The True Tale of A Kazakh Wedding

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.