26. March, 2003
Hi everyone!
We aren't going to Osh for the in service training conference, we're going instead to a defunct ski "resort" near Bishkek. They decided that Osh isn't safe. There have been more anti-war demonstrations in the south. There have been some in Bishkek, too, but they've all been very peaceful.
The trip from Talas was uneventful, thankfully. We went with the bus, which meant we held up the bus and all the passengers at each border crossing. I'm glad I don't live in Kazakstan. It is FLAT.
Last night we ate an enormous amount of Indian food. We saw some of the other volunteers. Everyone seems well. Abuzz with PC gossip. One girl has ETed (early termination), and one of our program managers has been fired! It's lovely to be in the big city. Although the fleas I picked up at Megan's don't seem to be leaving.
Hi everyone!
We aren't going to Osh for the in service training conference, we're going instead to a defunct ski "resort" near Bishkek. They decided that Osh isn't safe. There have been more anti-war demonstrations in the south. There have been some in Bishkek, too, but they've all been very peaceful.
The trip from Talas was uneventful, thankfully. We went with the bus, which meant we held up the bus and all the passengers at each border crossing. I'm glad I don't live in Kazakstan. It is FLAT.
Last night we ate an enormous amount of Indian food. We saw some of the other volunteers. Everyone seems well. Abuzz with PC gossip. One girl has ETed (early termination), and one of our program managers has been fired! It's lovely to be in the big city. Although the fleas I picked up at Megan's don't seem to be leaving.
24.March, 2003
It's been a traumatic week. I don't know how to tell this, so I'll just tell it chronologically.
Last Sunday night, my host brother Almaz, age 6, was hit by a car and killed.
At around 6:00, I heard a woman's hysterical crying, but I thought it was some crazy person that had entered the house, and I didn't want to get involved. It got quiet, then a very old woman I didn't know entered my room, with Chinar, my host sister, who is 5. I gathered from them that Almaz had been hit by a car. My host parents were at the hospital. At first I thought that the accident had happened on my street, and I thought that he could only be slightly injured, because cars cannot go faster than a walking pace due to potholes there... Gulzada (host mother) came home, hysterical. I then gathered that Almaz had been hit on the main road, and I knew then that he must be gravely injured because cars there SPEED. I went to my counterpart's house. At a time like that, no one is going to explain to the American what is going on.
We were all very worried, Essengul's husband and son went to the hospital to see if there were news. Essengul and I were heading back to my house to see if there were news. When we opened the door, we heard Talaibek's howls of grief. I've never heard anything like it. He had returned, with the news that Almaz was dead. Almaz had stopped by the river to wash his hands. He got separated from his father and two other boys. They called to him to warn him about the car, but he was disoriented and ran the wrong way.
It was now around midnight, and all the street was gathered at our house. Gulzada was hysterically weeping. She was beside herself.
I slept at my counterpart's house that night and the next 2 nights. Chinar slept there too, the first night. During the day, I made a few visits to my house. I can't describe it. What do you say in a situation like that? Even if I spoke Kyrgyz well, what would I say? This family was still in grief for the death of the son, Melice. Melice was the adult son who died in Bishkek a few months before getting
his diploma. His wife and child (who never knew his father) live in Bishkek, and Gulzada is always trying to get the child back. Why does tragedy like this hit a family not once but twice? It's just too bitter.
Chinar told me heartbreaking things the next day, like Almaz isn't going to school today, he's lying down behind a curtain. Nargeeza is the one I'm most worried about. She is always silent. She cries if you put your arms around her, but mostly she holds it all inside. There was a wake for Almaz. All the relatives came from around the oblast and from Bishkek. The wake usually is one day, and the burial the next, but this one lasted 3 days, because they had to wait for Majid and Gulnaz to get back from Magnitogorsk. Gulnaz wailed and wept until she vomited... Gulzada, in her grief, blamed Talaibek with strong words for Almaz' death.
This was upsetting for me too, though I know my grief is nothing compared to what the family must feel. I felt undone, I couldn't cope with this or give them support. I don't understand the traditions or the public, vocal way that they grieve. They asked about me though, and told me I should sleep in my own bed.
On Thursday, the war started. I didn't get the message through the PC warden system. My warden was supposed to come to my village, but he didn't. I got the message because I called Megan. I wanted to come to her house a few days earlier, because the thought of sitting in my grieving household for 5 days before going to Osh (it's spring vacation, so no going to school) was unimaginable. It was just so heavy. I feel reduced to the way I was when I first came to Talas- invisible, capable of saying or contributing nothing.
So, Peace Corps had us in "standfast" mode, which means we're not supposed to leave our village. I had to call Joseph Curtain to get special exemption. They gave it to me, reluctantly. I'm also frustrated by PC lack of understanding of the bad communication system in the village. For example, they didn't let me know in time that they had deposited money in our accounts to travel to Bishkek. They're just clueless about reality here.
Coming to Megan's was such a relief. So much of a relief, that I realized how much I need to find a new family. The family I am with now was not an easy fit from the beginning, and I think this tragedy will just make life too difficult. I don't know how I will tell them. I have grown to care about them and to know them. And I know that they need my income. But I can't stay there, especially if Gulnaz and Majid stay instead of going back to Russia. I don't want to be the only source of income for 4 adults. I don't want to wound them more, but I think it is inevitable that I do.
The week wasn't all bad. Spending time with Essengul's family was good. Her new daughter-in-law is kind, and everyone talks to me there. Essengul and I converse. She's the only one in Ming Bulak who has a clue about what it's like to be an American here.
Otherwise, people are friendly, but have no idea what it's like for me. I'm afraid that she doesn't want me to find a new house, because she likes having me near. She will help if I ask.
A month or so ago, I had a meal with a woman my age- do you remember? She came to Essengul's this week to visit me for an English lesson. It was very cheering. She is a wonderful, sweet person, and the closest thing I have to a friend. I learned from Essengul, that she was in fact a kidnapped bride. ! What's more, her husband divorced his first wife, because he met her only twice (while drunk) before marrying her, and then discovered she was "bad." (Essengul's word). When he divorced her, she was 3 months pregnant, had an abortion, and left the village. Life in the village is not idyllic. Essengul says that since he married Aizada, he is reformed because she is so good...
It made an impression on me, how much neighbors pulled together after the death. Essengul went over to help feed the constant stream of many guests (mourners.) This isn't really her job, it's the job of the family's daughter-in-laws, but she said that this family has few daughter-in-laws. I felt that Essengul's family was very strong and helpful. I felt incapacitated and useless and always on the brink of tears.
At Megan's, we went for walks, to the river, where we collected stones and tried to make them skip. We were silly and laughed, which was very necessary and healing. Unfortunately, the electricity and phone went out yesterday.
Megan's host mother's rich brother came to visit. He, his wife, and daughter speak fluent English and have lived abroad. Making smalltalk with them about small things and the different cultures was wonderful. A small exchange with cultured people like that does not happen in Ming Bulak.
In Bishkek tomorrow (Wednesday), we plan on living it up on Indian food. We will stay one night in a hotel, with a SHOWER. We might have time to email, but maybe not. (we're leaving a day later than planned.) We'll leave early Thursday morning for Osh, and come back Saturday.
I feel very far away from the war. I've been listening to the BBC with Megan. Some people in my village didn't know about the war.
The weather is warming up, but spring seems to be coming reluctantly. It's warmer, but the air is raw.
I'm looking forward to Bishkek and Osh. I'm enjoying the company of Megan and Loren. I'm dreading having to go back to my village and tell my family that I must leave them.
It's been a traumatic week. I don't know how to tell this, so I'll just tell it chronologically.
Last Sunday night, my host brother Almaz, age 6, was hit by a car and killed.
At around 6:00, I heard a woman's hysterical crying, but I thought it was some crazy person that had entered the house, and I didn't want to get involved. It got quiet, then a very old woman I didn't know entered my room, with Chinar, my host sister, who is 5. I gathered from them that Almaz had been hit by a car. My host parents were at the hospital. At first I thought that the accident had happened on my street, and I thought that he could only be slightly injured, because cars cannot go faster than a walking pace due to potholes there... Gulzada (host mother) came home, hysterical. I then gathered that Almaz had been hit on the main road, and I knew then that he must be gravely injured because cars there SPEED. I went to my counterpart's house. At a time like that, no one is going to explain to the American what is going on.
We were all very worried, Essengul's husband and son went to the hospital to see if there were news. Essengul and I were heading back to my house to see if there were news. When we opened the door, we heard Talaibek's howls of grief. I've never heard anything like it. He had returned, with the news that Almaz was dead. Almaz had stopped by the river to wash his hands. He got separated from his father and two other boys. They called to him to warn him about the car, but he was disoriented and ran the wrong way.
It was now around midnight, and all the street was gathered at our house. Gulzada was hysterically weeping. She was beside herself.
I slept at my counterpart's house that night and the next 2 nights. Chinar slept there too, the first night. During the day, I made a few visits to my house. I can't describe it. What do you say in a situation like that? Even if I spoke Kyrgyz well, what would I say? This family was still in grief for the death of the son, Melice. Melice was the adult son who died in Bishkek a few months before getting
his diploma. His wife and child (who never knew his father) live in Bishkek, and Gulzada is always trying to get the child back. Why does tragedy like this hit a family not once but twice? It's just too bitter.
Chinar told me heartbreaking things the next day, like Almaz isn't going to school today, he's lying down behind a curtain. Nargeeza is the one I'm most worried about. She is always silent. She cries if you put your arms around her, but mostly she holds it all inside. There was a wake for Almaz. All the relatives came from around the oblast and from Bishkek. The wake usually is one day, and the burial the next, but this one lasted 3 days, because they had to wait for Majid and Gulnaz to get back from Magnitogorsk. Gulnaz wailed and wept until she vomited... Gulzada, in her grief, blamed Talaibek with strong words for Almaz' death.
This was upsetting for me too, though I know my grief is nothing compared to what the family must feel. I felt undone, I couldn't cope with this or give them support. I don't understand the traditions or the public, vocal way that they grieve. They asked about me though, and told me I should sleep in my own bed.
On Thursday, the war started. I didn't get the message through the PC warden system. My warden was supposed to come to my village, but he didn't. I got the message because I called Megan. I wanted to come to her house a few days earlier, because the thought of sitting in my grieving household for 5 days before going to Osh (it's spring vacation, so no going to school) was unimaginable. It was just so heavy. I feel reduced to the way I was when I first came to Talas- invisible, capable of saying or contributing nothing.
So, Peace Corps had us in "standfast" mode, which means we're not supposed to leave our village. I had to call Joseph Curtain to get special exemption. They gave it to me, reluctantly. I'm also frustrated by PC lack of understanding of the bad communication system in the village. For example, they didn't let me know in time that they had deposited money in our accounts to travel to Bishkek. They're just clueless about reality here.
Coming to Megan's was such a relief. So much of a relief, that I realized how much I need to find a new family. The family I am with now was not an easy fit from the beginning, and I think this tragedy will just make life too difficult. I don't know how I will tell them. I have grown to care about them and to know them. And I know that they need my income. But I can't stay there, especially if Gulnaz and Majid stay instead of going back to Russia. I don't want to be the only source of income for 4 adults. I don't want to wound them more, but I think it is inevitable that I do.
The week wasn't all bad. Spending time with Essengul's family was good. Her new daughter-in-law is kind, and everyone talks to me there. Essengul and I converse. She's the only one in Ming Bulak who has a clue about what it's like to be an American here.
Otherwise, people are friendly, but have no idea what it's like for me. I'm afraid that she doesn't want me to find a new house, because she likes having me near. She will help if I ask.
A month or so ago, I had a meal with a woman my age- do you remember? She came to Essengul's this week to visit me for an English lesson. It was very cheering. She is a wonderful, sweet person, and the closest thing I have to a friend. I learned from Essengul, that she was in fact a kidnapped bride. ! What's more, her husband divorced his first wife, because he met her only twice (while drunk) before marrying her, and then discovered she was "bad." (Essengul's word). When he divorced her, she was 3 months pregnant, had an abortion, and left the village. Life in the village is not idyllic. Essengul says that since he married Aizada, he is reformed because she is so good...
It made an impression on me, how much neighbors pulled together after the death. Essengul went over to help feed the constant stream of many guests (mourners.) This isn't really her job, it's the job of the family's daughter-in-laws, but she said that this family has few daughter-in-laws. I felt that Essengul's family was very strong and helpful. I felt incapacitated and useless and always on the brink of tears.
At Megan's, we went for walks, to the river, where we collected stones and tried to make them skip. We were silly and laughed, which was very necessary and healing. Unfortunately, the electricity and phone went out yesterday.
Megan's host mother's rich brother came to visit. He, his wife, and daughter speak fluent English and have lived abroad. Making smalltalk with them about small things and the different cultures was wonderful. A small exchange with cultured people like that does not happen in Ming Bulak.
In Bishkek tomorrow (Wednesday), we plan on living it up on Indian food. We will stay one night in a hotel, with a SHOWER. We might have time to email, but maybe not. (we're leaving a day later than planned.) We'll leave early Thursday morning for Osh, and come back Saturday.
I feel very far away from the war. I've been listening to the BBC with Megan. Some people in my village didn't know about the war.
The weather is warming up, but spring seems to be coming reluctantly. It's warmer, but the air is raw.
I'm looking forward to Bishkek and Osh. I'm enjoying the company of Megan and Loren. I'm dreading having to go back to my village and tell my family that I must leave them.
In case anyone was wondering about the earthquake along the China/Kyrgyzstan border on Monday, Erika says she didn't even feel it.
-Susan
-Susan
1. March, 2003
Hello from Taraz!
It's great to be in the big city again, and it's even better to have a friend. We have some shopping to do at the bazaar, and we'll try to find the big Turkish department store so Megan can find a CD player. We might meet Loren here, too.
When I got back from Pokrovka last weekend, I found out that Essengul's son got married. We welcomed the new daughter-in-law into the house by throwing candy. There was also some kind of blessing said while they held some scary animal parts over the newlyweds' heads. I'm not sure what that was about. There has been a constant stream of guests into their house. Everyone must come with gifts. The marriage was arranged by the parents, and it all seemed to happen in a weekend. I knew that Essengul and her husband wanted their son to get married, but I had heard about other bride options. Essengul said "we introduced them and they loved each other at once, so we said, why wait?" It's crazy. The bride, Asel, is 21, and Susarbek is 24. I went over to the house two nights ago for a visit, and everyone seemed pretty happy. It's hard for me to fathom how a marriage like that can turn out well.
Last weekend, then, there was a big reception at a "cafe." It was a large hall, like maybe a fire hall, but cold, so we sat around in our coats. I prepared myself for a long tedious day and put on my patient face. But it turned out to be surprisingly fun. I sat with the teachers at my school, who are always friendly but become more so when vodka enters the picture. There was an MC who introduced different groups of guests, like the brides grandmother's siblings, or the groom's father's co-workers. Each group went to the front and presented a gift. There were organized competitions, like dancing and silly things like having girls sit on eggs under a towel and having to guess how many eggs were underneath. I went up with the teachers, and they made me give my best wishes to the couple. So I found myself with the microphone in front of 300 people...
I rode home that day with the teachers. They sang the whole way home, both the young and old teachers. It was very merry, and it seemed a little magical to me, because it is a kind of innocence we don't seem to have in America, maybe because we don't live in the same place with the same people our whole lives. Or maybe because we watch too much TV, or because we have other things to do, so festivities don't have the same degree of importance.
I had a very difficult day at school on Monday. My lesson plans fell flat, and I realized that a class I had previously thought was rather good and motivated was actually not. They were bored and even a little rowdy... I had been invited the week before to give a sample lesson at a teacher conference, but my school director said I couldn't go unless I found a substitute. We were expecting the commissioner the next day. It was a small thing, but it hit me hard because there is so much in the educational system that defies logic. The work ethic of teachers is lacking, to say the least. For example, the grades are kept in a class "journal." But it is more important that the journals are neat, and that not too many students are marked absent, than that they actually reflect any kind of reality. In preparation for the commissioner's coming, the teachers were busily filling in the journals, without actually looking at the names of the students! It's all so silly.
So on Monday, I walked to Arlovka to visit Ben, my nearest volunteer neighbor. I met him on the road, coming to tell me that he's requesting a site change. He's had many issues with his host family placements, director, and counterpart. He's in Bishkek now. I had an email from him this morning. He's going to stay in the Oblast, but is going to a village from which two volunteers have left for different reasons. He said in in the email that lots of volunteers are moving around, and that one may have left.
Let's see, do I have any other news? I think I'm getting better at planning for school. I am more realistic- I know that my biggest problem is the fact that I am trying to teach English to kids with whom I can't really speak. So instructions take forever. I started doing more activities that just involve writing things from the board. It's not making me the innovative teacher I'd like to be, but it decreases the chaos in the classroom, and it seems to be what they expect, anyway. It also ensures that something, anything, is going into their brains. English club is where I'll try to do the more fun and creative things, because the kids who come to English club are the ones who are willing to try to understand the (to them) strange and confusing things that I want them to do.
The big problem is still how to find easy materials that will expose them to English. I've been writing dialogues and small texts on the board, but it's not at all the same. The better speakers need to be exposed to texts that involve topics (not just grammar), and I need to find a way to make learning about the verb "to be" interesting.
It occurred to me yesterday as I was speaking with Megan and her host mother, how cool it is how much Kyrgyz we do know, considering that 6 months ago we knew nothing. It's miraculous, really.
Hello from Taraz!
It's great to be in the big city again, and it's even better to have a friend. We have some shopping to do at the bazaar, and we'll try to find the big Turkish department store so Megan can find a CD player. We might meet Loren here, too.
When I got back from Pokrovka last weekend, I found out that Essengul's son got married. We welcomed the new daughter-in-law into the house by throwing candy. There was also some kind of blessing said while they held some scary animal parts over the newlyweds' heads. I'm not sure what that was about. There has been a constant stream of guests into their house. Everyone must come with gifts. The marriage was arranged by the parents, and it all seemed to happen in a weekend. I knew that Essengul and her husband wanted their son to get married, but I had heard about other bride options. Essengul said "we introduced them and they loved each other at once, so we said, why wait?" It's crazy. The bride, Asel, is 21, and Susarbek is 24. I went over to the house two nights ago for a visit, and everyone seemed pretty happy. It's hard for me to fathom how a marriage like that can turn out well.
Last weekend, then, there was a big reception at a "cafe." It was a large hall, like maybe a fire hall, but cold, so we sat around in our coats. I prepared myself for a long tedious day and put on my patient face. But it turned out to be surprisingly fun. I sat with the teachers at my school, who are always friendly but become more so when vodka enters the picture. There was an MC who introduced different groups of guests, like the brides grandmother's siblings, or the groom's father's co-workers. Each group went to the front and presented a gift. There were organized competitions, like dancing and silly things like having girls sit on eggs under a towel and having to guess how many eggs were underneath. I went up with the teachers, and they made me give my best wishes to the couple. So I found myself with the microphone in front of 300 people...
I rode home that day with the teachers. They sang the whole way home, both the young and old teachers. It was very merry, and it seemed a little magical to me, because it is a kind of innocence we don't seem to have in America, maybe because we don't live in the same place with the same people our whole lives. Or maybe because we watch too much TV, or because we have other things to do, so festivities don't have the same degree of importance.
I had a very difficult day at school on Monday. My lesson plans fell flat, and I realized that a class I had previously thought was rather good and motivated was actually not. They were bored and even a little rowdy... I had been invited the week before to give a sample lesson at a teacher conference, but my school director said I couldn't go unless I found a substitute. We were expecting the commissioner the next day. It was a small thing, but it hit me hard because there is so much in the educational system that defies logic. The work ethic of teachers is lacking, to say the least. For example, the grades are kept in a class "journal." But it is more important that the journals are neat, and that not too many students are marked absent, than that they actually reflect any kind of reality. In preparation for the commissioner's coming, the teachers were busily filling in the journals, without actually looking at the names of the students! It's all so silly.
So on Monday, I walked to Arlovka to visit Ben, my nearest volunteer neighbor. I met him on the road, coming to tell me that he's requesting a site change. He's had many issues with his host family placements, director, and counterpart. He's in Bishkek now. I had an email from him this morning. He's going to stay in the Oblast, but is going to a village from which two volunteers have left for different reasons. He said in in the email that lots of volunteers are moving around, and that one may have left.
Let's see, do I have any other news? I think I'm getting better at planning for school. I am more realistic- I know that my biggest problem is the fact that I am trying to teach English to kids with whom I can't really speak. So instructions take forever. I started doing more activities that just involve writing things from the board. It's not making me the innovative teacher I'd like to be, but it decreases the chaos in the classroom, and it seems to be what they expect, anyway. It also ensures that something, anything, is going into their brains. English club is where I'll try to do the more fun and creative things, because the kids who come to English club are the ones who are willing to try to understand the (to them) strange and confusing things that I want them to do.
The big problem is still how to find easy materials that will expose them to English. I've been writing dialogues and small texts on the board, but it's not at all the same. The better speakers need to be exposed to texts that involve topics (not just grammar), and I need to find a way to make learning about the verb "to be" interesting.
It occurred to me yesterday as I was speaking with Megan and her host mother, how cool it is how much Kyrgyz we do know, considering that 6 months ago we knew nothing. It's miraculous, really.
