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.
вторник, 25 декабря 2007 г.
среда, 12 декабря 2007 г.
Weddings, Baby Showers, and Anniversaries
December 9, 2007
I apologize to everyone for the lack of recent entries recently, but to be honest, I did not have much to write about for the last couple of days. I just got finished with an extremely long and frustrating week, but I do have to admit that it was salvaged by the weekend, which has been awesome due to the glut of celebrations I have attended in the last two days.
Last week not only did I have my normal nine to five grind to take care of, but I also had the exciting opportunity to attend not one, but two seminars. The first seminar was a “Republic” seminar, which somehow made it more important, but at the time, I just found it incredibly boring, useless and frustrating. First off, only on Wednesday morning did my counterpart let me know that we would be participating in this important seminar on Thursday afternoon. Fortunately, we were going to pretty much give the same talk that we gave last month, but still it was little late notice. We got our stuff ready, rehearsed our material, and on Thursday afternoon got ready to make our presentation, and then we waited…for three hours. The presentation that was supposed to start at three did not actually begin until six because the visiting dignitaries were so late. This was annoying, but I thought, no big deal, we just had some extra rehearsal time. The first group of people came in, but we discovered that instead of fifteen minutes to give our talk, we only had five. This meant that rather give them an enlightening talk about the use of games and songs in the classroom, all we did was sing the Twelve Days of Christmas. Forty-five minutes later, the second group finally came in, and their time was cut so short that we actually only got through five days of Christmas. I have to admit I was a little pissed. I would not have minded to sitting around for four hours if I had been able to make the presentation, but to have wasted so much time was incredibly frustrating. I joined the Peace Corps because I wanted to contribute something, but that night my only job was to stand there while the director pointed at me like I was a new puppy or toy, and told everyone, “look, we have our own Peace Corps volunteer.” Then, two days later we got to do it all over again at a seminar for the English Teachers Association of Kyzylorda. Fortunately, I actually was able to give the full talk that time, but it was still three hours, and there were quite a few moments where I wanted to hit my head against the wall.
Still, as I said, the weekend has totally saved it. After not attending many parties the first few months, the weekend was filled with them. On Saturday night I went to the wedding party of one of my students. At nineteen, she is a little young to be married in my opinion, but she and her new husband seemed happy enough, so I was able to remove my America-tinged lenses for the most part, and see how for Kazaks this was the right time and a fun occasion. We had a great meal, I made a short toast in Kazak, and there was even some dancing. Then on Sunday there were two special occasions. The first was the one-year anniversary of my host sister’s wedding, and the second was the Baby Shower/Circumcision called a Besik, of a five month old cousin. Everyone gave that family so much stuff I do not how there are ever going to have room for it in the apartment much less use it all, but again it was a fun time with lots of family in attendance, though I did not actually see the guest of honor, Islam, the entire day. Although, given what they were doing to him, I am probably glad I did not.
All in all I have to say that the Kazaks know how to throw a party. I think I might prefer the American style wedding reception better, if just because there is slightly more dancing, but I might change my mind over the next two years. I am still just amazed at how friendly and welcoming everyone is, and how important all of these family celebrations are. At the wedding there were probably thirty people there that were part of the “immediate family” and were no prepared to do just about anything to help that new couple, and at the baby shower there were at least ten new host uncles and aunts. For someone whose whole family usually only got together three times a year, this has been quite an experience, and one I know I will remember for a long time.
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.
воскресенье, 2 декабря 2007 г.
More Dark
December 1, 2007
Before I came to Kazakstan I had never lived anywhere over the 23rd parallel, and now I know why. It is not the cold, a warm pair of socks, my wool jacket, along with my “Irish sweater” and I am good to go. Rather, it is the darkness that is beginning to get to me. I hate waking up at 7:00 and it being pitch black outside, and not only is it pitch black when I get up, it is still dark when I go to work! Due to the fact that most of Kazakstan is on one time zone and they do not use day light savings time, the sun does not rise in Kyzylorda till 9:00 AM, and it sets by 6:00 PM. Fortunately, the nine hours of sunlight is enough to keep me from getting Seasonal Affective Disorder, but I have to admit it is still a bit depressing. I can only imagine what my friends up in the great white north are dealing with it. Still I know it is not all bad. After all, when summer comes around I will get up to 15 hours of sunlight a day! Also, there was a time when all I wanted was more dark, when the sunlight streaming through the window to signal the arrival of a new day was a curse rather than a blessing. Unfortunately, unlike when I was four, I have to get up for work, which is not very easy in the deep darkness before dawn.
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.
среда, 28 ноября 2007 г.
Belonging to The Land
November 27, 2007
One of the things that struck me as odd when I first got to Kazakstan was that whenever someone asked me where I was from, and I would answer, “America, they would then reply, “no, where are you from? I am Kazak. What are you?” To them it was not a satisfactory answer to say I am an American, they wanted to know my family was from. To the people of Kazakstan ethnic identity the idea of belonging to a place is very important. There are dozens of ethnic groups living in Kazakstan and they more or less get along very well, however, unlike in the United States where everyone says they are American, they always identify themselves by their ethnicity and cultural traditions be it Kazak, Korean, Russian, Chechneyan, Uzbek, Krygyz, Chinese, or Ukrainian. They all belong somewhere, even if they are no longer there. For an American this is somewhat difficult to understand, but to use me and my fellow Irish as an example, on those standardized tests white would not be an adequate choice, and St. Patrick’s Day would be more than just about drinking beer and a fun parade.
You might wonder how all of these groups that refuse to accept a common identity get along so well, and I will admit there are tensions, but they are not nearly as high as the tensions in the United States between groups that claim the same cultural identity. Actually, some of the most noticeable tension I have noticed was between groups of the Kazaks, those who stayed in Kazakstan during the upheaval of the 1990s and those who left to live in Uzbekistan but have now returned. As I mentioned previously, the idea of a homeland is very important to the people of this country, especially the Kazaks, and many have a hard time fathoming that anyone would want to abandon their homeland, even in the face of starvation. Those who stayed derisively refer to the group who left and then came back as the Auromai, or “the deserters” and accuse them of opportunism. They say that they abandoned Kazakstan when it was in trouble, but now that the tables have turned and it is Kazakstan that is doing well and Uzbekistan they have returned. That might be true for some, but for many of those that I have met, they truly missed Kazakstan and simply wanted to come back now that they felt it was safe to return.
Anyway, as I was saying earlier, when I first got here I found this line of questioning to be strange and uncomfortable, kind of like when people in Texas asked me what church I went to three seconds after getting my name. Over time though I have become used to it and it has made me think, where is it that I belong? Maybe my love of travel is a sign that I have long since ceased to feel at home where I grew up, and I have yet to find a new place. My students and friends here often ask me if I am ever homesick, and I can honestly reply that I am not. To be sure, I miss my family and friend, but when I finished college I was ready to get out and go. I had no desire to stay in North Carolina or Texas, and I certainly have no desire to return. I cannot speak for other Peace Corps Volunteers, but for right now Kazakstan is my home and I like living here. Furthermore, while I do not imagine myself “going native” as some RPCVs have done, I also do not imagine myself staying in the United States. Who knows, I might even take the advice of my Kazak friends and return to the homeland. After all, as the Auromai show, we never stop missing it no matter how long we are gone.
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.
воскресенье, 25 ноября 2007 г.
An Unorthodox Thanksgiving
November 25, 2007
This year, for the first time ever, I did not celebrate Thanksgiving, though in my defense there were a couple of good reasons for my not participating. First, I in a foreign country where very few people know that the holiday exists, much less celebrates it. That said, I still celebrated with my classmates while I was studying abroad in London for a semester a couple of years ago. This brings me to my second reason for not partaking in Turkey Day, numbers. In London there were at least fifteen of us to get a dinner together, but here in the entire Kyzylorda region there are three Americans, and none of us is a very good cook. Still, just because we did not participate in the traditional feast does not mean that we did not sit down and take time to reflect on our past few months and give thanks. We just did it over beer instead of turkey. Chris and I went out last night with his host sister to a café and then the local nightclub Edem to hang out and go dancing. The early t part of the evening at the café was rather typical of my Saturday nights in Kazakh, relaxing, talking, and having a few cold beers. Even the club was what I expected at first, guys and girls dancing at least three feet apart, doing the offbeat shuffle that one often sees at high school dances. Later on though, things took a strange turn. After we had been at the club for about an hour, the DJ says something in Russian that neither Chris nor I understand, and everyone clears the dance floor. At first I thought that maybe the song they were playing was really unpopular, but what actually was happening was that it was time for a series of three striptease performances. Furthermore, while two of the dancers were female, the third was male, I guess so the ladies in the audience would not feel so left out. At first I was shocked, this was definitely the last thing I expected to see in Southern Kazakstan, where Folk Islam is a very important part of the social fabric of the community. Of course, the dancers were Russians, not Kazaks, but it definitely strange to see such a performance in a pretty sleepy and conservative city. The best part of the whole thing was looking around at the audience reaction. Rather than look as if they were being excited, everyone had the same detached expression, as if they were watching the ballet and not pole dancing. Granted, the dancers were certainly more talented and skilled than the typical stateside stripper, but my studies of Pop Art aside, I never thought to consider a striptease even close to high art, nor watch it the same way as I do an opera. I guess Kyzylorda really does have it all, friendly people, modern conveniences, and even a bit of Western debauchery when you need your fix.
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.
среда, 21 ноября 2007 г.
The Truth Really is Stranger than Fiction
November 21, 2007
When I was in high school my favorite book series were the Dune Chronicles by Frank Herbert. I even read the “prequels” by Herbert’s son and Kevin J. Anderson that came out while I was in college. The novels’ focus is on the desert planet Arrakis where the addictive spice Melange is produced, and Duke Paul Atreides. Paul’s family is exiled to Arrakis, where they fall in with the native “Free Men” or “Fremen”, and it is while living among the Fremen that Paul truly discovers his destiny. The reason I even bring this up is because lately I have begun to think that my life has become a little like the Dune books. True, unlike Paul, I cannot see the future, but my uncle does call me “Duke” every now and then, and I am currently living in the desert among Kazaks, and believe it or not, Kazak translates into "Free Man." As, for addictive substances, everyone develops a serious chai habit within two months of getting here. I drink at least 15 cups of chai a day, and they have even started my 6 month old host niece on the stuff. The only thing left to do is discover my destiny and take over the world with the aid of my Kazak comrades. Maybe then I too will be a Kwizatch Hadarach, or One Who is Many Places at Once.
When I was in high school my favorite book series were the Dune Chronicles by Frank Herbert. I even read the “prequels” by Herbert’s son and Kevin J. Anderson that came out while I was in college. The novels’ focus is on the desert planet Arrakis where the addictive spice Melange is produced, and Duke Paul Atreides. Paul’s family is exiled to Arrakis, where they fall in with the native “Free Men” or “Fremen”, and it is while living among the Fremen that Paul truly discovers his destiny. The reason I even bring this up is because lately I have begun to think that my life has become a little like the Dune books. True, unlike Paul, I cannot see the future, but my uncle does call me “Duke” every now and then, and I am currently living in the desert among Kazaks, and believe it or not, Kazak translates into "Free Man." As, for addictive substances, everyone develops a serious chai habit within two months of getting here. I drink at least 15 cups of chai a day, and they have even started my 6 month old host niece on the stuff. The only thing left to do is discover my destiny and take over the world with the aid of my Kazak comrades. Maybe then I too will be a Kwizatch Hadarach, or One Who is Many Places at Once.
There is no ASPCA in Kazakstan: Take Two
November 19, 2007
For the past few weeks I am afraid I was in danger of becoming somewhat numb to the plight of animals in Kazakhstan. Their neglect and maltreatment such a regular site, that it no longer evoked a visceral reaction of sadness and anger. That however, was before I turned on the news last night. On the television screen were two of the best-groomed dogs I have ever seen in this country. Their coats were brushed, their teeth were clean, and they marched smartly at their masters’ side, and I thought for a second, “this is a nice change, a dog show.” At that moment though, I began to understand a little bit of what the news reporter was saying, and the screen changed to reveal what was actually going on. It was no dog show, but rather a dogfight and those two well-mannered Mastiffs were in the process of tearing each other to shreds. To give credit where it is due, the story was definitely portraying dogfighting in a negative light, but it was still rather shocking. For example, when the football player was indicted on animal cruelty charges there were no images of the illegal sport, but in Kazakstan the dogfighting appeared to be taking place in broad daylight. Also, there were several spectators who stepped forward to defend it as a legitimate part of Kazak history and culture. That, however strikes me as someone in the United States defending racist behavior because it is a legitimate part of American history and culture, but just because you have always done something bad does not mean you need to keep doing it. In many ways I like working toward cultural integration. Learning the language and trying to fit in with my Kazak neighbors is both challenging and a lot of fun, but I do not think I will ever understand the way they treat pets, nor do I want to.
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.
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