Chapter Two: Girl From The North Country
I should have written long ago, but these last few months have eluded even the most dedicated writer in me. I can’t believe it’s nearly November. Just yesterday it seemed like school had ended for the summer. June, July and August flew by without me blinking an eye. My trip back for the wedding probably played a significant role in breaking the time up. And then my parents came in late August, and it happened again. Before I knew it, it was mid-September, and school was starting. This time, however, I didn’t have to show up at the crack of dawn everyday to give English lessons. My school had planned on having a replacement volunteer, and therefore, pretty much left me out of the schedule. I periodically popped in to give tutoring lessons to other English teachers and the occasional enthusiastic village pupil. I took the opportunity to travel down to the southern oblasts as well. Another PCV and I flew down from Bishkek and traveled to the land of Uzbek walnut forest fairies and dined on raison and apricot “plov,” the national rice dish of Central Asia.For my faithful readers, whom I have no doubt let down, here’s a quick recap:
She-She and Lar-Bear Meet K-Stan
Sheila: “I’m so scared of the neighborhood dogs! I’ve been holding it in ALL-NIGHT!”
Colleen: “Mom, just get up. I’ll take you to the outhouse.”
See, life does come full-circle.
Ortega, Marshall and the Tolkien-like Walnut Forest Incident
Colleen: “Where are we?”
Amy: “Is this the walnut forest?”
Colleen: “I don’t know. Should we ask that guy over in the tree there?”
Amy: “Oh, yeah, we’ll just go ask that guy in that walnut tree, surround by a bunch of other trees, if this is the forest.”
Colleen: “This probably is a forest… but where are all the walnut forest fairies then?”
Amy: “I know. I thought they’d be everywhere.”
We got lost for a little while longer, found our Uzbek Walnut Forest Fairy and then drank tea with him.
It’s now October 29, 2007. And that’s crazy. Today I had my last meal with my Apa and Ata. I stopped by this afternoon because I had a bunch things to leave with them. On the 20-minute walk from my cottage to their home, a man and his horse and wagon pulled over for me and let me hitch a ride. On the way over, another man got on and asked who I was and why I was riding on his wagon. The man answered, “She’s Syrtbek and Satkyn’s oldest daughter. Don’t you know that? She’s going there, and we’re taking her.” That made me happy.
Then on the way home I stopped by the bridge I helped facilitate and made sure its wood hadn’t been ransacked. Everything is where it should be. Nearly eight months later and it still provides the safe travel of over 1,000 inhabitants… and most baby carriages. I walked back and forth one time and then turned around to head home. A little girl ran over from her yard and asked me how I was doing. I told her I was well, and that I hoped she was studying hard or something like that; it was as motivating as an After-School Special. She said she was, and then asked me what any 10-year-old Kyrgyz girl asks the village American during autumn, “Miss. Colleen, will you not eat an apple?” I told her that I had some already (thanks to Apa), but that I was thankful nevertheless. She smiled and said, “Oh, of course.” Like it’s somehow not uncommon to be carrying apples around.
Then a little ways down the dirt road a van pulled over and asked me in Kyrgyz where Ak-Kochkor Village. Now this might not seem like a big deal to you, but it’s huge. Trust me. See, I’m white, in case you didn’t know. And most of the time, white people only speak Russian, so I’m sort of a big deal, if you know what I mean. But the only people who know that I speak Kyrgyz are the locals I interact with on a daily basis in the village, not some strange, van-driving-man who doesn’t know where the sister-village of Jety-Oguz is located. He just saw me, accepted that he was “lost” and asked me if I knew where it was. I told him alright, in Kyrgyz, and it was wonderful.
I’m sure gonna miss this little land.
But only the good things. I’m overjoyed that it’s human nature to forget the bad things.
Last week I went running and haven’t been able to motivate myself to go out again. A 4th-grade boy flagged me down to say hello in the middle of my 45-minute run, and I stopped to be polite because I thought it might be the last time I ever get to see him. He rehearsed the traditional greetings and then went in for the handshake. I gave it to him. And then he went in for the hug. I thought, “What the heck? It’s just a little boy.” Yeah, no, I was wrong about that. He went for the full-wrap-around and then squeezed my butt. Both cheeks. I started to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, then I just got pissed, told him that he couldn’t do that and that I was offended and that he was a bad boy. He stood there in awe, pretended like he hadn’t done anything, and then I ran away. Being molested by a child is something no one should ever have to experience. It’s kinda hilarious and kinda ‘effed up.
All my projects are done. I almost feel like I helped a little. They tell PCVS that most of us will leave our host countries and feel like we took away a lot more that we ever gave. It's true.
Water Works.
My room is sparse. I gave away most of my things, and it feels amazing. A person really doesn’t need that much to live. In my possession, I now have:
1 sweater
1 blazer
2 hats
2 scarves
2 pair jeans
2 t-shirts
2 pair socks
3 tank tops
3 pair of undergarment sets
3 journals, a pen and pencil
1 laptop, camera and iPod
12 dvds
5 books
Makeup and perfume
Jewelry
Toothbrush, paste and floss
Lotion and deodorant
Tylenol, Advil and Pepto
Flintstones and Flax vitamins
2 pair glasses
4 pair shoes
1 wallet with KGS and USD
1 large backpack
1 US passport
1 one-way plane ticket
And a picture of my siblings
See you soon.
I just got a text message informing me that my Vietnam Visa arrived this afternoon in Bishkek. This is big news. I’m headed to ‘Nam!
Oh, and I bought a cow for my host family. Her name is Kalinka.
Holy Cow!
posted by C @ 6:22 PM
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