26. May, 2004
Hello from school! I’m writing this letter with no less than five students looking over my shoulder. They are intrigued by my typing skills. I’m here because there’s no electricity at home, and I really wanted to write you a letter. Jusup, Kubanichbek, Jazgul, Nazi, and Akyljan say hello!
Yesterday was the “last bell” ceremony, which is the equivalent of graduation. It was my second (and last!) last bell in Kyrgyzstan! It is strange to think that I won’t see those eleventh graders again in the fall.
I had a very interesting discussion with my host father yesterday. It seems that the argument about the state’s role in providing its citizens with work/food/shelter is universal. I’ve mentioned before about the passivity and defeatism I often see, and the yearning for the older days and the good times of the USSR, when life was easy and everyone had a job, etc. My host family does not fit into that category. They are definitely entrepreneurs.
I asked about why the electricity had been cut. It turns out that one of my neighbors owes 6,000 som in electricity! That amount is impossible to pay. I asked how much it would take to get the electricity turned back on within our power grid, and he said it would take just 100som, or $2.25.
We talked about how before the 1960s, there were actually four villages in the general area of my village now. My current school (which was built in the 40s) was the center of all of these villages. Then, the Soviets introduced some collectivization schemes. The four villages were torn down and rebuilt at the present site. Incidentally, that’s why my school is now at the very edge of the village, and very inconvenient for many students, some of whom walk up to an hour to get to school. Anyway, the importance is that when independence came and the land was parcelled out to the villagers, many ended up with bits of land that are far away from their houses.
Getting back to the electricity- my host father said that he paid the electricity people with grain and potatoes. He always pays on time. He had purchased grain wheat from farmers for 1,500 som, and then sold it to the electricity people for 3,500. He could afford to wait for the price to go up. He said that others accuse him of being greedy. After all, not only does he have two stores, but he also keeps a bunch of sheep and cows, and all his land is productive. So is he greedy, or is he entrepreneurial? I would tend to say entrepreneurial, but certainly his current advantages allow him to continue to capitalize, something that will neve happen for the people whose fall harvest is basically already promised to the electricity people. He says that many people are lazy, and that they allow their land (if it’s far away) to lie fallow rather than farming it. I don’t know what I think. It’s definitely food for thought.
Hello from school! I’m writing this letter with no less than five students looking over my shoulder. They are intrigued by my typing skills. I’m here because there’s no electricity at home, and I really wanted to write you a letter. Jusup, Kubanichbek, Jazgul, Nazi, and Akyljan say hello!
Yesterday was the “last bell” ceremony, which is the equivalent of graduation. It was my second (and last!) last bell in Kyrgyzstan! It is strange to think that I won’t see those eleventh graders again in the fall.
I had a very interesting discussion with my host father yesterday. It seems that the argument about the state’s role in providing its citizens with work/food/shelter is universal. I’ve mentioned before about the passivity and defeatism I often see, and the yearning for the older days and the good times of the USSR, when life was easy and everyone had a job, etc. My host family does not fit into that category. They are definitely entrepreneurs.
I asked about why the electricity had been cut. It turns out that one of my neighbors owes 6,000 som in electricity! That amount is impossible to pay. I asked how much it would take to get the electricity turned back on within our power grid, and he said it would take just 100som, or $2.25.
We talked about how before the 1960s, there were actually four villages in the general area of my village now. My current school (which was built in the 40s) was the center of all of these villages. Then, the Soviets introduced some collectivization schemes. The four villages were torn down and rebuilt at the present site. Incidentally, that’s why my school is now at the very edge of the village, and very inconvenient for many students, some of whom walk up to an hour to get to school. Anyway, the importance is that when independence came and the land was parcelled out to the villagers, many ended up with bits of land that are far away from their houses.
Getting back to the electricity- my host father said that he paid the electricity people with grain and potatoes. He always pays on time. He had purchased grain wheat from farmers for 1,500 som, and then sold it to the electricity people for 3,500. He could afford to wait for the price to go up. He said that others accuse him of being greedy. After all, not only does he have two stores, but he also keeps a bunch of sheep and cows, and all his land is productive. So is he greedy, or is he entrepreneurial? I would tend to say entrepreneurial, but certainly his current advantages allow him to continue to capitalize, something that will neve happen for the people whose fall harvest is basically already promised to the electricity people. He says that many people are lazy, and that they allow their land (if it’s far away) to lie fallow rather than farming it. I don’t know what I think. It’s definitely food for thought.
25. May, 2004
Below is a wonderful essay by Loren, a PCV friend of Erika's.
"Life here is so simple, but that by no means means easy. The primary concern of everyone is, “How are we going to eat today, tomorrow, this winter.” Peoples’ days consist of finding someone to buy their beans (which they wouldn’t dream of eating themselves b/c they aren’t meat) or otherwise procuring food. In the summer, even the richest must grow vegetables for themselves and for sale. Dinnertime often consists of discussing how much foodstuffs cost, often the price of potatoes. This is conversation matter even for children. Baisaid, my nine year old host brother, mysteriously knows the value of the som against the dollar and the Kazak tenge, though he’d be hard pressed to find any of those countries on a map. I would venture to say that 75% of all conversations I hear involve people discussing money. Nobody thinks twice about asking my salary. Such a question isn’t improper here. Whenever I buy something, the first thing everyone asks is how much did it cost, followed by a judgment of the fairness of that price. If something is not a base necessity, it is not bought. (My friend Erika bought a salt and pepper shaker set for 15 som- less than 40 cents. Her family told her that was expensive. Now, these are people who don’t think twice about spending 30 som on a very short-lived bottle of vodka.) A one track-mind of sorts persists in Kyrgyzstan. So when I say life is simple, I mean that life primarily consists of the
pursuit of survival.
It’s not like at home where we keep different things stocked to eat. The only food to be found is flour, salt, sugar, oil, maybe some rice or stale macaroni, potatoes, onions and perhaps carrots, which certainly doesn’t make for a quick meal or a very tasty one. If you have a cow or chicken, you may have milk and eggs, that is, if the weather and birthing schedules permit, as I have learned. Everything will be made from these ingredients. The one thing that may sit around is your meat, (unrefridgerated, of course) if you’ve got it, because you can’t very well eat the whole animal, unless it’s a chicken, in one sitting. And not having meat is shameful. Vegetarianism is a shocking concept to these people. Why would the richest people on earth not eat meat?
Fat is one of the mainstays of the Kyrgyz diets. It’s a holdover from nomadic days I assume. I’m not quite sure if they find it tasty or of it is the calories they like. I suppose it’s psychological to some degree. I’ve heard that their tradition of tea with lots of milk and salt was a way for the nomads to get lots of calories quick- Kyrgyz fast food. That’s Kyrgyz food in a nutshell. Not a lot of food, but a lot of calories.
If I haven’t mentioned this before, this kind of life takes a toll on the body. One of the very first things you notice about the people here is their teeth. A huge majority of those over the age of 30 have a mouth full of gold teeth. Everyone under 30 has a mouth full of rotten teeth. If you see an adult with white teeth, they are fake. Their bodies also age more quickly. People are shocked to hear I am 27. When I first arrived in the village, I was mistaken for a student several times. I was chatting with a taxi driver several weeks ago who asked my age. I made him guess. He put me at 17. I though he was going to cry. He asked why I looked so young, for he was only 20, already with some gold showing and looking about 30. He really looked distraught. Malnutrition also works itself at the other end of the spectrum. The children are so small. They begin to look their ages, or their American ages, around 14, just in time to start looking beyond their years.
So as you can see, having more money than these people is very conspicuous and at times very awkward and difficult. As for food, whenever you supplement what they serve you, it is noticed. Whenever I eat something I have bought, it is noticed. I feel uncomfortable drinking juice, eating cheese or a tomato out of season around them. It makes my wealth obvious. Who knew my $70 a month from Peace Corps would make me feel disgustingly wealthy?"
Below is a wonderful essay by Loren, a PCV friend of Erika's.
"Life here is so simple, but that by no means means easy. The primary concern of everyone is, “How are we going to eat today, tomorrow, this winter.” Peoples’ days consist of finding someone to buy their beans (which they wouldn’t dream of eating themselves b/c they aren’t meat) or otherwise procuring food. In the summer, even the richest must grow vegetables for themselves and for sale. Dinnertime often consists of discussing how much foodstuffs cost, often the price of potatoes. This is conversation matter even for children. Baisaid, my nine year old host brother, mysteriously knows the value of the som against the dollar and the Kazak tenge, though he’d be hard pressed to find any of those countries on a map. I would venture to say that 75% of all conversations I hear involve people discussing money. Nobody thinks twice about asking my salary. Such a question isn’t improper here. Whenever I buy something, the first thing everyone asks is how much did it cost, followed by a judgment of the fairness of that price. If something is not a base necessity, it is not bought. (My friend Erika bought a salt and pepper shaker set for 15 som- less than 40 cents. Her family told her that was expensive. Now, these are people who don’t think twice about spending 30 som on a very short-lived bottle of vodka.) A one track-mind of sorts persists in Kyrgyzstan. So when I say life is simple, I mean that life primarily consists of the
pursuit of survival.
It’s not like at home where we keep different things stocked to eat. The only food to be found is flour, salt, sugar, oil, maybe some rice or stale macaroni, potatoes, onions and perhaps carrots, which certainly doesn’t make for a quick meal or a very tasty one. If you have a cow or chicken, you may have milk and eggs, that is, if the weather and birthing schedules permit, as I have learned. Everything will be made from these ingredients. The one thing that may sit around is your meat, (unrefridgerated, of course) if you’ve got it, because you can’t very well eat the whole animal, unless it’s a chicken, in one sitting. And not having meat is shameful. Vegetarianism is a shocking concept to these people. Why would the richest people on earth not eat meat?
Fat is one of the mainstays of the Kyrgyz diets. It’s a holdover from nomadic days I assume. I’m not quite sure if they find it tasty or of it is the calories they like. I suppose it’s psychological to some degree. I’ve heard that their tradition of tea with lots of milk and salt was a way for the nomads to get lots of calories quick- Kyrgyz fast food. That’s Kyrgyz food in a nutshell. Not a lot of food, but a lot of calories.
If I haven’t mentioned this before, this kind of life takes a toll on the body. One of the very first things you notice about the people here is their teeth. A huge majority of those over the age of 30 have a mouth full of gold teeth. Everyone under 30 has a mouth full of rotten teeth. If you see an adult with white teeth, they are fake. Their bodies also age more quickly. People are shocked to hear I am 27. When I first arrived in the village, I was mistaken for a student several times. I was chatting with a taxi driver several weeks ago who asked my age. I made him guess. He put me at 17. I though he was going to cry. He asked why I looked so young, for he was only 20, already with some gold showing and looking about 30. He really looked distraught. Malnutrition also works itself at the other end of the spectrum. The children are so small. They begin to look their ages, or their American ages, around 14, just in time to start looking beyond their years.
So as you can see, having more money than these people is very conspicuous and at times very awkward and difficult. As for food, whenever you supplement what they serve you, it is noticed. Whenever I eat something I have bought, it is noticed. I feel uncomfortable drinking juice, eating cheese or a tomato out of season around them. It makes my wealth obvious. Who knew my $70 a month from Peace Corps would make me feel disgustingly wealthy?"
20. May, 2004
Last night I went to Nargeeza’s birthday “toy,” or birthday feast. This was my fourth birthday party for a student. For some reason, at least a few teachers must be invited and attend. We sit in a separate room though. So Essengul, Nuria, Jamilla, and I sat in one room and the students sat in another. We took turns making toasts, and intermissions from the all-night eating to go dance outside and play silly games with the students in the courtyard. Talaibek and Gulzada sat with us for a while, as did one of their “kelin” (Talaibek’s sister-in-law), as well as Majid and Gulnaz (their son and daughter-in-law.) They sat with us to pour us tea and listen to our toasts and make sure we never stopped eating. I hadn’t been to their house in a long time. The whole family has excellent hospitality skills. Kyrgyz hospitality is an art. I wish it were easier for me to stay up so late. I finally rudely left early, at 1:30 AM, before the last course was served. I did my best.
Last night I went to Nargeeza’s birthday “toy,” or birthday feast. This was my fourth birthday party for a student. For some reason, at least a few teachers must be invited and attend. We sit in a separate room though. So Essengul, Nuria, Jamilla, and I sat in one room and the students sat in another. We took turns making toasts, and intermissions from the all-night eating to go dance outside and play silly games with the students in the courtyard. Talaibek and Gulzada sat with us for a while, as did one of their “kelin” (Talaibek’s sister-in-law), as well as Majid and Gulnaz (their son and daughter-in-law.) They sat with us to pour us tea and listen to our toasts and make sure we never stopped eating. I hadn’t been to their house in a long time. The whole family has excellent hospitality skills. Kyrgyz hospitality is an art. I wish it were easier for me to stay up so late. I finally rudely left early, at 1:30 AM, before the last course was served. I did my best.
19. May, 2004
As I mentioned yesterday, the “Canadians” from UNICEF came today. Only it turned out to not be four Canadians, as rumored, but one British main and three Asian women, who I’m assuming were Kyrgyz but really may not have been. The conversations were all translated into Russian, so I was out of the loop. This group watched two lessons given by teachers who had been to training workshops in the fall. The man said very good things about their lessons. Nuria (one of the demonstrating teachers) commented later that positive feedback is a good something that English people do, and that Kyrgyz people should imitate it. (She considers all English-speakers to be of one culture- English.) It is not the thing to do so much in Kyrgyz culture. Children are told they are wrong and bad much more than they are praised for doing good and encouraged. So that was a good little epiphany today. I was almost uncomfortable today at this meeting. All the teachers were falling over themselves to show what a great school we are. A few minutes before the “Canadians” were about to come into my classroom, Essengul sent a troop of young girls to clean my room thoroughly, for the first time in a year, really. The group of people who came today have a certain agenda, and a certain picture they want to see, but what they can see in a two-hour stop is really so limited. The picture they see can only be superficial and partial! The “feedback” they gave on the lessons was hard for me to sit through. I know that I’ve grown too cynical, but it’s hard to listen to “constructive criticism” about specific teaching methods when I know that teachers often don’t go or can’t go to school, corporal punishment is common, teachers salaries are below subsistence and are often subtracted from by the director to pay for meals for just such visitors as we had today, and we don’t have resources… after all, my teachers just requested books for the school that haven’t been available in years and haven’t been on the curriculum in as long a time.
On the other hand, the fact that they did come and had nice things to say about our school does mean a lot in terms of the moral boost and work ethic. The incentives to put any effort at all into teaching are few and far between, and the fact that the school is recognized for attempts to improve education here (as minor as actual changes appear to me) does really mean something. They are supposedly going to give us a computer. I’m not sure who will be in charge of it, but I hope we can get some use out of it. I will refrain from making any cynical comments about worries that Buken (the director) might sell it like she sold the school refrigerator a few months ago, or that the computer might stop working after it gets really cold (there is no heat in the current computer room and no electric heating anywhere but the teacher’s room).
Essengul’s husband is the director of a boarding school and he handed down two computers to the school. I helped them figure out how to set up the printer yesterday. I think one of them will go to the village government building, but we will still have one, and a printer. It doesn’t have any ink left, but I will try to fix that. It’s hard because the computer language is all in Russian, so when an error pops up I have to guess what I think it must be. I hope to be able teach something about computers this summer, to some students and especially to the computer teacher, who happens to be a very friendly man though a raging alcoholic, who is occasionally so inebriated that he can’t give lessons. Even just basic typing skills so that they could find the letters on the keyboard more easily.
Friday will be “American Culture Day” at school. Sarah in Talas and an organization there got some money to buy food and prizes to have a little celebration. I’ve invited other volunteers and we’re going to play jeopardy, ultimate frisbee, and football. There’s going to be a drawing competition. The topic is “What will Ming Bulak look like in 50 years?” I’ll give away the last two art kits that were sent to me as the prizes for this. I hope it’s fun.
I’m very proud for Mirbek. There was a competition in Talas on Saturday. Students were to present their own project proposals with the goal of environmental protection or clean up. Mirbek was the only student to go from our rayon, and he was the only student to attend without teammates or a teacher. His proposal was a project to start a trash pick up service in the village, to keep people from dumping in the waterways and burning plastics. After the first round, which was to present the proposal, he had first place! Unfortunately, however, he hadn’t had complete information about the second round. He was supposed to have materials to “market” his project, but he hadn’t known to prepare that. So he placed fifth out of fifteen in the end. Mirbek prepared the whole thing, budget and map of the village, with only some little advice from me and another teacher. He is especially remarkable when one considers that his parents generally disapprove of his activeness (“why don’t you just do what the other kids do?”), and his classmates are currently amazingly apathetic, all stricken with advanced cases of senioritis. Go, Mirbek! I wish for him better opportunities.
The weather has been very hot. Last night there was a thunderstorm, a rare occurrence.
As I mentioned yesterday, the “Canadians” from UNICEF came today. Only it turned out to not be four Canadians, as rumored, but one British main and three Asian women, who I’m assuming were Kyrgyz but really may not have been. The conversations were all translated into Russian, so I was out of the loop. This group watched two lessons given by teachers who had been to training workshops in the fall. The man said very good things about their lessons. Nuria (one of the demonstrating teachers) commented later that positive feedback is a good something that English people do, and that Kyrgyz people should imitate it. (She considers all English-speakers to be of one culture- English.) It is not the thing to do so much in Kyrgyz culture. Children are told they are wrong and bad much more than they are praised for doing good and encouraged. So that was a good little epiphany today. I was almost uncomfortable today at this meeting. All the teachers were falling over themselves to show what a great school we are. A few minutes before the “Canadians” were about to come into my classroom, Essengul sent a troop of young girls to clean my room thoroughly, for the first time in a year, really. The group of people who came today have a certain agenda, and a certain picture they want to see, but what they can see in a two-hour stop is really so limited. The picture they see can only be superficial and partial! The “feedback” they gave on the lessons was hard for me to sit through. I know that I’ve grown too cynical, but it’s hard to listen to “constructive criticism” about specific teaching methods when I know that teachers often don’t go or can’t go to school, corporal punishment is common, teachers salaries are below subsistence and are often subtracted from by the director to pay for meals for just such visitors as we had today, and we don’t have resources… after all, my teachers just requested books for the school that haven’t been available in years and haven’t been on the curriculum in as long a time.
On the other hand, the fact that they did come and had nice things to say about our school does mean a lot in terms of the moral boost and work ethic. The incentives to put any effort at all into teaching are few and far between, and the fact that the school is recognized for attempts to improve education here (as minor as actual changes appear to me) does really mean something. They are supposedly going to give us a computer. I’m not sure who will be in charge of it, but I hope we can get some use out of it. I will refrain from making any cynical comments about worries that Buken (the director) might sell it like she sold the school refrigerator a few months ago, or that the computer might stop working after it gets really cold (there is no heat in the current computer room and no electric heating anywhere but the teacher’s room).
Essengul’s husband is the director of a boarding school and he handed down two computers to the school. I helped them figure out how to set up the printer yesterday. I think one of them will go to the village government building, but we will still have one, and a printer. It doesn’t have any ink left, but I will try to fix that. It’s hard because the computer language is all in Russian, so when an error pops up I have to guess what I think it must be. I hope to be able teach something about computers this summer, to some students and especially to the computer teacher, who happens to be a very friendly man though a raging alcoholic, who is occasionally so inebriated that he can’t give lessons. Even just basic typing skills so that they could find the letters on the keyboard more easily.
Friday will be “American Culture Day” at school. Sarah in Talas and an organization there got some money to buy food and prizes to have a little celebration. I’ve invited other volunteers and we’re going to play jeopardy, ultimate frisbee, and football. There’s going to be a drawing competition. The topic is “What will Ming Bulak look like in 50 years?” I’ll give away the last two art kits that were sent to me as the prizes for this. I hope it’s fun.
I’m very proud for Mirbek. There was a competition in Talas on Saturday. Students were to present their own project proposals with the goal of environmental protection or clean up. Mirbek was the only student to go from our rayon, and he was the only student to attend without teammates or a teacher. His proposal was a project to start a trash pick up service in the village, to keep people from dumping in the waterways and burning plastics. After the first round, which was to present the proposal, he had first place! Unfortunately, however, he hadn’t had complete information about the second round. He was supposed to have materials to “market” his project, but he hadn’t known to prepare that. So he placed fifth out of fifteen in the end. Mirbek prepared the whole thing, budget and map of the village, with only some little advice from me and another teacher. He is especially remarkable when one considers that his parents generally disapprove of his activeness (“why don’t you just do what the other kids do?”), and his classmates are currently amazingly apathetic, all stricken with advanced cases of senioritis. Go, Mirbek! I wish for him better opportunities.
The weather has been very hot. Last night there was a thunderstorm, a rare occurrence.
