One Steppe at a Time: Two Years in Kazakhstan

A Permanent Keepsake from Kazakhstan

2010-05-31T05:15:00.000-07:00

This week, I turned 25, an as often happen as you get older, things began falling apart. On Tuesday, the day after my birthday, I ran to a shop near my college to get a quick snack of a samsa and some juice. Samsa’s are baked meat pastries and usually soft and doughy, but this particular samsa had been baked a little longer than usual and so was a little tougher than usual. Anyway, as I bet into my succulent brunch, I heard a crack and I realized that the front of my tooth was rolling around on my tongue. Now, do not fret friends, this was not an actual tooth, just a porcelin veneer. In fact, my two front teeth have not been real since in almost fifteen years. I originally broke my two front teeth at sailing camp when I was nine, and it was repaired by a small plastic bridge. However, when I was sixteen I was hit by a car, and the collision not only dislodged the bridge, but also broke even more of the tooth. Anyway, at this point it was decided to repair my teeth with a veneer that promised to be better looking and more durable. Still, everything breaks eventually, so it was not a huge surprise when the veneer cracked off during my lunch after nine years of faithful service. Anyway, what makes this episode worth writing about is not the break, but the repair. Normally when volunteers need to go to the dentist, we head to Almaty, but the NATEK conference will be here in Kyzylorda next week, and since I am one of the organizers, I did not have the time to go to Almaty for two or three days, or spend a combined 48 hours on a train so I decided to try to get it repaired here. So on Wednesday, I first went to a dentist recommended by the PC Medical Officer, it was also only a block away from my college. When I got there though, they said they did not have any glue to repair it so they sent me to another dentist’s office called Marzhan Tis. When I met the dentist he said that rather than glue the broken piece back on, they would have to replace the entire veneer/crown. Furthermore, because both teeth were done at the same time, both teeth would have to be replaced even though the second tooth was totally fine. I thought this made sense, so said go ahead. The dentist proceeded to then try to yank the veneer off and when that did not work, start drilling and sanding it off, all without the slightest bit of numbing agent. After awhile the dentist said that we should go to another room and consult with another dentist. This new dentist turned out to be barely older than I was and did not look it, which did not exactly fill me with confidence. He then suggested, or at least what I understood him to suggest was that they glue the broken shard back on and repair the second tooth with filling. Of course, my immediate and furious response was if you were going to glue the piece of the first tooth back on, why destroy the second, perfectly good veneer? As soon as he said that I got out of the chair and was about to head straight to Almaty on the next train, NATEK or no, but for better or worse the last train that would get me to Almaty before the end of the work day on Friday had already gone, so I went back in and talked to the dentist and he clarified and said that the young dentist had actually said that it would be one new crown and then filling to fix the other one. I said no, there would be two totally new crowns and he agreed. He then molded the teeth and told me I could come in the next day at three.

I was still pretty pissed off, so the next morning I went over with my counterpart to help translate some of the more technical jargon and asked them point blank why, if there was never going to be any gluing in the first place. The dentist said that I had misunderstood and that it was never the plan to glue the crown back on. Apparently, the reason they had sent me to the second dentist was not that they didn’t have the supplies, but that the doctors at the clinic were not experienced enough, and the doctor at Marzhan Tic was the best. I was definitely still skeptical, so I asked my counterpart if she could come with me. Unfortunately, she had to proctor an exam at three that day so we called the dentist and got the appointment moved to the next morning at nine.

I showed up bright and early at nine, and it turned out that I had nothing to worry about in the first place. The dentist really was the best in the city. He glued the crown back on then filed it down so it fit in my mouth perfectly. I have to admit that its not quite American workmanship. It still feels a bit like I am wearing a retainer sometimes, especially when I drink something very cold. Also, there is a little edge on the back, but over all I was super impressed, and it was by far the cheapest dental procedure that I have ever had. My faith smile was prepared and it restored my faith in Kazakh/socialized medicine. I would do it again, but hopefully, I won’t have to.

My Paper For Kimep

2010-03-04T21:31:00.000-08:00

Here is the paper that I wrote for this months conference in Almaty. I hope you guys like it. As always, the opinions presented are my own, and not those of the Peace Corps or the US government.

Learning Together: Integrated Public Education in Kazakhstan

McKenzie Clark
Manshuk Mametova Humanitarian College, Kazakhstan
mck.clark@gmail.com

1. Introduction

It has been said, “variety is the spice of life.” In other words, difference and diversity make life worth living. In fact, for many countries, including Kazakhstan and the United States, a diverse population is fundamental to their success and development. However, while diversity is important, there must also be something that ties the various groups together lest there be conflict and strife. For the United States and other developed countries, this unifying force is an integrated public education system, and if Kazakhstan is serious about becoming one of the top fifty nations by 2030, it is time for it to follow their example. An integrated education system will help Kazakhstan to preserve its renowned atmosphere of inter-ethnic cooperation, assist in the creation of a national “Kazakhstani” identity, and give students the time an opportunity to study the additional subjects that are quickly becoming a necessity for success in a more competitive 21st century world.

2. Inter-Ethnic Cooperation

At first glance, the connection between the educational system and relations between ethnic groups might seem tenuous, but the truth is that having an integrated public educated system is vital to good inter-ethnic relations. After all, by its very definition, an integrated educational system is about bringing people from different groups together. Segregated schools, on the other hand, divide people. An integrated education system brings people together in two important ways, by forcing students from different groups to spend time together and by guaranteeing everyone an equal opportunity for education. Obvious? Perhaps. But the importance of these two methods for building bridges of friendship and cooperation across cultural and linguistic divides cannot be overstated.

It is an unfortunate tendency of human nature to crowd together with people like you and avoid those that are different . During ancient times, when the largest social units were tribes and city-states, such behavior kept us safe, but in a world of countries with large, multi-ethnic populations, the practice can lead to friction and discord. Thus, for peace and the health of the state, people from different groups occasionally need to be forced to spend time together so that they can get to know each other. Integrated education is one of the most effective methods for doing this because unlike other forms of forced togetherness, the “captive audience” is made up of young people. Adults are the proverbial “old dog.” They are set in their ways and it is difficult for them to digest new information, especially if that information goes against their established worldview. Children, on the other hand, are open-minded and impressionable . They have fewer established prejudices, and have no problem with changing their minds when presented with new information or experience. When children from different groups are educated together, they quickly form friendships across ethnic and cultural lines, and when these friendships are nurtured through years of common schooling, a diverse population becomes joined by bonds of affection and cooperation rather than divided by prejudice and distrust.

An even more important way that integrated schools bring people from different ethnic groups together is through its promise of an equal opportunity for education and success. A prime example of this comes from United States history. For the one hundred years between the end of the Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement, segregation between races was the law of the land. Blacks and whites ate at different restaurants, rode in different sections on buses and trains, and studied at different schools and universities . The schools were supposedly “separate but equal,” but that was hardly the case. In truth, schools for African Americans were almost always underfunded and overcrowded. This left many African-Americans undereducated and unable to compete with whites for highly skilled and well-paid work, marginalizing them politically and economically for decades. Fortunately, the United States Supreme Court eventually recognized that not only was the separate but equal doctrine not working, but that the separate facilities were inherently unequal, and ruled the entire concept unconstitutional , but America is still living down this shameful legacy. To be sure, Kazakhstan’s system of separate schools is not as plagued by racism and discrimination as America’s education system under Jim Crow, but “separate but equal” is still an oxymoron, and separate schools will always lead to discrimination and inequality. In theory, it might appear to be enlightened and culturally sensitive, but having separate schools for different ethnic groups quickly reduces segments of the population to second-class citizens. Inevitably, one type of school will get more or less funding due to political or social factors, or else students will receive different educations based on the cultural sympathies and interests of teachers and administrators until eventually Kazakhstan finds itself in the same situation that America found itself in 1963, with a divided and angry population .

It is doubtful that anyone can argue that educating the youth together is an effective method of bringing together a diverse population, but perhaps fans of Kazakhstan’s current educational system would claim that other methods of bringing the population together are just as effective. The existence of alternative methods is unquestionable, jury duty and military service are just two examples, but whether or not they are as effective as an integrated education system most certainly is. Although members of 150 different ethnic groups call Kazakhstan home, it would be an overstatement to claim that they really live together. For example, Kazakhs and Uzbeks live predominately in the southern part of Kazakhstan while Russians live predominately in the north . Furthermore, even when the populations are more mixed, like in the large urban areas of Almaty, Karaganda, or Astana, populations can still form their communities by living close together and going to the school for their ethnic or language group. Granted, Kazakhstan’s ethnic groups do get along well, especially in comparison with other former Soviet Republics, but isolationism and clannishness can lead to suspicion and conflict, especially during shifts of the status quo. Kazakhstan must be wary that as the population grows and shifts relationships between ethnic groups that were once cordial do not become strained. For that reason, it is crucial that Kazakhstan begin educating all of its young citizens in integrated schools regardless of their ethnicity. Only then will there be true bonds of friendship between groups that cannot be broken whenever it is no longer convenient.

Proponents of the current system would also argue that Kazakhstan is not like America, and that its lawmakers and educators are impartial in regards to funding and standards. Even if that is the case though, there is still the problem of the grass always being greener on the other side of the fence. People will believe, accurately or not, that students at one type of school have it better than students at the other. By educating students together, regardless of ethnicity or first language, Kazakhstan can guarantee that lawmakers and educators make truly race-blind decisions regarding funding and standards and reject claims that one ethnic group or another is being marginalized. Furthermore, the equality of education that results from the integrated system will ensure that students from every ethnic group will be ready to work together equally for the development and success of Kazakhstan, a shared task that will bring the various peoples that make up the nation of Kazakhstan even closer together.

3. A Collective National Identity

For an American, one of the most curious things about Kazakhstan is the way that locals view themselves, particularly in terms of their nationality. In Kazakhstan, when a person introduces themselves they do not refer to themselves as Kazakhstani, but rather as Kazakh or Russian, etc. On the other hand, in the United States, Great Britain, and other developed nations, when people describe themselves, their ethnicity or heritage is secondary. No matter where our families hail from, we are all American, or British . To those who cherish their ancestral culture and individual heritage, such a concept might seem frightening, but the fact is that the sense of a collective national identity is the foundation of success for all developed nations. It is what has made America the richest and most powerful nation on the planet, and it is what keeps America strong and united even in the face of civil conflict, terrorism, war, or economic collapse. This national unity is created through an integrated education system by allowing the children of different groups to share in a significant experience. The bonding power of significant experiences cannot be denied, as any army veteran can attest, and though school is not the same thing as war, it can be equally transformative. Learning, suffering, and succeeding together changes people and unites them under a common identity. Educating the children of Kazakhstan together, regardless of language or culture, will make it so that their first bond of loyalty is not to the land and culture of their ancestors, but rather to the land of their birth and/or citizenship.

Critics of this idea undoubtedly worry that assimilation and unification would lead to a loss of culture and language, and perhaps they are right to be concerned. After all, in the United States, the process of becoming American has left many of us without the ability to speak ancestral languages, and only a faint understanding of older traditions. However, if one is vigilante, there is no reason that people cannot both be Kazakhstani and still retain their own language and traditions. After all, thousands of families in the United States, Great Britain, and other developed countries do just that. Kazakhstan has already gone through a similar process of unification once before to great success. Although the Kazakh Khanate dates from 1300s, the Kazakh nation, in modern parlance, is still a relatively recent . It is once again time for the people of Kazakhstan to break down barriers and join together for the greater good, for while there is no threat from a foreign invader, there is the equally perilous economic crisis to contend with. Kazakhstan is on its way to achieving its 2030 goals, and a similar collective sense of national identity will help the country succeed even faster. Just imagine what could be accomplished if the everyone was working together as Kazakhstanis, rather than as Russians, Kazakhs, or Uzbeks who just happen to be citizens of Kazakhstan.

4. More Subjects, A Brighter Future

The final reason for adopting an integrated system of education is a practical one. It will mean more time for the subjects like economics, computer science, and English that are vital for success in a 21st century economy. These classes often get the short shrift in Kazakhstan’s segregated education system because of the inordinate amount of time spent on language instruction. Kazakhstan’s plan for three official languages, Kazakh, Russian, and English, is a great one, but separating the groups by language and then teaching them the other language is inefficient and ineffective. For instance, while students at Russian schools have Kazakh class several times a week, this language instruction does them little good because they do not have the opportunity to practice it. After school, they play with their Russian-speaking friends, eat dinner with their Russian-speaking families, and quickly forget much of what they just learned. In contrast, language instruction in an integrated education would much more effective and efficient because students would learn the languages in class and from each other. This would save a lot of time on language instruction, especially at the basic level, time which could then be used to instruct students on subjects that they truly need. Furthermore, these new subjects could be taught in different languages, for example Computer Science in Russian, political science in Kazakh, and Economics in English, thus giving students useful language practice at the same time.

5. Conclusion

Like America, Kazakhstan’s diverse, multicultural population is one of its greatest assets. Ethnic and cultural diversity has made Kazakhstan much stronger, richer, and more interesting than it would have been if only one group was living within its borders. , Kazakhstan has done a great job in reconciling these groups, some of which hold antithetical ideas. However, if Kazakhstan is truly going to join the ranks of the world’s developed nations, it must do more. An integrated education system is essential to Kazakhstan’s continued success. Such a system will equally and effectively prepare students for work in the 21st century, as well as make sure that everyone can communicate with each other in any of Kazakhstan’s three official languages. Most importantly, the system of integrated education system will unite the people of Kazakhstan like never before. They will no longer split themselves along ethnic and linguistic lines, but consider themselves part of a single nation, and work toward the future together.

6. References
• Wikipedia Encyclopedia.
-“Cognitive Development. ”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cognitive_development
-“Jim Crow Law.” http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim-Crow-laws
-“African-American Civil Rights Movement (1955-1968).” Wikipedia Free Encyclopedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/African-American_Civil_Rights_Movement
-“Kazakhstan.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kazakhstan
• Supreme Court of the United States. Brown v. Board of Education 347 U.S. 483 (1954) (USSC+). May 1954.
• Petroski, Karen. Making sense of Nationality : the politics of irrationality in British and American prose, 1776-1850. http://app.cul.columbia.edu:8080/ac/handle/10022/AC:P:3508
• Koch, George. Fear of the Other. http://www.georgekoch.com/articles/Fear_of_the_Other.htm

Still Learning New Things

2010-02-18T21:17:00.000-08:00

In a way, it is nice to know that even after two and a half years that Kazakh culture still has plenty of things that can stymie and frustrate me. Recently, in my third year course we watched the film, Definitely, Maybe, in which a father tells his daughter in a long and involved way how he came to meet and fall in love with her mother, and I thought that a fun assignment would be for my students to bring in their own stories of how their parents met. Next week however, only two of my students had talked to their parents. I went to talk to my counterpart about this assuming that once again my students had collectively flaked on an assignment for my class, but it turned out that while that might have been the case for some students, for the most part the assignment was a flop due to a cultural misunderstanding. As it turns out, asking your parents how they met is considered very shameful and embarrassing, so my students decided that not doing my homework assignment was better than getting a severe tongue lashing at home. That said, while I can see why they did not want to do the assignment, I still do not understand why it is such a big deal to ask how your folks met. For most people the first encounter is rather innocuous, in a class, or at work, or maybe a party, and even the more exciting first encounters, such as a group hike at Mt. McKinley or a bride-knapping, would not even rate a PG if they were turned into a lifetime movie. After all, it is not like you are asking about the moment of your conception.

This episode made me realize just how many cultural mores in both in Kazakhstan and in the rest of the world are rooted in the fear of embarrassment, and how troubling that is in several ways. It seems to me that when regulating our behavior, we usually think about how we will be perceived by other people, rather than whether or not that behavior might be hurtful to another person. In other words, we are polite because we do not want people to spread bad rumors about us, not because we want to make the other person feel comfortable and taken care of. A change in perspective would not make a huge practical difference; most things that are considered bad taste and certainly those behaviors that are cross-culturally taboo would remain so. Still, I many cultural mores that serve only to inhibit and have no impact on the feelings of others or the functioning of society might pass away. I doubt that such a shift in the cultural paradigm will ever happen. Our sense of shame has been ingrained in us for millennia by our religious traditions and societies, and too many people have too much to lose in such a radical change. Still, one can hope. The world would be a better place if people did things out of a sense of compassion and empathy rather than just for appearance’s sake.

I'm Back

2010-02-07T00:52:00.000-08:00

So, while the length of my absence was mostly due to my laziness and inability to find much new to comment on, at least 40% of the blame needs to be placed on the fact that Kazakhstan blocked Blogger! Anyway, I now have a hotspot shield which allows me to access Blogger and Hulu.com to boot, so I will be back to posting and watching American television again in no time.

I Get all of My Clothes at Weddings

2009-12-13T04:10:00.000-08:00

I love Kazakh weddings. Not only are they are beautiful celebrations of love with lots of delicious food and vodka, but it also where I have gotten a lot of my clothing. It is a custom in Kazakhstan for the family to give presents to the various guests, usually the party favors are things like scarves, towels, the traditional Kazakh hat, but sometimes the swag includes dress shirts. For some reason, during gift distribution, I always end up with the shirts. In fact, the situation recently was so dire that I almost went to the bazaar last week to buy a couple. Fortunately however, my boss’ son got married last night and I was able to score two new ones, saving myself at least 4000 tenge. At first, I was worried, and a little offended, that I was getting the shirts because people thought I was not properly dressed, but now I am just grateful. The fact of the matter is that thanks in part to Peace Corps horrible advice in regards to what to wear in Kazakhstan, I did need a makeover. Furthermore, hand-washing really does a number on your clothes, so most of the shirts I brought from America are getting tired, and the shirts that I first got here in Kazakhstan have long since disintegrated. In fact, I know these two probably won’t last till May, and seeing that I will be here until next August, I will just have to hope that another acquaintance gets married in the new future. Kutti Bolsin!

A Trip To Aral

2009-12-06T00:56:00.000-08:00

Work at PDI got off to a roaring start this year. Not only are we are beginning to prepare a methodology booklet for English teachers, and I have already been to a seminar in Aralsk. Aralsk used to be on the shores of the Aral Sea, but over the last thirty years overuse by farmers in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan has caused the sea to shrink dramatically, and all that is left of Aralsk’s former status as a seaside town is an abandoned harbor. Still, I have to say that I was pretty impressed with Aralsk, probably because books like Apples are From Kazakhstan made Aralsk sound like an incredibly depressed hovel. Instead, I found a charming little village, though I will admit that the tales of environmental degradation were no exaggeration. The fishing industry is long gone, but the town continues to plug along, and people are still finding ways to make money off the sea, either as tour guides for foreign tourists or working with one of the several NGOs associated with the Aral Sea reclamation Project.

The school where I gave my seminar was located right next to the former harbor and was very nice. The teachers that work there, including one of my former students, spoke very good English, and the students I saw during a question and answer question were very attentive and intelligent. In fact, though I was still a recovering from bad train food, the Aral seminar was probably one of my best because the teachers were so cooperative.

However though the people of Aralsk are doing just fine, the loss of the Aral Sea has not been without consequences. The air is incredibly dry, as if the atmosphere has not gotten used to the fact that it cannot just draw moisture from the water whenever it wants anymore. I drank water like crazy to make up for this, but I was still mildly dehydrated for much of the time I was there. I guess that over time you adapt to this to this problem, as I did not see any of them guzzling water, but it would be challenge for any PCV that got sent there. That said, physical challenges aside, Aralsk might be a great site. It is a rather far from the city, but the right volunteer, someone adventurous and totally independent would have a great time there. There are more than enough challenges to keep them busy with projects for two years. I know that I would be the one up for it, but I think that I will mention it to Alma when we do site development, lord knows they could use a volunteer, and it would definitely be one of the most interesting sites in Kazakhstan.

Summer Vacation-Part Two: The United Kingdom

2009-08-16T22:52:00.000-07:00

The trip from Amsterdam to the United Kingdom was an adventure in itself. In my effort to save money I bought one round trip ticket from KLM between Almaty and Amsterdam and another roundtrip ticket from Ryanair between Amsterdam and Great Britain. This money saving tactic worked like a charm, but there was the downside that Ryanair flights do not fly out of the Amsterdam Airport, they fly out of Eindhoven, which is almost on the other side of the Netherlands. This was not a huge problem though because given how small the Netherlands, Eindhoven was still only two hours away by train. Unfortunately, my plane left at nine, and given the fact that the trams did not start until 6:30 and the first train was at 7:15, I decided to leave for Eindhoven the night before and try to sleep at the airport. However, when I got to Eindhoven at 11:30 that night, it turned out that the airport was already closed and that they did not let you sleep stay the night inside anyway. I was then told that I was not allowed to sleep inside the train station, but that it would be perfectly fine for me to sleep outside. The benches outside the station were hardly sleeping material, and it was actually pretty cold even though it was late June, so I prepared myself for a long night. As luck would have it though, the Netherlands gives out lots of free newspapers and I was able to bunker down in one of those little metal boxes. It wasn’t the best night sleep I have ever had, but I still managed to get about four hours of sleep, and I was ready to go when the first bus to the airport pulled up at six. After the adventures of getting to the airport, the actual flight and getting into London was a piece of cake. Still, a new hiccup presented itself upon my arrival in London. My mother had booked us a room at the Royal National Hotel, which was part of a string of hotels that all had a similar name and were all located in the general area of Russell Square. Luckily, I found the correct hotel on the first try, and I actually beat my mother there by several hours. I decided to make good use of this time and quickly headed to my own personal Mecca, the Oxford Street Apple Store. I was in dire need of a Macintosh Holiday, not only because there are no Apple Stores in Kazakhstan, but also because my computer battery and charger were about to totally give up the ghost. Finally, my mom arrived at around twelve and after checking into our room zipped to a nearby pub for a pint and some authentic fish and chips before jetlag totally overcame us.

The next morning was pretty busy because we had to run a few errands around London before we got on the train headed to Newcastle, but we still managed to easily make the 1:30 northbound train. Now, before anyone asks, “why the hell did go to Newcastle?” the answer is simple, Hadrian’s Wall. I hiked about a quarter of Hadrian’s Wall when I was studying abroad in London, and I had wanted to do more of it for quite awhile, and my mother decided that she would like to join me on this excursion. Even though Hadrian’s Wall was the main reason we went to Newcastle, we did not head out on the hike right away. Our delay to get to the wall was kind of an accident, but it worked out well just the same. It turned out that there was only one daily bus that left from Newcastle to go to Hadrian’s Wall, and by the time we got to the city from our rather distant bed and breakfast on the first day it had already left! Not to be discouraged, we quickly decided that if we could not go west that day, then we would go east. Thus, we headed out to Segedunum, the ruins of an old Roman fort and the easternmost point on Hadrian’s Wall.

The museum at Segedunum was a little kid-focused for my taste, but all of the exhibits were entertaining, informative, and accurate. We walked around the ruins for a bit, but the wall line had long since been covered up by Newcastle’s development and there was little to see or follow. It was this point that my mother looked at my shoes, said that they would not do at all, and decided that we should head to an outdoor store posthaste. In my defense, I thought my running shoes were perfectly fine seeing as how I had been running around the steppe in them for the last two years, but my mother was on the warpath. As usual, her concerns were well founded. My running shoes were not waterproof, and when the weather turned grey and misty the next day I was glad to have the Gortex hiking shoes that we bought.

Properly kitted out, we got up early the next day so to catch the bus. We decided to hike the section of the Wall between Housesteads and Hillcastle because I had previously hiked the section between Hexam and Housesteads, and also because has some of the best ruins of the whole trail. Of course, there is a very good reason that the ruins on that section of the wall are in such good condition; it is extremely hilly. In fact, in some areas between Housesteads and Hillcastle, it would seem that the wall was built strictly to mark the border of Roman Territory, as the hills are so steep that it would have been impossible for enemy armies to even approach the wall, much less attempt to scale it. We set off at a good pace, but at lunch time it turned out that we still had five miles to go until the Roman Army Museum where we could catch the bus back to Newcastle. Mom decided that she would walk along the road or else she would never make it on time, but I decided I would finish this section on the wall. It was hard going, and I was running in many places, but I managed to get to bus stop just a few minutes after my mom and just in time to catch the bus.

The next day we were a little sore for a lot of walking, and we decided that Newcastle was not the best base of operations anyway, so we decided to head to Carlisle. Like Newcastle, Carlisle was an interesting city in its own right, with very nice cathedral and a castle that is also a current military base that is built from stones that used to be part of Hadrian’s Wall. The day after, we headed back to the Wall, this time planning to take the bus out to the very end of the Wall at Bowness and walk back to Carlisle. In many ways this walk was much easier than the one from Housesteads. Unlike the other section, the wall path between Bowness and Carlisle was rather flat, but the walk was also five miles longer than our last one, and it was also pretty buggy in some places. We were able to gather a second wind and third wind with some ice cream and then with a couple of pints and tuna fish sandwiches, but even with that by the time we got back to Carlisle at six were dragging. We had walked 17 miles in about seven hours.

The 17 miles took a lot of both of us, especially my mother, so the next day when we were considering our options we decided on a lark to head up to Edinburgh. It turned out to be the perfect time to make a visit. Edinburgh was having a “heat wave” so the weather was actually very nice, and it did not rain once while we were there. Let me digress for the moment on the idea of a British heat wave. For the British, anything above 35 degrees Celsius is the summer is somehow intolerably painful and the only relief is drinking gallons of water, walking around in as little clothing as possible, and generally just lounging around. This is fine, I enjoy hanging around at the park in board shorts and flip-flops as much as the next guy, and I carry my water bottle wherever I go, but they really need to put their pain into perspective. No offense guys, but until you spend go to Kyzylorda Kazakhstan in the summer where the temperature is regularly over 40 and cultural expectations dictate you wear long pants whenever you leave the house, I really do not think you can complain that much about the heat. To be totally honest, the heat wave in Scotland felt like a beautiful Kyzylorda spring. I loved it. Anyway, the weather was not the only nice surprise about our trip to Scotland. It turned out that we had arrived right in the middle of graduation exercises for the University of Edinburgh and the Queen was currently staying at Hollyrood House. Thus, we had the privilege of seeing for two whole days, thousands of Scots walking around in their best Highland gear. There were kilts everywhere! We spent our time in Edinburgh productively, visiting Edinburgh Castle, the national galleries, and even the Scotch Whiskey Tour. The Scotch Whiskey tour, besides being delicious was absolutely fascinating. For example, I had no idea that Scotch Whiskey production was divided into four different regions, each with its own distinct smell and flavor. Still, I think the most fun thing I did while I was on summer vacation, was go back to school. Even though I still I have a year left in my Peace Corps service, I have begun to think about what I will do after I leave Kazakhstan, and one of the options I had been looking at was the Cultural Studies Department at the University of Edinburgh. I decided that since I was in the city it would make sense to try to track down the person in charge of the program in order to ask a few more questions and possibly snag an impromptu interview. It took some doing because the department was moving from one building to another and no one knew where the department actually was, but I eventually tracked down the head of the department. She was very nice, and we had a great conversation. It turned out that we had esoteric artistic interests in common. While I am obsessed with comic books, she is an expert in graffiti. She really sparked my interest in the program and at the end she said, “I look forward to seeing you in 2010.” Needless to say, I have spent the rest of the summer working my butt off to get into that program.

As much fun as we had in the north of England and in Scotland, it was eventually time to head back to London. My mother was not the only relative who had traveled thousands of miles to see me. My aunt, only recently recovered from hip surgery, had also decided to come to England for a visit. She was already in the hotel and rested up by the time we got back to London, so as soon as we got ourselves cleaned up, it was time to head out again. After dinner, Tia decided, even though I warned her about it, that she wanted to go see the London Eye. Now I know that it looks absolutely stunning in all of those photographs, and maybe if you have 10 people and cocktails with you, it might be a good time, but otherwise I do not see why anyone would want to spend forty dollars for a ferris wheel ride that takes forever and only goes around once. Still, we headed down to Westminster to check it out, and to her credit, Tia realized that it was not worth it as soon as she saw how lame it was. The next day, our first full day in London we headed back down to the river to go to the Tate Britain and the Tate Modern. The Tate Britain was just as much fun as the last time I went, although they had moved several things around. Among the changes, they had moved several works by JMW Turner into a different hall in order to compare it with the work of a more modern artist. I could see what they were trying to do, but it just did not work. The modern artist was working with color and light and was not trying to evoke a certain subject or form. On the other hand, even though Turner’s work, especially the work made toward the end of his career was increasingly impressionistic and abstract, he was still trying to evoke certain subjects and forms. After the Tate Britain we got on the ferryboat that took us to the Tate Modern. We looked around for a while, but all of us were worn out by a full morning at the Tate Britain so we spent most of the afternoon relaxing with lots of other Londoners in the sunshine just outside. The other art museums we tackled on this trip were the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery. I had already been to both before, too, but both are so full of art you would probably need to spend a full week in each one to properly see everything. While I like both museums a lot, I think my favorite is the National Portrait Gallery, if only because it is much easier to get around. In both museums, paintings are organized in chronological order, but in the National gallery, the floor plan is so convoluted that you can be looking at 16th century art and then step into the next room and suddenly be looking at 18th century art. It is a good thing they give you a map.

Of course, even after 233 years of independence, no American can go to Britain without going to as many castles and palaces and possible, and we were no exception. In fact, we went had to split our royal excursions into two days. On the first day, we headed down to Buckingham Palace, and even though you can only visit the main part of the palace in the autumn, we still got a chance to see the apartments that contains much of the royal family’s china and art, as well as the royal stables. There were no horses on display that day, but there were certainly plenty of carriages and cars for whatever the occasion. The second “royal day” was just for Tia and me because mom decided had not seen quite enough of the Tate Modern the first time. With the day to ourselves, Tia and I decided to head to Windsor Castle, another of the royal residences that I had never been to before. My aunt still does not walk very well, so we planned a reasonably light day for ourselves, just the royal apartments and St. George’s Chapel. The tour of the Royal Apartments was one of the stranger touring experiences I have ever had. Unlike in other museums, or castles for that matter, you cannot just wander from room to room as you please, you have to stay on a set course, and you have to move at a pretty quick pace because there are 500 people right behind you. Even though we felt like mice in a crowded maze, we had a great time in the Apartments. Every room was special and unique and had seen some pivotal moment in history. My favorite room was the King’s Apartment. The King’s apartment was fascinating not because of what it was, but because of what it was not. Although there was a bed, night table, etc, the King never actually slept there. Rather, it was where he held meetings with his closest advisors while getting dressed. In the olden days access to the King was fairly straightforward. The closer you were to the King, the more privy you were to even his most private affairs. Thus, it was considered a real privilege to be able to watch the King get dressed or use the bathroom. I also enjoyed the hall dedicated to the defeat of Napoleon which was filled with portraits of the various world leaders of the time, including a couple of popes, who had come together to defeat Napoleon. After going through the apartments we had a short break where we treated ourselves to Prince Charles’ ice cream. It was quite delicious if a little expensive, but I was pleased to read that Prince Charles only uses fresh fruit for flavoring, and his dairy cows are not fed any antibiotics animal byproducts. After ice cream we headed down the hill to St. George’s Chapel. The chapel is apparently still used for formal services of the Knights of the order of St. George, but more importantly, it is also the final resting place of several Kings and Queens, including Charles I, the Royal Martyr, and George the VI and Elizabeth, the parents of the current monarch.

On the third to last day of our trip, my mother and aunt went to Brighton, but I stayed in London in order to track down the Fulbright Commission and to go to the British Museum. I admit that I was a bit bummed to miss Brighton, but I just had to do those two things. The hunt for the Fulbright commission ended somewhat anticlimactically. It was a Friday morning, but apparently everyone was at some meeting, and so though it had taken me 45 minutes to find the place, I was only there for 15 minutes. Still, it was not a total loss. They had left a young American woman there, and she was very helpful in answering all of my questions and helping me to navigate their rather confusing website. After the Fulbright adventure I headed to the British Museum. I zipped by the Elgin Marbles again, but then headed to a new show they had up about Commemorative Coins. Unlike most commemorative coins though, these coins were no made to celebrate but to denigrate. The coins dated from the 1600s and made fun of people as diverse as the Lord Protector, George W. Bush, and Tony Blair. The last couple of days in Britain I must admit were not the most fun. First off, Tia left to head back to the U.S., and then the fresh air of London finally got to me and I developed an allergy infection. I had left my antibiotics in Kazakhstan, and when I went to try to get some at NHS they said that it sounded as if I had Swine Flu and kicked me out the door. That night, mom’s old friend Pru came down from Oxford for dinner. We had a great time, but I felt kind of bad because I had been under the weather the last time I saw her as well. Just like last time however, a good meal and her company got me feeling better, although I was still a little a little under the weather when I headed back to Kazakhstan. The last day in London was hard. Our planes did not leave till almost five in the afternoon so we had plenty of time to pack and have a good lunch, but all too soon it was time to head to the airport. We were flying out of different airports, Mom out of Heathrow and myself out of Stanstead, so we had to awkwardly say our goodbyes on the tube. I do not know about Mom, but saying good-bye was almost as hard that time as when I left for Kazakhstan the first time. At least this time, I know that I will probably see her again in six months rather than two years. I have to say that this summer vacation was probably one of the best ever. I know that I might have gone somewhere a little more exotic like India or Turkey, but I am glad that I went to Europe instead. This summer I really needed to reconnect with my folks and figure out my future, especially since I am staying for a third year. That said, three weeks just was not enough time, but with any luck I will be back in Britain by next September! I hope everyone else had a great summer and good luck on the coming school year. We are going to need it.

Summer Vacation-Part One: Amsterdam

2009-08-15T22:17:00.000-07:00

Immediately after NATEK in Karaganda, I took the train down to Almaty so I could catch the plane to Amsterdam. The flight to Amsterdam was interesting, while there were not quite as many perks on the KLM flight as my friend Chris had led me to expect, it certainly was better than any American Airline I had flown on. Another nice thing about the flight was that due to the time difference I got to Amsterdam at almost the same time I left Kazakhstan. I know that people always say that it is easier to fly East than West, thanks to the Jet stream, but as usual going west was much easier than the Eastern leg of the journey.

When I got into Amsterdam I headed to my hostel, the Amsterdam Central Hostel, which was near the Liedsiplien, which was apparently the new/hip part of Amsterdam with lots of bars, coffee shops, and clubs nearby. I knew none of this when I booked the reservation my decision on the hostel was simply based on the fact that it was centrally located between several important attractions, and that it was the cheapest. It’s location and its price were ideal, and I quickly met several people my age that kept this lone traveler from getting lonely. Another plus for the hostel was that it was conveniently close to the tramlines. During my time in Amsterdam, I was very careful to take notice of where I was in relation to the tram, because the tramlines were useful when figuring out where you were, and it was often easier to take the tram somewhere than it was to walk. This was because, while Amsterdam is a small city and it is quite easy to walk across it in about two hours, it is also a very confusing city and it is very easy to get totally lost. The problem with Amsterdam is that nearly all of the small, quaint streets look exactly the same. There are a few landmark buildings, such as the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum, the train station, and the Stathaus, but those are few and far between. It is also difficult to use water as a navigating tool, because the canals seem to flow so randomly. However, I did eventually figure out how to get around on foot, unfortunately it was right before I left. Anyway, despite navigational difficulties, Amsterdam was an awesome city, and 10 days was hardly enough time to see all of it, nor did I get the chance to see countryside outside, there was just too much to do.

On my first full day in Amsterdam I hit the two museums closest to the Hostel, the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum. The Van Gogh museum was very interesting and well curated. The paintings were organized by period and location, and clearly showed how Van Gogh’s style developed over several decades, and how various cities and locations influenced his art. The Rijksmuseum was also very interesting but while it was an art museum per se, its focus was much more on history, and the paintings were organized by subject represented and year rather than by artist. This was an interesting twist, and while I didn’t learn as much about the Old Dutch Masters as I originally wanted, I did learn more about Amsterdam politics than I could have ever imagined.

The next day I decided that from then on I would alternate museum days with “fun” days, and to get the ball rolling I went to the Heineken Experience! The Heineken Experience was a lot like the Guinness Factory, but slightly less filling. There was a wort tasting booth, and even a “ride” where you went through the beer making process. There were also several other neat exhibits on various Heineken paraphernalia, including a prototype beer bottle that was supposed to be able to be used as a brick when you were done with it. The best part however was of course, the free beer. Not only did they give you two free beers after you were done, but they also gave you a small beer midway, just in case you got thirsty halfway through the huge complex. I definitely was not thirsty when I finished the Experience, but I sure was tired, so I decide to sit awhile at a coffeeshop. Now before I go further, let me remind everyone that in Amsterdam there are coffeeshops where you actually buy coffee, and then there are “coffeeshops” where you buy marijuana. This coffeeshop was an example of the former (Due to my status as a Peace Corps Volunteer I never actually entered one of the later.) Anyway, both are very prolific within the city of Amsterdam with every block seeming to have least one of each. Furthermore, all coffeeshops and “coffeeshops” in Amsterdam are Wi-Fi equipped making one of the most Internet accessible cities I have ever visited.

The next day, as a return to seriousness and to counteract the frivolousness of the Heineken Museum, I headed straight to the Ann Frank House. The Ann Frank was definitely a sobering experience. Although I had read The Diary of Ann Frank, until you actually stand inside the crawlspace, which is cramped and poorly lit, you can’t really understand what they went through. Interestingly, the rooms are unfurnished because when the Nazis raided the house they took everything and Mr. Frank and the foundation both decided not to replace the missing furniture. While I understand their reasons for leaving the house as is, I must admit that I wish they had refurnished it. It might have made it harder for people to go through the house, but having the house fully set up as it was when Ann Frank was living there would have given tourists an even better picture. I planned to do the WWII/Holocaust stuff all in one day, so my next stop was the Dutch Resistance Museum. Even though the museum was smaller than most of the others I saw in Amsterdam, it was still probably one of my favorites. The museum was basically one big room with several little annexes, one annex for every five or so years, beginning right World War II and ending at liberation. The annexes were filled with interesting artifacts, like a made from scratch bicycle, and a ruined bust of Hitler that clearly illustrated the Dutch people’s heroism in the face of outright deprivation. The most interesting annexes however, were those that showed the Dutch in not such a great light. The first was a small annex about the Dutch Resistance and the Holocaust, which attempted to address why so many Amsterdam Jews were killed. It made the argument that life under the Nazis was so difficult that it was hard enough for people to save themselves, much less their friends and neighbors, but while this argument is plausible, it makes it no easier to understand how so many Jews in the supposedly liberal and open city of Amsterdam were sent to Death Camps. The other annex of note was about the Dutch POWs in Indonesia during World War II. To room begins with the Dutch as the victims but it ends with the Dutch as the violent oppressors as they seek to stop Indonesia’s independence Movement.

Even though the day after was supposed to be a “fun day” I decided to go to the Amsterdam Jewish Museum instead because I had meant to do it the day before. The Jewish Museum was located at the site of the former Great Synagogue, and of all the museums I went to, in terms of things to do, it was probably number one, and it was also one of the most educational. The first hall was dedicated to Jewish faith and culture. Around the room there were various kiosks that addressed different aspects of Jewish culture and faith, and I learned all kinds of things, such as the basic format of a Jewish marriage ceremony, and the history behind several important Jewish Holidays. The next two halls covered life in Amsterdam from the first immigrants until today. One of the most interesting things about those two halls was how they demonstrated the way that the Jewish experience in Amsterdam changed over the years. The first hall, which covered the period 1600-1900 was filled with various artifacts and even a few portraits, and showed how Jewish life in Amsterdam gradually improved over three hundred years starting with Jews being most unwelcome in Amsterdam, until some were among Amsterdam’s most prominent citizens. The second room was filled with more personal items such as clothing, suitcases and handmade furniture, and demonstrated the much more chaotic nature of Jewish life in Amsterdam during the 20th century. Items such as fine Jewelry and art from the 1910s and 20s showed that Jewish Citizens had begun to achieve a bit of status, but clothing with the Jewish star from the 1930s demonstrated how quickly that was lost. The final part of the room covered the postwar period, and in many ways it was the most interesting and most troubling part of the museum. In particular, it contained several pieces of contemporary art that demonstrated an attempt by Amsterdam’s Jews to readjust to society and their attempts to understand how Amsterdam with its reputation of liberalism and freedom could have given so many of them up so quickly.

The last two museums that I visited in Amsterdam that I want to make note of are the Rembrandt House and the Bible Museum. I really enjoyed the Rembrandt house, and it was filled with some great art. There was one small problem though; almost none of the art was by Rembrandt. It is kind of ironic that the work of Rembrandt is so famous that while it is easy to see in New York or London, it is almost impossible to find any in Amsterdam, even in his own house. Instead the house was filled with the work of Jan Evans, a child prodigy and rival of Rembrandt’s who was actually more famous while they were alive. I enjoyed Evan’s work, though I still like Rembrandt better, and the talent and professionalism evident even in his earliest paintings was rather impressive. The only Rembrandt work on display at the house when was a collection of his prints, which I have to say were in some cases even better than his paintings. It was amazing how much drama and pathos he could evoke with just a few rough scratches on a copper plate. After the Rembrandt House, I had some time to kill so I decided to head to the Bible Museum. When I first heard about it I thought it would have several ancient bibles, maybe even a couple of Dead Sea scrolls, but it was much more than that. The Bible Museum was located in the home of a 19th century evangelist who spent 40 years building and a perfect to scale replica of the Jewish Tabernacle, and this model was the museum’s primary display. As strange as spending half you life building religious models may seem, it was apparently a very popular hobby in the 19th century, and the museum also displayed scale models of Solomon’s Temple and Dome of the Rock built around the same time. While the level of detail and size of these models was a little disconcerting, sort of like my action figure collection gone out of control, they were also very educational. Before I saw those models it was difficult to conceive of what the Jewish Tabernacle or Solomon’s Temple actually looked like, but afterwards it was clear as day. Anyway, it was the perfect mix of the interesting, beautiful, and bizarre to mark the end of my stay in interesting, beautiful, and bizarre Amsterdam. At first, I was a little bit bummed to be leaving. After all, I still had so much to see, and I had just figured out how to get around. Still, I was excited because it was time to head on to the next leg of my summer journey, the United Kingdom!

NATEK in Karaganda.

2009-06-13T22:10:00.000-07:00

School is finally out, and it is time to begin summer vacation! My first stop on my grand summer odyssey was Karaganda, where I presented a paper at the annual meeting of the National Association of Teachers of English of Kazakhstan. The weekend was a huge success. Karaganda was a beautiful city, and the university where they held the conference had amazing facilties. Also, it was a real treat to meet so many creative and dedicated local teachers, and I found all of the presentations given, by both the local teachers, and the seven other PCV's in attendance to be very useful and interesting. Furthermore, the other PCV's were almost all Kaz-20's, and not only was it great to finally meet them, but I was very impressed with their work at the conference.

The conference had several personal/professional successes as well. First, I presented a paper which was well recieved by both the local teachers and the other volunteers, and was also published in the NATEK magazine. Granted, I do not know if any of the local teachers are actually going to start using comic books in their lessons, but I do think that they will begin considering using materials like magazines, movies, and music as a supplemant to the typical texts and worksheets. Also, though it was at first hard to get around the city because I speak so little Russian, my Kazakh was a big hit with the teachers other teachers. Finally, the most important success was that I with the help and permission of my collegue Temirbolat agai, who works at Korkyt-Ata University in Kyzylorda and was the second NATEK president, was able to convince the association to make Kyzylorda the location of the conference next year!

Anyway, now I am in Almaty and getting ready to head to Europe for a couple of weeks, the true beginning of demalys, or vacation. That said, I am psyched that the last bit of "work" that I had to do before a camp in July and the start of school in September went so well. I'll do my best to keep you posted on events during the rest of the summer, and I apologize for the recent dirth of posts.

The Paper I gave at the conference is posted below.

Up in the Sky: Comic Books in the Classroom

Everyone knows that students learn differently. In fact, thanks to educators, psychologists, and researchers, we even know that students usually fall into one of three categories: visual learners, auditory learners, or kinesthetic learners. However, despite the fact that much is known about how students learn, many local students still continue to fail. This is not because the teachers or bad, the students are lazy, or the lessons do not include activities that cater to the various learning styles. It is because, despite the being methodologically sound, many lessons are boring and uninspiring. For students to learn effectively, they must be taught in a way that actively engages their interest so that they pay attention. Teachers must go beyond the basic texts and materials and begin using new and unconventional materials to develop creative lessons that make students actually enjoy learning. A prime example of such unconventional classroom materials is the comic book. The comic book’s style and structure as well as its subject matter and themes make it a useful tool for creating fun and interesting lessons that develop students’ skills.

Every story has a beginning, middle, and end. Beyond that, however, the style and structure is largely up to the author or the conventions of the media. The style and structure of a comic book is very different from the style of other books and texts normally used in the English lesson. While a typical novel uses descriptive language and dialogue to tell the story, comic books or “graphic novels,” use pictures and word balloons to move the narrative forward. A novel uses words such as meanwhile, during, or then to show the movement of characters in time and space, but in a comic book, the same effect is achieved through the arrangement of the pictures in a specific way. Thus, reading a comic book often feels like watching movie. It is this relationship between literature and art, and the comic book’s cinematic feel in a time when students are much more likely to watch television than read a book that make comic books such a useful classroom tool. Not only is the bright multi-chromatic imagery in a Superman or X-Men comic book much more interesting to look at than plain monochromatic text, but the comic book’s collaborative relationship between pictures and words, and the way that it is organized into several different pictures or panels offers numerous potential uses in creative classroom activities that help improve students’ reading, writing, and speaking skills.

While it is not the most creative thing you can do with a comic book in terms of style or structure, just reading it together as a class can be very fun and effective. Teachers can assign parts to different students so that reading becomes like a play. By both seeing and hearing the different characters, students are be better able to keep them all separate and understand what is happening in the story. Furthermore, even if a student has a small vocabulary and does not understand all of the words, he or she can still follow the plot of a comic book through the sequence of images and understand the narrative. In turn, when the student understand what they have read, they are much more likely to volunteer to answer questions about the text or take part in discussion, and this improves their speaking ability and confidence. It also quickly improves a student’s vocabulary because he or she can see the new word in relation to a picture and easily extrapolate the meaning. Reading a comic book is very useful for a student’s understanding of complex narrative concepts, such as the flashback, as well. A flashback is a scene set in an earlier time than the main narrative, and it is a difficult idea to understand, especially when all students have to work with is a written text. Students, however, quickly understand the concept of the flashback when they see a comic book artist’s representation of the same character in different ways to show the difference in time or place.
The style and structure of the comic book offers many other creative activities too. For example, the teacher could mix up the panels and have their students put them back in the correct order. This activity is great for helping beginning students understand the story better, and more advanced students can see how they might create a new story through arranging the pictures in a different way. The teacher can also make copies of a comic book page, but take all of the text out, and have the students replace the text with their own words. This helps a student practice their writing in a structured way, but with the opportunity for much more creativity and expression than writing sentences. The teacher could even have the more advanced students rewrite the comic book as a normal text short story, or even write and illustrate their own comic book story.

Unlike the works of William Shakespeare or Jack London, which were written for older, more experienced readers, comic books are usually written with the teenage or young adult reader in mind, and this youth oriented focus is especially evident and important in regards to subject matter. Whereas Shakespeare and London dealt with the subjects like court intrigue or life in the frozen north, comic books deal with subjects closer to the issues and concerns that young people typically face. Indeed, while many comic book characters are superhuman, these characters are still more relatable and human to young students today than Hamlet or Romeo. Comic books also often discuss current events that have immediate relevance to young people. All authors base their works on the times they live, whether it is a realistic legal thriller or a sci-fi action adventure. Thus, many novels eventually feel rather dated. Comic books on the contrary, are published once a month so the stories and characters are always up to date. For example, recent comic stories have dealt with the subject of the Iraq War, Civil Liberties, and the greed of corporate businessmen.

The fact that comic books deal with subject matters that are so interesting to young people makes them extremely helpful during English lessons. Most students freely admit that they do not care if something is rotten in the state of Denmark, but they eagerly read stories about a young man who lives with his aunt, argues with his girlfriend, and who loses his superpowers every time he gets the flu. Furthermore, students are much more inclined to take part in discussion if the class is talking about a situation or problem that they know something about. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain is a great novel, but modern students, especially students from foreign countries cannot really understand it or empathize with it. It is hard enough for younger American readers to connect to the story of a young man traveling up the Mississippi River to help his slave friend get to freedom, and they know American geography and history. Students learning English in Kazakhstan and other foreign countries however, have no reference to either the location or importance of the Mississippi River or the history of slavery in America. Thus, any discussion on the topic would be extremely difficult because the students do not have any background in the subject matter, and they have little interest in doing research about something so different from their personal experience. However, students will enthusiastically participate in a discussion about a group of young super powered men and women facing head on the destruction of reality in a great “Crisis.” After all, young people everywhere are now facing a less dramatic but equally destructive economic crisis.
This enthusiasm is the key, and why the creation of creative lessons is so important. Enthusiastic, interested students want to participate and will try to speak, even if their English is not very good. On the other hand, students who are not interested do not participate, and even if their English is already good, it will not improve and might even get worse.

As mentioned previously, comic books can be used to develop English students basic skills of reading, writing, and speaking. While those are of fundamental importance, another important skill that teachers cannot forget to develop is critical thinking. Critical thinking is “thinking about thinking.” It is the idea that it is not enough to have an opinion about an idea or an event, one must think about why or how they came to have that opinion. One of the best ways to develop students’ critical thinking is to engage them in a discussion about a serious but interesting theme like whether there is fate or free will, or why bad things happen to good people. Students enjoy these discussions because they are about universal issues, and teachers can use them to force students to critique their basic assumptions, and make think critically in order to defend their position.

Despite their appearance and target audience, comic books deal with some pretty serious themes. For example, Batman deals with the question of justice vs. vengeance and vigilantism, and the X-Men deals racism and intolerance. Comic books are great at presenting these themes in ways that are both subtle and obvious, and thus incredibly effective. For instance, a person might pick up an X-Men comic book and not see at first that the X-Men are an example of a minority population threatened with oppression and genocide by a racist majority. He or she might just see the wings and the optic blasts. However, once a person realizes the fact that X-Men is as much about mutual respect between different groups as it is about superpowers, it is so obvious that one wonders how they did not see it before. This was used to great effect during a comic book course I taught this past year. My students and I were reading the X-Men and began to discuss racism and nationalism. A first some of my students held some pretty prejudiced positions about some other nationalities. However, once they saw that they were acting just like humans acted towards the X-Men, several of them began to use critical thinking and logic, and began to reconsider what they said.

As one can see, comic books are not just for children anymore. Despite their reputation as a childish form of artistic and literary expression, comic books are in truth very sophisticated and useful in getting students to learn. The style and structure, subject matter, and themes of comic books offer numerous possibilities for creative, expressive activities and discussions that help improve students’ language and critical thinking skills. The best part, however, is that students are so excited to be working with comic books that they hardly know they are learning, making the lesson that much more effective for them, and that much more fun for everyone.

The True Tale of A Kazakh Wedding

2009-05-24T08:06:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I went to the wedding of my local friend Galym. I met Galym at Contact Club, and interestingly, unlike most of the attendees of Contact Club, Galym is not an English Teacher or translator. He is an engineer, and his English is entirely self-taught. Anyway, he has become one of my best local friends here in Kyzylorda, and I quickly accepted the invitation to his wedding. While I have been to other Kazakh weddings before, this one was special because Galym invited me to ride along with their wedding caravan. The wedding caravan is an important part of any Kazakh/Russian wedding, and it is a common sight in Kyzylorda, but this was the first time that I got the chance to participate. More than any other part of the wedding, the Wedding Caravan is about showing off. In fact, the two most important things in the wedding caravan are not the bride and the groom, but the number and type of the cars. The type of car is especially important in regards to the car that the Bride and Groom ride in. Often couples will rent either a Mercedes, BMW, SUV, limo, or if they are really rich, a limo SUV. The make of the cars driven by their friends is not so important, but the more the better. A caravan of five ladas, and two toyotas is seen as more impressive than a caravan of two BMW and Mercedes. The couple and their friends then proceed to draw even more attention to themselves by decorating the in flowers and streamers, and honking the horn and yelling out the window the whole time they are driving. It is a blast.

I was told that the caravan would start at three, so being a punctual American I got there at 2:50. We ended up starting at 5:00. Galym and his friends were having a bit of a late start, which was understandable because they had been up late at Galym’s Betashar the night before. The betashar is one of the most important Kazakh ceremonies. At the Betashar, the bride enters her new husband’s home as his wife for the first time. The bride is veiled, with one end of the veil tied to the end of a dombra, the national instrument of Kazakhstan. A friend or relative of the groom who plays the dombra, and two of her future sisters-in-law then lead the bride into the house. Once in the house, the dombra player musically introduces the bride too her new relatives who leave some money on the floor in front of the bride to help the young couple get started. Besides introducing the young woman to her new family, the betashar is significant because it is traditionally the first night the bride spends with her husband.

Eventually everyone was ready and it was time for the caravan to begin. Galym and his bride got into a cousin’s SUV and the rest of us followed in various other cars. The first stop on our two-hour tour was the mosque, or meshit as we say in Kazakh. At the mosque, we all went inside sat down around a small boardroom table, and after a few minutes the Imam came in as well. He sat down and asked Galym and his bride if they were Muslim, whether they were getting married of their own free will, and then had them repeat the common Muslim statement of faith, “There is only one God but Allah, and Muhammad is His prophet.” Then the Imam turned to the witnesses. Galym’s friend and his wife’s friend were the two main witnesses, so the Imam’s attention and questions were directed at them, but it turned out we would all have a part to play. He asked them basically the same questions, minus the getting married part, and then he began passing around a small cup of water, and each of the “important” guests, myself included believe it or not, took a small sip. Galym and his bride then signed their name in the Imam’s book, there was a short prayer, and just like that Galym was married. It took less than 20 minutes! Granted they were not technically/legally married, for that they still would need to go down to the hall of records in a few days and fill out some government documents, but as far as Kazakh culture and their families were concerned, they were fully married.

After the trip to the Mosque, the real caravan began with the restaurant and wedding party as our final destination. We made four stops, a small veterans’ monument near the Mosque, the city square, the Korkyt-Ata monument, and the city’s main WWII monument. At each stop we all got out of cars, made a couple of toasts, and took a lot of pictures. As it turned out, I for once, was the only one who remembered to bring my camera, so I turned out to be an impromptu wedding photographer in addition to the guy they hired to film the big day. My two favorite stops were Korkyt-Ata monument and the main WWII monument. They were my favorite for several reasons. First, I made or, at least attempted to make, a toast at the Korkyt-Ata monument, and they are also two of the most important landmarks in Kyzylorda. The WWII monument’s importance needs no explanation, but the Korkyt-Ata monument is also very important in local tradition and folklore. Korkyt-Ata was the creator of the traditional musical instrument known as the kobyc, but legend has it that he literally attempted to flee from death. Apparently, he never slept, in order to see Death’s approach. One day of course though, after many long years, he fell asleep, and at that point death found him and took him. The reason Korkyt-Ata is so important in our city is that he apparently died near the village Karmaksha, only three hours away from Kyzylorda by bus.

Anyway, after the caravan to the various locations around the city, we finally made it to the café. Fortunately, though the caravan took a little longer than originally scheduled, we got there before everyone had started eating. Of course, as it was a Kazakh wedding, even if they had started eating before, there still would still have been plenty of food. As it was, by the time the evening was over, my stomach was about to burst! The wedding party was really nice, and much better organized that one I had been to before. At this wedding, rather than have everyone stand up as a table and give toasts, we gave our toasts as a group. First, the grandparents gave their toasts, then the parents, then classmates, etc., until it was our turn, as Galym’s foreign friends, to give our toasts. This was nice because it made it easier to tell who was who and why they were at the wedding. Also, it kept the toasting at a manageable amount so that no one would end the night in danger of alcohol poisoning. Anyway, the other guests apparently really liked our Kazakh toasts, and while I would like to think they like our toasts because we were speaking good Kazakh, I would not be surprised if they were just showing appreciation for the attempt, or perhaps just enjoying it as one enjoys any spectacle or novelty.

We stayed for another hour or so after we made our toasts, we had to try the second main course after all, but finally we headed on home. It had been a rather long day, all in all I was doing some sort of celebrating for eleven hours, but I have to say that it was some of the most fun I have had in Kazakhstan. I was honored that my friend Galym invited me to take part in his special day. I had a great time not only in seeing a new part of Kazakh culture, but also in seeing one of my closest local friends become so happy. Also, I got some really nice pictures.

A Few Important Kazakh Traditions

2009-04-14T09:06:00.000-07:00

April 15, 2009

This is a short list of a few Kazakh traditions that I have been fortunate enough to participate in over the last year and a half. The actual number of Kazakh traditions probably runs close to a thousand, but thankfully most of those were only practiced by the Kazakhs of several centuries ago, so now you only really have to keep track of about ten major celebrations and a handful of codes involving with greetings and who sits where at the dinner table. As I experience more parties, I will add more entries.

1. Besik Toy:
The Besik Toy, literally the Cradle Party, traditionally takes place around forty days after the birth of the child when the baby is symbolically placed in the crib for the first time by the grandmother. She straps the baby down so tight it’s a wonder the kid can breathe, waves a lit match over the baby to get rid of any evil spirits, and then covers the crib with several scarves. These scarves not only help the baby sleep better by creating a kind of tent, but also have a symbolic meaning depending on their color and design. The besik itself is really ingenious. Not only does the baby stay extremely snug and warm due to the fact that he or she cannot move, but there is no need to worry about the baby waking up in the middle of the night for a diaper change. Instead of diapers, parents attach a small wooden, catheter type thing to the baby and if they have to pee in the middle of the night, it all goes down into a plastic bottle under the cradle. Anyway, after the baby has been put snuggly into its crib there is the standard dastarhan, the big feast of Beshparmak or plov that involves a lot of eating, and of course a lot of drinking. I still do not quite understand why they would have such big party with toasting, etc. when the guest of honor has no idea about what is going on, but I guess the party is more for the parents.

2. Tocay Kecer
Tocay Kecer means “the cutting of the fetters. It is a celebration of the baby learning to walk and thus is usually on or around the baby’s first birthday. During the celebration, a multi-colored string, symbolizing that there are both good and bad times in one’s life, is tied between the feet of the baby and then cut by a respected member of the community. The person who cut the string then leads the baby on a short lap around the room while reciting a traditional prayer for good luck that goes like this…

Тосауыңды кесейын
Кермеуiңдi шешеiн
Қаз- қаз балам, қаз балам
К,адам басан, мез болам
Тағы, Тағы баса ғой!
Тақымыңды жаз балам
Қаз баса ғой қарағым
Құтты болсын қадамың

The respected person who cuts the string and says the prayer is usually financially successful and has many children, though this is not always the case. For example, during a demonstration Tocay Kecer put on for a seminar on Cultural Lessons, I was the one who cut the string. The baby was the little sister of one of my students, and even though the child had already had a Tocay Kecer, the parents treated it just like the real thing. We even exchanged gifts, as tradition requires. I gave the baby a very stylish raincoat, and the parents gave me a new suit! Furthermore, I must have done an all right job on the Kazakh prayer, because my counterpart has told me that other families are requesting my services, despite the fact that I am not particularly financially successful, no do I have any children.

Finally, after the lap, the baby is then instructed to choose one of three items, a tenge bill, a book, or a pen. The item the baby chooses supposedly gives a hint as to the child’s future profession. If the baby chooses the tenge that means that the baby will be in business, the book means that the baby will be a teacher or a poet, and the pen means that they might be a writer. Of course, the kid could care less what they pick up so the parent usually just pushes them toward a certain item, just as they will push them to a certain career later on.

3. Yuleny Toy
The wedding party is definitely the biggest of the celebrations that I have attended here in Kazakhstan. The yuleny toy is one the second day of the wedding festivities and is the grand finale celebration. The party begins with the bride, groom, and several close friends driving around the city in a heavily decorated limousine followed by several other cars. As they drive around, the group stops at several of the cities important landmarks. In Kyzylorda these include the Korkyt-Ata monument, the central square, and of course, the mosque, and at each stop they all get out, take pictures and make toasts to the new couple. After the tour around town they then head to the restaurant where the rest of their family and friends are waiting. The wedding party is huge, even by Kazakh standards. I guess it is a good thing that most Kazakhs get married so young. If they got married when they were 29 or 30 instead of when they were 19 or 20, or else they would never able to afford or stay awake for all the festivities. As much fun as the party is, the eating in dancing is only a small part of why the party lasts for so long. In truth the wedding party takes several hours because, as per tradition, everyone must give a toast. Fortunately, however there is a protocol that saves time and keeps anyone from suffering from alcohol poisoning. During the toasting the guests come forward as a table and each person gives a short toast. Only after everyone at the table has given their toast does everyone, including the rest of the party guests take a drink. This is important because it keeps the number of shots down to a more manageable number like 9 to 12, which when combined with Beshbarmak is almost negligible. Then after the toast is done, the people at the table all dance together for a song before the next group comes up. Finally, when the last person at the last table as given their toast, everyone stands up and starts dancing, or stumbles on home, rather drunk and extremely full. I guess it is a good thing they got it all on videotape.

Leaving a Kid Behind

2009-03-02T02:15:00.000-08:00

March 2, 2009

Now that there is a new President several pieces of legislation are getting a fresh look. One law in particular is the landmark piece of legislation “No Child Left Behind.” I say landmark of course because it was so incredibly unpopular with educators. In fact, I have heard that the Obama administration not only wants to reform the law, but rename it because it left a bad taste in so many peoples mouths. I understand the Bush Administration’s basic idea: make schools and teachers more accountable for their students’ failures and they will work even harder to educate even those students who might seem impossible to teach. Unfortunately, their plan was severely flawed. First, the Bush Administration failed to provide funding so many schools did not have the money they needed to make their classrooms more efficient, to make sure the students were adequately supplied, or even in some cases, to make repairs so that the school building met basic safety regulations. Still, the main problem with “No Child Left Behind” was much more fundamental. It made the mistake of basically saying that schools and teachers, not the students, were primarily responsible for a student’s success or failure. I know that this might seem presumptuous of me to say, but the fact is that I have spent the last year and a half working in and observing an educational system that resembles a W.’s educational wet dream. Here in Kazakhstan, a school’s funding and a teacher’s salary are at least partially dependent on how well their students do on state tests and exams. If students do well, teachers get a bonus, if students do poorly, teachers get a pay cut. Thus, teachers are encouraged both subtly and overtly to help the students succeed, even if that means helping them cheat. Teachers not only turn a blind eye towards “collaborative work” between students, they also sometimes give students the answers or even change grades and scores after the fact. This of course means that students are not actually learning the material, and though they might have good grades, they are actually being crippled. When they are adults they will not be able to perform the tasks that they “learned” how to do. Teachers of course should do their best to make sure that as many students are learning as possible, using a variety of teaching methods, and schools should do their best to remove socio-economic roadblocks, but at the end of the day it must be up to the student to learn.

Why I Still Feel Like a Pretender

2009-02-26T23:39:00.000-08:00

February 26, 2009

Even after over sixteen months on the job, some days I still feel like I am not a “real” teacher, but merely playacting. This is due in part, no doubt, to the fact that I do not really consider teaching a long-term career possibility, but I also think that certain words and terms I hear everyday are somewhat responsible. A prime example of such terminology is the Kazakh/Russian word “costume” which English speakers should translate as business suit. If you read the word costume and first thought about a Halloween costume, you are not alone. When I first came to Kazakhstan and my host mother asked me about my “costume” for the first day of school, I thought to myself, “Damn, I did not know I needed to bring a mask or cape, and isn’t Halloween still two months away?” I have long since come to understand the Russian/Kazakh meaning of the word, but I still often feel that my “costume” is just that, a costume. I feel the stiff collar scratch my neck, the tie constrict my breathing, and the coat trap my arms, but I fight these short periods of anxiety with several different way, such as stretching the boundaries of what qualifies as “business casual,” and trying to foster a slightly less uptight atmosphere in my classroom.” Still, I do not think I will ever be fully comfortable in the roll of a teacher; I miss being a student too much. I hope that some of my students realize how fortunate they are to be students and how much they will miss it, but I doubt that they do. No one ever does.

Being Kazakh Means Never Having to Say Your Sorry

2009-02-26T02:26:00.001-08:00

February 25, 2009

A few of my local friends have a new joke. When asked how well I speak Kazakh they respond, “ote zhaksy, ol ‘keshiriniz’ tamasha aitady,” which roughly translates to, “very well, he says ‘excuse me’ perfectly.” My mother used to say that I apologized too much, and it seems that even when speaking a foreign language I cannot break the habit. I am not the only one guilty of this verbal tic, however, and locals have noticed this tendency to be overly apologetic in my site mates as well. At first I thought that this might be the result of a subconscious sense of vulnerability due to our living in a very different country, but we have been here for a year and a half with no problems. Furthermore, according to Kazakhs at least, we say excuse me too much even when we are on our own turf. One local friend who studied in America even has a story about how he once bumped into someone walking down the street in Philadelphia, and then to his amazement, the person he bumped into turned around and apologized to him!

Americans are also apparently too grateful. Locals are amazed at how often we say “thank you.” While in America you might say thank you whenever someone passes you something at the dinner table, or opens the door for you, such behavior is considered bizarre here in Kazakhstan. One friend even remarked recently, “why did you say thank you when that policeman gave you back your passports? They weren’t a gift, they’re your passports!” Furthermore, this tendency to say thank you is sometimes not only considered strange, but rude as well. For Kazakhs, serving tea or food to guests is a natural and fundamental part of being host. Thus, when you thank them for handing you your teacup, you may mistakenly give them the sense that you did not expect them to do so, thus unintentionally insulting their sense of hospitality. Even in restaurants or cafes it often seems that the friendlier you are, the less friendly the waitress, and conversely, the terser you are, the politer the waitress. In fact, the times that I have had the best service at a café were my worst days when I was surly and impatient.

This does not mean that Kazakhs are not polite, in fact in some ways their hospitality outstrips what you will encounter in the U.SA, they just have different ways of expressing it. For example, Kazakhs might not apologize to you when they bump into you on the street, but few Americans would put together the kind of spread that a Kazakh regularly puts together just to entertain one or two guests. Ultimately, if you happen to travel to Kazakhstan in the near future, I advise you to be patient, especially in regards to communication gaps, hungry for all the food they will shove in your face, and slightly less vocal to how much you enjoy it.

Taking the Show on the Road

2009-02-26T02:25:00.001-08:00

February 24, 2009

This past weekend, I went with the three other education volunteers in the Kyzylorda Oblast to Zhanakorgan with Medina Apai, one of the chief methodologists for the oblast, to give a seminar for village schoolteachers. I must admit that I was at first a little wary at the thought of spending a weekend with Medina. Conversations with her are difficult, and I feel like we need a translator, even when we are both speaking the same language. Also, like many people I work with here in Kazakhstan she is not really great at communicating what it is she needs or wants, and so I often end up misinterpreting what I am supposed to do with her. Still, our supervisor Alma wanted us to do it, and with my students on practice I did not have anything else to do, so I figured why not?

The seminar was on Monday and Tuesday, but we figured we would leave town early and go first to Turkestan, a small city only an hour away from Zhanakorgan. Turkestan is very small and is a lot like a village in many ways, but it is one of the most important and famous in Kazakhstan. Several hundred years ago, Turkestan was the capital city of Kazakhstan, and it is the home of the Mausoleum Kozha Akhmet Yassoui. The mausoleum is not only gigantic and beautiful, but one of the most important places in Islam. They say that if you go to the Mausoleum three times you are guaranteed a place in Heaven. I am not sure what qualifies as a repeat visit, (do you have to leave city between visits or just the walled compound?), but I guess that every resident of Turkestan is heaven bound, even that lucky Peace Corps volunteer who gets stationed there. We decided to take the midnight train down because it is a six hour train ride, and we figured that way we could sleep on the train and get to the city first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, the latest train was 11:10 not midnight, and we ended up getting to Turkestan at 4:30 in the morning. Once we got there we wandered around in the dark for a half an hour looking for a working bus or an open café before we found a small cafe where the woman was willing to make us eggs and instant coffee at 5 AM. After breakfast we hopped on a bus to meet the Kaz-20 living there. She told us to get onto the number two bus and get off at the small mosque, but since there was no number two bus and we hopped on to the thirteen bus because we were told that they followed the same route. As it turned out however, they did not follow the same route, and though I tried to convince him otherwise, my site mate refused to believe that the very large mosque where we got off the bus was not the small mosque” where we were supposed to meet the volunteer. Eventually though, I was vindicated when he admitted that the building that he thought was an inconsequential mosque was, as I insisted, the Mausoleum that we had come to the city to see.

The mausoleum was amazing, although the experience would have been more enjoyable if I had not been so cold. The weather in Kyzylorda had been a balmy 35 degrees Fahrenheit when we left, but Turkestan at sunrise was freezing, and it was even colder inside the mausoleum than outside. Most of the inside had been restored vandalized during the last few centuries before being recently restored, so there was only a little bit of the original stone work left, but it was still an impressive sight. The coolest thing though was the huge iron Kazan made out of seven different metals, and inlaid with script from the Koran. Apparently at one time, when pilgrims would come to the mausoleum they would be served a sugary “holy water” out of the huge Kazan to replenish them. I wish I could show pictures of it, but unfortunately, no pictures were allowed inside. The mausoleum was not the only thing on the site. We also saw the underground chambers where one of the kings had spent his last thirty years. He did not want to live any longer than Muhammad, so on his 63rd birthday he went underground. There was also a pretty decent Archeological museum in the area which house art and artifacts from the Sarmatians, Mongols, and Turks that once lived in the area. After we had seen everything we headed to a café to have lunch, warm up, and plan our next move. At first we decided that we all would head back to the Kaz-20’s house to hang out for awhile, but unfortunately, my site mate left his phone on the bus, so we decided that the two of us would head to the bus station to look for my friend’s phone and get tickets to Zhanakorgan while the Kyzylorda Kaz-20’s went to get their bags. As it turned out the last and only bus to Zhanakorgan had left at two so we ended up hiring a taxi, and we never did find the phone. We made it to Zhanakorgan and after a few miscommunications with Medina’s equally English-Challenged friend were finally picked up at the train station.

Despite our inauspicious arrival, Zhanakorgan was awesome. After we dropped our stuff off at the hotel we were taken to a nearby café. As it was Sunday, it was technically closed, but they made us tea and eggs, which was more than enough as we were still pretty full from lunch. Just then however, Medina showed up and we were whisked off to the home of a local teacher where they had prepared a full konak for the six of us that could have fed at least 15. There was so much food that for the first time ever I heard my site mate utter the words, “I’m full.” Eventually however, we excused ourselves, went back to the hotel, and quickly passed out. The next day we slept in because we did not have to be at the seminar until ten. I still got up around seven out of habit and got ready, but one of my friends slept till 9:15, an impressive ten hours of sleeping. I gave a presentation on using alternative English methods that admittedly fell a little flat. At first I thought it might have been my delivery, and in a way it was, I made the mistake of giving the presentation in English. As it turned out, only two or three of the teachers there had a working understanding of English, which left me to wonder how the other twenty-five teachers in attendance taught English.

After the presentation we went for a drive to see Tay Samal, where there is a campsite that we are interested in for a summer English camp. The camp looked great, even in February, but unfortunately the car we rode in was not in such good condition, and it broke down halfway back to the village. Our driver tried fixing it, and we even tried pushing it to get into gear, but in the end one of the drivers’ friends towed us back into town. We had barely gotten back to the hotel when we were picked up again and taken to another Konack, this one, incredibly, even better than the first. They served plov instead of the Beshparmak, and once again I ate too much. Bazargul’s boss came by so we actually had to repeat our toasts for him, but luckily my Kazakh gets better not only with practice but with a couple of extra shots.

The next day I gave my second presentation, but this one was about using the Internet and Google. I think it went better than the first one because I was more careful to use small words and my presentation was lots of pictures. I still got a few blank looks from the teachers over fifty, but the other teachers got it, and I honestly think that I lost the older crowed when I said computer. After our sessions were all over we had a short meeting where the teachers asked us questions about comparisons between education in America and Kazakhstan, which needless to say was a bit awkward. Then, we grabbed our things and boarded the bus back to Kyzylorda. The ride was blissfully uneventful, at least until we got back to the city. It turned out that Kyzylorda was not its final destination, and so it dropped us on the outskirts of the city. We got a taxi without a problem but it was still disconcerting to find yourself at the gas station across from the mosque when you are expecting the bus station. All in all though, the trip to Zhanakorgan was a great quick work trip, and the next time Medina asks us to go on an out of town seminar I will be one of the first to sign up.

If You Come to Kazakhstan, Don't Forget the Rogaine

2009-02-26T02:22:00.000-08:00

February 23, 2009

Recently, my site mate and I realized something disturbing that we have in common. We are both losing our hair. I am not, mind you, referring to hair on top of my head that is still slowly, steadily receding, but the hair on my legs. Furthermore, the loss has not been slow or gradual, but sudden, within the last couple of months, and patchy. At first, I thought the hair loss was caused by friction from my sweat pants when I went running, but I scrapped that diagnosis since my site mate is having the same problem and he does almost no physical exercise. I then looked this problem up on WebMD and it suggested a possible thyroid condition, but neither of us is chronically tired or rapidly gaining weight. So that does not seem to be it either. The only thing left to blame I guess is the ecology or the nearby spaceport, Baikanor. I usually roll my eyes when my students blame their headaches on the shuttle launches, but who knows; maybe they are on to something, but if anyone has any other possible diagnosis, please share.

Trip to Thailand

2009-01-25T21:56:00.000-08:00

January 7, 2008

I have just gotten back to Kyzylorda after two weeks in Thailand and I must say that my trip was both good and bad. Good in that the food was great, the people were super friendly, the weather was amazing, and the country is beautiful, and bad in that I was only there for two weeks. It was definitely the perfect plac
I ended up going to Thailand with two other Peace Corps volunteers because I figured that it would be safer and more fun to explore a new country and culture with friends, and I also knew that it would probably make my mom feel better. In retrospect this wasn’t really necessary and in fact if I ever go again I think I will go by myself. While I definitely enjoyed having my friends around, the people of Thailand are so friendly, and there are so many European and Australian tourists around that it is impossible to ever feel lonely there. Furthermore, I found traveling in Thailand as a group to be a bit unwieldy. There is so much to see there, and that you cannot really see the things that you want unless everyone can go off and do their own thing.
Anyway, we left Almaty on the 22nd, and the first interesting thing about the trip was the plane itself; it was filled with Thai tourists on their way home. The three of us were amazed, being unable to imagine anyone going to Kazakhstan for vacation, especially during the winter. The only conclusion we could make was that perhaps they had come in order to finally see snow. We got to Thailand at around five in the afternoon and immediately began to sweat. Even after taking off our sweaters and jackets on the plane, the temperature difference was something to get used to, though we quickly came to enjoy it. We spent our first night at the lub-d hostel in Bangkok, getting ourselves organized for trips down to the islands, and the next morning we explored the area around the Grand Palace, particularly the Amulet market which not only had some very cool cheap Buddhist trinkets, but some amazing street food.
In fact, let me take this opportunity to say that everyone should go to Thailand, if for no other reason than the food. After a year and a half of eating meat, potatoes and onions and where fresh fruit is often prohibitably expensive, it was amazing to go to a place where you could buy large hunks of pineapple for a dollar, and eat delicious curries and stir fries with fresh vegetables for not much more. I also imbibed large quantites of Thai iced coffee on my trip; doing my best to make up for a year of dehydrated flakes, and in a moment of weakness even treated myself to Starbucks.
Anyway, in the afternoon of the 23rd we got on a bus and headed down to Koh Samet. We ended up not staying in Koh Samet proper, but rather Rayong, a small town on the mainland nearby. The place we stayed at was called Roots-the Reggae house, for good reason. The owner and operator was this really nice German guy who was probably stoned half the time, and his main help was an equally relaxed American expat/Rastafarian who last lived in the U.S. in 1974. The place was already pretty cheap to start with, and then once we got there he knocked another 20 bucks off the final bill. I think most of the guests were what would be described as “long-term,” and looking at the terms of long-term stay, I could see why they would. Not only were they in a beautiful location, but the food served was good, and as a long term guest you got your seventh day, week, month, year, etc. for free. Even though we slept in Rayong we spent most of the 24th, 25th, and 26th on Koh Samet, which was easily reachable by ferry. It turned out that we made the right choice by not staying on Koh Samet because it was a good bit more expensive and packed with tourists, and it was nice to be able to escape all of that at the end of the day. We had a really great Christmas Eve and Christmas on Koh Samet swimming and relaxing and eating more of that great thai food.
On the 26th we headed to another island, Koh Chang. The main difference between Koh Chang and Ko Samet is that Koh Chang is a much bigger, self-sufficient, and has fewer beaches. Unlike Koh Samet’s miles of low, smooth coastline, Koh Chang is filled with tall mountains, and has a very rugged coastline. It is also surrounded by coral reefs and is a minor mecca for scuba divers. While we did not partake in scuba diving, we had plenty of other adventures on Koh Chang, beginning with the trip there. The bus ride and the ferry boat were no problem, but once we got onto the island we ran into some problems. The hostel my friend had found was on the east side of the island, which is much more undeveloped, and none of the taxis were willing to head that way for less than 1000 baht or about 40 dollars. Even split three ways that was way too much, so we took the cheap cabs to the west side of the island, figuring that we could find a small ferry to take us to the other side. Unfortunately, when we got there the boats were gone, and when we called the hostel to ask what we should do, the person who answered the phone said that we had the wrong number and that the hostel was out of business. So, while my friends went to stop payment on the hostel deposit, I went around to various places to find rooms, and I quickly found some rooms near a small shop over the water. They were dirt cheap, and even though they did not have the best view, they proved to be a good base of operations for the days ahead.
The next day, December 27th, we hung out on the extremely misnamed Lonely Beach. While the girls got massages, I went swimming because I was still nursing sunburn from Koh Samet, and I figured that when I got a famous Thai massage, I wanted to do it somewhere where there wasn’t so much sand. Lonely Beach nice, but unfortunately and ironically, extremely crowded and was really small, so we felt no real need to go there again the next day, instead we decided to check out those coral reefs and so took snorkeling trip. The trip was a bit pricy, about 12 dollars, but totally worth it. They took us to four different small islands and reefs and made us a lunch that was so good, many people had to skip the third stop because they were too full. The reefs were beautiful, and filled with some of the most colorful and daring fish I had ever seen. Some people brought pieces of bread to draw schools of fish to them, but even without a bread bribe, I was surrounded. Still, the trip was not all sunshine and tranquility, and a couple of times we found out how treacherous swimming among the reefs can be. Shannon and Susie both accidently cut their feet while treading water, and I sliced my two a little bit at our last stop. There, we parked at a dock and went snorkeling at the small beach nearby. It was a beautiful, but not the most ideal swimming location. First, the water was amazingly shallow. Even twenty-five feet out I could stand easily, and this made swimming a pain because there was barely enough water under me to keep me afloat. Also, the sand ended at about ten feet out and with the rest of the bottom being made up of fragments of dead reefs, shells, and rocks. Thus, most of the time I was not looking at the fish so much as trying to avoid scrapping my stomach on a piece of coral. Still, I made it totally unscathed until I stepped on the small jagged piece that I now have in my living room.
After Koh Chang we headed back to Bangkok for New Years, site-seeing, cheap souvenirs, and some retail therapy at the three huge shopping malls in the center of Bangkok. The first thing we did when we got to Bangkok was leave Bangkok and head to the small city of Ayataya. Ayataya is the former capital of Thailand, and is the home of several important Buddhist temples and shrines. One of the most interesting sites that we saw at Ayataya was a giant reclining Buddha that had to have been at least sixty feet long. I have a picture of myself standing by its feet, and I am not even as tall as five of its toes. According to the tour guide, the reclining Buddha symbolizes Buddha going to Nirvana, or heaven, and fittingly the area surrounding it was filled with various temples and mausoleums dedicated to the ancient kings of Thailand. Another really interesting thing that we saw was a stone Buddha’s head, the last remaining piece of a slightly larger than life size statue. The body statue had been destroyed and the head had been left lying on the ground. Then, after several years, a tree took root in the ground underneath the head. Gradually, the tree has grown up and around the head, and now the stone head of a Buddha is imbedded inside it about four feet off the ground. It was amazing to see such a merger of the inanimate and animate, and only thing that could have made it more impressive was if the tree had been a Bodhi. After Ayataya we headed back to Bangkok and checked out Khao Shan Road, Bangkok’s backpacker capital. The street was packed with hostels, souvenir stalls, and food sellers, and I think that there were more ex-pats on than Thais. I tried to exercise restraint but must I admit that I probably got too many souvenirs and servings of Pad Thai while I was there.
The next day, the three of us split off to do our own things. I was a little tired of temples after Ayataya, so I decided that instead of temple hopping again, I would spend the day at the Grand Palace, something that was very easy to do. First, it took me almost an hour to get into the palace between lines for tickets and lines for replacement pants. I was in the same kind of clothes that I had worn yesterday at all the temples at Ayataya but apparently that still was not good enough, and I had to borrow some pants to go in. Still, it was worth that minor aggravation. The palace was huge and beautiful, and I was able to kill to birds with one stone. Not only was the Grand Palace the King’s home and place of business, but it was also the location of another famous shrine, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. If there was anything that I saw in Thailand that I would consider disappointing, the Emerald Buddha would be it. It just did not live up to all the hype. First, it was much smaller than expected, and it turned out that the statue of the Buddha was not even made of emerald, but was in fact jade. Actually, that was not a big deal, and I was very impressed to learn that the whole thing was made from one piece. If the problem was anything in particular it was that it was so poorly lit. Not only was the stature way up high, but it was nearly lost in shadow, which made it really hard to appreciate it. I just figured that a national symbol of such importance would be a little better displayed. The last two days were spent in the more modern, retail world of Bangkok. We went to the big mall in the center of the city and I got some new running shoes, a new mp3/phone to replace my ipod that went kaput right as I got to Thailand, and some new books. New Years, in Thailand was great. We had dinner and drinks at the hostel to keep down costs, and then we went to the center of the city to watch fireworks. A few of the people we were hanging out with that night had a little too much to drink and had to cut out early, but I made it well into 2009 before I headed to bed.
Unfortunately, the 2nd of January finally arrived and it was time to go home. Our flight was not until nine that night so we packed up and went around Bangkok one last time. I also finally got the famous Thai massage, and I have to say it was much nicer and classier than I expected. The masseuse only propositioned me once, and the parlor was very clean and comfortable. Eventually however, it was time to head home to Kazakhstan. I had one last feast of non-Kazakh fast food at the Burger King/Dairy Queen at the airport food court, put on my warm clothes to prepare for the winter we were returning to, and then finally, reluctantly, got on the airplane.

Lessons From MST

2008-12-17T00:44:00.000-08:00

December 15, 2008

We just got back from our Mid-Service Training in Almaty, and while it was not strictly a vacation, it was a very worthwhile break. As was the case with IST it was just nice to hang out with the other volunteers and get some new ideas about classroom games and community projects. More importantly however, MST allowed me to compare general experiences with other volunteers. From my last couple of posts you may have noticed that I have been a bit frustrated with life here. Little things kept piling up and I just got angrier. This really bothered me because I genuinely like living here, and I considered myself open-minded and culturally sophisticated. Furthermore, while Kyzylorda is not gorgeous to be sure, it is a nice enough city, and I’ve got local friends and very supportive colleagues. Why then, did everything that I liked about those people for last year suddenly begin to drive me crazy? I think it was because somewhere along the line I forgot that just because I understand and respect a culture does not mean I have to like all of it. There are many things that I love about Kazakhstan, particularly the food, the close-knit family, and the bazaars. However, I do not have to like the fact that young men live with their parents well into their 20s and often cross the line between respectful sons and “mama’s boys,” or that it is perfectly ok to cheat on an exam. My mistake was to try to force myself to like everything about the country, even those things that were antithetical to my own upbringing and values. Since MST however, I have come to realize that I can be a lot more Zen about it. I will continue to respect Kazakhstan’s opinions about education and gender relations, but I do not have to give myself an ulcer trying to see those opinions as correct or equally valid. I guess what I am trying to say is that I have definitely given of hope fully integrating, but I am perfectly happy here going along with the idea of live and let live.

The Crazy Weather of Kazakhstan

2008-12-17T00:35:00.000-08:00

December 3, 2008

I do not think that Al Gore has ever visited Kazakhstan, but in November we have had enough crazy weather to definitively prove his global warming thesis. I was struck at the intensity and implausibility of the weather witnessed. Furthermore, the speed at which the weather transitioned from one type to another was incredible, often taking only one day or even a couple of hours. The first week was five days of heavy, sometimes even torrential rain. This would be nothing unusual if Kyzylorda was not located in the desert/steppe of Kazakhstan, but I bet that we got our due of rain for an entire year. The following week brought a dense cold fog in the mornings that slowly disappeared in the mid to late afternoon. I figure that this could have been the result of the warm afternoon sun sucking water up off of the river that was then trapped near the earth as the temperature quickly dropped at sundown. The fog was so thick that I thought I was walking through a humidfier, and it was sometimes hard to breathe. In a city so flat that I can almost see my school from my apartment two miles away I could barely see five feet in front of me. Next came the Indian summer. When I went to work in the morning it had been in the high 30’s Farenhiet, but by the time I walked back to my house for lunch it had gotten up the high 50’s. As I mentioned before these weather patterns moved in with astounding speed, but the November heat week developed the fastest.. I have to admit that I was so caught off guard that I first thought I had caught a cold and had a fever. This “heat wave” has persisted even into the first week of December with no end in site. It looks like one of the coldest winters on record will be followed by one of the warmest.

Not Broken But Certainly Cracked

2008-11-14T01:53:00.000-08:00

November 13, 2008

Teaching here in Kazakhstan has been a very enriching experience, however as I said before it has not been without its problems. What bothers me the most is not the problems themselves, but that many of them seem so fixable. For example, the source of much of my classroom frustration can be directly traced to Kazakhstan’s educational system that forces university and college students to determine their profession/major before they have even taken their first class. I guess doing this makes sense from a bureaucratic standpoint, because it makes it easier to assign students into neat, manageable groups. From a teacher’s standpoint however, it is a ridiculous idea. In Kazakhstan students begin college when they are around fifteen or sixteen years old, right after the 9th grade, and most of these kids are not prepared to make that kind of irrevocable decision. Hell, I was not prepared to make that decision until I was twenty, and I am still second guessing my decision. If I had been stuck with my first choice of major I would be a miserable seminary student right now instead of a happy-go-lucky Peace Corps volunteer. Furthermore, the major written on your diploma carries much more weight in Kazakhstan than it does in the United States. For example, I have been here for a year, and I am still explaining that while yes, I did study art history at university, that does not necessarily make me an art historian.

When I discuss this with other teachers they say that its not that big a deal, if a student decides later that they do not want to be an English teacher or psychologist, they will just finish their college or university studies and then go to another University and study something else. This frustrates me to no end because not only is this a huge waste of the student’s time and money, but it is also a major waste of the teacher’s time. I cannot tell you how tired I am of teaching a class of thirty students where at least a third of them cannot speak any English and have not interest in learning it. They will never be teachers or translators, they just sit there doodling or text messaging their friends, waiting for the college to give them an unearned diploma and send them into the ranks of taxi drivers, waiters, and housewives. Most days I do really enjoy teaching, but having to stand in front of a class of thirty students when fifteen of them are totally apathetic is really depressing. I know that there are lazy students at American universities, but there are far fewer totally apathetic ones because they are able to wait and see what sort of subjects they are good at and interested in before making a decision.

According to my colleagues, Kazakhstan is planning a major educational system reform to be initiated in 2010. The plan would have students attend school for ten years followed by two years of general education at a college after which students will choose their professions in preparation for four years of university study. This is a good start, but only time can tell if it will mean smarter and happier students. Perhaps all this is partly nostalgia for the American Education system, but I still think that major changes need to take place if Kazakhstan is going to be a nation of successful fulfilled students; a nation ready to take its place among developed nations by 2030.

Why Am I Here?

2008-10-18T04:41:00.000-07:00

October 14, 2008

Lately, I have been asking myself “what am I doing here?” It is not that I am tired of living in Kazakhstan or that no longer enjoy what I am doing, it is just I have not been finding as much fulfillment regarding the reasons that I joined the Peace Corps in the first place. I joined the Peace Corps because I thought that I was providing the Peace Corps and Kazakhstan with important service, and would figure out who I am and what I want to do with my life at the same time. Unfortunately, I am beginning to realize that my presence is not really that necessary and I am more confused than ever as to my life’s vocation.

To be honest, Kazakhstan does not really need Peace Corps Volunteers. There are plenty of local English teachers, and most of them are quite skilled in both language and pedagogy. I may have a sunnier view of Kazakhstan’s education system because I work at a truly excellent college, but in general the local teachers do just fine. I know that as a Peace Corps volunteer and a native English speaker, I provide an important source of alternative and modern teaching methodologies, critical thinking, and English practice, but Kazakhstan’s education system will certainly not collapse without us. That said, both the people of Kazakhstan and Peace Corps volunteers get a lot out of our work together, and Peace Corps should remain present in Kazakhstan as long as possible. The fact remains however, that Kazakhstan will soon be developed to the point that we are no longer necessary, or more to the point, it is no longer financially feasible for the U.S. Government to support the program.

Furthermore, Peace Corps service has not yet been enlightening experience I expected it to be when I joined. I hoped that serving in the Peace Corps would provide me with some direction regarding my future profession or even just life in general, and while I have had a few personal and professional realizations, my future seems just as uncertain as it was before I came. I guess the problem is that I was expecting a burst of clarity, and instead have only been given a few cracks of blue in an otherwise very cloudy sky. For example, I have come to realize that while I enjoy some aspects of teaching, many others I do not. For example, I am not a huge fan of teaching new vocabulary words or giving grades, but I like leading my students in discussions or asking them questions that make there heads hurt. Thus, while perhaps teaching is not my ultimate vocation, if I could find another profession that involved asking people difficult questions that they did not want to answer and did not require living in a cardboard box or somewhere with ivy-adorned columns, it would be great. Still, as important as this little bit of self-awareness was, I am still totally undecided on a future graduate program or career path, and given that my service will be over in a little over a year, this is a worrisome problem. I cannot go back to Waco, TX with absolutely no idea what I want to do next.

Perhaps this sounds as if I have become disenchanted, but that is not the case. I do really like working as a volunteer, and believe it or not, most days I think that I make some kind of difference. I also enjoy living in Kazakhstan. The culture is very different to be sure, but I find it very interesting and attractive. At the same time there is much about my site, Kyzylorda, that reminds me of the city where I grew up. I think that it is this combination of the new and exciting with the familiar that has allowed me to achieve the self-awareness that I mentioned before. It is as if I am seeing my everyday life through a slightly tinted lens that allows me to recognize those things about myself that I was oblivious to before. So perhaps I know why I am here after all. I do not know if I will leave a lasting impression on Kazakhstan, but it is certainly leaving a lasting impression on me.

A Ecke Aly for My Grandmother

2008-09-20T23:28:00.000-07:00

September 16th, 2008

Despite the physical distance California and North Carolina, I had a very close relationship with my grandmother, Ruth Mulllally (1913-2008). I was usually only able to visit twice a year, but thanks to phone calls, pictures, and email, she was constantly tuned into what I was doing, and my vast collection of Ninja Turtles only speaks for a fraction of the love and affection I received from her. Still, I think that it is almost unavoidable for a grandson to not know his grandmother as well as he might want to or should. Inevitably, I often viewed my grandmother through the prism of our relationship and so missed out on many important aspects of her character. I know that I have far from the whole picture, and I knew her for only a brief span of her long, wonderful life, it is clear to me that my grandmother was a remarkable woman.

My grandmother was still doing the New York Times Crossword puzzle well into her 94th year and was better informed about politics and world events then most people half her age. She was active in charitable projects throughout her life, and even took part in protesting against the Vietnam War when she was in her fifties. Finally, she went halfway around the world with my grandfather on numerous difficult journeys, and closer to home she calmly faced challenges that would have broken many others. She taught our family that if you are willing to take a risk and work hard, then good things will happen, and that the safe path inevitably leads to failure. While I may have gotten the idea of the Peace Corps from my aunt, it was from my grandmother that I got the courage to actually do it.

Ruth Mullally may not have been famous, but she left an indelible mark on all who met her, and presented a model of a life well lived. She had a loving marriage, three successful children, and the knowledge that she made a difference in the world. I can only hope to be so lucky. I dearly miss my grandmother, and in many ways I am still coming to grips with the fact that she is gone and I will never see or talk with her again. Fortunately though, I still have her memory and her example, and I hope that by living a life that she would be proud of, she will always be with me.

I Think It's the Glasses

2008-09-10T02:41:00.000-07:00

September 8, 2008

School started last Monday, but like in American schools, not much got done during the first week. Partially this was due to the fact that the new students were still being introduced to the way the school works, but the main culprit in the huge waste of time was that we did not have a schedule for the first week of class. Instead, we taught ad hoc classes to whichever group happened to be free in whatever classroom was available. After about four days though, we got the permanent schedule and I was very pleased with it. I got all the classes I requested, including my comic book course and my American culture course and in great time slots too. I only have to come in super early two days a week, and my classes are back to back so I will not have to sit around for hours at a time between classes. As happy as I am though, I am kind of wondering why they were so accommodating. Do they really think that those courses are a good idea, or do I somehow exude some aura that makes people think I know what I am doing? If there is any trick involved, I would have to say it is the glasses. They must somehow make me look older and more experienced, because sometimes I feel like to my collegues I appear to be a 28 year-old M.ED with five years teaching experience rather than a 23 year-old with an art history degree and one year of experience. I mention this because whereas I got everything I wanted, my site mate who does not wear glass is having a hard time getting a schedule, much less a good one.

This sounds great I know, but before you any of you future PCVs out there go and buy a pair of specs, this quick acquiescence is not always great. It often hides misunderstanding or even disagreement, but they feel that it is more polite to do something else behind your back than say anything to your face. The reason I say this is that the other day I suggested to the chair of the department that the students elect their student dean this year, rather than the teachers choosing her as in years past. She said, “makul”, or ok, but that the dean would need to be from the third course instead of the fourth because they had responsibility for maintaining the room. That sounded fine to me, so I went ahead and began to prepare for elections. Yesterday, however, as I am putting up the sign up sheets and going up around to different classes encouraging kids to enter the race, two third students came up to me and said that the chair had already chosen them to be the Dean and Vice-Dean of the department, and that when the chair was discussing elections she thought they the students would just elect “helpers.” I guess the students could be lying, but I doubt it. It just drives me a little bit crazy, because if she did not like the idea in the first place she could have said so, it would not hurt my feelings. Also though, I feel like these kids should get a little practice running for office and electing leaders on the off chance that they actually get the chance to do it for their political leaders on the one day. Still I guess it was a good example of Kazak politics for me, because just as the chairmen appointed the student dean, the President of Kazakhstan appoints the Akim or Governor. Maybe one day this will not be the case, but it is hard to envision any alternative when young people only know the one system, and they are not even trusted enough to choose someone among them as a representative.

In all fairness, it is not that huge a deal. The dean does nothing except organize a few holiday parties during the school year. I guess I was just hoping that I could help transform it into a legitimate way for the students to bring the students’ grievances to the faculties’ attention and exercise some corporate responsibility. Also though, I am not a huge fan of the chair’s choice, and I was hoping that another girl would be elected. The girl I had in mind speaks better English, but also just seems more intelligent and responsible. I guess this is to be expected though; she wears glasses.

Fitting In

2008-09-10T02:37:00.000-07:00

September 4, 2008

Well, it is that time of year again; school is back in full swing. I definitely enjoyed the summer vacation, but I have to admit that towards the end I was beginning to look forward to getting back to work. Frankly, I was getting a little bored, there is not much to do in Kyzylorda during the best of times, and with all of our local friends in their villages or visiting different parts of the country, it was becoming increasingly difficult to fill the days. Thus, on September 1st, Knowledge Day her in Kazakhstan, I eagerly put my suit on and headed off to school, grateful in the knowledge that the city population had returned to normal, and that I now had something to do for at least five hours a day. Of course, since September 1st is a national holiday, all we did that day was introduce ourselves to the new students and hold a small concert, but I still consider it to have been a momentous occasion because I realized that I was finally one of the gang. At last year’s ceremony the director of the Shamalgan gymnasium singled out the volunteers, and I kind of expected something like that to happen again. However, when the director came through with the Oblast Director of Education, they just walked right on by without a glance in my direction, and I realized that I was no longer special! I talked to my counterpart about this afterwards, and she laughed and said that I was no longer just the American volunteer, I was considered a member of the staff just like everyone else. No longer would I be paraded around on holidays and when special guests came to visit! I admit that this realization was a bit disappointing at first. I mean, those special guest parties were awesome, but I soon came to the conclusion that it was for the best. For one thing, my classes might actually run normally now because I will no longer be called out for so many special events nor be required to do so many pointless “open lessons” on the active board. Also, I am hopeful this means that I have integrated enough to gain a measure of public invisibility or at the very least inconspicuousness. Who knows, maybe now I can walk down the street without people yelling “hello!” every fifteen feet. I was hoping that it would happen sooner. After all, I stopped wearing the bright yellow backpack six months ago, but I guess these things take time.

Kazakhstan: Year One

2008-08-28T23:06:00.000-07:00

August 24, 2008

I am writing this entry to celebrate the fact that as of yesterday, I have survived one year in Kazakhstan. Furthermore, rather than being the worse for wear, I am better than ever. There were tough times to be sure, but overall the experience here has been a rather positive one. My organizational skills have improved, and I am much more comfortable in large groups. I now really do like teaching, and what’s more I think that my students are actually learning. Also, when I lived in America I hated studying new languages; I never thought that I was good at it, especially when it came to speaking. In only one year however, I am reasonably conversant in Kazak and am looking forward to starting to study Russian. Another positive change is that I am even healthier than I was before I left. My allergies have calmed down significantly, and while it might just be the fact that I live somewhere without much plant life, I like to think that the bad air was just the shock to the system I needed. The diet may also be somewhat responsible. Before I got to Kazakhstan I worried about eating so much meat, especially because I only at chicken and fish. While the diet is high in red meat and can be heavy, however, the massive increase in protein consumption, coupled with the fact that it is fresh food has done wonders.

That said, I think that the biggest change has been in my ability to understand and empathize with the people around me. There are things that drive me crazy about Kazak culture; men are often spoiled, women are sometimes overly submissive, and “cooperative learning” is second nature. Still, I have done my best to not let my aggravation seep into my personal friendships. I have come to realize that these flaws are not the fault of the individual, but the culture, and that if I had grown up in such a culture, I would probably behave in much the same way. When I first got to Kazakhstan, everything, the people, the clothing, the language, seemed so different that it was at first hard to imagine forming such close friendships and working partnerships with the local community. After a year among them however, while I have not totally mastered the language or the dress code, I am getting closer, and it is now easy to see that our similarities far outweigh our differences. This is the most important function of the Peace Corps. While much emphasis is put on quantifiable achievements like number of students taught, or liters of water purified, etc., the most important thing that Peace Corps does for both volunteer and host country national is that it forces each other to recognize their mutual humanity. We all have similar ambitions and dreams of success, we celebrate the same milestones, and we mourn the same losses. Perhaps we might do certain things in different ways, but that does not deny the fact that we both do it. I think the moment that this realization truly broke was a few months ago when I was at the wedding of one of my “cousins.” The bride was about to leave to go to her husband’s house and all the family was gathered to say goodbye. I looked over and I saw that the father of the bride, my “uncle”, a pretty stoic guy, was weeping. It was then, watching my uncle say good-bye to his daughter, and remembering similar scenes from past weddings, that I realized how universal our emotions and thoughts actually are. Think about it, what parent, no matter what country, does not cry at their kids wedding? Some people, including some fellow volunteers may believe that I am being to sympathetic to the locals and their often corrupt and chauvinistic behavior, but again I remind them that I do condemn that behavior, and I certainly do not emulate it. Furthermore, I know that one of my main responsibility as a PCV is providing a different example. Still I refuse to condemn the individuals themselves.

I am happy that I have done and seen so much in my first year here in Kazakhstan, but I am also a bit worried because I realize that I have so much left to learn and only one year to do it! I have several goals and projects that I want to see completed before I go home, a departmental newsletter, and an “American Corner” for starters, and I wonder how it will all get done. Ultimately though, if I have had half as much personal growth as I have had in this past year, I think it will still turn out to be a successful year. Just to let you know, I do miss you all, although I am no hurry to return to the States. I will just remind you that this past year flew by, and I know that this next year will go even faster. So do not worry. I will be back before you know it, and maybe even before you want it!

A Note on Peace Corps Fashion

2008-08-19T03:57:00.000-07:00

August 18, 2008

I know that it is a little late for this note to be of much us to the incoming Kaz-20 group, but maybe it will offer a brief example of how the Peace Corps gives pretty useless advice. I remember going around to REI, Eddie Bauer, and Wal-Mart this time last year to get the clothes the Peace Corps said I needed for Kazakhstan. Now, I know that part of the problem may have been my own images of what a Peace Corps volunteer should look like, but following that list, I ended up with lots of khaki’s, a couple of collored stripped shirts, and no blue jeans. Basically with the clothes I brought with me I look like I am either ready to go hiking or ready to go to the country club, neither of which helps me a whole lot. Kazakhstan may be a developing nation, but the people here have a fully formed sense of fashion. People here dress really nice, and not just on certain days and occasions, but everyday. At my university in America it was normal to see my female classmates role into class in sweatpants and a t-shirt, but here in Kazakhstan no girl would be seen wearing that outside the house. In fact, clothes like that are explicitly referred to as house clothes. All of my students come to school in the latest styles, and I often feel underdressed next to some of my male co-workers, many of whom wear a suit and vest to everyday. Ultimately, the only real good piece of advice PC gave about clothes was the suit. It is indeed a necessary piece of equipment. However, in their haste to include such items as zip off pants and boots, they forgot to mention that you are probably going to want your stylish jeans and leather jacket too. While it is true that after two years of hand washing those clothes are going to be shredded, but I promise you that the sense of wellbeing you get from fitting it just a little bit more will be worth it.

One Last Interlude

2008-08-19T03:53:00.000-07:00

When I got back to Kyzylorda, I was glad to be home. It had been almost a month since I had left for Ust-Komen and I actually like my desert city, most of the time at least. Once I got there though, I realized that I should have been careful what I wished for. It had been pretty hot in Kyzylorda when I left, but once I returned the heat quickly became almost unbearable. The temperature was regularly in the mid 45 degrees Celsius, and the wind did nothing to help the situation. All it would do was just blow dust everywhere and make the heat even worse. Luckily, Kyzylorda has a nice big river, the Sidaria that has a man-made beach where we all go swimming every afternoon. On a side note, the locals call this the “Jewish Beach” because, and this is a direct quote, “its free.”

Still, as much fun as I was having staring at the ceiling and cooking in my own juices, I was glad when my friend from Zhezkazgan invited me to come up to one last camp before classes started up again. Unfortunately, he only gave me the heads up a few days in advance, but it was all right because a bus goes from Kyzylorda to Zhezkazgan daily and it was not that hard to get a ticket. The bus was an old soviet type school bus, although an all-terrain vehicle would have been more appropriate. The bus did not so much follow a road as a really bumpy dirt path, and it was even forced to leave that at times and just drive across the open step. To make matters worse, the bus kept stalling outwhich not only extended the trip from eight hours to twelve, but was rather scary because there was absolutely no sign of life between Kyzylorda and Zhezkazgan, and if we had gotten really stuck it would probably have been a full day until a replacement arrived. Ultimately however, all of the trouble was worth it I guess. Zhezkazgan was hardly the hole in the ground that I expected after hearing Robert complain about it for eight months. In fact when I finally got there, the second thing I said to Robert was “what the hell were you complaining about?” Zhezkazgan had, unlike my beautiful Kyzylorda, clear evidence of urban planning, and a fully functional downtown. Zhezkazgan has its drawbacks to be sure, even disregarding its isolation. Zhezkazgan also has a great deal of air pollution due to all of the copper mines and processing plants in the city. In fact, some days it was so bad that when I blew my nose I thought pennies were coming out.

The camp in Zhezkazgan was a lot of fun and a great success. It was a nice middle ground between the crazy schedule and counterparts of Alga and the apathetic students of Ust-Kamen. The camp schedule was busy but not super overwhelming, and the kids were interested and active in both lessons and sports. In fact, it turned out that I had four students in my class who showed considerable talents in Ultimate Frisbee. Another great thing about the camp was that it was one another chance to meet and hang out with other PCVs. Not only did I get to see my friends from training one more time before school started, but I also got to meet Robert’s site mates from the Kaz-18 group, Dusty and Valerie. Both were really nice, and it was good to see that all of the Zhezkazgan volunteers got along pretty well. Of course, with the next nearest volunteers being eight or twelve hours away, they had better right?

All in all, it was a great two weeks and I was glad I had that one last trip. I feel that I have fully recharged my batteries and am ready for the coming year. Also, I am happy that I got the chance to see a lot of Kazakhstan has to offer. It is kind of funny actually, despite their similar size, it took me much longer to see as much of America as I saw of Kazakhstan this summer. My family traveled a lot to be sure, but it was usually on the East or West coasts, rarely the middle. Now though, I am back at site, this time for keeps. Summer is officially over, but I have to say it has probably been one of the best ever.

Summer Vacation Pt .2

2008-07-18T22:37:00.000-07:00

July 1-16, 2008

The second part of my summer vacation took me to the small village of Kalbatau, formally known as Georgivka in the Northeastern part of Kazakhstan. Getting there nearly killed me. It took two days by train, and while I was seated with some very nice people, and I have gotten pretty used to the amount of time it takes to travel around Kazakhstan, it was a long time to spend on a train. When I got there though, I saw that it was worth it. I had left a flat endless expanse of brown sand and scraggly trees, but in Kalbatau there was green grass, healthy trees, and actual hills! Anyway, as for the purpose of my visit, I went to Kalbatau to meet back up with my fellow Kazak speakers for another camp. Unlike the camp in Alga, the camp in Kalbatau was only one week instead of two, there were fewer students because most had gone on vacations themselves, and there were no counterparts, so at the end I was only moderately tired instead of completely exhausted. Like in Alga, the camp was split between class time and sports, and we also did cross-cultural work with different countries in addition to normal English lessons. Rather than designate each group as a different country however, every class worked with a different country every day. For example, one day we talked about Jamaica and made collages, another day we talked about Japan and made origami, and on a third day we talked about Brazil and made beaded jewelry. These cross-cultural activities were great, but my favorite part of the day was when we got to go outside and play sports. My site mate, Chris, was particularly into this part of the camp as he never passes up the opportunity to teach someone how to play baseball. I mostly stuck with football and ultimate Frisbee because I kept hitting a brick wall trying to explain to the kids that they could not throw the kickball at the members of the other team, they needed to throw them to their teammates at the bases. The entire week was great, although a little stressful sometimes because we literally could not get away from each other. All six of us were camped out in Kimi’s two-room apartment and there was barely room to walk around. Kimi was a great hostess, but I know that when we all went our separate ways she was probably glad to have some personal space back.

After the camp was over we all went our separate ways. Three people went to Tajikistan, Chris headed off to Italy to meet his folks, and I headed to Ridder a small town near the Altau Mountains to do some camping. The journey to get there was not too bad because Ridder and Kalbatau are in the same Oblast, but it still took awhile because the area is so mountainous and there are no through roads. On the day we all left, I went down to Ust-Kamen to meet Tony, Robert and some other Kaz-18s who were planning to do some camping as well. Robert needed to head to Ridder early, but Tony suggested that the rest of us head to a village a couple of hours away that was going to have a volunteer in the future. When we got there, we met our host Raxat, as well as a local friend of Tony’s named Vladimir who was in charge of activities for the few days we would be there. The area around the Altau Mountains is still very much a Russian enclave, and our host Raxat was not only one of the few Kazaks in the area, but also one of the few Kazaks in the area who actually understood Kazak. He thought it was an absolute riot that I spoke Kazak and actually took us to the river near his house one afternoon just so I could meet some of his friends and speak Kazak with them. Besides its use as a party trick though, speaking Kazak was a pretty useless skill to have up there, and I was glad I was with Tony and the others. The week really showed me that while Kazak is great as a tool of diplomacy and in showing that you are interested in the culture, outside of the south it does not have that much practical purpose. Wednesday morning we got up and Vladimir decided to take us Paragliding. After a short hike we got up to the hills around Raxat’s house that Vladimir said would be a good place to go from. In the end we did not actually get a chance to Paraglide because there was not enough wind, but the view made the walk worth it anyway. Even if I had gotten the chance to go Paragliding though, what we did later that afternoon would still have been the high point of my trip. That afternoon for the first time ever I got to go horseback riding. They just handed me the reins, gave me a few instructions, and I was off. The horse was a little hard to control at first, but he was very patient and very forgiving at my initial efforts. He never tried to buck me off or bite me, if he was irritated or I was not sure where I wanted to go next, all he would do was stop and eat grass.

The next morning we got up and headed back to Ust-Kamen. Ridder was only sixty kilometers a way as the crow flies, but as I mentioned earlier there are no roads that go through so we had to go back to Ust-Kamen and catch another bus to take us to Ridder. When we got to Ridder, we met Robert who took us back to his place so we could get cleaned up and re-pack for the weekend up in the mountains. Robert reminded us that though there was a base camp where we were going, the bus was going to drop us off three miles away from it and so packing light was a must. After a nice pizza dinner at a café, we went to bed early so that we could get up and catch the first bus out to the base camp at 7:30. The woman in charge of base camp was Tony’s Counterpart, a hard-nosed, but soft-hearted middle-aged Russian woman named Natalya. She was not that happy to see us arrive because base camp was totally full with a group from Petropolvisk, and so we ended up having to stay at a campsite a short ways up the trail. I actually liked where we stayed a lot better than the actual base camp. Our campsite had a nice fire pit, plenty of shady trees, and a river full of fresh glacial water right next to it. That afternoon another group of PCVs arrived, nine Kaz-19s, which of course made Natalya even madder. We got up the next morning around seven and got ready to go, the two girl Kaz-18s were not wild with the idea of dragging all of their stuff with them so we decided to do a day hike instead of a full on camping trip. Tony had told us that there was a series of lakes up at the top made from the remains of glaciers, which at least to me sounded like a place worth seeing. After two and a half hours of hiking we passed the tree line and entered the rock field, a field covered with the shattered rocks from when the mountains first rose out of the ground. It was a stunning site, but made for some extremely difficult hiking. We had to jump from rock to rock making sure we did not trip, and even though we had passed the tree line we knew we still had at least another hour or two of hiking before we got to our destination. On and on we climbed over one small hill after another, but each time we thought we had made it, we saw that there was yet another hill. After about two hours of this, the girls decided that they had about had enough, so we sat down for lunch, and they got ready to go back down the hill. I decided though, that I wanted to make one more push. I knew it could not be that much farther and we had gone so far that it seemed pointless to go back before we got to the end. I kept climbing and about forty-five minutes after we had split up I made it to the top to find…nothing. All that was there was a shallow depression with some ice that maybe had the potential to become a large puddle if it got warm enough. It turned out that where we needed to go way to the right we had instead gone straight, and so we went up to the wrong peak. I was a little disappointed, but it had not been a total waste of time. For even though there was no lake, the fifty-foot sheer wall of volcanic rock that we had thought was the side of a large rock bowl was still pretty impressive. After taking a few pictures, I began to make my way down. I was not looking forward to the long walk down by myself, but luckily the others were going slow and I caught up to them before they had gotten back to the tree line.

Dinner that night was spaghetti, which was surprisingly good considering all we had was tomato paste, a few onions, half a kielbasa, and some cheese spread to make sauce. After dinner we called it an early night. The girls’ feet were hurting, and they wanted to head back to Ridder on the morning bus. I on the other hand, was planning on doing some solo hiking and camping of the next couple of days and heading back to Ridder on Tuesday morning and then getting the Tuesday night bus out, but unfortunately when Natalya found out about this plan the next morning as the others were preparing to leave she said, “I don’t think so.” I did not have my stuff ready to go with the guys so there was no chance of catching the early bus with them. It looked like I was going to have to hang out at the base camp until the Kaz-19s and Tony came down the mountain from their campsite and catch the afternoon bus out with them. I was really bummed because I had wanted another crack at finding the lakes and I was not looking forward to sitting there for six hours with nothing to do. Then fortune shinned upon me once again. Natalya told me that another group was heading up to the lakes and I could go with them and rendezvous with Tony and the others. She threw me into a young Russian couple’s all-terrain vehicle with two guides and another couple and we sped off up the hill. I know it was sort of cheating, but riding in the vehicle was almost as much of an adventure as walking. The thing could not only power of rocks and through streams, it could nearly drive straight up. Sometimes the car was driving on such a steep slope that I was almost afraid that I was either going to fall out or the thing was going to tip over backwards. Still, even it could only go so far and at the tree line we had to get out and start walking. Once we started walking I realized where we had made the mistake yesterday. We had needed to be on the other side of the river and a large hill, but we did not realize this because the two peaks looked almost identical. We did not find Tony and the others, but after three hours we did manage to find the lakes! The first two were amazing, beautiful oases in the middle of desolate rock. I had never tasted water so naturally cold or fresh before. The best was yet to come, however. After spending a couple of minutes resting we continued on up and over the top of the mountain and entered into a small sun-covered valley where there were even more lakes. I had made it! In all honesty, the site was literally breathtaking. Not only was there no way to tell such a place was there from the bottom of the mountain, you could not even tell it was there until right when you got to the top.

After lunch we started down the mountain, and I quickly came to realize that it was probably just as well I was no longer planning on staying a few extra days. My feet were killing me! I worried a little that we were going to miss Tony and the bus because the hike up, including using the car part way had taken four hours and it was nearly two, but gravity lent us speed and we made it all the way down the hill on foot in two hours flat. After we got back to site we had a small tea with Natalya and then she put us all in the company bus to take us back to town. Once again, I split off from the Kaz-19s because I had to go get my stuff from Robert’s place. That, and I figured they would probably have a pretty late night. They had not actually done that much hiking, but I was dead on my feet. The Kaz-18s were already packed up to go and relaxing when I got there. They had to get back to their site and were on the noon bus from Ust-Kamen to Astana. I decided to go with them and buy a ticket for the 7:30 bus to Almaty. Unfortunately, when I got to the bus station it turned out that there were no tickets for that bus and I would have to wait until tomorrow. I made arrangements to stay with another volunteer who lived in a nearby village over night and then checked my bags at the bus station before around the city for a few hours. We had a fun night making quesadillas from scratch and hanging out, but clearly we were not yet recovered from Ridder, we all passed out in front of a movie by 11:30.

The next day we went to back to the city around noon and hung out for a few hours before I had to get on the bus. My friends asked me why I was taking the bus instead of the train, and I said I was doing it because it was cheaper, and there were no seats on the trains for the next couple of days anyways. I should have waited for the train. First, the bus was packed, and I got seated in the window seat of the very last row next to four incredibly obnoxious Russian guys. Then I found out that rather than taking seventeen hours as I was told earlier, it was going to take twenty hours to get to Almaty. I tried to settle in as best as I could but the guys were four of the biggest assholes I have met in any country, and did not seem to understand that I did not understand them, did not want to take shots with them, nor was I their pillow. I spent half the time trying to keep one of them from crushing me against the window when he passed out after doing shots. If I was not already heading that way before I think that bus trip made me a Kazak nationalist. Thankfully, unlike the real thing, this hell ended eventually and I stumbled off the bus around five p.m. the next day. After getting off the bus I got a ride to the Altin-Orda bus station where I caught a marshootka to Chamalgan, and I am happy to say I am now happily relaxing at home with my first host family. They are in the midst of remodeling the house and making it bigger because they believe that my brother Acxat will get married in the fall, so I am trying to help out or at least stay out of the way. No rest for the weary right?

A Little Pomp and Circumstance

2008-07-18T22:36:00.000-07:00

While the traditions and trappings of it may change from country to country, the graduation ceremony is indeed universal. Yesterday was my college’s graduation, and while there were several differences between this ceremony and my own graduation ceremony, other parts of it reminded me just how universal it is as a rite of passage.

The most notable difference I saw was the one that I was happiest about. No Caps or Gowns! Like in America, the students and teachers were all dressed to the nines, but unlike us they did not do something as silly as then covering themselves up with a cheap polyester robe. This decision may have been functional as well as stylistic however, seeing as how it was 92 F in the shade that day. If the students had been wearing American graduation regalia there would have been several cases of heat stroke.

I also liked that the fact that the ceremony was much shorter than the typical commencement ceremony in the U.S. This was partly due to the size of the graduating class, but even taking that into account, things moved along at a nice clip. For one thing, only the students who received the top or “red” diploma from each class group went up individually to receive their diploma, otherwise the head of the department just read out their names and gave the diplomas out by class group. The lack of a valedictory speech also helped in cutting time. Instead of one long speech, three of the best students gave short speeches thanking their teachers, parents, and fellow students, and each of the three speeches was in one of the three official languages of Kazakhstan, either Kazak, Russian, and English.

You might wonder how, even if the grading system is a sham, the administration could fail to recognize a valedictorian, but the fact is that departments and even to some extent is class groups are rather autonomous. Students pick their “major” when they first arrive at the college and are then sorted into different course groups with whom they take all of their classes, even those classes outside their department. Furthermore, after their first and second year, students take fewer and fewer classes outside their specific department. These factors, alongside the endemic cheating, makes choosing a valedictorian an exercise in futility, although I am sure that the P.E. department wishes they did as the award would then be for sale.

The ceremony was not the only thing that was different about graduation at my college. Even the diplomas are different. Unlike in America where all diplomas look pretty much the same unless you look inside, in Kazakhstan you can tell who the high achievers were at a glance. The best students received literal red diplomas while everyone else received regular blue ones. I was pleased to see that my two best students got red diplomas, and I was also happy to see that they did not hand them out like they were happy meal toys. In fact, I only saw one student from the English department get a red diploma who I did not believe deserved it. She is a nice girl, but her English skills are mediocre at best. Apparently however, she tested very well. Another contributing factor no doubt was the fact that in Kazakhstan you lose your diploma rather than earn it. For example, at our college you can have no more than thirty fours in four years to get a red diploma. The student managed this because she was out of school for several weeks after suffering a miscarriage. The assignments and tests she missed were of course not counted against her, nor was she required to make them up. At end of the year, when all the tallying was done, she only had twenty-seven fours, and thus the school deemed her worthy to receive the red diploma.

Those differences aside, I could tell that my students were just as excited as I had been when I finished school. Just as I was, they were preparing to enter into the real world, a world made even realer by the fact that several were already bearing adult responsibilities like marriage and children. It was just like at Wake, though perhaps a tad bit more chaotic because there was no special parents' seating section and no security personnel.

That night my counterpart’s group 4D threw a big party at a restaurant. Despite it being very similar to the Kazak dinner parties I had been to before, I had a surprisingly good time. At first I ate with the other teachers who attended the party, but after they left go visit the other grad parties I hung out with the two of the young husbands. They are always a fun group to hang out with because they are the only local people I have met so far that I would refer to as my peers. We are all between the ages of twenty-two and twenty-five, and even though they are married and have kids, they still have the sense of humor of a college student. Anyway, we had a great time, making toasts and chatting. We drank to the student’s success, danced a little, and then like all of the other twenty-something men in the city went outside to watch the Euro Cup match.

All in all, it was a great day, and I am sorry that it is over. None of those girls are my students anymore, and they were by far the best class I worked with. Still, I am happy because now they will be my colleagues, and hopefully they will be a part of a real effort to change and improve the education system of Kazakhstan. Also, this means that my summer vacation can officially begin!

Reading List Update

2008-06-27T01:53:00.000-07:00

21. Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt
My mother read this book several years ago, but as strange as it is to say, this Irish-American only read Angela’s Ashes for the first time a couple of weeks ago. I think what was great about this story was that it was both about the unique Irish experience and the universal struggle against poverty. McCourt’s book also offers a powerful indictment of the forces that conspire to keep people in poverty, even more potent because he does it without hitting you over the head. He does not point out the corrupt government workers who demean those who come to ask for charity or the cruel priests who refuse to admit into their school the those that need it the most. Rather, McCourt simply tells his story and allows the reader to see how often the forces of the church and the state often join forces to oppress the very people they are supposed to be helping. Ultimately however, it is a story of great courage, of what is possible if you are willing to go for it, and perhaps to those of us that are more fortunate, the question of why have we not done more?

22. Dreams From My Father by Barak Obama
23. The Audacity of Hope by Barak Obama
I read these two books pretty much back to back, and while many people have said that his second book, the Audacity of Hope, is better due to Obama’s maturation as a both a statesman and a writer, I think that I actually like the first book more. Everyone has tried to understand their parents are, not just in relation to ourselves but also as individuals, though this is undoubtedly more difficult when the parent is not there. This search for knowledge and connection with another part of his family mirrored Obama’s more personal search for a fulfilling life and career.
Still, even if I liked Dreams of My Father a little bit more, Audacity of Hope was still and excellent book. The book is a powerful political treatise about what needs to be done n our country and how Obama intends to accomplish these goals. His political opponents may claim that he is inexperienced or naïve, but then I guess so am I as well as the several million other people who have found in his rhetoric a clear path to change and a better America.

24. The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien
The Things They Carried is an interesting book that is both a collection of short stories and a memoir. The meaning of the title is two-fold. First, it refers to those objects, both mundane and significant, that O’Brien and his fellow soldiers carried with them during their service in Vietnam, and secondly it refers to the emotional and psychological damage that O’Brien and the other survivors carry with them. My favorite story was the one about O’Brien came to the army. He talks about he was set against the war and seriously considered going to Canada when he was drafted, but in the end he decided to serve anyway because he was more afraid of shaming himself and his family than losing his life for a cause he did not support or understand. Our country is now engaged in a similar military debacle, although at least service in this one is voluntary. Still, reading O’Brien’s book is great for not only getting a clearer picture of the Forgotten Generation, but also for gaining understanding about what members of my own generation are experiencing during their wartime service.

25. The Pig Did It by Joseph Caldwell

26. Oil by Upton Sinclair
Not many books written on such a specific subject retain their timelessness and authority. For example, The Jungle, another of Sinclair’s works, no longer packs quite the punch that it used to thanks to the efforts of the FDA. Oil however, remains just as interesting and relevant today as it did when it was first published. Unfortunately, this timelessness is due as much to the lack of progress in the Oil/Energy Industry as Sinclair’s writing. The book starts off a little slow, mostly because the main character, Bunny, is so milquetoast and wishy-washy, but eventually he does get a backbone when faced with financial and physical costs of his father’s work and the mind-blowing fact that in certain cases more money was spent on the drilling than the oil was worth. What was great about the book however, was that Sinclair did not focus solely on the industry, he also examined the complicity of those that lived off the earnings. Sinclair shows just how far into politics and society the oil man can reach, and why it will prove so difficult to remove him from our system so that we can make progress on alternative energy sources.

27. Imperial Life in the Emerald City by Rajiv Chandrasekara
28. Apples Are From Kazakhstan by Christopher Robbins
In one of the most interesting travel guides I’ve ever read, Robbins goes all over Kazakhstan to see some of its most important sites and examine Kazakshtan’s lost past, its present, and its uncertain future. Most of the book is a very clear and rational examination of the country and its people, but after he begins to travel with the president he clearly loses some objectivity in regards to the political and education systems of Kazakhstan. For example, he praises the country’s nearly 99% literacy and high number of students who complete secondary school, but he declines to mention that cheating in school is widespread or that bribes on big exams or for diplomas are still fairly common. Still, the picture he draws of Kazakhstan as the birthplace of apples and legendary horsemen is fascinating and makes me want to explore my new home even more.

Summer Vacation Pt. 1

2008-06-16T21:37:00.001-07:00

June 16, 2008

I know that it has been a long time between updates, but I hope that these recent posts will satisfy. For the last two weeks I have been working at a summer camp in Alga, a small village in the northwest of Kazakhstan that is located near the city of Aktobe. The weather was wonderful, and the people very friendly, but unfortunately internet was scarce, so I had to wait until I returned to the big city of Kyzylorda before I could share my experiences.

The camp was great because it was a kind of reunion for my training group. Two of our friends from other sites came down to Kyzylorda first, and then the four of us went together to Alga. The train ride was hell. We were in Platzcar because it was cheaper, but this turned out to be a mistake. Our window would not go down so we just lay there and baked for nineteen hours, all while being stared at by every other occupant of the car. Seriously, I think sweated for at least twelve hours straight before nighttime finally brought relief. Eventually though, we made up to Alga where our friend Emiko was their to meet us with her counterpart Roman. The sanitorium we would be staying at was not quite ready yet so we first went to Emiko’s house to shower and have tea. A big bonus was that Emiko had somehow made Chocolate Chip cookies that unfortunately disappeared within three hours. We were soon settled in the sanitorum, and then were given the grand tour of the village that took all of 45 minutes. The school that Emiko works at was very nice, and conveniently located, and while it was definitely not the social scene that Kyzylorda was, Alga had everything that was necessary, including a rather nice bakery. The next day was Sunday, and it was the day we were to meet our host country counterparts and begin preparations for lessons. My counterpart was named Larissa, a middle aged Russian woman who was very friendly but not very active in planning or in class. At first I thought that maybe this was because she did not like me or that her English was bad, but I eventually found out that neither was the case. Rather, she simply wanted a native speaker to do most of the talking and enjoyed seeing what a young person like myself could come up with. The camp began that Monday with an opening ceremony and presentations by the volunteers. I was obligated to perform my fake Irish jig and fortunately no one was the wiser, and we also performed some demonstrations about the sports we would teach the kids during the subsequent two weeks. We then got together in homerooms, made introductions and chose which countries we wanted to be for the next two weeks. The kids at first were more inclined towards Canada, but I was able to convince them that Ireland was cooler, and they quickly became very nationalistic Orangemen.

The camp days were very long and tiring, but a lot of fun. Every morning we taught two hours of English class followed by two hours of American sports and games. All of us volunteers quickly found our niche. Some found a home making friendship bracelets, others teaching kickball. I myself, became head dodgeball instructor and spent the last two weeks happily instructing the students on the finer points of Battleball and teaching them how to properly use your shoulder to throw the power ball. Unfortunately, as good as my students did in class, they did not earn that many points in the competition for points, and so at the end of the two weeks we found ourselves near the bottom in the Camp Olympics. Still, I was very proud of my kids, who not only made a great deal of progress in class, but were also very enthusiastic about being Team Ireland. Besides teaching the students we were also expected to spend some one on one time with our counterparts after lunch. Most of this was spent lesson planning, but we also gave presentations on games and activities and instructed some of them on the use of the communicative teaching method. We also usually found ourselves busy in the evenings as well, either with pick up basketball games or Konocks at Emiko’s parent’s and counterpart’s house. Thus, when bedtime finally arrived I slept like a log.

Still, the vacation was not all work. Over the weekend we got to go into the city of Aktobe, which like Kyzylorda is an oil town, only even more so due to its proximity to the big oil fields in the northwest. While in many ways it has a similar appearance to Kyzylorda, it definitely was a lot bigger and we had to take the bus almost everywhere we went because the distances were so great.

Eventually however, the camp came to an end I was sorry that it would mean saying goodbye to all of my friends and all of my students. Still, parting was not too bad, because I know that I will see them again soon. On the 26th I am going to head up to Ust-Komen where we are all getting together again for another camp, and afterwards there might even be an opportunity for us to do some responsibility free sightseeing around Kazakhstan. Also, I must admit that I was a little homesick for Kyzylorda towards the end, and I was happy to see my desert outpost again when I got off the train yesterday. I stepped off the train, breathed in the scorching hot air, began to sweat like crazy and realized that a great summer was only beginning.

How to Survive a Kazak Dinner Party

2008-06-16T21:32:00.000-07:00

June 5, 2008

I have talked about going to parties before in other posts, but I do not think that I have gone into enough detail to give a true picture of the fascinating social institution that is the Kazak dinner party. Kazak dinner parties are also known as Konocks or Dasterhans because Konock is the Kazak word for guest and Dasterhan is Kazak for table cloth or spread. These parties always follow the same formula. The first course is the salad, which is usually my favorite because there are at least three different kinds, and you are guaranteed to have fresh vegetables other than potatoes. This is followed by the main course which is usually either Beshparmak or Plov. Then, there is sometimes a short break for digestion and to clean the table before tea with desserts and fruit. Of course, it would not be a Kazak party if drinking was not involved. Throughout the dinner, eating is occasionally interrupted by a series of toasts, and these toasts can really lengthen the evening because every person has to give one. Like the dinner party itself, toast giving is pretty formulaic. You thank the host, offer him general wishes for good health and happiness, tell everyone that you are drinking for friendship or peace, etc. and then take a shot of vodka. If you have a good toast master that keeps things moving along, toasting can be kind of fun, but it can be real stressful when you are still learning Kazak and struggling to come up with something original to say, a process made even more difficult if your toast comes late in the festivities. Also, guests are often expected to give some sort of performance like singing a song or maybe even dancing. After everyone has toasted and had enough chai the meal draws to a close, but not before the oldest male guest at the table has performed the prayer. Even then, the party is not necessarily over, and many konocks are followed by dancing in the living room or even in some cases, Karaoke.

Having laid out the general formula then I offer the following advice for surviving the Kazak dinner party.
1. Skip lunch. You will eat so much food at the Kazak dinner party that not only will you make up for not eating earlier, but you might not even need breakfast the next day. Not only are the main courses gigantic, but there are tons of other things to nibble on throughout the evening, like nuts, salads, cheeses, meats, and fruits so I guarantee that you will be full.

2. Eat a lot. Do not worry about eating too much, the food is delicious, healthy, and you can always go to the gym tomorrow. Furthermore, your host will continuously tell you to eat, eat, and you risk hurting their feelings if you do not. Finally, the fuller the stomach the less likely you are to get embarrassingly drunk of the seven or eight shots you will be expected to take.

3. Learn a little Kazak. Even if you are fluent in Russian, Kazak toasts need to be made in Kazak. You do not need to learn that much though. As I mentioned, toasts are formulaic and going with the standard often goes over a lot better than trying to speak from the heart.

4. Have a talent
As I mentioned before, guests are often expected to sing or offer some other entertainment, and it is best if that skill is genuine. For example, last week in Alga, my so-called friends told everyone that I could do an Irish jig, and so I was then obligated to perform a farcical imitation. Fortunately, thanks to the fact that they had never seen the genuine article, and their belief that everyone of Irish ancestry knows how to do it, my Kazak audience bought it hook, line, and sinker. Still, it would have been much better if I could actually perform the real dance, or if, like one of the other volunteers in attendance, I could sing beautiful Kazak and Russian songs.

I hope people find it helpful, even if they might never have need for it. Hopefully though, you will have the chance to put it into use, because while the toasting can be tedious, the food is delicious, and the Konock or Dasterhan is one of the most interesting and important cultural experiences to be had in Kazakhstan.

Birthdays and Changes

2008-06-01T10:20:00.000-07:00

May 26, 2008

I used to think, as many people probably do, that turning twenty-three is nothing special. After all, no milestone like the right to vote or to purchase alcohol accompanies a person’s twenty-third birthday. However, I have recently decided that the twenty-third birthday has been grossly undervalued and that it might actually be the most important birthday of all. A person’s twenty-third year is usually the first time that they really do anything that is unique or expresses their individuality. In America at least, learning to drive, voting, and even graduating from high school are all achievements that are based on societal expectation rather than personal choice or ambition. At twenty-three however, people truly begin to live their own lives. They decide what it is they want to do and set out to do it. Whether that means entering the workforce or going onto graduate school, the choice is one’s own.

You may disagree with my argument for the importance of the twenty-third birthday, but I would just like to say that for me it probably was one of most important and fun birthdays I have ever had. First, it was celebration of my first major individualistic decision of my adult life, joining the Peace Corps. This was also, the first time that I have ever celebrated my birthday outside of the United States or away from my parents. Fortunately however, I was able to celebrate with twelve of my newest best friends, both volunteers and host country nationals, and my Kazak host family. My birthday marked nearly six months at site, and looking around the table I realized how lucky I was to have so many local friends and such an awesome host family. My family held a traditional Kazak dastarhan/birthday party with lots of food, including Zhanat Apa’s monte and toasting. Then I found out that my friends had dedicated a music video to me on the local television station. On purpose, they had chosen my least favorite Kazak song, but I was still touched. Also, I know that in four months I will have my chance for revenge.

As I mentioned previously, turning twenty-three has brought with it a major change. I am now living by myself! Last Monday I agreed to rent this very nice two-room apartment about six blocks from my college and I moved in yesterday. This is the first time that I have really lived by myself. I have to admit that at first I was a little worried about moving out. I was a little concerned about upsetting my host family, but my biggest worry was definitely about food. I am glad to say however, that my worries have so far proven to be unfounded. I have so far successfully made both stir-fry and Denver omelets, and am beginning to feel much more confident around the kitchen. The apartment itself is beautiful. I really lucked out. I have two rooms of a four-bedroom apartment because the landlady lives in Astana and uses the other two rooms as storage, but still it is a really great situation. The rooms are big and well kept and I even have a washing machine. In fact, the only real drawback is water. Due to the state of the infrastructure in Kyzylorda and the fact that I live on the third floor apartment I only get water between 11:00 PM-1:00 AM and then from 6:30AM-9:30 AM, so I keep several five gallon jugs for the other times. Unfortunately, this lack of water means that my washing machine is useless most of the time, but I have gotten it to work a few times. So friends, if you are in the neighborhood please drop by, my couch is very comfortable and you can tell me what you think about my cooking.

What's in a Name?

2008-05-24T01:20:00.000-07:00

May 12, 2008

A name is one life’s most valuable possessions. Our names are the foundation of our professional and personal reputations, and are an important part of our personal and professional identities. You might be Mr. Smith at work, but John with your friends, and your behavior subtly changes to fit the alias. Furthermore, names are often an important part of one’s cultural heritage, and thus Kazak names are very different from American ones in regards to the structure and the names themselves.

First, when introducing yourself in Kazakhstan, you give your last name first rather than the American custom of giving your first name first. Also, while in America people have at least two to three given names, in Kazakhstan there is only one- the first name. The “middle name” is just a patronymic. For example, had I been born in Kazakhstan, my name would not be McKenzie Lawrence Mullally Clark, rather it would be Clark McKenzie Daviduli, as “uli” means “son of”. Thus, it is probably much easier for parents to name their children here in Kazakhstan since two of the three are just “fill-in-the-blank.”

The structure is not the only thing that is different about Kazak names, however. American names like John, Sara, or Kimberly do not usually mean anything, even if they do have a long cultural or family history, but Kazak names can actually be translated. Some common names are Aigarum which means “splendid moon”, Temirzhon or “iron soul, Karakoz which means “black eyes” Tolganai or full moon, and Bakhyt, which means happiness. In class, when I am not struggling to say the name in the first place, I often like to think about what it means, and if they have actually live up to their name. Still, even if there are not “iron souls” in my class, I count myself lucky that none of my students deserve the name Akhmak, which means stupid.

Some Things Change, Some Things Stay the Same

2008-05-04T22:51:00.000-07:00

April 24th, 2008

Living in a different country with a very different culture is all about personal growth and making adjustments. There are adjustments to the food you eat, to the types of clothes you wear, even to some extent your personal values. Furthermore, you would be surprised at which ones do the shifting. Some, which back home seemed immutable, are molded to fit the situation at work or at home, while others, which in familiar territory were vague suddenly become much more resolute.

An example of such a shift is my views regarding cheating. After growing up in America, and attending a University with a very strict honor code, I was a firm believer in the idea that cheating is wrong under any circumstances and that students who engage in it should be harshly punished. However, things are quite different in Kazakhstan. Students openly “help” each other on tests and assignments even if it is a major test and the teacher is standing right in front of them. At first I tried to maintain my strict philosophy, but I soon realized that the problem was endemic and nothing I did or said would change my students behavior. Thus, I began to adapt and compromise. I still do not accept my students’ cheating on assignments, but I now only give assignments that they have to work on cooperatively to complete. In this way, I can teach without feeling like I am compromising my integrity. Some may feel that I surrendered to the status quo rather quickly, and they are probably right, but my acclimatization was made easier by the fact that I have come to realize that the almost forces the students to cheat if they want to be successful. As the year draws to a close, some students face ten major exams on top of portfolio preparation, a workload that inevitably leads to cheating or a nervous breakdown.

On the other hand, since coming to Kazakhstan I have become even more firm and outspoken in my views on women’s rights and gender roles, rather than adjust to the more patriarchal views held by many in this country. One of the biggest influences on this evolution has been teaching at the college. First, nearly all of my students are women. In fact, of the 150 students I teach during the week, only four are men, and I find statistic a little troubling as it reveals that many in Kazakhstan still hold onto the notion that gender is an important factor in a person’s occupation. Still, the boy-girl ratio or my classes has only been a small factor in my becoming a bigger fan of Gloria Steinam and bell hooks. A much larger reason has been hearing some of the things that come out of my students’ mouths. For example, a few weeks ago I taught a class on jobs and occupation. After the vocabulary and sentence exercises, I thought a little cross culture activity would be fun. I put a venn diagram up on the board and had my students decide what jobs were for men, what jobs were for women, and what jobs were for both. Some choices, such as putting nurse with women, and policeman and with men were not unexpected and were similar to points of view held by many Americans. They were even good about putting doctor, lawyer, and politician in the both column. Other choices though were baffling, such as their claim that women could or should not be engineers, electricians, or soldiers to name a few. I was particularly surprised with their stance about soldiers, given the fact that the school is named after a famous woman soldier from WWII and there is a giant bust of her out in the courtyard. I asked them to explain their reasoning and they said, “Girls should not be out doing dangerous or dirty jobs, and are better off doing nice clean jobs and taking care of their children.” Now, that is not to say that it is a bad thing if a young woman sees marrying and having children as the ultimate aim in life or wishes to avoid occupations that are messy or physically demanding, but to make that claim for all women seemed a little much.

Life is the Peace Corps is certainly never boring and it requires a bit of personal transformation and adjustment in order to work effectively in one’s adopted community. Still, the last six months have served to remind me that one cannot, nor should they yield on everything. To be sure, in regards to certain things, it is important to hold as open and as pluralistic a mindset as possible. However, on other issues, one must hold firm to their values lest they risk losing themselves in the cause of cultural acceptance. It is this judgment of which issues to compromise on and on what issues to hold firm that makes the two years of service in the Peace Corps the single most defining experience for it’s volunteers. It is a singular time of discovery and growth when, using another culture as a mirror, we become aware of our true selves.

Getting Around Town

2008-04-28T20:53:00.000-07:00

April 17, 2008

In regards to what makes a city a city, Greensboro, NC and Waco, TX are superior to Kyzylorda in several ways. They have taller buildings, more people, and an actual working public sanitation system. There is one important area however, in which Kyzylorda has them beat, reliable public transportation. In Kyzylorda, from 6AMto 8PM you have two main choices for getting around, buses or marshootkas. Marshootkas are basically slightly larger than normal minivans and are extremely uncomfortable. The conductors pack far more people in than there are seats so you are usually forced to stand and often find yourself awkwardly squished against several other people. Furthermore, you cannot even stand up straight and are forced to contort yourself just to fit inside in the first place. The crazy thing though, is that even though marshootkas are more awkward to ride in, they are actually more expensive than buses! In Kyzylorda, Marshootkas cost 35 tenge per ride, but the buses only cost 30 tenge! I know that they cannot fit as many people in as a bus can, no matter how hard they squeeze, and that the extra five tenge is supposed to make up some of the difference, but I figure that if I am going to subject myself to that sort of punishment willingly, they could at least give me a price break. One may wonder why I take Marshootkas if the buses are roomier and cheaper, but unfortunately buses do not frequent the outskirts of the city where I live, so usually I just have to bite the bullet and ride the marshootka.

Still, these cramped rides to work are not all bad and have had a few positive results. Primarily, I think it has made me more comfortable in large crowds and more willing to speak to complete strangers. Perhaps due in part to of geography and manifest destiny, but American’s are generally accustomed to and seek open spaces. Even in crowded cities, people try to maintain at least three feet of personal space. In Kazakhstan, though this idea of personal space does not really exist there is, it is measured in inches rather than feet. Thus, over the last few months I have been forced to get over my own personal space needs and as a result I now find myself more comfortable with new people both in regards to physical proximity or in making conversation, and while I have yet to make a lasting friendship with any of my dance partners on the number 15 bus, I would like to think it has perhaps made me a bit more outgoing.

A Quick Note About Food

2008-04-10T21:05:00.000-07:00

April 8, 2007

For those of you who worry about whether Peace Corps volunteers are starving to death or suffering from malnutrition because we only eat meat potatoes, I hope that this post will set your minds at ease. While the Kazak diet is primarily meat and potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and carrots, are also important fixtures in any Kazak meal. Furthermore, Kazak food is not the only thing we eat. Here in Kyzylorda, we also have the option to eat Uzbek, Korean, or Russian food too. To be sure, the Uzbek, Korean, and Russian cuisines have been Kazakized to some extent, but they still maintain most of their unique qualities, which is good because as they say, “variety is the spice of life.”

My two favorite Kazak dishes are definitely besparmak and Monte. besparmak, or “five fingers”, is a dish made of meat, potatoes, and onions, spread out on a large plate of wide, flat noodles. It is called “five fingers” because you eat it with your fingers, with everyone reaching out and grabbing pieces of meat, noodles, and onions from the shared plate. To wash this delicious and healthy meal down, you drink a concoction called sorpa, which is basically just piping hot meat broth. I know that this meal does not sound very healthy, but I swear that you feel 100 percent better than you did after eating it. Also, if you are thinking of ever coming to Kazakhstan, you are going to need to like it, because it is the national dish and at any party or “konnak” there is a fifty/fifty chance that besparmak will be served. Monte is my other favorite Kazak dish, probably because my host mom makes the best monte on the planet. Monte are basically steamed dumplings, but they are folded up differently and are usually larger. The monte are usually filled with meat and onions, and you eat them by the dozen with either ketchup or mayonnaise, delicious.

Besides besparmak and monte, the next most popular dish in Kazakhstan, at least here in the south is definitely palay, also known as plov. It is actually an Uzbek dish and is particularly popular here in the south because we are so close to the border. I do find it interesting and a little confusing that Kazak people will make derogatory remarks about Uzbeks while downing their food by the pound, but I guess that is one of those mysteries that has not yet revealed itself to me. palay is made of rice, carrots, and of course meat. Like besparmak, palay is eaten off of one collective plate but this time at least they give everyone large spoons. If I have one bad thing to say about palay it is that it is often kind of bland, as is the case with a lot of Kazak/Uzbek dishes, but with a bit of hot chili sauce mixed in, palay goes from ho-hum to awesome.

As one would expect after over 70 years of Soviet occupation, Russian food is also plentiful and popular in Kazakhstan, even in the south. My two favorite Russian foods are borscht and belashsee. I imagine everyone knows what Borscht is, a sort of beet stew with cabbage and potatoes, but there may be a few people who have never heard of nor tasted the belashee. Belashees are kind of like meat donuts. They are simply dough wrapped around a small roll of ground meat that is then dipped in oil and fried. A heart attack waiting to happen I know, but when eaten with a bowl of borscht they are part of a perfect lunch. Anyways, I usually work out in the afternoons, so I do not think I am too much at risk.

Finally, a cultural cuisine that is surprisingly popular here in Kyzylorda is Korean food, particularly the dish Kukci. It is a soup made up of noodles, diced meat, carrots, cabbage, tomatoes, and cucumbers, all simmering in a soy sauce broth. It quickly became one of our favorite dishes because it was the one way we could get fresh vegetables in our diet during the winter. It is also one of the spicer and saltier meals available. I was definitely was not expecting to get such a steady diet of Korean food in Kazakhstan, especially in Kyzylorda, but apparently area has a rather sizable Korean population, and in fact you cannot find Kukci outside of the Kyzylorda or South Kazakhstan oblasts.

Thus, as you can see are, we are not suffering from a lack of culinary choices at all, but in fact have a large variety of food at our fingertips. So if you come to visit, prepare to eat hardy that is, unless you are a vegetarian, and in that case you might starve.

Reading List Update

2008-04-04T21:48:00.000-07:00

April 4, 2008

16. Gentlemen of the Road by Michael Chabon
Gentlemen of the Road was written by the same guy who wrote the novel Cavileer and Clay, the fictionalized history of Jerry Seigel and Joe Shuster, so I knew ahead of time that it was going to be good and it did not disappoint. This is one of those rare books that is not only a good airport reader, but also an interesting, complex novel. It is really short so a person can easily finish it in about 6-8 hours, but you are likely to spend the next four hours thinking about it. The novel follows two honorable yet criminal highwaymen as they travel around the fictionalized nation of Kazaria. Just as they finish another scam they are roped into escorting and protecting a “prince” of Kazaria whose father was deposed and murdered, and the two “gentlemen” who prefer solitude and anonymity become entangled in palace intrigue and war.

17. Born Standing Up by Steve Martin
This memoir follows one of Waco, TX’s favorite sons, Steve Martin, from his early life and career as a small time magician and comedian to America’s number one stand-up act, and explains why, at the top of his game, Martin left stand-up comedy forever. Martin is a great writer, and he paints a vivid picture of life as a stand-up comedian and the struggles that one faces in achieving success in that field. I have to admit that before I read this book I generally thought that stand-up comedy was mostly a mixture of talent and luck, but this book shows just how much work it actually is and how success can bring with it the depression, drug use, and addiction that prematurely ends careers and lives as was the case with other great comedians John Belushi and Chris Farley.

18. Fiasco by Thomas E. Ricks
If you have ever turned on CNN and wondered what the hell is going on in Iraq and why are we even there in the first place, this is the book for you. It follows the War in Iraq from the lead up to war in early 2003 to the surge of 2007 and details how a the machinations a few key political figures, conflict between the military and the Bush Administration, and the inability of our generals and political leaders to a new type of warfare led to a “fiasco” in Iraq and has landed us in a quagmire that threatens to be the most embarrassing and damaging foreign policy action in United States history. What was great about this book was that as the author goes through all of the mistakes that had been made, such as Bush’s false claims of WMD’s, Rumsfield’s insistence on fewer troops, Gen. Tommy Franks’ lack of overall strategy, and mistreatment of detainees, the author does not engage in partisan attacks but lays blame where it is due, regardless of political party. In fact, early on in the book he condemns democrats and the “liberal media,” for refusing to investigate the administrations claims more thoroughly and rolling over because war was “inevitable.” The book also was interesting in that it lays out the most likely end results of our actions in Iraq, civil war or, even more worrisome, the rise of a new caliphate.

19. Heartfire by Orson Scott Card
20. Shadow of the Hegemon by Orson Scott Card
I may not like Orson Scott Card’s political and social ideas, and he is a bit of a jerk in person, but I have to say that I still really like his books. This is the second time that I have read each of these novels, and they were just as much fun the second time around as they were the first. Heartfire is the fifth novel in the “Alvin Maker Series” that takes place in an alternate early America where people have special powers and abilities. Furthermore, the United States was never created; rather the continent is made up of various small states like the Crown Colonies, Apalachee, and New England. I think what I like most about this series is comparing the true history of the United States with Card’s version and seeing how if certain events had played out differently our country would indeed look and feel much different than it does today.

Shadow of the Hegemon is nearly the complete opposite. It is part of the “Shadow Series,” a spin-off from Card’s “Ender Series.” Shadow of the Hegemon continues the story of the super intelligent child general, Bean, and his efforts to save his friends, defeat his greatest enemy, and bring peace to a fracturing world. The one thing I do not always like about this series is that Card’s ideas about International Relations are not usually that accurate and always run too conservative in my opinion. Overall however, I have no big complaints. After all, Card has my hometown of Greensboro, NC still going strong in 200 years!

IST-Almaty

2008-04-04T21:46:00.000-07:00

March 31, 2008

We got to Almaty early in the morning of the 24th after a long and sleepless bus ride. To be sure the bus was definitely cheaper and faster than the train, but I definitely wondered if the ability to lie down might have been worth the 1000 tenge after all. The first stop when we got to Almaty was the Peace Corps office, which promised free Internet, a shower, and drinking water that did not require a three-hour distillation process. A few hours later after checking email and a breakfast of Ramen noodles we were ready to head out again. IST did not start until the 25th so we had a full day to explore the city as we saw fit, and for the Kazak Language group that meant heading home to Chamalgan to visit our families for the afternoon. I had a great visit with my “mom” and “dad.” I think they were impressed with how much better my Kazak had gotten, and they were interested to hear what I had been doing and Kyzylorda and how much I liked it. I also met a few new relatives. An elderly Russian aunt came over and for a minute she actually thought I was a “blond” Kazak of the North who because of my fair complexion and the fact that I spoke Kazak. Just to give a bit of background, many people in Kazakhstan think that the ancient Kazaks of legend were blond haired and blue eyed before the first Mongol invasions gave everyone more Asiatic features. Thus, my aunt was saying that I reminded her something akin to the Lost City of Atlantis or maybe Troy. After the visit we headed back to the city to check into the Sanitarium and to get ready for long three days of meetings.

Most of the meetings during IST were pretty good, but nothing special. There was however, one session that everyone agreed was pretty mind-blowing. Andrea Schneider, who helps American teachers working in Central Asia, talked about our purpose here in Kazakhstan and our most important responsibilities, to speak English in class as much as possible, to hold our students accountable to higher standards. She argued that we were not just to provide schools with a native speaker, but also to present students and teachers with a grassroots example of and alternative education system. The Kazak system is good but it has a few fundamental flaws. First, cheating is widespread. Students regularly engage in “cooperative work” on tests and important assignments. The bigger problem however, is that far too much responsibility for a student’s success is put on the teacher’s shoulders. If for some reason after cheating on their test a student still fails, the teacher gets yelled for not teaching them properly, rarely does anyone blame the student for simply not studying. Thus, teachers often give students higher grades than they deserve simply because they do not want to get into trouble. The cheating and misplaced responsibility may not seem to be a huge problem like such a big deal, but the unfortunate result is that the diplomas become extremely devalued. I do not know how easy it will be to follow Ms. Schneider’s advice. We are often treated more like guest lecturers than real teachers, and giving grades is almost impossible since we are not allowed to write in the books and the teachers rarely accept the grades we give them. Still, I was definitely affected by her talk and am going to try to turn over a new leaf in the classroom as soon as possible. I believe that making real change is much more possible by making my students accountable than by doing grammar drills and role-playing exercises, and as a bonus I will not be insanely frustrated at the end of two years.

Nauryz!!

2008-04-04T21:43:00.000-07:00

March 23, 2008

After seven months and Kazakhstan and four months at site, I was in serious need of a vacation, and “Spring Break” arrived just in the nick of time. On Monday, I am headed to Almaty to meet with the rest of the Kaz 19’s for five days of meetings and hopefully, bonding. This weekend though, several of us came to Shymkent, the second largest in Kazakhstan for the annual festival of Nauryz. Nauryz is the traditional Kazak New Year and is the biggest holiday of the year, especially in the Shymkent, where Kazak culture is dominant. We decided to take the bus from Kyzylorda because it was only seven hours vs. nine hours on the train, but now I can see why people like to take the train. The bus was comfortable and definitely faster, but we probably would have been much quieter on the train. We ended up sitting right next a young family with a baby that would scream every few minutes. That would not have been a problem except for the parents’ inability or unwillingness to shut the kid up. One of the female volunteers who has become rather disillusioned with the Kazak male said that this was because Kazak families spoil their sons rotten. Anyway, we eventually got there at around 8 P.M. and headed to the café to meet up with the rest of the volunteers and figure out where we would be staying for the weekend. After a few hours at a small café, reconnecting with fellow volunteers that we had not seen in the last several months, we headed back to the apartments to get over the super long bus ride.

The next day we went to Aksu, a small village next to Shimkent, where Eric, a fellow Chamalgan trainee, is living and working, and unlike many other Kazak sites, Aksu is predominantly Uzbek. The Kazakhstan/Uzbekistan border is only 50 miles away, so at first I thought that the Uzbek majority might be due to recent immigration, but it turns out that in fact the Uzbeks have been there for generations, and the only reason that they are living in Kazakhstan is due to the way that the Russian’s drew the borders! Even though it is a village, Aksu is nicer than most Kazak cities I have seen. It is certainly more beautiful than Kyzylorda! Most of the streets were paved, there was green grass, and it was amazingly clean. Eric took us to his college and introduced us to a few of his best students. The students were very friendly and clearly liked “Mr. Eric, so it was obvious that Eric was doing a good job. After the visit to the college we went to meet Eric’s family. Eric lives with an Uzbek family, and their house reflected their background. They live in a huge compound that the grandfather had built room by room with his own hands. Furthermore, unlike the typical Russian or Kazak house that is usually square, Eric’s Uzbek house is u-shaped. After a late lunch, we headed back to the city and then headed out for a night on the town.

The next morning was Nauryz, the traditional Kazak New Year, and as Shimkent is the largest predominantly Kazak city, it was ground zero for the festivities. At 11:00 we went to the hippodrome, which was five times the size of the hippodrome in Kyzylorda and settled in for an exciting day of traditional Kazak activities! First, we sat down for a light lunch of pilaf, shashleak, and Shimkent beer. Then we settled in to watch Kyz Kou, Kokpar, and some good old-fashioned horseracing. Kyz Kou is a game where a pair of riders, one man and one woman, chase each other on horseback. The first time they race, the man chases the woman trying to kiss her before they get to the end of the track. They then turn around and the woman chases the man while trying to hit him with a whip. It was pretty neat looking, and the female volunteers were particularly entertained. Kok Par is a lot like polo, but instead of using a ball and mallets they drag a goat carcass around by its hair. Don’t worry, they cut the head and legs off and sew it up before hand to make a kind of a goat suitcase, so it is not that gross. After such a large dose of Kazak culture, many of us were looking for something a bit for familiar and as fate would have it, Shimkent provided that too in the form of the Mega Center. The Mega Center is just like an American Mall, complete with ice rink, food court, grocery store, expensive clothing boutiques, and even an apple store. Needless to say, it was a rather trippy experience, but very enjoyable nonetheless. It was also nice to know that whenever I get homesick, I can just take the bus down to Shimkent for a weekend of retail therapy and I will soon be put to rights.

The last day in Shimkent was rather low key. We just packed up and got ready to leave for Almaty. Some of us went back to the Mega Center to do some shopping or in my case play video games, and then finally at 8:00 PM it was time to go to the bus station and catch our bus for the 12-hour ride to Almaty. I will not go into details but let me just say that between other bad movies, infrequent rest stops and other volunteers getting car sick, it was not that much fun, but at least we had memories of Nauryz to sustain us.

A Public Citizen

2008-03-09T04:13:00.000-07:00

March 6, 2008

The other day at Contact Club’s weekly conversation club we were discussing media in Kazakhstan and America and Britney Spears was brought up. Someone said that the American media was hounding her and invading her privacy, but I pointed out that while the media is definitely contributing to her mental collapse, her lack of privacy is as much her fault as it is the media’s. Britney Spears is a public citizen and as such has lost of the right to privacy that ordinary people take for granted. Furthermore, at least until recently she constantly sought attention. In fact, that attention was the foundation of her financial success, from her music career, to her perfume, clothing, and other endorsements deals. As I made my argument however, I realized that now, due to my Peace Corps experience, I too am a public citizen.

Here in Kyzylorda, actions that would be considered trivial in the United States are newsworthy. For example, last month I visited a school and sang a Kazak song, and this was considered a newsworthy event important enough to be on TV and in the newspaper. I am no longer simply McKenzie Clark and teaching English is just a small part of the role I play here. I am now Mr. Clark, American Volunteer, and thus everything I say or do reflects not only me personally but also on my organization and my country. The opposite is also true. I was even asked one time to explain George Bush and American Middle East policy as if I represented the entire American electorate or came up with the policy myself. Furthermore, all three of us, at least to a certain extent, watch what we do and say and think, and so our trips to the sauna are important not just for cleanliness, but it is also the one place where we can let everything out. It is definitely tiring to be a symbol of America twenty-four hours a day, but it is also very rewarding, not only in regards to interviews and autographs, but also because I know I have a chance to really influence how people see America and Americans, especially at a time when many of our international relationships are strained. In the end, on those days that are hard, I just remind myself that I chose this and remember that this will be excellent training if I ever want to have a career in politics.

Spring is in the Air

2008-03-09T04:11:00.000-07:00

March 3, 2008

It is official: Spring has come to Kyzylorda. How do I know this? The first clue was the sinus congestion that I always get this time of year. I thought that I would be safe living in a place with no green plants, much less pollen, but no such luck. I do have to admit though that my allergies were much less severe than they are normally so perhaps desert living agrees with me. The big sign of spring’s arrival however, is all of the couples that I see everywhere. The river is especially popular, and I regularly see fifteen to twenty couples hugging and making out on one of the park benches along the bank. At first, all of these public displays of affection struck me as strange, particularly in a culture that is usually demur about love and sex, but then I realized that the reason is that they have nowhere else to go. In Kazakhstan, most young people live with their parents who keep a close eye on their children’s friends and relationships, so a hook up in the basement when your parents were away would be difficult if not impossible. Some young people that do have cars and use them as rendezvous spots, but the vast majority do not and so turn to the only place that they can be together in private, public areas like parks, promenades or even the Korkit Ata Monument.

I know that parents and community leaders believe that by forcing their kids to romance in the public eye will keep them from engaging in risky behaviors, but from what I have seen in the last five months it has the unintended consequence of encouraging people to get married when they are very young. If people are told they can only have sex when they are married they are going to get married as soon as possible. For example, in one of my 4th year courses I have three nineteen year-old girls who are married, one has an eighth month old child and the other two are currently pregnant. That said, sex is not the only factor that promotes Kazaks to marry early. Most families vocally encourage their daughters to be married by the time they are twenty-one or twenty-two, but to deny the influence of sex, especially on those couples who get married before they turn twenty, would be ridiculous. Also, I am in not saying that marrying young is necessarily a bad thing, but getting married before you have graduated from high school/college or lived on your own is not usually the wisest decision, especially when you are marrying the first person you date. Still, there are few divorces in Kazakhstan, and most seem very happily married so maybe they know something I do not. In the meantime though, I will just enjoy the warm weather and sunshine, and maybe get a little jealous of all those couples as I run past.

Reading List

2008-03-03T03:32:00.000-08:00

February 28, 2008

Being a Peace Corps volunteer is a lot of hard work. Teaching English, speaking a foreign language, and trying not to do anything culturally inappropriate is a full time job and is physically and emotionally exhausting. Still, we do generally have a fair bit of free time in which to read or hang out. In the six months I have read several books from the intellectual to the embarrassing and I list them here because maybe even if you are not a Peace Corps volunteer you can still read like one if you want.

1. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
2. The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis
I brought these Lewis books with me to Kazakhstan because I had never read them and I knew that I was going to Muslim nation and wanted to keep my Christian theology sharp. I found Lewis’ ideas interesting and his logic nearly flawless for the most part. Still, I found myself disagreeing with several of his ideas such as the nature of the Trinity. Lewis envisions two beings or intelligences, the Father and the Son and the love between them is the Holy Spirit. This may make me heretical, but I have a hard time with the idea of God in Three persons, even if they are of “one mind and purpose.” It just seems inconsistent with monotheistic thought. Instead I like to look at God as one looks at a regular person, one being with three different jobs or aspects. For example, just as my dad is a lawyer, a son, and a father, so too is God the Father who watches over us, the Son who died for us, and the Spirit who guides us. I would recommend Lewis to almost anyone, whether they were an atheist or a conservative Christian, because while he may not totally change the nature of your belief, he will at least make you think.
3. River God by Wilbur Smith
This was a historical novel about Ancient Egypt. In the afterword, the author seems to be making the claim that his novel is sort of a rough transcription of several ancient scrolls from a recently found temple, and its hard to tell whether he is making a joke or actually thinks that what happened. It is narrated by a brilliant eunuch in Pharaoh’s court and covers a forty-year period from the splitting of the two kingdoms and invasion of the Sumerians through the Pharaoh’s exile and counter-invasion. It is a good book, and the realistic historically rooted plot moves smoothly, but you will never mistake this book for a history lesson. This is a great airplane or travel book. It will fill the time nicely but definitely not life altering.
4. Alvin Journeyman by Orson Scott Card
5 Area 51: Legend by Bob Mayer
All right, I am almost embarrassed to admit I read this book. The basic premise is that there are evil aliens with advanced technology that resemble the sword Excalibur and the Holy Grail of Legend. The heroes of the story are trying to find these objects so that they can defeat the aliens and liberate humanity from the shadow war being waged between the aliens and even worse threat. This books one saving grace was that it was a quick read and made the train ride to Kyzylorda go faster, but if you try to make sense of all of the plot holes you will just give yourself a headache.
6. Roman Blood by Steven Saylor
7. Roma by Steven Saylor
I first read Roman Blood several years ago and since then have been a big fan of his work, especially his Roma Sub Rosa mystery novel series. I brought Roman Blood with me from home because I knew it was a guaranteed good read and I figured that I might run into a fellow classics major who might interested in reading it too. I also brought with me Saylor’s latest book, Roma, which follows one Roman family 2,000 years from the first settlers on the seven hills to the foundation of the city, through the Cataline conspiracy and finally to the death of Caesar. Furthermore, while it is fictional, there is much more history in it than River God. In fact, since Livy is pretty dry, I might even recommend that a beginning classics student might want to read this first to get a rough sketch. I look forward to seeing what Saylor comes up with next and cannot wait to read his next book that comes out in May. (Hi Mom)
8. The Brethren by John Grisham
9. The King of Torts by John Grisham
10. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling
11. The Tender Bar by J. R. Moehringer
This is one of the best books that I have read in a long time, and I would like to thank my fellow volunteer for letting me borrow his copy. It is Moehringer’s memoir of growing in a very dysfunctional Irish family and how he found comfort and support with the men who worked at the local bar. Even if you have a father and your family is relatively normal, you will definitely get a lot out of this book, although being Irish definitely helps in understanding his complex relationship with his father and his attraction to bars.
12. I am America, and So Can You by Stephen Colbert
13. The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson
A story of growing up in America during the 1950s, I thought this book was hilarious not just because Bill Bryson is a great writer and very funny, but in many ways Kazakhstan is America 50 years ago. For example, from November to March, every child is wrapped up in a snowsuit that is warm and toasty is impossible to move in, and just as Bryson recalls playing with Mercury or running after the DDT truck, people here in Kazakhstan are burn their trash and blame the hot weather on the space launches in Baikanoor rather than their own and drive old, gas guzzling cars, all while blaming the space launches in Baikanor for the summer heat. Still, as much as I shake my head at such cluelessness, it is fun to read about that more innocent time. I just hope that as Kazakhstan moves forward, it takes the things that we have done well, such as technology and environmental consciousness, and leaves behind our less beneficial additions to history like Kmart and McDonalds.
14. The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
15. Remembering America by Richard Goodwin
Mr. Goodwin’s book is a powerful chronicle of one of the most important periods of American history, the 1960s. Using his own political and personal journey through that turbulent decade, Goodwin reminds everyone, even if they were there themselves, of the powerful hope and promise of the early part of the decade and the tragedy and dejection that brought it to a close. As much as I was interested in his reflections on John and Robert Kennedy, I think the section of the book that I enjoyed most was the passage about Lyndon Johnson. While both Kennedy’s loss their lives in senseless violence, it was Johnson’s life and career that was a true classical tragedy. It was heartbreaking to read how Johnson was, as Hilary Clinton recently stated, ultimately responsible for the passage of the Civil Rights Act, as well other pieces of landmark legislation such as Medicare and Medicaid, and then how it was all lost due to his stubborn refusal to leave the quagmire of Vietnam. Goodwin’s book was not just a reflection of lost dreams, however. He also reminds us that, though we have spent the last forty years in sitting in depressive apathy, complaining about the state of the world, but not doing anything about it, we can usher in a New America if we work for it. I hope that this election will usher in a new “sixties.” The last eight years have seen political process twisted, the constitution suspended, and the American Dream buried, but after reading this book I hold on to the belief that we can still turn things around.

Communication Issues

2008-03-03T03:29:00.000-08:00

February 24, 2008

Life here in Kazakhstan is going well, but there are definitely frustrations to overcome, such as communication issues. The biggest of these issues is still definitely the language. After six months I find myself hitting a wall when it comes to Kazak. It is harder and harder to see any progress being made with the language and I am sometimes afraid that I am getting worse, not better. I know that it is going to take awhile, and I probably just need to work at it more, but to be honest my living and working situation is not always ideal for mastering Kazak. As an English teacher it is my job to help improve my students and fellow teachers’ skills with the language, so I primarily speak English when I am at work. I do occasionally have to speak Kazak in my first year course to make sure they understand homework assignments, but I otherwise only speak English during class. Also, while I could try to get my fellow teachers to speak Kazak with me, helping teachers with their English is even more important than helping the students. After all, I am only going to be here two years, but if I can help my fellow teachers significantly improve their own language skills than I will be making an important sustainable impact on the community. My house is not the greatest language lab either. We talk a bit during dinner, but they spend most of the evening watching Russian soap operas that I would not be interested even if I could understand them and I usually have to spend my evenings preparing for my lessons. All that said, my Kazak does not totally suck, I can definitely get around and survive, but it is hard to learn anything new because I tend to have the same sorts of conversations everyday.

Another communication issue is that I have not quite learned how to say no. People are always asking me to come to their school for a presentation or their practice, and I have a really hard time saying no because so often in Kazakhstan is actually a demand. For example, this week my supervisor relayed a request from the director that I privately tutor her two nephews. I had already started a Kid’s Club for the faculty’s children at the director’s behest earlier this term and her nephews came to it for awhile before they decided they were to embarrassed to work with the smaller kids in the club. I am already busy with stuff for my other classes, but while Kazak has “zhok” and “emec”, which both mean no or negative, it is a rare thing for someone to actually say they cannot or will not do something. What usually happens if you do not want to do something is say, “Ya, Kasir,” which means yes, in a minute, and then you proceed to put it off or procrastinate until the person that asked forgets all about it. One of the other volunteers here in Kyzylorda has already used this strategy successfully in a similar situation and I am hoping that it will work for me. If not though, I am thinking of arranging the tutoring to take place at six on Tuesdays. I may not be able to accept money, but I can definitely accept dinner, and I plan on being fully compensated for my labor.

Valentine's Day

2008-02-17T03:00:00.000-08:00

February 16, 2008

Valentine’s Day was the fifth holiday that I have celebrated here in Kazakhstan, and unlike the others, I observed this one pretty traditionally. We held the Valentine’s Day party that I talked about in the last post, and I have to say that despite my worries the day before, it went really well. Everyone had a lot of fun, and we raised over 6,000 tenge for the local orphanage. The play also went well, and I am proud to say that despite the incredibly complex grammar they used when writing my lines, I was able to memorize my part. Chris, Cho, and I did our best to help out, but really all the credit for the parties success go to my T.A. Aigarum and her sister, Chris’s student, Gulshot. They were able to find and negotiate the space, as well as wrote the script for the play and found most of the performers. The guys are now trying to plan a Woman’s Day party, and I honestly wonder how we are going to accomplish it without their input.

After the show was over, there was a short dance, and then we went out to dinner to celebrate its success. I had never seen anyone get drunk on tea before, but between not having slept in three days due to school and work, as well as putting four cubes of sugar in each cup of tea, Aigarum somehow managed it, and all in all it was the most fun Valentine’s Day I have had in a long while. While last year found me in my dorm room studying and gripping about the fact that once again I was single on February 14th, this year I was laughing and relaxing with ten close friends. I think part of the reason I had such a good time was the nature of Valentine’s Day observance here in Kazakhstan. Whereas in America, Valentine’s Day is a day for couples and lovers, in Kazakhstan Valentine’s Day is also for friends and groups. For example, at the resturant where we had dinner, there were very few couples eating alone. Most people were eating in large groups. I guess that part of the reason for this is the fact that public displays of love and romance are not that widespread here in Kazakhstan, and that when people celebrate they prefer to hold large Konnaks with toasting and lots of food. This way of celebrating valentine’s day might seem a bit strange for some Americans, especially those who, like me, grew up on sappy Hallmark and Zales diamond commericals that put forth the idea that if you did not have that special someone in your life, than Valentine’s Day was not for you. This difference is definitely positive one though, and a change that I plan on bringing back to America. Now more than ever, Valentine’s Day needs to be about more than just the romantic, passionate love between two people. It also needs to be about the platonic, but steadfast love that exists between friends and neighbors. I know that this idea will not sell has many cards and flowers, but I think that ultimately it will make the world a better place.

What Would GLAAD Say

2008-02-17T02:58:00.000-08:00

February 8, 2008

A few weeks ago, Contact Club, a local English Training/Community Service Organization that Cho, Chris, and I work with here in Kyzylorda decided to have a Valentine’s Day Party/Show to advertise and raise some money for other Community Projects. The party is going to be in Kazak and Russian so more people will come and will have singing, dancing, and even a short Valentine’s Day play, a very loose adaptation of Romeo and Juliet written by some members of Contact Club. I am playing the Shaman who sends Romeo and his friend Mercutio off to the big city with good wishes and a pair of magic balloons that when popped, will make anyone who hates you fall in love with you instead. Inevitably, Romeo and Juliet fall in love, but in a surprise twist, Mercutio and Tibilt also get together and everyone lives happily ever after. At first, I was surprised by our local scriptwriters’ choice to include an alternative relationship, but as I became more familiar with the script I realized that it was not a politically correct as I thought. Whereas Romeo and Juliet fall in love the “old-fashioned way,” Tibilt and Mercutio only get together because of the magic balloons. It is almost as if to say that heterosexual love is natural and expected, but homosexual love is unnatural and only occurs due to “magic” or some other outside influence.

The play is otherwise very funny, and I may be reading too much into it, but it is also another reminder that Kazak culture has a ways to go in regards to gender issues and rights. I have talked earlier about how Kazakhstan is similar in many ways to a 1950’s America, and the Kazak attitude towards homosexuality is a prime example. While there is not much fear or hostility towards gays and bisexuals, there is no acceptance either. In fact, many Kazaks claim that there are absolutely no homosexuals in Kazakhstan. This is definitely part of the country’s Muslim culture that I will have to live with, but it is sometimes difficult to understand when one come from a country that is on the cusp of a major and long time coming breakthrough for civil rights with the likely election of either Barak Obama or Hilary Clinton and the gradual acceptance of alternative lifestyles both in society and under the law. Granted, this issue is not one that effects me personally, but I find myself wondering how volunteers working in Kazakhstan who are gay are dealing with living and working in a culture that likes to pretend they do not exist. How much “cultural bridge building” are they able to accomplish when they are not able to express a major aspect of their personality? Furthermore, I have bemoaned the fact that I will probably not get a date for the next couple of years, but I can only imagine what it must feel like to risk your job or even your safety just for asking someone out on a date. Kazakhstan definitely has a lot going for it, and as a Peace Corps volunteer I am proud of the fact that I am helping it to achieve that potential. I just hope that Kazakhstan does not follow America’s example and take fifty years to make any substantive change on this issue.

Suddenly that Bowl Haircut Makes Sense.

2008-02-03T21:42:00.000-08:00

February 2, 2008

Note: Thanks for those that read this and told me about some much needed corrections!

For the last few Kazak lessons, my tutor and I have been discussing Kazak culture and how it differs from American Culture. This is great because I am able practice my speaking and listening skills, and at the same time we have an interesting cultural exchange. Yesterday, one thing that came up was the traditional Kazak haircut that I like to call the “locket.” It involves shaving the kids head except for a single lock of hair on the back of the head for boys or two locks of hair on the sides for girls. According to my tutor, the reason for this haircut was that it helped protect the child from illness. The only time you still see this haircut is in movies about Genghis Khan, but in the old days people actually believed that if someone looked at the face of a beautiful child too much, the child would become sick. Thus, they cut their hair this strange way so that the person would look at their hair and not at the kid. At first I thought this idea was rather strange. After all, even if they are only looking at the haircut, they are still looking the kid. I realize now though that we have a similar haircut in America, the bowl cut. What other explanation for that horrible haircut can you come up with? If easiness and convenience were the issue, why not just give the kid a buzz cut. No, the fact of the matter is those parents were trying to protect their children from “eye energy.” I am pretty sure that x-ray vision only exists in the comic books, but regardless, I am glad that my mom did not give me a protective haircut. I understand and appreciate the cultural traditions and belief behind the “locket,” but for kids, risking sickness from the evil eye is much less harrowing than the risk of ridicule from their peers.

The Peace Corps Weight Loss Plan

2008-02-02T22:23:00.000-08:00

January 30, 2008

According to the statistical evidence gathered by the Peace Corps Medical officer here in Kazakhstan, male volunteers usually lose a significant amount of weight. I am not totally sure as to the reasons for one group losing and the other group gaining, but I have definitely seen the evidence first hand. One of my training buddies and current site mate lost 15-20 pounds in the first three months, and he almost began to look malnourished before getting 10 pounds back after he got to site. Female volunteers on the other hand, tend to gain weight. I am not totally sure as to the reason for one group losing weight while the other group gains it, but I as sure that it has a lot to do with the diet.

The diet here is mostly carbohydrates with a good amount of meat as well. Breakfast is usually just bread and tea, and lunch and dinner is usually some combination of pasta and beef. We do eat vegetables, mostly carrots and cabbage, but they are mainly used as a part of diced, mayonnaise filled salad or some sort of vegetable spread. Fruits though, at least during the winter, are almost non-existent. The only time you usually see a lot of them right now is at a party, because while they are available in the south through the winter they are prohibitively expensive for most people, certainly Peace Corps volunteers. Given this diet, I assume that the weight disparity between male and female PCVs is due in part to the fact that men probably eat more meat, while the girls, who are more often the vegetarians, eat more bread and pasta. I have actually gained about five pounds of muscle here because I have tried to keep working out and my protein consumption is so much higher here. That said, while the female volunteers may gain a bit of weight, they do not gain a significant amount because the lifestyle, even for a teacher, is much more physical than that of the average American. People walk a lot more than they do in America, and riding on public transportation is an endurance test.

So let me put out the notice: Are you over 40, with high blood pressure and a body mass index over 25? Then come to Kazakhstan. The Peace Corps use your extensive work experience, and after two years you will be fit, trim, and have a significantly reduced risk for heart disease, hypertension, and an early death. That is, if the air and ambient radiation does not get you first!

New Semester, Same Frustrations

2008-01-28T02:10:00.000-08:00

January 26, 2008

For the last two weeks I have been busy getting back into the swing of things as we began a new semester her at the College. Last week, was a normal schedule of classes where we reviewed all of the stuff they had been working on before they left that they had forgotten over their five month long break. This week, however, was exams, and I would just like to note that as hard as exams are for students, they are even for teachers. Besides writing and giving three tests of my own, I was blessed with the opportunity to give a four hour long exam with my counterpart, Lazzat. For the exam each student was assigned a text from their book that they had to read, translate, and explain. They then had to “make up a situation” based on a few vocabulary words and talk about a randomly assigned subject. While most of the students did very well, but there were a few (the ones who normally sit in the back of the classroom) that did not, and then it was just painful to watch. They could complete the reading part well enough because they have all been thoroughly trained in phonetics, but when it came time to engage in translation or innovation, they just sat their in silence while Lazzat and I tried desperately to get them started with leading questions. Still, that exam was hardly the most frustrating moment of the week.

On Tuesday, I was scheduled to give a test to my K1D group, but the classroom I normally use was full of another group of students taking an exam. Not knowing where else to go, I brought everyone to “my classroom” that while small, still managed to hold everyone. We were ten minutes into the test when Lazzat came in and told us that the room was the “methodological classroom” where only groups of 20 people or fewer could have a class, and thus my group of 23 would have to leave. We managed to quickly find another classroom, and the students finished the exam, but afterwards I went back to ask Lazzat why we had to move. She said that the methodological classroom was special and needed to be kept clean and as unused as possible because that was where they put on the show when a supervisor or inspector came to look at the school. Then for good measure, she told me that even though it is -20 degrees outside and freezing inside, I should have my students should take off their coats before coming to class because it looks bad. I probably got a little more mad than I should, after all this was just another typical example of the Kazak custom of putting style over substance.

As often as I am impressed by the Kazakstan education system, there are times when I feel that they are more interested in the appearance of learning than actual learning. It is water under the bridge at this point, and I know while my teaching is important, my role as cultural ambassador is even more important. Thus, in the name of building bridges between nations, I will continue to smile, nod, and go to every little secondary school English show that my counterpart drags me to, but all the while I will wonder whether they might be making even more progress in English if they were back in class.

Op-Ed Response

2008-01-28T02:07:00.000-08:00

January 23, 2008

A few days ago I read an op-ed in the New York Times by RPCV and former country director Robert Strauss. Mr. Strauss was praising the Peace Corps new initiative to increase the number of volunteers over the age of 50. There was much about the article that I liked, but there was also a lot that I disagreed with, and so I wrote the following response.

I am a current Peace Corps Volunteer teaching English in Kazakstan and am writing in response to the recent piece by Robert Straus on the current Peace Corps initiative to raise the number of Volunteers 50 years old and over. I would just like to say that while Mr. Straus makes an excellent point about the need for volunteers with extensive life and work experience, but he is greatly mistaken in regards to his remarks about younger volunteers. I am one of the “recently minted” volunteers that Mr. Strauss spoke of so derisively, and while I have only been in country a few months and thus cannot speak for my own impact, I have already seen ample evidence of the difference that past volunteers in my area, all under the age of 30 at their time of service, have made in my area. Mr. Straus is correct that there are many university trained English teachers in Kazakstan, but these teachers usually lack something that is much more fundamental than a university diploma, fluency. The value of a native English speaker in the classroom cannot be underestimated, especially considering that there are many university trained English Teachers that teach almost totally in Kazak or Russian and can barely speak English themselves. To be sure, if a country like Cameroon stops asking for English teachers, by all means, stop sending them. However, when a country still wants and needs qualified English teachers, why not send energetic, enthusiastic young people? Especially given the fact that with all of the extra-curricular activities demanded by graduate schools and programs today, few university students graduate with absolutely no teaching experience.

As for assessment, while it may not be scientific, a person can see the difference that the volunteers have made just by walking down the street. Every English teacher that I have met who has had the opportunity to work with a Peace Corps Volunteer speaks phenomenally better English than one who has not worked with one, unless of course they studied in England or America. Mr. Straus should remember that a volunteer often makes the biggest impact not with working with students necessarily, but with working with teachers. By practicing English and building friendships with their host country counterparts, volunteers have a chance to truly make a sustainable difference in their community. The volunteer only has the opportunity to reach students over a two year period, but the teachers they work with will continue to use their improved English to help students become skilled in the language years after the volunteer has returned to America. A person does not need an advanced degree or work experience to make such a difference, all they need is a lot of energy and an eagerness to help and to get to know another culture and community. These are traits that younger volunteers have in spades and can give them an edge over older or more experienced volunteers who are more set in their ways and worldview. I do not say this to detract from the value that older volunteers bring to the Peace Corps, and as I said earlier, the current Peace Corps initiative is laudable. But rather than replacing younger volunteers with older ones, why not just increase the numbers of both types of volunteers? After all, if the Peace Corps is going to achieve its mission and Kennedy’s dream, it needs the skills of both groups, not just one or the other.

A Different Kind of Peer Pressure

2008-01-18T21:32:00.000-08:00

January 18, 2008
A Different Kind of Peer Pressure

In the past five months that I have been living in Kazakstan, I have come to realize that while peer pressure is definitely universal, the things that one is pressured to do varies widely depending on the country or culture you are interacting with. For example, in America, I, as was the case with most people my age, was most often pressured to drink or use drugs, but here in Kazakstan the biggest pressure is to get married. A person is pressured in two ways, the obvious and aggressive pressure that you encounter when meeting new people, and the more subtle pressure that a person feels on a daily basis. The obvious pressure that I refer to is the fact that the fourth question that every Kazak asks you when you are introduced is whether or not you are married, and if you answer no, then the fifth question is why not. Sometimes, such as in the case wirh my Kazak tutor, the aggressive peer pressure never stops. In the past five months I believe that we have had at least 15 conversations where she mentioned that I should get married soon. She was 18 and her husband was 22 when they got married, so I can see where she is coming from, but still it is somewhat strange to be so strongly encouraged to head to the altar. I imagine that this pressure is even worse for female volunteers, who at 22-28 years old are in serious danger of becoming old maids from the Kazak perspective.

Thankfully this overt pressure to find a wife is not that common, more often one simply faces more subtle pressure that comes from the fact that almost every person my age in this country is married and has a kid. It is hard to form friendships with host country nationals my age when they are unable to go to the cafe and hang out after work because they have to go home and cook dinner or pick up the kids from school. A recent article in the NY Times discussed how marriage and having kids can effect friendships and it is definitely true. My closest friends here in Kyzylorda are definitely the other volunteers, not only because we speak the same language, but because we are all single. My collegues are all nice people, especially the few men that I work with, but they have a whole other set of issues to deal with, and most of time it is couples hanging out with each other, it is fairly rare to see a group of guys my age out for a quick beer at the café without their wives. Forget about being a fifth wheel, I am not sure it is even possible to connect yourself to the friendship wagon if you are single. That said, it has only been a few months, and I have already made a few local friends so I am not that worried. Still, I have to admit that I never thought that an obstacle to integrating into the community and making friends would be my marital status.

Whew…What a New Year!

2008-01-08T00:10:00.000-08:00

This New Year’s we had a wild and crazy time in Kyzylorda as I played host to four fellow PCVS from my training village of Chamelgan. We all had a great, relaxing time, and to be honest the hardest thing about it for me was finding enough stuff to do around Kyzylorda. Robert came down from Zhezkezga, making the trip in a record eight hours because he took the bus rather than the normal 45-hour train. Eric came from Shimkent on the morning of the 31st and a few hours later, Emiko came in from Aktobe. We spent that afternoon getting organized and renting an apartment for everyone to stay in over the next few days. Neither Chris nor I had an apartment big enough for everyone, and we intended to party pretty hard over New Year’s and did not think the host families would appreciate that too much. We eventually found one that had a great location near the center of the city but was otherwise was pretty much a shithole. There was only one room that was warm enough to just sit and hang out it, and there were several plumbing problems that I will get into later. Still, the price was right, so we settled in and unpacked. We then made a small dinner of grilled cheese at the apartment and afterwards, had a few drinks at the apartment. My host parents had also invited everyone back to our apartment at 11:00 for a small party and toasting to bring in the New Year, but it turned out to be a lot more involved than my guests expected. Robert, Emiko and Eric all were thought we were just going to have couple glasses of champagne, say “Cheers” and then head back to the apartment for the real party. Instead we were treated to a huge platter of Monte and toasts of vodka and cognac. At this point, let me explain how drinking and toasting works here in Kazakstan. The only beverages you toast with are vodka and cognac, which you drink out of little shot glasses. As the party progresses each person makes a toast to the host and to the occasion of the party and then everyone takes their shot, and the glasses are refilled. For example there were seven people at our New Years party, my three friends, my host parents, my host brother, and I, which meant that there were seven toasts as well as seven shots. Fortunately the whole party lasted about two hours, and I think the last couple of months living here in the south helped me tolerate the amount of booze we were forced to drink, but I was definitely feeling pretty drunk at the end of the evening. Some of us however, were a little worse for wear. After the party, my host dad drove us back, and by then we were all in such high spirits that we spent the car ride singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” and other holiday carols. We then hung out and talked for a few more hours before everyone passed out at around four.

I was the first to wake up on the 1st around noon. When I woke up I heard the water running, and I at first assumed that someone had gotten up before me and was taking a shower. I quickly realized however, that the sound of the running water was coming from the kitchen where the sink had backed up and overflowing. To make matters worse, the sink had somehow become electrified, though no to a dangerous extent, which meant that I had to use a plastic bucket and put on my shoes to avoid getting a jolt every time I scooped out some water. Eventually, the sound of my running back and forth to the bathroom woke Eric up who began helping out by wiping up the water that had already spilled out onto the floor. Finally, water stopped coming up the sink, but the sink was still electrified making breakfast preparation a bit tricky. We managed to make Kazak oatmeal and began to plan out our day, or what was left of it at least. We sat down and watched a movie, and around six my friends decided that their heads did not hurt quite so much and they were ready to go outside. We walked down to the main square where there were at least fifteen holiday displays where families could take pictures of their kids, and afterwards went to the cafe Buscuit that is near my college where the food is very good and reasonably cheap. Paying up front for the apartment had hit our wallets pretty hard, and someone had made a run on the KazCommerce ATM machines so there was no cash to be had. We then went back to the apartment for a more relaxed evening of catching up and discussing various issues we had come across in the last month of work.

The next day, everyone was beginning to feel a bit grungy. There was hot water in the apartment, but the shower faucet was tricky and all could really do was wash your hair. Also, it was so cold the bathroom that you were liable to freeze to death before you were dry if you tried to take a full shower. Thus, we decided the plan that day was to go to the monsha and get scrapped clean. Unfortunately, when we go there, due either to remodeling or lack of later it was closed. Still, the day was not a total loss. I also showed them the bazaar, and we went to a restaurant pizza for dinner that while nothing ike the pizza in America was still delicious. The evening also saw us up to more hijinks, as we tried to figure out what we might do. The movie selection limited, though we did think about playing a game with the Borne Identity where you would drink every time he beats someone up or you have been to one of the countries he visits, but in the end we to play a game called “SET" that involved making sets where the attributes of the cards are all the same or all different, and which became even more difficult as the night progressed.

Thursday, the 3rd of January, saw the return of Chris and Cho from Shimkent. To celebrate the whole gang getting together, we decided that it would be the perfect day to go to the really nice sauna out in the Merei district where I live. The sauna not has steam and shower rooms, it also has a small cold pool that you can jump in between turns in the steam room. I could not get them on the phone to make a reservation so we decided to go out there and talk to them and person, and since it was only -10, we decided to walk. We walked along the river where I usually run, and saw that the river was frozen solid, and people were actually walking on it. It was a bit warm, and I was a bit skeptical of how solid a flowing river could actually be, but it did seem pretty solid for the five feet that I walked on. We also went by the camel farm where Eric had a staring contest with one of the camels and another almost spit on Robert. After making the reservation we then went back into town on the bus, stopping at the bazaar so Robert could pick out a birthday present for his mother and Emiko could look at cell phones as well as, picking up some beer for the sauna. All of us met back at the apartment and then we headed back out to Merei for the Sauna. Since Emiko was with us, we took turns. The guys hung out in the lobby while she used the sauna and vice versa, although given the beds adjoining the main room, and the pictures on the wall, we all figured that not everyone always took turns. Then it was back into town where we had a late dinner at the Café Buscuit and then went back to hang out at the apartment. It was a fun night, but it was also kind of sad because in the morning Eric had to get up a six to take the morning train back to Shimkent.

I woke at six with Eric and made sure he got a taxi to the train station and then ran a few errands, I picked up a package from the post office, bought a few more groceries and then went back to bed for a little while. Chris left because he had Kazak tutoring and so I just made breakfast and watched a movie for a little while. Robert and Emiko decided that they wanted try to one more time to get Emiko a cell phone so we headed back to the Bazaar to go to the trade house where you can get them pretty cheap. We finally found what she needed, and Robert even got some good stuff to send back to his family in the States. That took most of the afternoon, but in the evening, Chris met us the bazaar, and we went to a diner nearby. We also decided to go to the Restaurant/Nightclub Astana that night. I was not sure how the evening was going to turn out, the last time I had been to a club it had been an interesting time to say the least. Fortunately, this club only offered dancing, no “dancing” and the four of us had a lot of fun. Half the time Chris I were dealing with the most aggressive Kazak woman we had ever met, though I do have to admit that if we had not been trying to avoid her, we might not have asked half as many women to dance.

The next day I finally managed to get in touch with my TA Aeigarum who had offered to take us through the local museum. Chris and Cho had work, so Emiko, Robert, and I went by ourselves. Aeigarum and her sister did a great job explaining the exhibits, pointing out important people and teaching us about the history of Kyzylorda. Emiko and Robert were also very impressed with their English, though I seeing as how Aiegarum is a fourth year, I of course could take no credit for that! After the museum, Robert and Emiko went to the bazaar to get groceries for the big spagetti dinner we were going to make at the apartment that night, and I went to meet Chris and Cho at Contact Club, an organization founded by volunteers that is used as a forum for organizing community projects. We began planning a Valentine’s Day Charity Concert. We hope that the concert will not only work as a cultural exchange, but also allow us to raise some money for the local orphanage as provide the children valentines made by the concertgoers, but we shall see. Chris, Cho, and I then went back to the apartment to help Emiko and Robert finish making dinner, and bail out sink one more time. The dinner was delicious, and though I know that pasta is easy to make, I was definitely impressed. Chris and Emiko had turned tomato paste into something tasty, and I would like to think I helped with the garlic bread. Chris’ sister and cousin also came and took part in the meal, but I do not think that they enjoyed it as much as we did. Kazak food tends to be blander than American’s are used to and I think the peppers and garlic powder turned them off.

Sunday was the day that everyone was supposed to leave, but it did not quite turn out that way. Robert was supposed to leave first, on the bust to Zhezkazgan at eight, so at 6:30 we got up and headed out to the bus station, and since there was no bus, went to the café to wait, but it got later and later, and still no bus. Finally the bus station itself opened at and we went to ask the ticket lady what was going on. Apparently, despite the schedule clearly saying that there was an 8:00 bus on Sunday, there was not one, and in fact the schedule was totally wrong. Furthermore, it was too cold this week for the bus to go back and forth to Zhezkazgan so he would have to take the train. We went back to the apartment to nap for a bit and clear out of the apartment, and we then headed to the train station to see if Robert could get on the train, and to see Emiko off to Aktobe. Emiko got off without a problem, but Robert was still stuck in Kyzylorda. We tried to buy a ticket for the train to Karaganda where he could then catch one to Zhezkezgan, but since there were no seats until the Tuesday night train. We decided that the only option was to bribe a conductor, but since neither of us was comfortable doing that yet, we went back to my apartment to ask my host dad if he could help us out. He agreed to come with us at 9:30 to talk to the conductor and get Robert on the train and since we had five hours to kill, dorked out and played with the Bluetooth on our computers. Finally though, after one last gut-bursting meal of Monte, it was time to head back to the train station. The first price the conductor wanted was totally outrageous, but we originally wanted was outrageous, but we eventually got him down to a more sensible but still very expensive 7,000 tenge. Then, with my guests, all safely on their way back home, I went home and to bed.

I have to say that while the weekend was very expensive, it was totally worth it, and while they may have been the ones technically on vacation, it was definitely one of the best Christmas breaks I have had and the best gift any of those guys could have given me. I was sorry that more people could not come down, but the size of the country made that impossible, especially seeing as we only had six days before we all had to head back to work. I look forward to getting back together this summer. Emiko says that she wants to have an English Camp up in Aktobe, which would be ideal seeing as it is hotter than blazes in Kyzylorda by June, and hopefully since we have the whole summer off, more people can get there. Now though, it is time to return my attention back to work. I have to start my Kid’s Club back up again tomorrow, as well as get ready for the next semester. There are a number of activities and clubs that I want to start working on, and it will be nice to see the students again, who are now slowly becoming my friends as well.

The Christmas TV Special

2008-01-08T00:05:00.000-08:00

December 30, 2007

If there is one thing that I believe all countries have in common, regardless their other cultural, religious, or political differences, it is the Christmas Movie Special. In America we spend hours watching classics “It’s a Wonderful Life” or “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer”, and in Kazakstan things are much the same, yet very different in interesting and amusing ways. For example, here in Kazakstan the subject of their holiday special was not Santa Claus or Rudolph, but rather the Romanov family. I thought this to be an odd choice for a Christmas special. Christmas movies are supposed to end happily ever after, and we all know that the story of the Romanov’s hardly fits that description. Furthermore, the Romanov family, particularly Anastasia, was the protagonist of the film, while the Red Army was portrayed as the ignoble force of the evil Rasputin. This struck me as very strange because while Kazakstan may be an independent country now, it still has close ties to Russia, and there are many here who look back on Soviet times with nostalgia. There are soviet monuments everywhere and many schools such as mine are named after heroes of the Red Army. Furthermore, Nazerbaev, like many Central Asian leaders was an important figure in the Kazakstan Communist Part before he became president. Why would they show a film that demonizes a close ally, and celebrates a family that are portrayed in Russian and Central Asian history as incompetent and blind to the needs of the people? I can only guess that Kazakstan is possibly reevaluating its relationship with its former master and trying to create a viewpoint on certain events and ideas that is different from the party line of Moscow. The more likely scenario is that I am reading too much into a cartoon featuring talking birds that come out of Faberge eggs, but you never know, we will just have to see what the New Year brings.

Christmas

2008-01-08T00:02:00.000-08:00

If I was somewhere other than Kazakhstan, this probably would be declared the worst Christmas ever. It has been 15 below zero for the last week, the power and water was off at my house from the 22nd to the 24th, and I had work from 8:00 to 5:00 on Christmas day. I have not even had the chance to properly celebrate it yet because I had to stay in and get ready for an early morning seminar instead of going out with the other volunteers. Furthermore, the gift exchange was all of five minutes, and we did it on the 24th because I always leave for work before anyone wakes up. Still, I cannot be too upset or worried about it. I had to know that Christmas was going to be different this year, and have to accept the fact that to the people of Kazakstan, December 25th was just another workday. Also, I am going to have a major opportunity to celebrate later this week when some of my friends from my training village come to Kyzylorda to celebrate the New Year. Robert is coming from Zhezkezgan, Emiko is coming from Aktobe, and Eric is coming from Shimkent. I am not quite sure yet what we will find to amuse ourselves for five days, but I bet we will think of something. I am just glad that due to my working on the 25th I was able to arrange it so that I did not have to work for the days that they are down here. Thus, I believe that I can honestly say that this holiday season has the potential to be one of the best, albeit unorthodox Christmases I have ever had.

Weekend Trips

2007-12-25T22:58:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-12T21:57:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-02T03:32:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-28T21:20:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-25T20:09:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-21T23:06:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-21T23:04:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-18T20:56:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-14T21:27:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-14T20:22:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-14T20:16:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-05T23:33:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-03T23:33:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T23:29:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T23:27:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T23:26:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T23:07:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:48:00.001-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:45:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:43:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:41:00.001-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:40:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:39:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:38:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:37:00.001-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:36:00.001-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:34:00.002-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:34:00.001-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:31:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-03T22:24:00.000-07:00

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.