Bits of March 2010

There’s snow melting. It’s been both outside, and inside. Like, in my school. In a tub. (And in my bathroom, in a bucket.) But when water isn’t working anywhere in town, that’s what you do. Bless their hearts, the cleaning ladies at school #1 brought in buckets of snow so they could continue mopping throughout the building. And while the cleaning must continue, lessons will not. That’s right – more missed lessons. In January I said, “When spring comes, the students will come.” Question is, will spring come before school lets out for the summer? Slowly rising temperatures give me a ray of hope, but the wind and weather with the change of seasons has recently resulted in spotty electricity and, even more annoying, water outages. So for a couple days, I had to take pride in being able to brush my teeth and wash my face with a small mug of warm water. Oh, how such experiences make me appreciate what we normally have.

Women’s Day

Now, as promised, a word about March 8. Plenty of festivities surrounded the holiday, including a gathering of teachers at a local restaurant on Friday, a fun competition and a small concert at school on Saturday, and plenty of gosti-ing on the actual holiday. And for me, a shared bottle of champagne on Wednesday from my host father since I missed out on gosti-ing with them on Monday.

As school staff geared up for Saturday, my participation in some mysterious competition was requested. I agreed, clueless as to what that might mean. But on Saturday, I showed up at school at noon in my “sports suit,” ready for anything. I walked into our gym, filled with boisterous students and teachers, and then snuck over to the equipment room to take off my coat and boots. In doing so, I got a good clue as to what was about to happen. Five cutting boards with a variety of fruits and vegetables. Five large dolls with five piles of clothing. Who knows what else was waiting for the five teams assembled on the other side of the door, out in the gym.

As the competition got underway, I did my best to stand where directed and listen carefully to the coordinating teacher as she shouted out instructions for relay races. Understanding next to nothing, I caught the eye of Tatyana, who came to my aid with translation help. I can imitate others pretty well, but in a race against your students, Kazakhstani teachers take no prisoners. So, in relay races ranging from running around with a broom in the air and one foot in a bucket, to tying a piece of cloth on a bar at the opposite end, to dressing and undressing a doll, to chopping food into a salad, to pushing a car along the ground; we lied, cheated, and shoved our way to victory.

Case in point: let’s return to those 5 cutting boards with fruits and veggies. The teachers get a tomato and cucumber. Only work necessary: run the cutting board and knife to a table at the other end, then a clean plate, and then the food, at which point the tomato is cut into quarters and the cucumber is cut lengthwise into quarters then sliced into smaller pieces. Four other teams get food such as a potato and onion, or an orange and apple. Poor girls (students of 11^th, 10^th, 9^th, and 8^th) actually have to do something. So the teachers are ahead already. But to seal the deal, they covertly quarter the cucumber before the start of the race. Finishing insanely early, the teachers proceed to have their own little dance party while their students do their best to finish an honest race. (Goes without saying that the teachers were awarded first place, thereby scoring a box of Snickers.)

As evidenced by the celebrations and presents, this holiday is a pretty big deal. Men make mention of it to women for much of the week beforehand. Women receive gifts from friends and family. And the holiday celebrates girls, too, whereas our closest popular equivalent, Mother’s Day, is more exclusive.

So even though I’m rather youthful looking, I got plenty of “Happy Women’s Day” greetings. For instance, when getting in a taxi on Friday, March 5, the driver greeted me with a congratulations of sorts, referring to Women’s Day. But at first this didn’t register, so I confessed that I speak only a little Russian and asked him to repeat himself. Now I understood. And now he had questions. Where am I from? Just visiting? Working? Married? I humored him and replied as best I could. He paused and then said, “Seriously?” “Seriously what?” “You’re from America?” I like to think he didn’t believe me because of my flawless Russian. (Ha!) Anyway, I figured, heck, I’ll spout off something in English and show him what’s up. A couple English sentences later, a grin spreads across his face, my origin confirmed.

Restaurant #1

That taxi ride came after spending much of the evening at a restaurant with other teachers. But rather than a restaurant gathering I’m accustomed to, the proceedings have a few KZ twists. For starters, space in the restaurant was reserved well in advance, with payment also being made beforehand. Everyone pays a set amount, which differs depending on what you want. I assume the price depends in part on the side dishes and entree ordered for the gathering. It also depends on whether or not you will order beverages from the restaurant’s bar. Opting for BYOB fetches you a higher price. I’d guess BYOB is the more popular choice and likely cheaper in the long run. (Really, who ever heard of only drinking a few shots at any given meal?) So, upon arrival I found a table covered with side dishes and a wide array of wines, vodkas, a few cartons of juice, and maybe one lonely bottle of water.

Another clear difference is the food and dance combo. The restaurant is small, but contains a dance floor. So, teachers would eat a bit, then dance a bit. Come back to the table, eat a little more, drink a little more, and head back to the dance floor. (I’m slowly learning that this must be connected to jiggling food down to make room for more.) As for dancing, there may be a bashful teacher somewhere, but by and large, they get their groove on! Result? Tons of good clean fun.

And on to the next holiday…

With Women’s Day behind us, Nauryz (Kazakh New Year) is quickly approaching. The official holiday is March 22, but celebrations are well underway. I’ll be going south over the holiday, so I’m doing what I can to take part while I’m around. One piece I’ve caught wind of in Shakhtinsk is a competition among school employees across town. The competition is comprised of at least three events: table tennis, chess, and volleyball. So, last week, I stepped into a teacher’s meeting just in time to hear a physical education teacher asking for people who play tennis. “Can you play tennis, Denise?” an English teacher asked. I gave a confident yes. And while it’s true that I have the ability to play tennis, I stink. And having not played for ages, I barely have the right to answer in the affirmative. Thankfully, “tennis” turned into table tennis. And since I then found myself at a table tennis tournament last Saturday, that’s a very ,very good thing. My defeats in tennis would have been even more humiliating than the two I suffered in table tennis. I seemed to display a pattern seen in some of our less-than-favorite Husker football seasons, doing much better in the second half than the first. Too little too late. As we left, the PE teacher’s comment, “Better than sitting at home, yeah?” was pleasantly optimistic and fit the occasion quite well.

Restaurant #2

And for the rest of the day, there wouldn’t be any more sitting at home, for I was off to have another rousing restaurant experience. This was for a relative’s birthday party. In these parts, “Jubilee” birthdays are big deals. And here, that means any big number that ends in zero or five. This was his 60^th birthday, and boy was it jubilant! Here’s the scene: small restaurant with two rooms. Enter via a small corridor, and you’ve got a bar and dance floor on your left, and a dining area on your right. The dining room is barely big enough for the two long tables set up. (The only way out for the unlucky ones tucked in the corner was to crawl over a dozen laps, if that gives you any idea. I think such seating arrangements are a favorite among fire marshals.) The two long tables are, of course, covered in salads and a selection of beverages, with a typical trifecta: red wine, cognac, and vodka. Then there’s this curious third table, close to the room’s only entrance. Heaping with fruit and various desserts, only innocent sweet-tooths under the age of 5 picked away at its contents.

With all this beginning at 3:30 in the afternoon, we’ve got signs of a serious case of gluttony about to unfurl. And… part of the restaurant deal is an emcee. As dozens of relatives file in, the young woman sets to work. She’s got toasts to orchestrate, trite jokes to deliver, and cheap toys to distribute. Before nearing even a slight pang of hunger, everyone is munching on side dishes, listening to the emcee or relatives giving toasts. About an hour of that, and huge trays of bishbarmak are set in the middle of already crowded tables. More antics from the emcee, more toasts, and then… the dance floor.

Women’s Day, apparently, gave me a nice calm version of dancing and eating, eating and dancing. I’ve got some rowdy relatives. Men and women, vying for the spotlight, breaking a sweat in no time at all… No encouragement needed. And yet, this darn emcee has a job to do, and dancing games are on her list. Not one for dancing, I get dragged onto the dance floor. To make matters worse, I soon have a microphone up to my mouth with orders to introduce myself. Having a bonafide American in your presence is a pretty big deal, don’t you know? But rather than use my name, a couple boisterous personalities preferred to simply address me as “America.” Perfect. Hugs, kisses on the cheek, and cries of “I love you, America!” followed throughout the night. Darn vodka.

Confirming my predictions of gluttony, everyone was called back to the table and presented with, I don’t know, dinner #3? Good grief. While people mostly played with their mashed potatoes, we were all entertained by good natured relatives willing to look ridiculous. And when I write ridiculous, I mean totally and completely RIDICULOUS. Women in polka dotted clothes with awful masks. Fat men in skirts and pointy bras, belly dancing. More men in miniskirts and curly wigs. Jubilant, indeed.

Then, for those who hadn’t returned to the dance floor or fallen into a food coma, a table of desserts waited. Yep, that means 5 solid hours of eating. My host mother’s perspective? “It’s ok. Just don’t eat tomorrow.”

Church!

So this blog post is certainly long enough, but I must add news about finding a church! That’s right, there’s a small Bible-believing church in Karaganda where I’ve gone with another volunteer a couple times now. We first became aware of it after meeting a fellow American who is here teaching English through a different organization. The little I know is that it was started quite a while ago by an American pastor who is no longer with them. Praise the Lord, services are now led by locals. I’m assuming the services are almost always in Russian, although one of the two Sundays I’ve attended, the sermon was given in English and translated throughout into Russian. The other week, a young Kazakhstani woman sat amongst a few Americans and translated the main points of the sermon. I’m so thankful to have found this spot, and I look forward to getting to know people from the church better. Learning praise songs in Russian is also fantastic!

Time Stops for No Man (or Woman)

And… one last note. I’m over ¼ of the way done. I scarcely believe it, really. Where has the time gone? And with such a sizeable chunk behind me, I’m feeling… alright. I’d say I’m getting the hang of teaching. Feels good to have English Clubs established. But, oh, there’s so much to do. My host mother is pushing for a renewed commitment to studying each others’ language. Those established English Clubs may get revamped. And other projects are sure to come along, vying for time I don’t feel like I’ve got. But, now in the middle year of my service, it’s time to rock and roll. Lord help me.

Heatin’ Up!

With weeks of moderate temperatures (read anything above -5*F), I hardly know what to do with myself. And things are heating up not only in regard to weather, but my schedule as well. On Monday, though, I taught only one lesson. Why? It was “Emergency Day”. “What’s the emergency?” I asked my counterpart. She kindly explained that this is a day for them to practice exiting the building quickly in case of a fire. So students have only three lessons before a fire drill, after which they go home. (Maybe they can’t get them back in the building??) I vaguely remember loathing fire drills. Probably because it cut into my recess time, rather than being yet another day off that won’t ever be made up, as it is here. But oh, we’re embracing the wonders of life in Kazakhstan. Yep, like a big bear hug, where the line between wrestling and hugging is mostly indistinguishable.

But before you go getting the wrong idea, I’ve gotta say, the last few weeks have been quite enjoyable. Without further ado, some highlights:

Trip to Balkhash
Over Valentine’s Day, I made my first solo train trip! With tickets in hand, I found my way to the waiting room at the train station, convinced I would not be able to distinguish any words that blasted over the loudspeaker. See, that’s the only cue I’ve figured out – there’s a garbled announcement when a train has arrived and is now boarding. I can rarely make out such announcements in English. How in the world could I hope to understand anything in Russian?!

I found a seat, dug out some snacks, and glanced often at my watch. And then… over the loudspeaker… “starting…” “606…” “Karaganda to Balkhash”. I heard it! I understood some of it! Oh yeah! Delighted, I joined the mass that I could have instead used for my cue, and waited in the cold to board the train. The trip proceeded without incident, with the ride to Balkhash bringing many questions from nearby passengers.

In Balkhash, I joined another Kaz-21 and then we met up with a Kaz-20. A wonderful time of relaxation. I enjoyed seeing yet another piece of this huge country; the same, yet unique in its own right. Being on a huge lake (Lake Balkhash), we hear it’s a wonderful place to go in the summer. I’ll see what I can do to find out.

To make the trip back by train, I had one option: leave about 7:00pm and arrive in Karaganda around 6:30am. Karaganda is an hour bus ride from Shakhtinsk, and my first class starts at 8:30am. I figured, heck, I can manage this. I’ll be cutting it close, but totally doable. To the chagrin of other passengers, I hogged the train bathroom to don my teaching outfit, now ready to go straight to school, if need be. We rolled into Karaganda around 6:40am. I hustled over to the bus station, and after clearing up some confusion, found a place to buy a ticket for a bus ride to Shakhtinsk. That bus pulled out around 7:15am. Yep, that means I got to town 15 minutes before the starting bell.

As any business-minded person would guess, taxis are waiting at the bus stop, ready to whisk people to different parts of town. For 200 Tenge, they’ll take you to a specific address. Usually I say “School #1” because it’s on a main road very close to my house. But this day, that’s precisely where I needed to be. The driver, having placed my backpack and duffel bag in the trunk, asked again, expecting a home address near the school. In my fine Russian, I replied, “I teacher. I late.”

Upon arrival, I rushed to the teacher’s room, dropped off my luggage, and heard the bell ring. So close! I scampered up to my room, expecting a room full of 8th graders. But I found only my counterpart, patiently waiting. Ah! The all-school meeting they have each Monday morning! Whew! Saved by the extra 15 minutes this took, I was prepared just in time to set the week in motion.

Taxis
Now I’ll return for a minute for this issue of taxis, realizing the beauty of the system they’ve got going over here – especially in Shakhtinsk. Taxi “businesses” abound in this town. So, unlike other places where you may rely on gypsy cabs (let’s call that hitchhiking), these taxis at least have signs. Sure, it’s more like the sign the high-school boy puts on his car to deliver Domino’s pizza, but at least it’s something. So, if I want to splurge and pay for a ride to, say, the post office, I can go to the main road near my house and wait for a taxi to drive by. That’ll be a whopping 40 Tenge (27 cents). And this gives me a ride that’s like a never ending carpool. The driver is constantly picking up people and dropping them off along the main roads, making up the route as he goes. So I won’t go directly to the post office, but I’ll get there soon enough.

Sometimes these are quiet rides. Other times, like when saliva is dripping off the bottom lip of the tipsy Kazakh man sitting shotgun, I get to answer more questions. (I prefer the quiet rides.) To guarantee a ride absent of drunken passengers, I can call a taxi or go to one of their main locations. There, I can pay 200 Tenge ($1.33) and be taken straight to my chosen destination. As someone who prefers walking 20 minutes rather than spending 27 cents on a taxi, there’s a slight possibility U.S. prices will be a shock to my system.

What will you give me today, Kazakhstan?
Over a month ago, my regional manager visited my site to check in on me, my school, and my host family. During her visit, she mentioned the possibility of encouraging organizations in the area to apply for a Youth Development (YD) Peace Corps Volunteer. She envisioned my counterpart and I visiting an organization (or maybe 2), and then inviting a nearby YD PCV to check it out, with her knowledge of this new PC program. Sounds simple enough. Check out a couple places, relay some information about Peace Corps work, and assist with an application for a volunteer, if it seems like a good fit.

I reminded my counterpart of this, who in turn consulted our school director. Instead of the proposed low-key visit, she planned to meet with someone at the local Akimat (read City Hall). Then the plan was a meeting with various leaders in the area. In the end, a round table discussion was arranged at my school. Being the rock star she is, my school director organized a round table discussion with 15 leaders from this area plus a local news reporter.

At 9:30am, we bunched around tables arranged in a square, each set with a plate of pastries, a plate of candy, and two teacups on saucers. Two young English teachers made fine servers, pouring tea and watching how few people ate any food. As for the round table discussion, it proceeded in typical KZ fashion, beginning with many monologues during which everyone spoke about themselves, their family, their hobbies, and, oh, maybe a mention of their title of employment. KZ rule of thumb: socialize first, business later. Thus, an hour and a half had elapsed before we had coaxed out concrete descriptions of two (of the six or seven) organizations represented. Elena, the YD PCV who came over for the meeting, mused about how long the meeting might have gone if we hadn’t drawn things to a close in an effort to continue with the working day. Somehow… miraculously, work is accomplished here …I think.

No news yet on results of the meeting. If any of the organizations applied for a PC Volunteer, there is the possibility a volunteer would join me this coming November, working somehow with the youth in the area. Time will tell!

Where does the time go??
As I mentioned, my schedule has certainly been filling up. Currently, I teach somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 classes each week. Within those lessons, I work with three different teachers. Not bad. But when you add the out-of-class activities I have been leading, I want to bury my head under my pillow. How can it be, that in a place still largely unfamiliar, I can still stuff my days to the gills? Busyness is a disease that seems to have followed me on my journey thousands of miles from home.

I’m running two English Clubs – one for 4th-6th grade and one for 7th-8th grade. The 7th-8th crowd is a bit easier to manage, with the English level of all participants being more comparable. Within the 4th-6th grade, I have adorable girls who speak next to no English, and other students who are quick as a whip, impressing me with their knowledge at such a young age.

I also gather together with English teachers once a week. Sort of mini-trainings. I have brought different games, which we play and discuss. How can we modify this game for young kids? Older kids? I enjoy this time and see that as having longer-lasting benefits. Help these teachers fine-tune their teaching methods, and the benefits will reach many more children than I could hope to reach.

Finally, I spend extra time with a handful of students. I meet one-on-one with an 11th grade girl, and then with 4 or 5 seventh and eighth grade girls. The 7th and 8th graders are preparing for the FLEX competition, which provides students from former Soviet countries with the opportunity to study in a U.S. high school for one academic year. My focus right now is developing their writing skills – something that seems to be lacking in their current education.

A Wonderful Discovery
And… I have uncovered a gem! I found a place to join adults playing volleyball! First I joined the P.E. class at my school. Upon seeing that I have played a fair amount of volleyball, the instructor invited me to go with her to a place where, “people can actually play”. Lol! The plan: wait near the mosque at 5:30pm on Wednesday. This being KZ, I proceeded to the mosque near 5:30pm, not having any other information. No phone number, no knowledge of what would happen next. I blindly trusted that it’d work out, and sure enough, after waiting about 10 minutes, I heard someone yell my name. I hopped in a car with Nastya, the P.E. teacher, and her boyfriend. A short ride later, we got to another school in town, where more men than women had gathered to play. Even with my chock-full schedule in mind, how could I pass up volleyball with funny old Kazakhstani men?

Only the beginning…
More stories continue to float around in my head, both from recent experiences and upcoming events. Next Monday is International Women’s Day. You silly folks in the U.S. may say, “Huh?” But here, this is huge! Friday the teachers will celebrate at a café. Saturday there’s a concert. And Monday… get excited… no school! Go Women’s Day! So if I haven’t lost you yet, check back to see if I can milk any stories from the upcoming weekend! And spread the good news of this wonderful holiday to the women in your lives!