Chapter Eight: Because I Can
I didn't actually write anything of substance, but I thought it best to post this ridiculous picture.
The Kyrgyz make fun of me for smiling and saying "cheese" when the camera clicks, so I thought I'd try and immerse myself into the local culture.
I think I took it too far.
Chapter Seven: Well, that's something.
I just got back from the nation’s capital. I spent the week there with the other K-13s, attending our In-Service Training seminar, which entailed language lessons (somebody moved up a notch after the LPI!) and sitting in on sessions about culture, safety and security and most importantly grant writing and secondary projects. If you’ve never been to Bishkek, which I would place a hefty bet on, you should know that Bishkek is not Kyrgyzstan. I mean, it is, but compared to the village life, which I prefer, it has everything you would or could or couldn’t ever dream of. I spent pretty much all of the money that I wasn’t able to burn in the village, which was a lot, on Lebanese, Chinese and German food. I drank an actual Stella beer and had somewhat dry, red wine. I flushed a toilet. I took a bath, even if it did involve a plastic bag to plug up the drain. I went to the opera. I bought 6 new movies (Derailed, New World, King Kong, In Her Shoes, Oliver Twist and Flight Plan). Before I left, I decided that me leaving did have its perks. Being gone for an extended amount of time would allow for me to have a hay day at the movie rental once I got back. I know it’s sort of sad in a loser sense to admit, but I actually consider myself to be more than just acquaintances with the people behind the counter at my rental store. I don’t even get embarrassed about going there are 5 in the afternoon on a Friday and watching a movie before I go out, if I go out, at night. The lady told me that when she sees me next she’d have her favorite films from the time I was MIA available for me. But thanks to what I like to call “advanced technology,” I have current picks within reach, however expensive, even if the 6th one’s free here in the Kyrgyz Republic.
I’ll admit it was nice to get out of the village and see “old” friends and catch up on the last 3 months, but I’m now a village girl and happy to be home. It was nice to walk in my room and see a gift from the family from the 8th of March (Women’s Day). I couldn’t read the note because it was in Kyrgyz cursive, and as it is, I can barely read cursive in English. I think I embarrassed my host-sister by having her dictate it to me. They gave me a bag. I think the group consensus is that my American, hiking-style side bag is too big for village life. Also waiting for me was another letter or 2 from a friend, an amazing scrapbook letter thing from the one and only A.G.C., which included just what I needed: a sleazy celebrity news/style magazine called Life & Style weekly. I’ve never heard of it, which scares me. Americans are losing their minds. I may or may not be as well. Just so you know, I’m a changed woman. While my friends know me well enough to know that I love the crap, and therefore sincerely appreciate when I get celeb gossip in the mail, I have to confess, if the Spirit moves me, I no longer read articles about relationships and/or babies. It’s just not right. As a result, I am a little shady as to what went down with Nick and Jessica and all I know about Britney and Kevin’s baby is that he’s not a very cute baby. And I only know that because the picture was on the cover. I’m not at the admirable phase of my maturity to shun them completely, but as of a month ago, I at least feel bad about reading them. I’m practically a new person.
Oh, so what I wanted to say was that getting all this tangible love in the mail made me sad. Reading the stuff makes me want to hop on the next plane home and just sit and be with you. I hope you sort of understand why I have been lackadaisical in regards to updating my blog and writing quality letters. I do it, but it really makes me sad. I think that’s normal though, so I’m not going to lose sleep over it or reconsider my choices, but actually sitting down and getting my thoughts and feelings down on paper or virtual paper, is emotionally draining. So those of you who’ve gotten something from me, know that it hurt my heart to do it. But it still hurts more to read the letters from you.
“How’d you learn to cry on demand? Cry on demand. Why would you want to? Just close your eyes and think of me. Cry on demand. Teach me if you want to. No, you don’t have to. Just close my eyes and think of you.”
After the week, despite reactions that surfaced from reading mail from the States, I concluded that I was sort of made for this whole experience. While I might never be the best thing to happen to the Kyrgyz educational system, being here, coming back to my home in Jety-Oguz, I was filled with genuine excitement. Sitting in the marshrutka, driving into Karakol, I realized that I want to be here. And that says a lot because I cannot stand the tight-quarters of the bumping up and down marshrutka ride. But I want to get things done. I have all these plans in my head of what I think needs to be done, and I think it’s going to be a real test of my character to see if I can accomplish them with the help of other people, local people. I can see myself trying to take it all upon myself, and I might actually be able to do it, but I think that the sustainability of the projects will be jeopardized if I go about my goals that way. I really hope that I can in a way rally the troops and get people excited about helping the community. I think it could be really easy to just get the PC experience without really doing anything. But I don’t want to do that. So I’m an idealist, what of it? We’ll see if my spirit gets crushed. I sure hope not. My running and sometimes offensive mouth is just a front for my sensitive heart.
In the span of 9 days, I successfully offended 4 people, and had to apologize 4 different times. I really should work on that.
People are mostly good. I think. Even if ones I respect or am supposed to respect let me down.
I thought I had my spring break next week, but it looks like I was partially wrong. I guess it starts next week, but we still have classes. This means that I have more time to log my students’ grades into the grading book. For months the teachers I split with have been hounding me to write in it. Little do they know the book terrifies me, almost as much as the neighborhood dogs. Whenever they ask me to fill it out, I use the same excuse: “I don’t have a blue pen.” And if the book is in black, then I switch it up by saying, “I don’t have a black pen.” It’s worked every time. But now it’s crunch time, and I have to get on it. I’ve been keeping track on a daily basis as to attendance and participation, so I have a general idea, but the journal is in cursive and I haven’t taught myself yet. Plus, if you’ve ever seen my handwriting, you are familiar that it’s somewhat reminiscent of a 4th grade boy in a rush for recess. There’s a good possibility that they’ll think less of me. My 3rd graders write more legibly than I ever will. It’s a humbling reality.
Maybe if I can launch my secondary projects soon and get the ball rolling, I’ll earn their respect back. As of now, my plans are to complete a pre-school in the next town over. There’s no way for the younger kids to get to the existing school during the winter months, and with growing population and an already available building, I think it’s a realistic project. My other idea of funding a heating system for the existing school is, according to the village mayor, my first project to get underway. I have to do some research and see how much it’s really going to cost. The mayor gave me an estimate of about the same price as a Hummer H2, but I have an inclination that it might not cost as much. What I know for sure is that trying to teach effectively and have my students retain information during my first Siberian winter was close to impossible. And if the kids aren’t learning, then what’s the point? I was fortunate enough to travel down to Naryn last month and meet up with a language teacher at a school in the city, and when I walked into the building about the same size as my school in Jety-Oguz, my first observation was that the entire building was heated, the kids and teachers had their coats off, and the learning environment was how it should be. I really hope I can help give that to the people of my village.
Being gone for just over a week, it seemed like people actually missed me. It was cute. The village marshrutka guy pulled over and told me to get in and he’d drive me home. And then without saying a word, the people already on, started talking about me as if I wasn’t there, complementing me and letting everyone who didn’t know already that I was the volunteer and a teacher at the school. Then they proceeded announcing where and with whom I live. The Kyrgyz know everything about everyone. I’m sure they all know that I started running again, even though I avoid crowds by getting up early. And while I might only see three people throughout the entire 30 minutes or so, word spreads like wildfire.
I finally finished The Brothers Karamasov. I told myself that I wasn’t allowed to read or even pick up another novel until I completed it. It worked. I sat down, pencil in hand, and housed that epic in 2 days. It was actually a fantastic book.
“There are souls that in their narrowness blame the whole world. But overwhelm such a soul with mercy, give it love, and it will curse what it has done, for there are so many germs of good in it.”
I got to get my hands on Crime and Punishment stat. My new favorite book though is The Sirens of Titan by Vonnegut. There’s this part near the end where Malachi Constant is speaking with Salo about the need for humans to have purposes, reflecting on his life and eventual loving relationship with Beatrice that I think is key to our functioning in this crazy world and at least trying to make it the way it was supposed to be in the beginning before we went and f-ed it all up. He says, “It took us that long to realize that a purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” I might fail 100% as an English teacher, I might not be able to secure the necessary funding for my projects, but I hope that at least I can love, even if I don’t want to, the people that are around me. And by “around,” I don’t just mean those in Kyrgyzstan.
“If I am a stranger now to you, I will always be.”
