Part III: Long December
3 December 2005“You aint cool unless…”
I woke up this morning in my new bed in a full-body sweat. I had had a nightmare. First of all, I don’t ever recall my dreams, but this one was one of those dreams when I was already half-awake. It was bad. A little background information, I mailed a package home to the US last week. It had some Christmas gifts and letters and stuff for my family. I made a big stink at the post office in front of the Russian ladies because they weren’t going to mail it for me because a) they didn’t have the proper package covering paper and b) I had provided my own box, one I had recycled from a package I had received. I started freaking out, explaining in English, that I needed to get this package mailed ASAP because I knew it would take around 4 weeks to get home. Finally, I offered to pay upfront, one day before they were supposedly getting the “proper package covering paper” and just leave my package there overnight for them to self-address and send on its way. I also had to open the box for them and make an inventory list, which included:
1. 5 kalpocks
2. 1 pair of slippers
3. 1 headscarf
4. 1 felt eyeglass case
5. 2 letters
6. 1 pair of earrings
7. 1 ornament
I told them I’d be back in five days or so when I made a trip back to Tokmok, so they acquiesced for the small fee of 240 com. When I returned some 5 days later, the Russian lady looked at me and nodded, saying through the look on her face that the package was mailed successfully and I could finally relax.
And I did relax. Until this morning.
In my dream I, for some reason, got the package mailed back to me after it had spent some time in the mail-traveling world. And this made complete sense to me. I am not sure whether my family got the package or not, but regardless, it was back to me. When I looked at it, I could see that the Russian ladies never put the “proper package covering paper” on, and the only thing that was holding it together were the five pieces of duct tape I had put on previously. Oh, and I should mention that one of the other volunteers, who I’m actually not even that close with, asked me to mail his laptop computer to the States in my package for him, and then have my family mail it to his family. This never really happened, and I don’t even know if he really has a laptop, but in dreams anything goes. I guess he felt that the kalpocks would be a good deterrence from some of the postage workers who’ve been stealing some of our possessions in-route. Anyway, when I opened the package, from what I can recall, this is what I found:
1. 1 sheet of Styrofoam ghosts
2. 2 bouncy balls
Those are the only two possessions that I can remember now, but when I opened the box, all I could do was drop the “f” bomb. I marched my way back to the Tokmok post office, screamed at the women behind the counter, and they just stared back at me, saying nothing. It didn’t occur to me at the time to demand my 240 com back, but now that I am awake, I think that would have been a good addition to my ranting. Anyway, it was now up to me to get back to the volunteer who had me mail his laptop, and when I got to him, all I could manage was an “I’m sorry.”
OK, that is all I can really remember, so before I start making things up to make my dream seem more real and vivid, I’ll end there. Being here for almost three months, now you know some of the trials and tribulations we PCVs encounter. I’ve heard, fortunately, that the PCVs on The Lake don’t really have any issues with the mail, so hopefully, that will be the one and only nightmare I experience.
But, knowing Kyrgyzstan, I bet I have another one about a herd of cows are something trampling me.
4 December 2005
“Like the Rivers”
My family is off to the Karakol bazaar, and I’m home with my cindeem for the day. Over chai this morning, she asked me if I had a boyfriend, a rather common question among the Kyrgyz.
NOTE: I am listening to my iPod on shuffle right now, and Hanson’s “Lost Without Each Other” just came on…. Goodtimes. Those boys still got it, Mmmmmmmmm bop.
So, I explained to her that I tell Kyrgyz dudes I have one, because then they leave me be, unless they continue to pry, and then I have to say that he is in America, and then they say, “America? Well, he’s there, you’re here. You need a Kyrgyz boyfriend.” For a traditionally conservative society, I’m finding this to be the main topic of conversation. I cannot tell you how many women have described their “smart, good-looking, hardworking sons” to me, and then gone on to tell me that they are in the market for a pretty, little wife. Sounds appealing. Anyway, so she laughed, and then I told her that I really don’t have one. I think she understood. She speaks English, kinda. Our conversations are a mix of Russian, Kyrgyz and English. When I asked her if she had one, she smiled and said timidly that she did. Big surprise. Everyone in Kyrgyzstan has a boy/girlfriend. The best part of it, you ask? They keep it a secret from their families… most of the time. In this case, she said that her parents and brothers knew, and when I expressed my shock, she told me that it was because she “will be married soon.” WHAT?!?! She’s eighteen, for crying out loud. That was the same age Macaulay Culkin was when he married that one chick. We all saw how that ended... I mean, that’s younger than my sister back home. I realize it’s legal and all that, but still. 18! So, you’re probably thinking, young-love, right? Try again. The guy is 25. And a doctor. Find me a 25-year-old doctor, and I’d have a hard time saying no. The only thing I could muster was a “Wow, in English we say ‘Congratulations.’” Then I added “Good luck” for kicks. Apparently the date is set for around Christmas. I hope it’s not on the 25th, but if it is, I’ll have to spread myself thin. I’m hoping the Americans around The Lake will get together. Already I’ve started listening to my Christmas music collection, which consists of Johnny Cash and Harry Connick, Jr. If I listen to it too long, I start to cry. And we can’t be having any of that around here.
I really should be studying my Kyrgyz and I think I just may, but what I really want to do is walk down to the Jety-Oguz river and check things out. Come spring, I’m all over that piece. But, I’m not quite ready to venture out on my own. My family told me to “es al” today, which means to relax. I don’t have the Kyrgyz alphabet at my fingertips, so you’re going to have to settle for the phonetic version of things.
I already straightened my hair, cleaned my nails and took a baby wipe bath. Maybe I will just study. Tomorrow I may or may not have to teach. I’d prepare, but I don’t know where to start.
So it’s 6:08, and it’s already dark outside. While I spent a good portion of my day “es al”ing like I was supposed to, which entailed reading The Joy Luck Club, studying Kyrgyz, importing my recent photos and writing new entries from past dates, I actually did make a trip out to check out the Jety Oguz river. My sister and her friend took me along and informed me that most fishermen go up to the resort to fish. I’m already excited.
Sometime around 4 I’d say, it struck me how odd it really is that I’m here. I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to join the Peace Corps. I must have been out of my mind. It’s not that I’m not having fun or don’t think that what I’m doing is important, it’s that I just left everyone I love back home. When I studied abroad in Spain, I thought three months was a while to be gone, but this is two years! I rarely use the exclamation point, so that’s saying something.
Last night I met a K-11 who is going back to the States in about a week. I was trying to put myself in his shoes, and really grasp the feeling of knowing I’m about to leave a country that two years ago I knew close to nothing about, moved there freely, poured myself into my service, only to hop back on a plane, back to normalcy, comfort, everything I once knew. And then, have to also, somehow, bring everything I learned, gained, lost and left in Kyrgyzstan back to America. It’s a strange thing moving anywhere really, but as my friend Heather, who’s now living in Bulgaria, once told me, “I don’t think the human soul was ever meant to leave or go very far from where we came from.” But here I am, and there she is. Oh, the choices we make.
I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of
human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers…
-Langston Hughes
5 December 2005
“Lost in Translation”
My parents called later last night around 10. The cell phone cut-out like 35 minutes into our conversation, and they didn’t call back. They may have tried, but it didn’t go through. As I sat there waiting for the phone to ring, all I could think about was how I didn’t ask them how they were doing. I had a disgusting feeling in my stomach, a realization of my self-centeredness. If I could redo that conversation, I would have asked about them about themselves first. Instead, I have to live with the fact that the conversation ended with “No, send my black, digital watch, Mom.” Thousands of miles away from home and I’m still the materialistic daughter. Bummer.
I taught my first English lesson this morning in my new school. The class was 5A. I had about 15 students, eager to learn, and stumbling over my Kyrgyz, I managed to get through the lesson with introductions. I also tried instilling some classroom rules, but I don’t think my students grasped the concept. But I only have four:
1. Come to my class (on time, and that’s the American concept of time, of course)
2. Try— Speak in English first (for the record, I am not Russian, and just because I’m white, it doesn’t mean I can speak Russian, so don’t even try)
3. Do honest work (if I catch you cheating, you’re done, and I don’t want to hear anything about a “collective society”)
4. Respect each other (this includes, but is not limited to, not speaking while I’m speaking or anyone else for that matter)
Nice and simple. One of the PCVs I met told us that she made her class do an honor code. When she asked them why it was important and what would happen if they broke it, they responded, “We will become your enemy.” She never gave them that explanation, but after translation and whatnot, that’s what they understood. Hilarious.
Anyway, I ended up teaching two other classes today, and I got my own room. Sometime later this week, I’ll decorate it like teachers in the US do during the summer before any of the students are around. I have two maps, a paper American flag, some magazines and a box of markers. This should be interesting.
I got access to the school’s library today. Most of the time it is locked up with a huge metal padlock thingy, but today, I was VIP and got backstage. I got my classes’ books, which by the looks of them, it appears that getting new books will be one of my secondary projects.
Here’s an excerpt from the 9A book:
“In winter 1988 in a little town Bowlder, Kolarado State, USA people gathered for discussing ecological problems. The building of the Ecological Centre was made off glass. The snow-covered mountains with pine forests surrounded the Centre. The people who gathered in the hall were ministers, congressmen, scientists and journalists. They had come there from different parts of the world for a serious talk on the future of our planet. At that moment three deer came out of the forest, came up to the glass windows and stopped, looking at the people inside. The moment was full of importance. Nature seemed to have sent the animals tell the people: we are here but our future is in your hands.
When the conference opened the statement was as follows: We, people, have come to an ecological problem. The situation is very serious. We must act all together” (52-53).
You better believe the situation is serious. Those spelling and grammar errors are legit. Or perhaps you prefer:
“There are now 15 Union Republics in the USSR. In its history the Soviet Union has shown the whole world an example of the policy of equality, friendship and brotherhood among peoples of different nationalities headed by Lenin’s great Party” (30).
So they’re a bit dated. That’s all I’m saying. Well, that, and I’m now in the market for some English-language books.
7 December 2005
I feel like I just won the jackpot. See, I came to Jety-Oguz thinking that there was going to be packages galore at the post office. I was wrong. The first day I got here, I was told there wasn’t anything there, but that didn’t stop me from going back everyday during my break. Day and after day (it hasn’t even been a week yet), there was nothing, but today, oh, yes, today, I had two waiting for me. Both from my mom, and to top it off, there was a letter from my friend Sara, back in Denver, Colorado. Good times all around. She included a picture from New Year’s 2004, I think. Yeah, that was the same night I stole a cab from my senior year English “British Literature” teacher, fell over three motorcycles and almost got in a fight with a 250 lbs man. Thanks for the memories, Spaz.
Anyway, so the packages from my mom included the basic school and toiletry supplies, but there was also my favorite candy of all-time. Grapefruit slices from Sweets in Lake Forest. Nothing beats them. Nothing. For around $5.00 a bag, you better believe they’re worth it. I can tell my parents had a hay-day with the packages, too. See, this is the first Christmas ever in our home when not all 8 of us are going to be together. It’s a huge deal that I’m not there. A part of me thinks my youngest brother Kevin will never forgive me for it, even when I’m back in 2007. So yeah, Christmas is big in our house. In the secular and the religious sense of the holiday. The package had a mini nativity scene, a mini Christmas tree with lights already on, a package of mini ornaments, a pack of Christmas colored tic tacs, 2 packages of candy canes and 4 wrapped packages I haven’t opened yet that say things like “To: Colleen From: Baby Jesus,” “To: Colleen Baby, From: Santa Mama and Santa Daddy Pops,” “Dear Littlest Angel Colleen, Love: Dad,” and “To: Colleen Honey, From: Santa Daddy and Mommy.” My sister also included 31 CDs for me to put on iTunes. Right now I’m listening to Ryan Adams “The Hardest Part.”
Hmmm, I’m debating whether to just open the presents now… I feel like I’m 10 again, holding the package up to my right ear and shaking with both hands, trying to decipher the treasure inside. The problem is, there’s no one’s here to stop me.
Today I taught all day. It’s only the 3rd day of classes and already I feel burned out. I had to keep reminding myself that I’m not really teaching that much, there’s nothing I can do about the darkness or the fact that my counterpart, the only person who can speak sufficient English, is severely ill, and that these first few weeks before winter break are just assessments. Hakuna Matata.
I should be doing lesson plans. But it’s just not that appealing when the curriculum instructs me to use the books. I have to be feeling creative, and right now, all I want to be doing is this. Writing on my computer and importing songs.
I had two teachers for my 3rd and 4th grade classrooms observe today. I wanted to shoot myself. Both of these women have more experience than me in the actual classroom; I just have the ideas and the skills. While I realize this, that doesn’t make my first few lessons any better than theirs. I don’t know what they were expecting from me, but I just stuck to introductions, greetings and tried to teach the lesson straight from the book. It didn’t really work out, seeing that the 9 and 10-year-olds responded in Russian, and I was trying to teach them American and British units of time. Teaching the concept of telling time to American kids is a challenge in and of itself. I remember I was so bad at it, I had to stay inside for an entire week’s recess period until I grasped the concept.
Peace Corps told us to give it time, expect the unexpected. The fact that I was on the teaching schedule this week, and the reality that I was teaching more than just secondary education was most definitely unexpected. I shall give it time.
8 December 2005
I cheated. I totally just opened up a package, took out the sweater, put it on, and then rewrapped the empty box. Good as new. Empty, but good as new. Right now I’ve got Christmas carols on and the whole bit. My mini tree and the ornaments are up. Christmas in Kyrgyzstan. I might not “be home for Christmas,” but by golly, I’m gonna be jolly. I’m also eating a candy cane.
Today was a better than yesterday. I felt like I taught 8 lessons, when I really only taught 5 (well, 6 if you count the one I did voluntarily for the enthusiastic students who I don’t actually have on my schedule, but who begged me to teach them English). I guess it’s nice to know that I’m wanted, and fairly popular… I have to admit, I’m a bit embarrassed by all the attention, but I totally signed autographs the other day. At first I said no, that signing autographs was weird, and that I’m not Brittney Spears. But they wouldn’t take no for an answer. I suppose I could have yelled at them, slammed my door shut, locked them out, but I don’t think that would have been a good move on my first day/week ever as a teacher. And so, about 15 students now have my John Hancock. I’m sure in a week when all the hype wears off, they’re families will put that very same piece of paper to use in the outhouse.
9 December 2005
I woke up today to the vibrating of my cell phone. Oh, I just found out that I can get messages on my phone for free from all of you really easily.
Follow these instructions:
1. Go to http://smsgate.bitel.kg/
2. scroll down as the site is in Russian
3. At the bottom of the screen there is a menu bar, look for SMS
4. Click on it
5. Put my number 170267 in the Number box and type in a message
6. Press the button on left which is Russian for send
I can’t wait to here from you.
So, yeah, vibrating cell phone. My program manager called to tell me that she was stopping by my house for a site visit. She said 5 minutes, but it was more like 2. It was nice to see her and have her translate some issues I was having with my Apa. After chai and nan (tea and bread), the PC SUV took me to school. Curb-side service.
Today I only had one class, 9 G, and it was at 11:05. Man, those kids are good. I really like my 9th graders. I thought that I’d like teaching the younger ones more, but I don’t really. I mean, the boys are annoying and throw notes up to me in the middle of class that say things like, “I lave you!!! Askat.” but they’re not so bad. Yes, their English (especially their spelling) could be better, but that’s why I’m there. Today we learned what a verb is and yesterday, nouns. I made them write one sentence, using just one noun and one verb, but 75% of the class wrote things like, “I like to go school.” I think we’re going to have to learn about the articles a, an, and the first. We’’ll see how that goes. Fellow teachers, unite, and send me an e-mail or something on classroom activities. You have formal education in this. This is me, asking for help.
It’s 3:08 in the afternoon, and I have nothing to do. I think I’ll do my lesson plans for next week, because tomorrow and Sunday, I’m going into town to hang out with the other PCVs. My mom sent me the Chicago White Sox 2005 World Champions “A Celebration 88 Years in the Making” magazine. Maybe I’ll read that now and imagine what it was like to watch the games play-by-play. I wish Sports Center or something sold the games on DVD, so that those who didn’t see a game, or in my case, all of them, could watch. That would be the best idea ever.
So it’s a bunch of hours later. I spent the day making a huge wall-sized version of the English Alphabet. Once I figure out a way to get it to stay put, I will consider myself a success.
All in all, I’d say it was a productive day.
posted by C @ 1:18 PM
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