Mmm, showering on a weekly basis… I’ll stick to my tub, thanks.
Pictures!
I wanted to attach some pictures to my last blog, but I didn’t have them saved right in order to do so. (Navigating a computer with different programs, which uses only Russian, to fix the problem – not gonna happen. Give me a bit on my netbook, and we’re good to go.) Without further ado…
Leaving Mom and Dad. It was a sad day. Yes, there were tears.
From Kok Tobe with my host sister. Almaty is in the background.
A snapshot of my walk to school. He helps me give directions to people. : ) “Take a left by Lenin…” Oh! And they’ve since cleaned it up, so he’s not surrounded by weeds anymore. Seeing people trim trees and cut down weeds is encouraging.
On a visit to a fellow trainee’s house, I watched her Kazakh host sister and father roast a goat head and legs. Fascinating!
We do our best to survive Russian lessons together. We make a great group. This pic is from the big first day of school, before the rain.
A mere fraction of all the kids and parental types gathered for the festivities of “Bell Day.”
Leaving Mom and Dad. It was a sad day. Yes, there were tears.
From Kok Tobe with my host sister. Almaty is in the background.
A snapshot of my walk to school. He helps me give directions to people. : ) “Take a left by Lenin…” Oh! And they’ve since cleaned it up, so he’s not surrounded by weeds anymore. Seeing people trim trees and cut down weeds is encouraging.
On a visit to a fellow trainee’s house, I watched her Kazakh host sister and father roast a goat head and legs. Fascinating!
We do our best to survive Russian lessons together. We make a great group. This pic is from the big first day of school, before the rain.
A mere fraction of all the kids and parental types gathered for the festivities of “Bell Day.”
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