Chapter 6: The Russians Are Coming
September 24, 2005, continued September 26, 2005
I’ve been up since 5:45 AM. The pit hole is my new best friend. Forget the tree.
Anyway, my big goal for the day was to ask my host family whether I could do my laundry. After that experience, it has become clear that I’ve definitely have taken life in the States for granted. Having to wait a week to wash my clothes and bathe are just two of the rather drastic changes I have had to make. Never mind having to walk through the house, out the back door, through the corn field, around the chickens to get to the hole in the ground, in order to relieve myself.
My body misses porcelin.
[Break for 2 days]
Anyway, two days later, and two special pills from the doctor swallowed, I feel better.
I opened up my Jiff peanut butter and it’s making me miss home. I’m listening to Ben Lee’s “Awake is the New Sleep,” and it’s making me happy. And I have the house to myself for the next 10 minutes. It’s like when I’m home in Lake Forest and everyone is gone and if I wanted to I could run through the house naked and it wouldn’t matter, even though I’d never do it.
Wanna know what’s funny? My host mother, Gulgalkin, told me on the first day that I could call her Apa to make things easier, since really, trying to pronounce her name is in fact a challenge, so I acquiesced. It wasn’t until a few days later that I found out it translates as “Mommy.” I don’t even call Sheila “Mommy.” Maybe when I get back I will.
So turns out Americans are famous here in Kyrgyzstan. I walk down the street and people literally stare. I bet this is how Jennifer Aniston feels all the time. Or Rosie O’Donnell at that.
Is it bad that I’ve already had like 10 tablespoons of peanut butter? If you read this and like to eat peanut butter, send me some. Seriously. A little, tiny one will suffice. Sometimes (and by “sometimes” I mean all the time), the food here makes me sick. Peanut butter is familiar. Familiar, although not necessary and always good, is in this case excellent.
I’m finally reading The Brothers Karamazov. I think having some background with Russian literature is a good bonus. Is good bonus repetitive? Anyway, I have this awesome plan for when I’m teaching and the students are getting out of control to give them what was coined not by me “further education.” This “further education” is going to be a passage from some book or philosopher that I’ve read or am currently reading, and I’m going to make them rewrite the English translation as punishment. I think I’ll choose a couple passages in The Brothers Karamazov as this “further education” and kill two birds with one stone—force them to learn more English and get a quick lesson in famous Russian literature.
So a bunch of the PCVs and I are going to get this book-trade underway in a short while, but I have some close friends from back home and school who read, too. If I could I would email or call each one of you and ask you personally to send me a good book that you’ve just read or think I’d like or think that I should read and send it to me. No? Please. It would mean the world. And that says a lot, considering if you looked at a globe and pointed to where you were at, and then went halfway around it, I’d be there.
Oh, one more thing. I felt human this morning. I was beginning to wonder, but this morning I got sad. And not sad in a bad way, but sad like I realize I’m not going to see you guys for a while sad. I barely got through today’s first language lesson to top it off. See, there is this mirror right in front of me on the wall, and if I look directly in front of myself, I see my reflection. It’s not like I really wanted to look at myself, but sometimes I couldn’t help it, and when I did, I saw myself, and I looked sad, so it made me feel even sadder. I had to really focus on my work to get the feelings suppressed, and it was hard. But I did it. After lunch, I had a couple laughs and got over it and then shared what happened with some of my classmates and then it was all good. Tasiana (Ta-Shauna) decided that we should all get together and have a good cry sometime soon, but before we did so, we had to make a pact to stay tough, never give in and don’t turn back… or something motivational like that.
I think I should review some more Kyrgyz. Just smiling and saying “hello” and “thank you,” can only get me so much further. A part of me was super upset about not learning Russian for these first three months of Pre-Service Training, but I’m over it. This culture is Kyrgyz through and through, and while many, if not all, of the people can speak Russian, it means a whole lot more when I speak to them in their native tongue. Granted, Russian may be more helpful when this is all said and done, but for these next two years, I’m here, in Kyrgyzstan. I’ve decided relationships are the most important aspect of being a human, and relating in a personal way with language is a good first step. Plus, when else in my life will I get to have extensive language lessons in a nomadic language such as Kyrgyz? Riiiight. So, I’ll have to pick up Russian on my own. I have a dictionary to start, so that should help.
A big giant wink and a kiss from Kyrgyzstan.
Chapter Five: For Real
September 22, 2005
9:25 P.M. Kegety, Kyrgyzstan
I’m sitting here, in my 5-room house in the village of Kegeti, typing on my brand new Mac computer. Something about this just doesn’t seem right. Some have. Others have not.
Oh, and I'm listening to Nickel Creek’s “Nickel Creek” album right now.
It’s Day Three here in Kegeti, and I couldn’t be happier. Technically, I’ve been gone for 9 days, but most of that was traveling. The land is beautiful, the mountains enormous and the people generous.
Last night my host brothers amused me by letting me watch their neighborhood judo club and play ping-pong. Who would have thought the Kyrgyz people like ping-pong? My younger brother, Zalkar, beat me at a mad game of chess last night before dinner, which we ate at 10.
I got really sick my first night here, woke up at 10, thinking it was the new day, and couldn’t hold my vomit in, so ended up puking in my plastic toiletry bag. In order to dispense of the blackberry jam vomit, I had to carry it through the house, show my hose sister (who I had only met two hours beforehand) and run outside to do it all over again. I got sick about 5 more times that night, but today I felt great.
Until after lunch.
For the past week, we have been learning about the Kyrgyz culture, language and how to teach. I must admit, I was a bit nervous knowing that I would have to teach a bunch of kids English, but after today’s lessons, I feel ready, and it’s only the third day.
It hit me today how important education really is. I know I’m teaching English and most of the students will grow up, take over the family farm and only use their English the next time a Peace Corps volunteer comes parading through their village, but that’s not the point. Jeff, our PST (pre-service training) coordinator, told us today about all his experiences teaching overseas. He just said this one sentence, and I don’t really remember it verbatim, but he took this kid aside who was being a troublemaker and not taking school seriously, approached him and said, “Why don’t you want to better yourself?”
And it’s really that simple.
Education is bettering oneself. You may not be the brightest crayon in the box or even use the education you learn in one class, but taking something and pouring yourself into it molds you. Education is a means to an end. It is structure that so many lack. It provides role models to emulate. It demands excellence, but doesn’t turn its back if excellence isn’t reached.
If I can make these kids (who, BTW, I just found out are ages 11-15) feel better about themselves about anything even once, then I’ll be happy.
Really, I’m lost. I’m confused. I’m clueless, but I’m excited about what lies ahead. These next three months are preparation for the next two years, so I’m going to use this time to prepare and assimilate into the native culture.
Without even trying, tonight my host mother invited me “Guesting” with some of her friends from the neighborhood. This is when a bunch of people get together to eat a meal, cheer over Vodka (or in my case, two sips of red wine), and friendship and Kyrgyz culture. When I walked out of our house with Apa (host mother), I didn’t know where we were going, but I just went along. We got to a house, after I got stared at by every person we passed along the stone and cow dung covered road, I took off my shoes before entering and walked into a room with 10 other Kyrgyz women staring and smiling back at me, insisting that I sit at the head of the table and shove my face with bread and tea. Thank God two of my LCFs (Language and Cross-Cultural instructors) were there who can speak English, who would translate to me that the women were praising me for me being me. I guess. I don’t know. Twenty minutes later, we left and that was that. Free food. Pakmat [Rakmat] (Thank you).
OK, my counter top water distiller needs attendance. In the words of Dave Matthews, “Don’t drink the water.” It’ll get you sick and then send you outside to your favorite tree to throw up all night. I know from experience, it you know what I mean. Eh? Eh?
Chapter Four: Tokmok
I'm in Tokmok, and I had this whole thing written on my flash drive that I was going to share with all of you, but the computer is being weird, so you'll have to wait. Just know, that I am here, doing well, living with a wonderful Kyrgyz family and learnding a lot.
Stay tuned.
Chapter Three: "Cheesesteakes"
I'm in Philadelphia, and before we got here there was this big upheavel as to who and when and where and why and how we were all going to get some Philly Cheesesteakes before our first meeting. We never got them.
And by "we," I mean, K13, the group of 66 that is going with me to Kyrgyzstan on September 16th. Tomorrow.
I won't be around the computers for quite some time, so this is it until I get there.
Tonight is my last night in America for 27 months.
I need to sleep, but I think pizza is more important.
Farewell.
Chapter Two: "Save 10%"
A three months ago the man at the Barnes and Noble bookstore near my house asked me as I purchased "The Brothers Karamazov," whether I wanted to become a Barnes and Noble card member, save 10% off the purchase and then all subsequent purchases throughout the year for a small fee of $25. I brushed him off, said, "No thanks," and maybe even something along the lines of, "I'm moving out of the country for a while, so it wont make a lot of sense."
I am officially a moron.
I have gone to Barnes and Noble probably twenty times since that conversation and now own another 15 books. I bet that with all the money I spent and not saved an additional 10% on, I could have bought a small country... or fed a family of five for a week down in Mississippi.
To top it off, it hit me as I swiped my credit card one last time that I could have given my Barnes and Noble card to a family member or a friend as a gift or something. Chances are they would check for IDs or something, but still.
Well, at least I now have my Russian-English/English-Russian dictionaries, an atlas, some workbooks, Dostoevsky and... Christopher Moore.
If I can't leave you with anything tangible, I leave you with some of Fyodor's existential friends:
"Here, then, awaiting our study, lies man's authentic "being"-- stretching the whole length of his past. Man is what has happened to him, what he has done. Other things might have happened to him or have been done to him, but what did in fact happen to him and was done by him, this constitutes a relentless trajectory of experiences that he carries on his back as the vagabond his bundle of all he possesses. Man is a substantial emigrant on a pilgrimage of being, and it is accordingly meaningless to set limits to what he is capable of being."
-Ortega
"For, believe me, the secret of the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment of existence is: to live dangerously!"
-Nietzsche
Next time the Barnes and Noble guy asks whether I want to buy the card, I'm doing it. I'm dangerous.
Part I: Chapter One "Say Cheese"
So I decided to post a picture of myself up on the Yahoo Groups website where all the other K13s and I can communicate with one another before we fly on out to Philly and then to Kyrgyzstan. I had trouble choosing a photo to use because, after all, these are still first impressions...
Well, also because I am extremely indecisive when it comes to, well, making decisions.
Anyway, I chose this one that was taken in San Sebastian, Spain, over the winter. I was eating a magdalena (Spanish cupcake) that my host father would insist I bring with me on every single weekend trip. He'd make a trip to the local bakery each Thursday, so that I could take at least four with me each time. I think the photo does the cupcakes justice... no?
What follows is a list of the ones that didn't make the cut.
But, oh, they were so close...
My middle name is Tommy Lee
Walk a mile in my shoes
I used to be Mexican
Garden State, anyone?
Kiss me, I'm Irish
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
That's a candid shot, folks
OK, enough of the narcissism. I'm going to Barnes and Noble to get some books.
P.S. I decided to write this blog as if it were a novel. I've always had a thing for memoirs.
