Weekend Trips

December 18, 2007

Well, I recently got back from a reasonably relaxing weekend in the village of Sheelee. It is about two hours away by train, and its main claim to fame is that is the hometown of my counterpart and about 45% of my students. I do not how it happens, but apparently kids from Sheelee come in droves to go to the Humanitarian College in Kyzylorda. Still, it was definitely not all rest and relaxation. My counterpart’s family is huge! She has three brothers and two sisters, and three of them each have three kids. I was constantly surrounded by at least six screaming small children, and while they were fun to play with for the most part, there were a few that I felt were a little too needy. That said, the kids were great for language practice, and it was nice to get out of the city for a bit and get to know my counterpart a little better.

Actually, the original reason for the trip to Sheelee, was that things were expected to get a little crazy in the city over the weekend. Sunday was Kazakstan’s Independence Day, and there was rumor that there was going to be a big student demonstration against the government that would coincide with similar protests held in Almaty and Astana. The city government took it seriously enough that they spoke to the students at the university and the college, and our college sent home a letter asking parents to keep them at home that day. Still, ultimately nothing materialized, which just goes to show that even if some one does not like Nazerbaev, they are not ready to actually say it out loud.

Weddings, Baby Showers, and Anniversaries

December 9, 2007

I apologize to everyone for the lack of recent entries recently, but to be honest, I did not have much to write about for the last couple of days. I just got finished with an extremely long and frustrating week, but I do have to admit that it was salvaged by the weekend, which has been awesome due to the glut of celebrations I have attended in the last two days.

Last week not only did I have my normal nine to five grind to take care of, but I also had the exciting opportunity to attend not one, but two seminars. The first seminar was a “Republic” seminar, which somehow made it more important, but at the time, I just found it incredibly boring, useless and frustrating. First off, only on Wednesday morning did my counterpart let me know that we would be participating in this important seminar on Thursday afternoon. Fortunately, we were going to pretty much give the same talk that we gave last month, but still it was little late notice. We got our stuff ready, rehearsed our material, and on Thursday afternoon got ready to make our presentation, and then we waited…for three hours. The presentation that was supposed to start at three did not actually begin until six because the visiting dignitaries were so late. This was annoying, but I thought, no big deal, we just had some extra rehearsal time. The first group of people came in, but we discovered that instead of fifteen minutes to give our talk, we only had five. This meant that rather give them an enlightening talk about the use of games and songs in the classroom, all we did was sing the Twelve Days of Christmas. Forty-five minutes later, the second group finally came in, and their time was cut so short that we actually only got through five days of Christmas. I have to admit I was a little pissed. I would not have minded to sitting around for four hours if I had been able to make the presentation, but to have wasted so much time was incredibly frustrating. I joined the Peace Corps because I wanted to contribute something, but that night my only job was to stand there while the director pointed at me like I was a new puppy or toy, and told everyone, “look, we have our own Peace Corps volunteer.” Then, two days later we got to do it all over again at a seminar for the English Teachers Association of Kyzylorda. Fortunately, I actually was able to give the full talk that time, but it was still three hours, and there were quite a few moments where I wanted to hit my head against the wall.

Still, as I said, the weekend has totally saved it. After not attending many parties the first few months, the weekend was filled with them. On Saturday night I went to the wedding party of one of my students. At nineteen, she is a little young to be married in my opinion, but she and her new husband seemed happy enough, so I was able to remove my America-tinged lenses for the most part, and see how for Kazaks this was the right time and a fun occasion. We had a great meal, I made a short toast in Kazak, and there was even some dancing. Then on Sunday there were two special occasions. The first was the one-year anniversary of my host sister’s wedding, and the second was the Baby Shower/Circumcision called a Besik, of a five month old cousin. Everyone gave that family so much stuff I do not how there are ever going to have room for it in the apartment much less use it all, but again it was a fun time with lots of family in attendance, though I did not actually see the guest of honor, Islam, the entire day. Although, given what they were doing to him, I am probably glad I did not.

All in all I have to say that the Kazaks know how to throw a party. I think I might prefer the American style wedding reception better, if just because there is slightly more dancing, but I might change my mind over the next two years. I am still just amazed at how friendly and welcoming everyone is, and how important all of these family celebrations are. At the wedding there were probably thirty people there that were part of the “immediate family” and were no prepared to do just about anything to help that new couple, and at the baby shower there were at least ten new host uncles and aunts. For someone whose whole family usually only got together three times a year, this has been quite an experience, and one I know I will remember for a long time.

More Dark

December 1, 2007

Before I came to Kazakstan I had never lived anywhere over the 23rd parallel, and now I know why. It is not the cold, a warm pair of socks, my wool jacket, along with my “Irish sweater” and I am good to go. Rather, it is the darkness that is beginning to get to me. I hate waking up at 7:00 and it being pitch black outside, and not only is it pitch black when I get up, it is still dark when I go to work! Due to the fact that most of Kazakstan is on one time zone and they do not use day light savings time, the sun does not rise in Kyzylorda till 9:00 AM, and it sets by 6:00 PM. Fortunately, the nine hours of sunlight is enough to keep me from getting Seasonal Affective Disorder, but I have to admit it is still a bit depressing. I can only imagine what my friends up in the great white north are dealing with it. Still I know it is not all bad. After all, when summer comes around I will get up to 15 hours of sunlight a day! Also, there was a time when all I wanted was more dark, when the sunlight streaming through the window to signal the arrival of a new day was a curse rather than a blessing. Unfortunately, unlike when I was four, I have to get up for work, which is not very easy in the deep darkness before dawn.

Belonging to The Land

November 27, 2007

One of the things that struck me as odd when I first got to Kazakstan was that whenever someone asked me where I was from, and I would answer, “America, they would then reply, “no, where are you from? I am Kazak. What are you?” To them it was not a satisfactory answer to say I am an American, they wanted to know my family was from. To the people of Kazakstan ethnic identity the idea of belonging to a place is very important. There are dozens of ethnic groups living in Kazakstan and they more or less get along very well, however, unlike in the United States where everyone says they are American, they always identify themselves by their ethnicity and cultural traditions be it Kazak, Korean, Russian, Chechneyan, Uzbek, Krygyz, Chinese, or Ukrainian. They all belong somewhere, even if they are no longer there. For an American this is somewhat difficult to understand, but to use me and my fellow Irish as an example, on those standardized tests white would not be an adequate choice, and St. Patrick’s Day would be more than just about drinking beer and a fun parade.

You might wonder how all of these groups that refuse to accept a common identity get along so well, and I will admit there are tensions, but they are not nearly as high as the tensions in the United States between groups that claim the same cultural identity. Actually, some of the most noticeable tension I have noticed was between groups of the Kazaks, those who stayed in Kazakstan during the upheaval of the 1990s and those who left to live in Uzbekistan but have now returned. As I mentioned previously, the idea of a homeland is very important to the people of this country, especially the Kazaks, and many have a hard time fathoming that anyone would want to abandon their homeland, even in the face of starvation. Those who stayed derisively refer to the group who left and then came back as the Auromai, or “the deserters” and accuse them of opportunism. They say that they abandoned Kazakstan when it was in trouble, but now that the tables have turned and it is Kazakstan that is doing well and Uzbekistan they have returned. That might be true for some, but for many of those that I have met, they truly missed Kazakstan and simply wanted to come back now that they felt it was safe to return.

Anyway, as I was saying earlier, when I first got here I found this line of questioning to be strange and uncomfortable, kind of like when people in Texas asked me what church I went to three seconds after getting my name. Over time though I have become used to it and it has made me think, where is it that I belong? Maybe my love of travel is a sign that I have long since ceased to feel at home where I grew up, and I have yet to find a new place. My students and friends here often ask me if I am ever homesick, and I can honestly reply that I am not. To be sure, I miss my family and friend, but when I finished college I was ready to get out and go. I had no desire to stay in North Carolina or Texas, and I certainly have no desire to return. I cannot speak for other Peace Corps Volunteers, but for right now Kazakstan is my home and I like living here. Furthermore, while I do not imagine myself “going native” as some RPCVs have done, I also do not imagine myself staying in the United States. Who knows, I might even take the advice of my Kazak friends and return to the homeland. After all, as the Auromai show, we never stop missing it no matter how long we are gone.

An Unorthodox Thanksgiving

November 25, 2007

This year, for the first time ever, I did not celebrate Thanksgiving, though in my defense there were a couple of good reasons for my not participating. First, I in a foreign country where very few people know that the holiday exists, much less celebrates it. That said, I still celebrated with my classmates while I was studying abroad in London for a semester a couple of years ago. This brings me to my second reason for not partaking in Turkey Day, numbers. In London there were at least fifteen of us to get a dinner together, but here in the entire Kyzylorda region there are three Americans, and none of us is a very good cook. Still, just because we did not participate in the traditional feast does not mean that we did not sit down and take time to reflect on our past few months and give thanks. We just did it over beer instead of turkey. Chris and I went out last night with his host sister to a café and then the local nightclub Edem to hang out and go dancing. The early t part of the evening at the café was rather typical of my Saturday nights in Kazakh, relaxing, talking, and having a few cold beers. Even the club was what I expected at first, guys and girls dancing at least three feet apart, doing the offbeat shuffle that one often sees at high school dances. Later on though, things took a strange turn. After we had been at the club for about an hour, the DJ says something in Russian that neither Chris nor I understand, and everyone clears the dance floor. At first I thought that maybe the song they were playing was really unpopular, but what actually was happening was that it was time for a series of three striptease performances. Furthermore, while two of the dancers were female, the third was male, I guess so the ladies in the audience would not feel so left out. At first I was shocked, this was definitely the last thing I expected to see in Southern Kazakstan, where Folk Islam is a very important part of the social fabric of the community. Of course, the dancers were Russians, not Kazaks, but it definitely strange to see such a performance in a pretty sleepy and conservative city. The best part of the whole thing was looking around at the audience reaction. Rather than look as if they were being excited, everyone had the same detached expression, as if they were watching the ballet and not pole dancing. Granted, the dancers were certainly more talented and skilled than the typical stateside stripper, but my studies of Pop Art aside, I never thought to consider a striptease even close to high art, nor watch it the same way as I do an opera. I guess Kyzylorda really does have it all, friendly people, modern conveniences, and even a bit of Western debauchery when you need your fix.

The Truth Really is Stranger than Fiction

November 21, 2007

When I was in high school my favorite book series were the Dune Chronicles by Frank Herbert. I even read the “prequels” by Herbert’s son and Kevin J. Anderson that came out while I was in college. The novels’ focus is on the desert planet Arrakis where the addictive spice Melange is produced, and Duke Paul Atreides. Paul’s family is exiled to Arrakis, where they fall in with the native “Free Men” or “Fremen”, and it is while living among the Fremen that Paul truly discovers his destiny. The reason I even bring this up is because lately I have begun to think that my life has become a little like the Dune books. True, unlike Paul, I cannot see the future, but my uncle does call me “Duke” every now and then, and I am currently living in the desert among Kazaks, and believe it or not, Kazak translates into "Free Man." As, for addictive substances, everyone develops a serious chai habit within two months of getting here. I drink at least 15 cups of chai a day, and they have even started my 6 month old host niece on the stuff. The only thing left to do is discover my destiny and take over the world with the aid of my Kazak comrades. Maybe then I too will be a Kwizatch Hadarach, or One Who is Many Places at Once.

There is no ASPCA in Kazakstan: Take Two

November 19, 2007

For the past few weeks I am afraid I was in danger of becoming somewhat numb to the plight of animals in Kazakhstan. Their neglect and maltreatment such a regular site, that it no longer evoked a visceral reaction of sadness and anger. That however, was before I turned on the news last night. On the television screen were two of the best-groomed dogs I have ever seen in this country. Their coats were brushed, their teeth were clean, and they marched smartly at their masters’ side, and I thought for a second, “this is a nice change, a dog show.” At that moment though, I began to understand a little bit of what the news reporter was saying, and the screen changed to reveal what was actually going on. It was no dog show, but rather a dogfight and those two well-mannered Mastiffs were in the process of tearing each other to shreds. To give credit where it is due, the story was definitely portraying dogfighting in a negative light, but it was still rather shocking. For example, when the football player was indicted on animal cruelty charges there were no images of the illegal sport, but in Kazakstan the dogfighting appeared to be taking place in broad daylight. Also, there were several spectators who stepped forward to defend it as a legitimate part of Kazak history and culture. That, however strikes me as someone in the United States defending racist behavior because it is a legitimate part of American history and culture, but just because you have always done something bad does not mean you need to keep doing it. In many ways I like working toward cultural integration. Learning the language and trying to fit in with my Kazak neighbors is both challenging and a lot of fun, but I do not think I will ever understand the way they treat pets, nor do I want to.

Hitting the Trail

November 18, 2007

This morning I realized that after a week in Kyzylorda, my allergies had begun to abate, signaling that I am finally getting used to the polluted air. To celebrate this accomplishment, I figured I would test my limits a little bit and so I went for a run. This was the first time in a solid month that I had done any strenuous physical activity whatsoever, so I was a little worried that it would not go well, but in the end I was not nearly as out of shape as I feared. Furthermore, I know that forces from on high were smiling down on my endeavor as I saw not one, but two camels during my jog. I interpreted this sighting as sign that I will go far and be successful in all of my various professional and personal endeavors during my two years of desert life, after all, the camel not only survives but thrives in nature’s harshest environments and symbolizes stamina and strength. That said, it could be that I just happened to see camels. They are pretty numerous in this area of Kazakhstan, although they are rarely seen this close to the city from what I understand. The run also gave me the opportunity to see Kyzylorda from a different angle, because for the past week I have not had a chance to do much walking besides around the center of town . On my run however, I followed the river that goes along the edge of the city. The contrast between the city on one side of the river and the desert on the other is incredible. The city with all of its tall buildings goes right up to the river bank, but on the other side of ther river there is absolutely nothing as far as the eye can see. It made me really aware of the environment I now live in, because when you are in town, it is often difficult to distinguish what makes Kyzylorda distinct or special, but now I realize that in fact Kyzylorda is, for all of its problems, an oasis.

I Think I Would Prefer Being Dropped on My Head

November 14, 2007

One of my favorite things about my time in Kazakhstan so far has been living with a host family. After, all you can only so much learn so much about a culture or society through its art and literature, and being part of a Kazak family really brings those cultural lessons and seminars “home” so to speak. One of the most interesting thing about Kazak families I have seen is the way they raise children. In the United States it seems like every kid by the time they are five months old goes to day care, but in Kazakhstan parents take their kids everywhere, and if they do have to leave their child somewhere, they leave them with a relative or close family friend. Parents are also more often visibly affectionate with their children, even after the child is more or less grown-up. I know that in my Chamalgan family, both of my host parents still regularly hugged and kissed their 24 year-old son. In contrast, American parents often stop the PDAs with their kids by the time they are teenagers, or at least that is often the case between father’s and sons. Furthermore, I have seen that this difference in the way children are raised has a profound effect on children’s behavior. My friends and I have remarked several times that is rare to see a Kazak child have temper tantrum, and their classroom behavior is noticeably better than that of American children as well.

That said, I do not think that we need to follow every bit of Kazak parenting methodology. One of the stranger things I have done to their children is the way they put their infants to sleep. The oldest daughter in my new host family has a five month-old infant so I have gotten to see this first hand. Unlike in the States where when they put the baby to bed, they just put the child down under a blanket, in Kazakhstan they strap the child down so that she can hardly move except for her head. Also, they do not put the baby in a diaper when she is in the bed, instead there is a little wooden tube that goes from her crotch through the bottom of a bed and into a plastic bottle. I assume that this is some remnant of the not so distant nomadic past, of mothers strapping their children to their back while they are riding along the steppe or setting up the Yurt, and that it keeps her from falling out of bed during the night. Stillб I think I would prefer falling.

Awkward Moments in Teaching: Take 2

November 12, 2007

So I thought that after Pre-Service Training I would not have quite so many awkward moments in teaching, but that was not the case, as today clearly demonstrated. Today for my 4D class there was a short reading from Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and because of this as well as the accompanying vocabulary I decided that today would be the perfect day to talk about Slavery. I figured that it was a great opportunity for cultural exchange, and I had a great idea for an activity that I was sure would help my students get the message of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Still, you know what they say about making assumptions. We were barely halfway into the lesson when my counterpart reveals that not only the N-Word in the text of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, it’s a vocabulary word complete with translation into Russian. I told my class that it was a very bad word that we never say in English and they understood, but I still could not believe that it had been put in the book in the first place. I could understand it being in Stowe’s narrative, but for the text book to pick it out specifically boggled my mind, or at least it did until I flipped through the book some more and found several stories celebrating British and American citizens who had defected to the Soviet Union. The best part of the lesson was still to come though. I thought that the students might better understand what it meant to be a slave if they made their own “For Sale/Wanted” signs, and as a bonus it would help me learn names. I wanted them to draw a small picture and then write a few descriptive sentences about themselves. However, despite my slow concise instructions and even some translation from my counterpart for a few students, there was still some miscommunication. Rather than present me with something akin to the Osama Bin Laden “Dead or Alive” I got something more like ads in the personals section. They were all in first person and none of them sounded particularly upset that they were for sale or wanted. They all cheerfully told me how old they were, what they liked to do on weekends, and that they were good at cooking and cleaning. I can only assume that Uncle Tom and I have not yet gotten across to them the concept of human bondage, or that in patriarchal society that still practices bride-napping from time to time, they have just gotten used to the idea.

Dreaming of a White Thanksgiving

November 9, 2007

Today we were officially sworn in as Peace Corps volunteers! I have to say that I do not think that I ever thought I would actually make it that far. For well over a year now, being a PCV was sort of an abstract fantasy, something that I really would like to do, but never actually thought would happen, but there we all were after three short months taking the oath to become volunteers. The oath, and then telling everyone were we were going in Kazak or Russian was by far the best part of the whole thing. The rest was pretty boring. It was mostly sitting through long-winded, sappy speeches by the director and the ambassador, neither of whom are very eloquent, but what made it worse is that we had to hear them twice as they were translated for the audience into Russian. Still, it was far better than trying to sit through the last State of the Union, and lunch afterwards with our host families was a lot of fun, so all in all I have to give the Peace Corps two thumbs up.

Today was a day of first for another reason as well. It was also the first time that I had ever seen snow in November, and not just a light dusting like we get in NC either. Almaty and the surrounding areas got at least four inches, and it was COLD. What made it even stranger though was that it was unseasonably warm the day before. I guess I should have expected it though, even in Almaty which is pretty far to the south, we are on nearly the same latitude as New York, and being landlocked means there is not as much water to trap the sun’s warmth during the day. That said, Kyzylorda, the city where I will live for the next two years has the potential to be even colder than Almaty and other northern cities because of its location in the desert. I guess it’s a good thing Mom got me all that space age long underwear after all.

Cutting the Strings

November 5, 2007

In America, when a child leaves home for university people often said that it was time to “cut the strings,” still it only a figure of speech. In Kazakhstan though, the expression is quite literal. In Kazakhstan, when a child first learns to walk the family has a ritual where they tie the kids feet together and then “cut the string, and yesterday, though I am a little old and have been walking around for years, I got to take part in the same ceremony during the good-bye party they had for us at he Gymnasium. To signify our going out into the world to work in the wilds of Kazakhstan, they brought us up on stage and tied our feet together and then one of the administrators or senior teachers came up and cut them. Several students also performed some very cool short skits and songs. I already was feeling tired and a little bit homesick thinking about leaving Chamalgan, but the ceremony was so nice that it made me feel even worse. I admit that I got really tired as it really hit me that I am going to be leaving everyone in less than a week. I am not going to miss my Chamalgan family quite as much I miss my American family of course, but it is still going to be hard to leave. I am also a little bummed to be leaving the Gymnasium. The local teachers I had a chance to work with were amazing, and the students were a lot of fun, if a little nuts every now and then. Still, I am really excited to be headed to Kyzylorda on Saturday. Right now, I just want to get there and get to work. I am really excited about the people I am going to get to work with, and I am tired of just hanging out in language class but otherwise just sitting on my ass. That said, the next four days are going to be super busy, and in my opinion, not much fun. Four days of being shuttled back and forth between Almaty and Chamalgan on various field trips and meetings. Oh well, at least I can look forward to a long rest during my 23 hour train ride.

No Gas

November 1-3, 2007

There are many things that I like about living in the south of Kazakstan, tons of super friendly Kazaks, fun cities, and for the most part, the weather. I say the most part, because while it does not get down to 40 below zero like it does in some parts of the North, it does get pretty cold here, given that we are on the same latitude as New York. The problem in the fall and early winter though is not so much the cold, but rather the lack of heat. Unlike Aktobe where they have had the heat going for almost three weeks already, many villages and towns in the south will not turn on the heat for another two weeks. At least in the north when it is -20 degrees outside you can escape to a house that is sixty degrees; in the south when it is 10 degrees outside, it is also 10 degrees inside. As a result I have lately taken to wearing a sweatshirt and then a Kazakhstani track-suit I recently purchased, as well as a thick pair of socks to bed, though I do have to admit that I have been sleeping better since it got colder. Sleep is not the only aspect of life that is affected by the cold however; cleanliness is also an area of concern. While it is true that I sweat less when it is cold and so do not get quite as dirty, it is correspondingly much more difficult to bathe. Sure, I can still heat up water on the stove when I want to have a little mid week rinse between monshas, but it really sucks to wash my hair when the room I am using is so cold that I might as well be outside. I might catch cold in my own room if I do not dry myself off fast enough. Still, I think that I would rather have a couple of weeks of mild discomfort, but the temperature is still above zero, than central heating in a place where it is well below zero for almost two months a year. In the meantime, I just wrap myself up, pretend I am in Hawaii, and chalk it up to part of the Peace Corps experience. After all, at least there is heat when we really do need it, which is something many people cannot say.

There is no ASPCA in Kazakstan

October 27-31, 2007

One of the biggest differences between America and Kazakhstan is the treatment of animals. Dogs are simply guards or garbage disposals, not pets. They are only fed table scraps, are never allowed in the house, often roam the streets freely, and are otherwise mistreated and ignored by their families. For example, one day I was talking to my family about how cool it was that when I talked to our dog, Actus, in English, he did not respond, but when I spoke to him in Kazak he responded. However, rather than find this interesting, they simply remarked that they had actually never bothered to talk to Actus. It turns out that I am the only one in the family that regularly plays with him or shows him any sort of affection, so of course I am one of his favorite people. Actus’ sad existence not the reason for this entry, rather it was sparked by recent tragic events involving another dog, a puppy that I had named Aiylka, or little bear, due to her coloring and strange way of walking. I had been doing my best, making sure she had enough food, and making her a small bed out of old blankets, and I assumed that my family would continue to take care of her while I was gone for ten days on site visit. However, that was not the case. The neglected to feed her regularly and had also moved her blankets, so that when it got cold at night she had nowhere to sleep. They told me that she had disappeared mid-week, and they simply assumed that she had run away. If only. I found her a day after I got home in the garden; she had frozen to death earlier in the week. Even more upsetting than the fact my family was somewhat responsible for the death of my dog however, was their attitude when I told them what happened. They just shrugged as if to say, oh well, shit happens, and then asked where I buried it. The unfortunate thing is that this probably is a pretty common occurrence. Even in the south it gets very cold in the winter, I’m sure that many animals die from exposure and sickness. I will be living in an apartment in Kyzylorda, so I will not be able to have another dog, but I do not think I would want to get another one anyway. Maybe I could be an example of how people should treat their pets, but I think that it would be too hard given that there would be no veterinarian to take it to if it got sick and I would get even more strange looks. Until then, I guess I will just feel sorry for those pets I do encounter, and look forward to being reunited with my little brother in a dog suit.

Site Visit

October 21-26, 2007

Well, despite my worries and my less than auspicious arrival, things went extremely well in Kyzylorda, and I believe that I can safely say that I like it even move than I like Almaty. Far from being the shit-hole surrounded by desert that everyone told me to expect, everything I saw was better than I could have even imagined. The people I have met have been super nice, my classes have gone well, and the town is just the right size; I felt right at home.
For being such a small town, everything seemed to move really fast. As mentioned earlier, I did not have the most spectacular arrival. I came down with a sinus infection during counterpart conference, I think this one was caught from a friend though, and between that and a 23 hour train ride I looked like hell when we finally got there. Furthermore, I was extremely disoriented and so it took me a solid day and a half to get my bearings. Being picked up and rapidly whisked different places to meet different people as soon as I go there did not help things either. Still, the teachers did a great job of making me feel settled and at home. I was introduced to everyone else in my department, all of whom were very nice, and I also met the director and vice-director of the school. I also met a few other faculty members, including my future Kazak teacher, a very young and severe looking woman, who does not speak a word of English. Language classes will certainly be interesting over the next couple of years.
The college that I will work with in Kyzylorda is very nice. It is not the nicest looking school, but it has nice stone floors that remind me of a castle or cave, and I’m sure it helps keep the school cool in the hot summer. The school also has a lot of technology and actually uses it. One of the lessons I observed was in the computer lab where the students were using a testing program. My counterpart even has a computer in her room, although she does not know how to use excel and powerpoint yet. Furthermore, the students at the college are amazing. The fourth years, the students that I will be working with the most, speak excellent English, so I will only really have to focus on refining their pronunciation and make them more comfortable speaking without preparation.
As a part of the practicum, I taught two classes at the school, dialogues about going out to lunch. Both of the lessons went really well, the students all nailed the P1 and P2 activities, and I received several good dialogues as a part of P3. I also observed three lessons from other teachers, and was impressed by what I saw. Most English teachers in Kazakhstan teach the lesson in primarily Russian or Kazak, rather than English, but the teachers I worked with generally only lapsed into Russian or Kazak to explain the meaning of a word if the students were having trouble understanding the concept.
My week in Kyzylorda was not all school and introductions though. Wednesday was Republic Day, the day that Kazakhstan ratified its constitution and officially became a full country. It was a very fun day, and I had the opportunity to take part in several iKazakhstan celebratory traditions. On Wednesday, my counterpart and I went to a concert celebrating the history and culture of Kazakhstan, and then on Thursday morning, Chris and I went to watch horse racing and wrestling with our counterparts. I was a little disappointed that it was not Kokpar, the national sport that is a combination of rugby and polo, and is played with the torso of a dead goat, but we still had a good time.
I think part of the reason I liked Kyzylorda so much was that I went with such low expectations, but even still, I think that I will have a great next two years. For better or worse, Kyzylorda reminds me a lot of Greensboro and Waco, albeit much flatter and sandier. True there aren’t a whole lot of museums or historical sites, and the architecture is not striking, but Kyzylorda has everything you need, and it is not ugly by any means. I might change my tune about my ne home come the summer time, but for the time being, I no longer feel so much that I have been exiled to the gulag.

Counterpart Conference

October 17-19, 2007

For the last couple of days we have been staying at a Sanatorium in Almaty for Counterpart Conference, the purpose being to get to know the local teacher we will be closely working with for the next two years and attending seminars like Team Teaching and Teaching Critical Thinking. My counterpart is a very nice woman, named Lyzzat Fizilova. She is around forty years old and slightly hard of hearing, but I think that we are going to work well together and have a great time. I do not think that there will be many problems involving teaching styles, etc. because she seems very accommodating and is anxious to help me get settled in Kyzylorda over the next week. Even though we are still working, Counterpart conference has sort of felt like a vacation. It has been awesome having a short break from language and teaching, before we jump into it for real in a couple of weeks. It has been great hanging out with Lyzzat and the rest of the Education Volunteers, and I am really excited about finally seeing Kyzylorda for myself on Sunday.

Ite and Birthdays

October 12-14, 2007

This was a big weekend for partying. Friday marked the end of Ramadan and fasting and ushered in three days of feasting. Three days of visiting friends and eating gut bursting meals. I have to admit that I was amazed to find that I weigh the exact same amount as I did before I left, but that’s probably do to the fact that I lost a good bit of weight the previous five weeks. The festive mood of the weekend was further enhanced by the fact that it was Erin’s birthday on Friday, which we celebrated with beer and dinner at our standby café. Other than that, I have to say that the last two weeks have been exhausting. This week saw the culmination of two major sub-projects for our group, our computer training for teachers and our English Club talent show. They went well, but both required a lot of preparation, not only in regards to materials, and rehearsals, but in making sure the school understood what we needed and when. My anxiety level was also on the rise because people have been telling me that my permanent site, Kyzyl Orda, is a shit hole. Apparently, it was reasonably nice at one time, but in the 1990s there was massive deforestation because everyone cut down the forest for firewood. Thus Kyzyl Orda currently exists as a windy, sandy, ugly former soviet capital. On the other hand I am consistently told that the people are all extremely friendly, so I can only assume that it will be somewhat like living in Waco, Texas. I also got a big moral boost when our trainers told my site mate Chris and me that they usually send some of their best, most tenacious, volunteers to Kyzylorda because they know that we will do well there. It is nice to know that they have a lot of confidence in us to give us such a cross to bear; those words will certainly be a comfort come May when it is over a hundred degrees and I am walking to school in a coat and tie.

Bathing in Kazakstan is Awesome

October 8-10, 2007

Let me preface this entry by saying that we do not bathe very often in Kazakstan. Usually I can manage to wash my hair and shave three days week, but these affairs are with heated buckets of water in the sink, not a totally cleansing experience. The real cleaning only takes place once a week, usually on Sunday, the Monsha. The Monsha is similar to the American sauna, you sit in a super hot room, sweat like crazy, and periodically douse yourself with cold water. You also wash yourself with coarse pads, which not only get off the dirt, but also take off at least two layers of skin. After 30 minutes in the monshaw, you are as clean as you have ever been since the day you were born, and you feel awesome. Slowly, but surely, I am getting over my nostalgia for showering like one does in the United States. Showering may be effective back in the States, but here in Kazakstan it just is not effective. The air is so dirty here that even your underwear becomes packed with dirt and dust, so you need an industrial strength scrubbing. The only drawback to it is that you only usually do it once a week because it is so time consuming. Lighting the stove to heat the water can be tricky sometimes, and given the amount of water involved, it can take almost a half an hour before it is ready. Still, totally worth it, and I might have to make a few more visits to the steam room when I get back to the States, because after two years of Sandstorms in Kyzlorda, I don’t think I’ll find showering to be satisfactory or effective although when I am sitting naked with five other guys, sweating profusely, I do miss the privacy of the shower.

The Peace Corps, Kazakstan and Interpersonal Relationships

October 5, 2007

Today we found out where we are going to be permanently placed for the next two years. I have been assigned to teach at the Humanitarian College in the small city of Kizilorda. The College is responsible for teaching secondary school teachers and is located in the southern desert part of the country. For the most part I was thrilled to get the assignment. The school sounds like the perfect place for me, and they are waiting for someone to begin doing secondary projects in community service, right up my alley. Also, I will have a site mate, a fellow Kazak Sspeaker who has become a good friend over the last several weeks. Still parts of the day were bittersweet, a volunteer that I have been dating for the last couple of weeks has been assigned to the far north of the country, a two day trip by train away. We have been having a great time, and get along really well, but it is hard to tell whether it is worth attempting to continue the relationship over such a long distance, especially given how hard the Peace Corps and Kazakhstan make having a relationship when both people are in the same place. Most of our time is spent at our respective schools, either learning Kazak or teaching English, and when we are not there, we are usually too exhausted to hang out or planning lessons. Furthermore, dating in Kazakhstan makes me feel like I am in middle school again. Public displays of affection, even hand-holding are a definite no-no, and if you bring someone of the opposite sex home, you are under constant surveillance by your parents. It really makes me wonder how so many PCVs end up married or in serious relationships in Kazakhstan, because between cultural norms and site assignments, I’m finding it difficult to just have a personal life.

Finding My Groove

October 1, 2007

To be perfectly honest, the last couple of weeks have been rough, not only have I been suffering from either a sinus infection or food poisoning, but it has also been much harder than I expected to find my way as an English Teacher. Even though Peace Corps taught us everything about how to write a lesson plan, and the importance or P1-Presentation, P2-Practice, and P3-Production, putting it into use was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.
During the first two weeks of teaching, I found myself repeatedly tripped up by both the Kazakhstani educational system, and my own naivette and incompetence. The book they have us using is full of small but glaring grammar and spelling mistakes, which means that I have to often completely rewrite portions of the reading or grammar activity. This is complicated by the fact that the school officials want you to use at least 66 % of the text when in reality less than a third is usable. Another teaching difficulty is the fact that the education system allows for few adjustments in regards to the students’ actual comprehension level. Few of my sixth graders are actually at the sixth grade level, and they would be much better served by using the fifth grade text. The discrepancy between grade level and comprehension level is mostly due to the fact the students are expected to spend one day on each lesson, with a unit taking no more than five days. This is not nearly of enough time for the students to comprehend the information, especially with only a 45 minute lesson. Still much of my original problems were my fault. For several of my early lessons, I had a really hard time modeling my activities so that my students could understand what I wanted them to do, mostly due to my poor “Kazak English.” My body language was not nearly effective enough, and I was speaking too fast and using words that were too complex.
Fortunately however, the last couple of weeks have brought not only an improvement in my health but also my teaching. I now feel much more at ease teaching, and it has reflected in my job performance. My students now appear to understand what I tell them, and often seem to genuinely my lessons. Also, just the other day one of my trainers told me that I was a natural teacher and that I innately draw the class’ attention and interest, which I have to admit is one of the best compliments I’ve received in years. Still my best moment last week during lesson last week when I realized my students really understood the Past Simple tense. We were talking about our summer holidays, and rather than go with the typical, “I stayed in Chamalgan and played computer games, they began to make up stories about where they had been and what they did. It was an absolute blast, and when I realized that maybe I could be decent teacher after all. I know that the next two years are still going to be incredibly tough, and I still do not think that I will want to continue teaching when I return to the States, but at least know I am sure that I will survive for the next two years, and probably have a lot of fun at the same time.

Not Homesick, Just Sick

September 24, 2007

Sorry for the long delay in writing, but I was sick pretty much all of last week. I thought that I might escape my chronic seasonal allergies here in Kazakhstan, but that definitely did not happen. In fact, they were actually exacerbated by the dust, smoke from burning garbage, and the sudden cold snap. To illustrate how quickly the weather changed around here, let me just say that on Sunday afternoon I washed my clothes in 70 degree weather, but the next morning when I went to get my clothes off the line, they were frozen solid. That was not the end of my health woes however, on Friday, just as I was getting over my sinus problems, I ate some bad dumplings in the school cafeteria, and came down with food poisoning. I was sick all day Saturday, and if I was not in the outhouse, I was asleep. This meant that I missed the Almaty trip, which was a bummer, but at least I got to catch up on some sleep, which I definitely needed. Now that I am finally back to rights, let me just say that as much as it sucks to get sick in the United States, it sucks even worse in a foreign country. You are almost entirely responsible for your diagnosis and treatment. Though Peace Corps does have a doctor, your main way of contacting him his your cellular telephone. I finally did see Dr. Victor a couple of days ago, but fortunately by that time I had already managed to explain my symptoms and get his permission to go on antibiotics. Another thing that sucks about getting sick while in the Peace Corps is the kind of conditions that you are sick in. Kazakhstan is definitely on the high end of the spectrum when it comes to Peace Corps countries, but when I got food poisoning I still had to puke into the outhouse, not into a nice marble bowl. Finally, getting sick in a foreign country simply makes you feel very lonely. Your mom is not there to help you, you cannot just get your doctor on the phone, and it is almost impossible to tell people what is wrong with you without playing charades. Fortunately, I now feel better, and having learned some important vocabulary regarding illness, but the experience has certainly made remember my stateside sinus infections fondly.

A Different Kind of Celebrity

September 16, 2007

In my last entry, I wrote of my annoyance at being constantly under surveillance in the small of Chamalgan, but at least it comes with celebrity status. Pretty much wherever we go, we are followed by a veritable swarm of pint-sized paparazzi. Even though many have trouble affording textbooks, most of them still have cell phone cameras, and they click away as we walk down for a meeting at the café. Then, there are the autographs. The biggest autograph seekers are the middle schoolers, all of who have at least one copy of our signatures. A few of us even appear to have our own fan clubs. Ms. Kimi is particularly popular with the 11-12 year old boys, and I myself get dozens of handshakes as I walk down the hallway. The others were even joking that I am in the running for prom king, which is kind of nice, considering I was not even a dark horse option when I was actually in high school. That said, much of our celebrity status stems from the fact that were are still so new, rather than them actually liking us, and we are often mixed up or lumped together. It makes one realize that many of the villagers still more often view us as symbols than actual people. The actions and behavior of one, reflects on all of us, and has a huge impact on the locals’ perception of the United States as well. Unfortunately, as I have mentioned before, Team Chamalgan is burdened by a PCV who directly fits the “Ugly American” stereotype. She talks too much, eats too much, and has refused to make half of the adjustments to diet or living situation that the rest of us have. She seems to believe that the locals see her as Russian, which I highly doubt, and even if it is true, its only because she looks like a Babushka. I can only hope that they do not view the rest of us the same way, because in the same way that the other girls in our group tend to resemble Angelina Jolie in appearance and attitude, she resembles Liza Minelli.

Awkward Moments in Teaching

September 13-14, 2007

So far, there has been very little that has been bad or even annoying about teaching in the small Kazak Village of Chamalgon. There is one thing I can say against it however, and that is that it is impossible to have any sort of social life. We PCVs stand out as being the only Americans in village of 13,000 people, and working as teachers makes our presence even more noticeable. Things are further complicated by the fact that the village is so small, that there is no room to separate our teacher lives and our home lives. We carry around our teacher identities when we are at home, and we carry around our home identities into the classroom. You cannot go out and party because you are a teacher, and if you do go out and dance, classroom discipline becomes difficult because now they know you as a friend. A prime example of this Chamalgon Catch-22 occurred last weekend. On Saturday night, a fellow PCV named Robert and I went to the local discotech. As you all well know, I had enjoyed the wild times to be had at the local disco, but Robert had yet to enjoy the privilege so I went along. Unfortunately, it was even less fun than it had been the previous time. As bad as it was, things did not truly get awkward until I begin making my presentations on Wednesday. The first class that I made my presentation to was 11 B, many of whom I had met on Saturday. It was very strange and a bit uncomfortable to introduce myself to the class as Mr. Clark, when they all knew me as McKenzie and had seen me dancing. The experience really made me realize how closely we are watched here, and why I cannot really go out and have a good time while living here. I wish that it did not have to be this way, but until I figure out something else, I guess this near monastic lifestyle. Things might be looking up though, one of the staff told me I’ll probably be working at a teacher’s college down south near the big city of Shinkent, so hopefully I can go there on some weekends for some near anonymity and an old fashioned good time.

A Victory in the War on Terror

September 11, 2007

Today is the sixth anniversary of the terrorist attacks against the United States by Muslim extremists and where am I? Sitting in my room in the home of my Muslim host family, recovering from yet another of my “mother’s” delicious meals. Given the United States recent foreign policy and the rhetoric its politicians often direct toward Muslim countries, I consider it a small miracle welcomed with such open arms into the Muslim community, and I am extremely grateful for their hospitality. As important as the job of English teacher and development facilitator is, I believe that the job of ambassador remains the most important responsibility of a Peace Corps volunteer. For many nations and peoples we present a radically different face of America, a face that needs to be seen even more today than it did six years ago. This is the face of America that realizes and respects those things that make people different, but focuses on and celebrates those things that make us similar. This is the face of America that instead of trying to destroy every perceived thread seeks to turn those enemies into allies through education and cooperation. As much as any U.S. army soldier, the PCV is on the front lines of the war against terrorism, and while things continue to go poorly in Iraq; the Peace Corps’ operations remain very successful.
Coincidentally, this week is also the beginning of Ramadan, the Muslim month. Muslims all over the world will spend a month fasting from sun up to sun down and refraining from such vices as drinking, smoking, and sex. The most important part of Ramadan however, is the focus on forgiving old grudges, and seeking to be kind to your fellow man. It might be hard, but I think this year that all of us should participate in this part of Ramadan. This year rather than focus on the pain and loss of 9/11, focus on how you can make a positive change. Invite that annoying neighbor over for coffee or tea and have a long conversation, you may find out that you have much more in common that you ever knew, and they may turn out to be a valuable friend. To be sure, it is too late to share a cup of chai with Osama bin Laden and get him to change his mind, but it is not too late to work to make sure that no more bin Ladens are created. So please, join me, I have the water boiling.

Developing Nations

September 5-7, 2007

These past couple of days we have begun discussing the community projects and after-school projects that we will work on during PST as a part of our training for similar projects during our permanent assignments. This of course led to many lectures on the idea of development, what it means for the Peace Corps and what it means for Kazakhstan. For the Peace Corps, development means working with an interested host country parties to help them build capacity and improve their communities. We all began to rattle off some ideas for projects that we would love to do, but then were brought back down to earth by the cold hard facts successful development projects, community interest, sustainability, and material resources.
The most important issue of a development project is, of course, community involvement, because even if the project has the potential to be a long-term success and you have tons of money at your disposal, if the community you are serving is not in interested in what you are doing, the project will never get off the ground. Even though we are working hard to integrate ourselves into the community, PCVs are still outsiders and, the biggest danger that PCVs face as they begin to work on a project is the temptation to impose our own standards or biases. For example, given the trash that is all over the place in Kazakhstan, one might be tempted to engage in an environmental education project to get people to stop burning their trash and littering and start recycling. However, this probably is not a priority for community, and for that matter there are no recycling centers to take the garbage even if it was.
Sustainability is also an important consideration when planning a project. At the end of the day we are only going to be in the country for two years, but hopefully by the time we have left we have set the foundation for work that can be continued for several more years by the community. For this reason, the Peace Corps often suggests English Clubs or computer training as a secondary project, with the thought that once you have sufficiently trained a group of students, they in turn can continue the training of new people after you have left. That said, it can be a major chore to get the Director’s permission to begin computer training in the first place, but theoretically at least, once it gets started it can easily be kept going indefinitely.
Finally, a particularly important concern in a Peace Corps project is material resources, or lack thereof. The Peace Corps provides no funds for community projects, be they camp or an anti-smoking campaign, which I imagine severely stifles the imaginations of some of the most ambitious volunteers. To go back to the example of computer training, the community might be all for it, but if there are not enough computers are they are too old and obsolete, you are screwed. Camps and Clubs are great because all you need is a group of kids and perhaps a room, but if you want your English Club to put on a play at the end of term, you have to get creative in order to secure a set or costumes.
These more practical considerations have not been the only thing going through my head as I think of community development projects. I also find myself simply thinking about what exactly development means for Kazakhstan. Even though Kazakhstan may technically be a developing nation, the term is not one I would immediately use to describe it. When one hears developing nation one more readily thinks of a third world country in Africa or Asia struggling to secure basic necessities for its people, not a rapidly modernizing nation rich in natural resources. Granted, there are many aspects of life in Kazakhstan that make it a developing nation, such as a lack of paved roads, few homes with running water much less indoor plumbing, and major problem with trash, but there are also many things about Kazakhstan that makes one realize that it is the most successful of the former soviet states and is rapidly modernizing. For instance, while few people have telephones in their houses, that is because most have simply “leapfrogged” and have very nice cellular or even satellite phones. Furthermore, while the villages may still be back in the early 20th century, Almaty and Astana are booming metropolises. Such dichotomy between developed and undeveloped makes things somewhat difficult when planning the project, but fortunately, since we are pretty much solely operating in the villages, we do not have to think too much about the more modern Kazakhstan, and can simply focus on the part that still needs our help.

The Importance of Friends

September 2, 2007

So I just got back from a wild night at the local discotech! Actually, it was a bit strange and awkward. My friends and I were definitely the oldest ones there, and I kind of felt like I was chaperoning a middle school dance. No one danced with each other, but rather in a circle, and for the first hour the circles were segregated by gender. I think that most of the people my age go to the discothèque in the nearby, larger village of Kas Kilian, while this discothèque is the territory of the high school set. Things got a little bit wilder at the end, but by this time I had gotten a little bored and headed on back to the house. I probably could have gone and partied in Kas Killian with some of my neighborhood friends, but I think I will stick to the tamer locale until I am a little more secure in my surroundings. Just a few days ago, my older brother was partying at the Kas Killian disco when apparently he got into an argument over a girl, and someone hit him over the head with a beer bottle. He has been asleep most of the time ever since, and has even had to be put on an IV a couple of times to help replace some of the blood he has lost from his scalp wound. He was definitely lucky his friends were there with him, God only knows what might have happened if they had not been there.
Making local friends has been one of the hardest and most important things I have done with since I have gotten here. Even more so than my host parents, my friends Talgat and Bahkahtjon have helped me practice my Kazak and helped me to form a support network that made me feel at home in the community. The value of friends in a Kazak village can not be underestimated, I have only seen a policeman once since I got here, so a group of friends are often as much a posse as a they are just hanging out. They watch out for each other, even in my case making sure I was accosted by a group of 14 year-old “zhaman ballalar,” bad boys, at the discothèque.

Surface Matters

September 1, 2007

Something that I have noticed since I got to Kazakhstan, but really came clear to me during Bell Day, the ceremonial first day of school, is how important appearances and first impressions are to the people of Kazakhstan. A prime example of this occurred yesterday during the ceremony where I was chosen to give a collective greeting from the five trainees in English simply because I had the best suit. It was no different where the kids were concerned either. They were all dressed to the nines, but I could tell that the kids up front had taken it to an entirely different level, one eight year old even appeared to be wearing crocodile skinned shoes. There are also the accessories to consider. I have never seen this many nice cell phones. They might be cheaper over here, but still the level of technology in the hands of some of these kids, despite the fact that they apparently struggle to afford school supplies, is head spinning.
This attention to appearances is even more obvious when it comes to houses. If it is a room that everyone occupies, it is all set up, but areas like the toilet or the place where you shower are decidedly bare bones. At first the idea that they one would spring for the DVD entertainment system but neglect to get indoor plumbing seemed rather strange to me, but I have to admit, I am kind of getting used to it. The squat toilet is still a little tricky, but I like pouring water over my head for a shower, and I find myself really enjoying watching Cadets on that big screen. I also know that this will be great preparation for me when I am permanently placed in an even smaller village with even fewer amenities. I may be pissed off at my group mate who due to constant complaining and obstinacy has been moved from a house with A/C and indoor plumbing to a house with A/C, indoor plumbing, and satellite TV, while another person continues to live below even Peace Corps mandated conditions, but I know that when we are permanently placed, the spoiled girl will be unprepared and probably ET, while the rest of us who have begun to adjust will hopefully stay and thrive.

Collective Learning

August 29-31st, 2007

For the last couple of days we have been learning about the educational system in Kazakhstan and how it is different or similar to the education system of the United States. There is a Minister of Education, but he is a much more powerful figure than our Secretary of Education, literally setting the curriculum and education policy for the entire country. No Child Left Behind may have been nationally mandated, but its effects are not always clearly evident on the local level.
Classroom dynamics are also very different. In American Schools, students often discuss issues with their teachers and are encouraged to challenge their teachers. This is definitely not the case in Kazakhstan, where a noisy classroom, even if the noise is from animated discussion, is seen as a chaotic classroom, and the teacher’s authority is not to be questioned. A teacher will give a wrong answer to a question before admitting that he or she does not know the correct answer. The ideal seating chart for a classroom in the States might be a circle, but in Kazakhstan the desire for neat orderly rows is so great that in some village schools, desks are even bolted to the floor.
The most interesting thing that I learned about Kazakhstani education however, is their view of educational ethics. In the United States, cheating is condemned and harshly punished. In the lower levels, students will usually get a zero on the assignment and face suspension, and at University may even face expulsion. Cheating is not an issue in schools in Kazakhstan. That is not to say that it does not happen, but rather that nothing is done about it. Kazakhstani educators seem to favor an educational approach I like to call “collective learning.” They want everyone to be successful, not just the ones that are the best and the brightest, and the students feel the same way. Students do not feel that they are competing against each other, and so will help their peers out with the correct answer, even in the middle of the test. I guess you might think of it as “a rising tide lifts all boats,” as long as the information is in the student’s head, it does not matter how it got there. Another important reason for this view on cheating is that whereas the American student is punished for not knowing the answer or making the grade, in Kazakhstan, the teacher is punished if a few of their students are not passing the tests. Rather than assume that the students are simply not working, it is believed that the teacher is simply not doing an adequate job. I guess they have a fair point, when everyone shares the answers; there is no reason for any students to fail.

Speaking in Tongues

August 27, 2006

Um… Why did I pick Kazak? That question went through my head repeatedly today during my six hours of language lessons today. As far as I can tell the main use I will find for it is as a novelty act or possibly a secret code language. Despite the fact that the Kazaks are the ethnic majority, and the country itself is named Kazakhstan, hardly anyone speaks Kazak. On the other hand, everyone speaks Russian. I should be fine once I get to my remote Kazak village in the south in three months, but heaven help me if I want to go anywhere else. I talked to former volunteer, and current cross cultural trainer Ashley today, and she said that while the government claims that Kazak is the official language of the nation, in reality only 40 % of the population can read or speak it, and in the north part of the country, the Kazaks cannot even speak Kazak. That said, Kazak is a beautiful language that lend itself well to poetry and song, so I am not that disappointed and knowing three languages is always better than just learning two. Still, it is kind of interesting that a majority of the nation does not speak the “official” language, even if it has only been the official language for the last ten years.

In Kazakstan Every Car is a Taxi

August 25-26, 2007

When I got up this morning I felt really sick. I had diarrhea all last night, and I still had a stomach ached and felt kind of woozy. At first I thought that improperly washed fruit or unclean water might have caused it, but as the fruit sprung right from the front garden and I was drinking water out of my filter-cap water bottle, I doubted they were the real culprits. The problem, I ultimately realized, was nerves. I was so stressed out about being thrown into the deep end with a new family situation, a language I couldn’t speak, and a culture I barely understood, that I made myself sick. Fortunately, a short nap, a little deep breathing, and I was ready to submerge myself in the situation, which came in the form of a car ride with my “brother” Ocxay. The car ride was very interesting, both for the beautiful scenery, Ocxat’s teaching me of new Kazak and Russian words, and his driving at 100 KMH on very narrow roads.
The true adventure did not begin however, until we started back towards Chamalgon. We saw a couple of young Kazak girls, all dressed up, and standing by the side of the road. I figured they were with friends, but one stuck out her arm, and Ocxay pulled over to pick them up. I thought that maybe Ocxay knew them, but he later said that he did not; it was just customary to pick up people on the side of the road like that if you were going that way. This was further demonstrated later that night, when headed towards the Monsha, or sauna with several of his friends, they picked up a Russian woman wearing far too much make-up and carrying a small infant, which she proceeded to nurse in the backseat. It seemed rather strange to me at first, the idea of people so freely hitchhiking, but thinking about it later, I realized that it made a good deal of sense, and showed how close knit is the Kazak community. They do not worry about being mugged by a hiker or driver, and they apparently do not ask for gas money or any other compensation. They just operate on the general assumption that maybe next time, when the roles are reversed, the hiker would do the same for the driver.
As for the Monsha, or sauna, I didn’t think I would like it that much, but I found that I had a surprisingly good time. Previously whenever I have been in a steam room, I have felt awkward, but there, even though we were all stark naked, everyone was having a blast. It did not matter that I did not speak Kazak or Russian, I could understand the enjoyment they felt as they went from the stark contrast of the blistering hot steam and cold river, or “woozen.” I really felt included by those guys, they allowed me to join in their sense of camaraderie and friendship, and I did not feel so out of place.