So I’ve been tutoring a woman in English who is quite Turkmen, and it turns out her sisters make the famous carpets of T-stan. I got to go watch them, and the process is amazing. Four of them sit in a line and tie the individual strands in a pattern that is quite intricate and totally memorized. Then they switch the base threads and pound—literally pound—the cross string against the finished side. Hard to explain but amazing to watch. These are the most valued objects to the Turkmen, selling at $200-300 each—even to natives.
I have the crazy idea that I’m going to learn, and the girls are willing to show me. So hopefully I’ll be able to observe them and then have them help me set up a small carpet (not room-sized like theirs), and I can work on it in my spare time!
I learned to knit this week, and I’ve knit myself almost 1/3 of a scarf, too. I love being in a situation where it’s normal to be learning things from scratch. At home there’s this pressure to do what you already excel at. Here I don’t have to worry about being bad. Of course, this is my first carpet. And so what? Hopefully that will start soon.
We started vacation today, but mostly I sit around and watch the news about the earthquake. And knit. I have a lot of planning to do this weekend for clubs that start in January.
So—a funny story . . . I’ve got hot water upstairs now, but it’s very tempermental and often the whole room smells of gas before the water’s hot enough to shower. I was taking my second shower upstairs ever when suddenly the water goes ice cold. I’ve seen family members in towels before, so I wrapped up and went down to finish my shower in the family bathroom. Little did I know that my family had two conservatively dressed Turkmen guests in the living room.
I barge in stammering something incoherent in Russian/Turkmen/English (Rurklish?) and proceed to freeze in embarrassment, dripping on the living room carpet, until I realize that the damage is done and I may as well continue to the bathroom. Minutes later my mom hands in a robe (hint, hint) for me to make a smoother exit. Culture fo-paux? (Hmm . . . not fluent in French yet.)
That’s actually the second blunder, though the first wasn’t my fault. They have no handle on the bathroom door, and during my first shower here, Agbar, my 15 year old brother, burst in on me. I squealed in time for him to turn away quickly, but he’s been the butt of endless, “I’m taking a shower later, Agbar, are you busy?” jokes until we got it out of our system.
New Year’s is tomorrow and I’m not sure what is going to happen. I got everyone small gifts and wrapped them up, but I don’t really know if it’s appropriate. That’s the hard part. It’s a guessing game. I can’t ask how much I should pay for a present because they’ll say I don’t need to buy one. I got little for my birthday from them, though, so I’m probably okay just having put in the effort.
I hope your—what—late January is going well.
Tell Grandma "hi"!
Love,
Kari
*******************************************************************************************
December 31, 2004
So, volunteer number 2 left today—again affecting me! Liz from Balkanabat took the dive! She and I were roommates in Chuli for the first 8 days, and she was the only other Russian speaker here. So that leaves me alone for the T-13s here. Balkan has been cursed with ETs [early terminations] recently, though, so we knew something was coming. She had been our unanimous vote for “most likely to marry a Turkmen”. So she’s back in the free land.
Strangely enough I got your second letter today, written on Dec. 12th. I actually got a letter that was written and received between phone calls!
As for the weather--it must be nice having a cold winter with snow! Here it’s just cold some days and not others. Today it was about 60 degrees and sunny. I hear we get no snow either. So I told all my students about what a “white Christmas” was and tried to live vicariously through my explanations.
So I’m going to be the warden of our velayat. I’d be excited about the nomination, but since Liz is gone, I’m the only one in the central city. So I’m it. I do get to go into Ashgabat Jan. 11-13 to get trained, which should be nice. Steve and Heidi—both great friends—are also going to be the wardens. So I should get my fabric from Nicole’s city brought in and have a nice reunion with good friends.
Say hi to Grandma!
Love,
Kari
Dec 29, 2004
Dec 23, 2004
Essay #11 (Two Meetings)
I got up early this morning to prepare mentally for a planned meeting with Svetlana, the Bull of the Education Department. Our permission begins and ends with this woman whose personality can be felt in the sharp, ear-piercing whistle she makes when she says the letter "s". She's always in high heels, and her hair is in a beehive. Her work revolves around a 50 cent plastic phone into which she screeches out her plans. I come into the office to ask how to receive permission to work in the music school to which she conveniently responds, "You have no permission to do anything!" She accepts my plans for clubs at School #15 (her idea) with a whistle and remarks, "I see you have plans for 3 clubs. Good. Three clubs here," and then manages to mutter "not a third or fourth, just three" under her breath. Her office is plastered with maps from classrooms and plants from teachers' offices and still she asks when I can write grants for computers. I see she is without one. Eventually I leave the meeting with a vague concept of the theme of our conversation and a fresh reminder of my childish Russian skills.
While I am pondering how I can sneak my way into the permission-holding world, a woman notices my violin and asks if I'm the girl who plays at the music school. I reply that I am, checking over my shoulder for permission-hoarding Svetlana. Apparently this woman has been told that the violin program has been closed for years, and she is hoping her daughter can study with me. I tell her that I only take students with instruments, explaining that I'm a volunteer from America. She looks surprised and gushes over my Russian. This of course leads to the subject of English lessons--could her son learn? I discover that her son is in 5th grade at my school. "Well, I work there, too!" I say. I tell her to have her son sign up for my clubs. She tells me that both clubs and a violin are too expensive, and then she almost has a fit when I tell her the clubs are free. All this takes place on the street at a normal rate of speech . She practically pinches my cheeks right there, realizing a new hope for some education for her kids. She doesn't even realize that she's giving me a reason to stay and teach.
Each day my self-reflection goes from one extreme to the other. The higher level the person is, the less they want my presence. I didn't know until today how my presence can help one family in so many ways. I ignored Svetlana because of this mother. I teach secretly without the official stamp, and no one is the wiser. The mother saw that someone was willing to teach for free, and whether or not her kids take advantage of my presence, she knows there are people who want to help. I'm here to keep her spirits up as much as anything else.
And, in turn, I came home and studied Russian, understanding that if someone wants to make language difficult for you, they can. It's those who WANT to communicate that make language worth learning.
While I am pondering how I can sneak my way into the permission-holding world, a woman notices my violin and asks if I'm the girl who plays at the music school. I reply that I am, checking over my shoulder for permission-hoarding Svetlana. Apparently this woman has been told that the violin program has been closed for years, and she is hoping her daughter can study with me. I tell her that I only take students with instruments, explaining that I'm a volunteer from America. She looks surprised and gushes over my Russian. This of course leads to the subject of English lessons--could her son learn? I discover that her son is in 5th grade at my school. "Well, I work there, too!" I say. I tell her to have her son sign up for my clubs. She tells me that both clubs and a violin are too expensive, and then she almost has a fit when I tell her the clubs are free. All this takes place on the street at a normal rate of speech . She practically pinches my cheeks right there, realizing a new hope for some education for her kids. She doesn't even realize that she's giving me a reason to stay and teach.
Each day my self-reflection goes from one extreme to the other. The higher level the person is, the less they want my presence. I didn't know until today how my presence can help one family in so many ways. I ignored Svetlana because of this mother. I teach secretly without the official stamp, and no one is the wiser. The mother saw that someone was willing to teach for free, and whether or not her kids take advantage of my presence, she knows there are people who want to help. I'm here to keep her spirits up as much as anything else.
And, in turn, I came home and studied Russian, understanding that if someone wants to make language difficult for you, they can. It's those who WANT to communicate that make language worth learning.
Dec 21, 2004
December 21 letter
Mom,
The enclosed letter will probably be out of order--it was sent before the pictures, but it got returned to my box on account of too small an envelope! (Can you believe they took the time to return it with a note instead of throwing it out?) So I bet I won’t receive anything sent in a small envelope. I bet I sent a few already that weren’t received! That’s a lesson learned!
Anyway, I’m resending the other note here.
So I taught 2 new students at school, and they loved me. So far all of my students are great. At first I was worried about my bad Russian. But this next one (two) was a Turkmen family--twins! They understood my broken Russian and weren’t afraid to guess what I was saying. I was comfortable to do my normal craziness. Like pretend crying out in shock when positions are bad--or the evident wealth of strange noises I make. I think I’ll be great teaching foreigners on account of my beeps, gasps, oohs and ah, ah, ahs. I’ve figured out that I don’t do well right away in class because I’m not rough. The discipline here is nil. But one-on-one the kids are so well-behaved and scared of being hit or yelled at or given a bad grade. I think they’re very pleasantly surprised at my enthusiasm and happy to have a fun lesson for once!
Well, thanks for the barrage of phone calls I’ve been getting! I really needed to hear from everyone just to remember I still have family out there. It’s so much easier to be happy and to agree to stay when I’ve checked up at home and all is well. Sharon and I had a really long talk which was great! And it was nice to talk to Alice since I’ve been sending her letters and all. Okay, ‘til next time!
Love,
Kari
The enclosed letter will probably be out of order--it was sent before the pictures, but it got returned to my box on account of too small an envelope! (Can you believe they took the time to return it with a note instead of throwing it out?) So I bet I won’t receive anything sent in a small envelope. I bet I sent a few already that weren’t received! That’s a lesson learned!
Anyway, I’m resending the other note here.
So I taught 2 new students at school, and they loved me. So far all of my students are great. At first I was worried about my bad Russian. But this next one (two) was a Turkmen family--twins! They understood my broken Russian and weren’t afraid to guess what I was saying. I was comfortable to do my normal craziness. Like pretend crying out in shock when positions are bad--or the evident wealth of strange noises I make. I think I’ll be great teaching foreigners on account of my beeps, gasps, oohs and ah, ah, ahs. I’ve figured out that I don’t do well right away in class because I’m not rough. The discipline here is nil. But one-on-one the kids are so well-behaved and scared of being hit or yelled at or given a bad grade. I think they’re very pleasantly surprised at my enthusiasm and happy to have a fun lesson for once!
Well, thanks for the barrage of phone calls I’ve been getting! I really needed to hear from everyone just to remember I still have family out there. It’s so much easier to be happy and to agree to stay when I’ve checked up at home and all is well. Sharon and I had a really long talk which was great! And it was nice to talk to Alice since I’ve been sending her letters and all. Okay, ‘til next time!
Love,
Kari
Dec 20, 2004
Essay #10 (Milk and Yogurt Satire)
There’s been a topic bothering me here day to day. I need to dedicate some space to a discussion of milk and yogurt trafficking.
Now it may seem to the untrained eye that this kind of thing never happens in Turkmenistan, but I have seen with my very eyes trucks parked on the street with the back hatch open. Old women--old, seemingly distinguished women--crouch in the back of these trucks dispensing their products. Apparently in order to disguise themselves, they’ve donned large scarves over their heads making them look like the average law-abiding Turkmen. The milk is poured from buckets into large glass jars while money is subtly exchanged. These jars are unmarked and carried by hand with no lids on, perhaps to lessen the fingerprint evidence. The yogurt is more solid, spooned into a jar and then mixed with water.
As soon as the truck appears, the area crowds with buyers--right there on the street! I often wonder how the 17 year-old cop can stand idly a mere block away from a scene like this and not alert someone to these underhanded dealings. This back-of-a-truck milk and yogurt selling has gone too far, and I’m prepared, as a Peace Corps volunteer, to do whatever I can to put a stop to it. Just think--young children at home are getting this fresh milk daily! That’s every morning! And I assume the money is going straight to the old woman who goes right home to milk her cow.
Again! This country needs milk and yogurt reform! Who’s with me?!
Now it may seem to the untrained eye that this kind of thing never happens in Turkmenistan, but I have seen with my very eyes trucks parked on the street with the back hatch open. Old women--old, seemingly distinguished women--crouch in the back of these trucks dispensing their products. Apparently in order to disguise themselves, they’ve donned large scarves over their heads making them look like the average law-abiding Turkmen. The milk is poured from buckets into large glass jars while money is subtly exchanged. These jars are unmarked and carried by hand with no lids on, perhaps to lessen the fingerprint evidence. The yogurt is more solid, spooned into a jar and then mixed with water.
As soon as the truck appears, the area crowds with buyers--right there on the street! I often wonder how the 17 year-old cop can stand idly a mere block away from a scene like this and not alert someone to these underhanded dealings. This back-of-a-truck milk and yogurt selling has gone too far, and I’m prepared, as a Peace Corps volunteer, to do whatever I can to put a stop to it. Just think--young children at home are getting this fresh milk daily! That’s every morning! And I assume the money is going straight to the old woman who goes right home to milk her cow.
Again! This country needs milk and yogurt reform! Who’s with me?!
Dec 19, 2004
December 19 letter
Hi Mom!
I think perhaps the mail is just slow in general getting here, or they have lots of delays with the first few and it’ll get better. At any rate, I’ve only gotten the letter from Alice (her 2nd, but not 1st). I hope things aren’t lost.
Anyway, I received official permission to start my clubs yesterday! I have the stamp. Now I have to give a copy to the woman in charge, and I’m all set!
I’ve taken on an adult student who’s a doctor. She wants to learn English, and I figure I can pass her off to the health volunteer, Liz, if she gets far enough along. [Note to readers: Liz ended up leaving Turkmenistan to come home at the end of December.]
My birthday was great! I think low expectations is key. I’m not used to lots of birthday attention. My students made a big deal and got me a few very typical presents--chocolates, a picture frame/clock, a mug, a stuffed lion. The teachers got together on the sly and got me a cake with English writing on it (!) and a heavy collector’s statue of a camel. Ha! I think it’s something I’d never buy or display on my own, but it’ll be fun to have as a reminder.
I played violin for everyone in return. I’m getting the feeling that it’ll be easier to practice well in this new office I have! I spent 1.5 hours there yesterday when a student showed up without her instrument. I was able to play with no worries about how much noise I was making or how I sounded--I’m the only violinist over the age of 8!
I don’t know if I mentioned, but I went to all my superiors about my work permit. Peace Corps said it was great that I wanted to do extra work there and that I should talk to my local superior, the same head woman. Well, she said, quite ungracefully, no. She said I have no work permit and she’d advise me to stay at school #15. Well, great! I was miffed so I looked at the stamp in my passport and sure enough, I have the same darn work permit as everyone else. So I dangerously took things into my own hands and told my school that I have the stamp, so I’m cleared to work. We’ll see if that'll fly or not in the near future.
So today is Sunday. I love Sundays because I have absolutely nothing to do. I work both jobs on Saturdays, so Sunday is the only real break. So far I’ve read, listened to some music,, written some tutoring plans, and I’ll probably meet with Bibi to write plans for her classes today. I love having the whole upstairs to make noise or have peace and quiet. I think it’ll help the longevity of my existence with this family if I can just disappear once in a while--or every evening.
I still have a bad cold, but it’s easy to handle compared to the fever I had last week. I only lament the lack of tissues and ample toilet paper. I feel very stingy on the T.P. issue! Save, save, save!
Well, I thought you would call on Friday. (Scott said you had planned on it.) But it’s just as well. We had a special birthday dinner--Sprite and Coke were served! And a cake. Hopefully all is well at home. Say “hi” to anyone who asks! Grandma, too!
Love,
Kari
I think perhaps the mail is just slow in general getting here, or they have lots of delays with the first few and it’ll get better. At any rate, I’ve only gotten the letter from Alice (her 2nd, but not 1st). I hope things aren’t lost.
Anyway, I received official permission to start my clubs yesterday! I have the stamp. Now I have to give a copy to the woman in charge, and I’m all set!
I’ve taken on an adult student who’s a doctor. She wants to learn English, and I figure I can pass her off to the health volunteer, Liz, if she gets far enough along. [Note to readers: Liz ended up leaving Turkmenistan to come home at the end of December.]
My birthday was great! I think low expectations is key. I’m not used to lots of birthday attention. My students made a big deal and got me a few very typical presents--chocolates, a picture frame/clock, a mug, a stuffed lion. The teachers got together on the sly and got me a cake with English writing on it (!) and a heavy collector’s statue of a camel. Ha! I think it’s something I’d never buy or display on my own, but it’ll be fun to have as a reminder.
I played violin for everyone in return. I’m getting the feeling that it’ll be easier to practice well in this new office I have! I spent 1.5 hours there yesterday when a student showed up without her instrument. I was able to play with no worries about how much noise I was making or how I sounded--I’m the only violinist over the age of 8!
I don’t know if I mentioned, but I went to all my superiors about my work permit. Peace Corps said it was great that I wanted to do extra work there and that I should talk to my local superior, the same head woman. Well, she said, quite ungracefully, no. She said I have no work permit and she’d advise me to stay at school #15. Well, great! I was miffed so I looked at the stamp in my passport and sure enough, I have the same darn work permit as everyone else. So I dangerously took things into my own hands and told my school that I have the stamp, so I’m cleared to work. We’ll see if that'll fly or not in the near future.
So today is Sunday. I love Sundays because I have absolutely nothing to do. I work both jobs on Saturdays, so Sunday is the only real break. So far I’ve read, listened to some music,, written some tutoring plans, and I’ll probably meet with Bibi to write plans for her classes today. I love having the whole upstairs to make noise or have peace and quiet. I think it’ll help the longevity of my existence with this family if I can just disappear once in a while--or every evening.
I still have a bad cold, but it’s easy to handle compared to the fever I had last week. I only lament the lack of tissues and ample toilet paper. I feel very stingy on the T.P. issue! Save, save, save!
Well, I thought you would call on Friday. (Scott said you had planned on it.) But it’s just as well. We had a special birthday dinner--Sprite and Coke were served! And a cake. Hopefully all is well at home. Say “hi” to anyone who asks! Grandma, too!
Love,
Kari
Dec 16, 2004
December 16 letter
Well, enough has happened concerning the music school that I’d rather write the whole thing out. So this all began with a friend I met named Natasha who plays the piano. She is very cosmopolitan looking and has been excellent company. She’s 25 and teaches piano full-time at the music school. Upon meeting, we decided to play together and work up some music for a recital. She’s hampered by the teachers in T-stan and the necessity for her to accompany children all day, so she’s at the level of accompanying things like “Roumanian Folk Dances”, etc. We became good friends and I met her sister who worked as--guess what--the violin teacher at our school.
Turns out this sister is 18 years old, possibly not at all ready professionally to teach and perform and she knows it. Well, she took off back to Ashgabat saying she was young and didn’t want to start working yet. So here I am, the only violinist they know, willing to teach for free. Hmm.
Natasha pushed for me--surprisingly enough I have all the qualifications they need: a higher education degree from a University of Music. I met the director and he asked me, “Can you play?” and then, “Do you play from notes?”. So I passed that interview with flying colors.
I was given my own classroom without heat, but with a piano (go figure!). #23. I have a schedule now that has 4 students who were the only ones with real instruments. I taught my first lesson today with a student from school #15, and I couldn’t say much, but we got through it. The mom was there, probably to check my ability, but which I molded into getting instructions from me on how to practice at home with the girl. She seemed very attentive and has good potential. They just don’t have anywhere warm to play, and they’re probably distracted just like Americans. Anyway, the lesson part should be okay once I memorize some key phrases.
So today after my lesson the Director calls me into his office, and I assume it is for me to play for him (he’s been wanting to check my ability), but he had a strange grin on his face. I crossed my fingers, hoping he intended for me to retain all my clothing, but the conversation turns to his daughter. Turns out he wants to take advantage of my English for his own kid. !!!! But I act excited and say that of course his daughter can come and visit me and chat in my office any time I’m there! Hopefully she’ll become less interested as time passes.
On to another matter, he says, and wants to know if I have--then some word I don’t know. Well, I said, I don’t know what a ___ is, but I probably have it. Turns out it’s a work registration of some type that I need to work in the region. I have to have something in order to work here, but I don’t know what it is. So I figure, here it comes: I knew there’d be a problem with permission somehow. I’m the perfect candidate, trying to do work to which I wasn’t assigned! I called Peace Corps to find out, and they referred me to the Oldono (or education department) in Balkanabat, which is a scary lady who puts the smack down. I hope the whole thing doesn’t fall through. I want to think that this problem wouldn’t occur in the U.S., but I know it would be worse. I’d never be allowed to just up and work somewhere in the U.S. without my SS card, etc. So the saga begins, but I already began teaching, so I guess that’s half the battle.
I’ve been slacking at school a bit because I have so much to do now, but I just need a solid plan. I put sign-up sheets for 3 clubs of sorts and they were attacked by ravenous student-dogs and their pens. So I’ll probably have to weed out students with interviews. One kid signed up for my music school who takes German, not English. Well, he’s out. [Kari’s students have to be in the English program.] At least I know there’s interest. For the talent show I realize I’ll have to put every act together one by one and get each student to be in act on a one to one basis. I had thought they would have an idea of what to do. I do have a great English speaker who wants to be a “helper”, and I may find material and have her get the kids who can perform together and rehearse. At any rate, that’s on its way.
I’ve having less contact with the girl in my city who was the volunteer I most talked to and the only one who’s house I’ve been to. It’s hard to realize that although we randomly ended up together as the only 5 Americans in the city, we may not get along. I came here in part to relax myself and get used to being flexible and adaptable. There are 2 people who will never be flexible or relaxed, and it’s just as well that I stay away. Well, for now I have enough friends among the locals to turn to.
I still work half days, but I find myself overtired and swamped with un-deadlined work (i.e. practice, learn languages, create clubs). My hair is falling out, too. I feel downtrodden a lot. I may be sleeping too much recently, but I’ve also had a bad cold. (Who hasn’t here? Colds spread like you wouldn’t believe. It’s incredible.)
I find myself overly emotional, too, which is annoying. If I read a “Chicken Soup for the Soul”, I’d be crippled for hours. I feel like crying a lot, but mostly I just wax and wane on liking things here very quickly. Like in a matter of hours. I’ll have a great morning, but something at lunch will make me hate everyone and everything. I’d like to be at the point where I realize that everyone’s frustrated sometimes with or without reason. My emotions are reacting to--something--here. Maybe unfamiliarity or maybe high expectations of me from everyone. Some want me to tutor, start clubs, learn 2 languages, teach, and also do their own work for them. Then I have my own expectations of myself: being successful at everything everyone else wants. It seems like I shouldn’t feel pressure since I’m here as a volunteer, but no one’s expectations are related to how much I’m (not) being paid. They still want my best effort. I’ll have to learn either to say "no" or to accept myself even at an extremely un-perfect work level.
Anyway, I’ll find a way to describe my emotions better when I can figure them out. :)
Love,
Kari
Turns out this sister is 18 years old, possibly not at all ready professionally to teach and perform and she knows it. Well, she took off back to Ashgabat saying she was young and didn’t want to start working yet. So here I am, the only violinist they know, willing to teach for free. Hmm.
Natasha pushed for me--surprisingly enough I have all the qualifications they need: a higher education degree from a University of Music. I met the director and he asked me, “Can you play?” and then, “Do you play from notes?”. So I passed that interview with flying colors.
I was given my own classroom without heat, but with a piano (go figure!). #23. I have a schedule now that has 4 students who were the only ones with real instruments. I taught my first lesson today with a student from school #15, and I couldn’t say much, but we got through it. The mom was there, probably to check my ability, but which I molded into getting instructions from me on how to practice at home with the girl. She seemed very attentive and has good potential. They just don’t have anywhere warm to play, and they’re probably distracted just like Americans. Anyway, the lesson part should be okay once I memorize some key phrases.
So today after my lesson the Director calls me into his office, and I assume it is for me to play for him (he’s been wanting to check my ability), but he had a strange grin on his face. I crossed my fingers, hoping he intended for me to retain all my clothing, but the conversation turns to his daughter. Turns out he wants to take advantage of my English for his own kid. !!!! But I act excited and say that of course his daughter can come and visit me and chat in my office any time I’m there! Hopefully she’ll become less interested as time passes.
On to another matter, he says, and wants to know if I have--then some word I don’t know. Well, I said, I don’t know what a ___ is, but I probably have it. Turns out it’s a work registration of some type that I need to work in the region. I have to have something in order to work here, but I don’t know what it is. So I figure, here it comes: I knew there’d be a problem with permission somehow. I’m the perfect candidate, trying to do work to which I wasn’t assigned! I called Peace Corps to find out, and they referred me to the Oldono (or education department) in Balkanabat, which is a scary lady who puts the smack down. I hope the whole thing doesn’t fall through. I want to think that this problem wouldn’t occur in the U.S., but I know it would be worse. I’d never be allowed to just up and work somewhere in the U.S. without my SS card, etc. So the saga begins, but I already began teaching, so I guess that’s half the battle.
I’ve been slacking at school a bit because I have so much to do now, but I just need a solid plan. I put sign-up sheets for 3 clubs of sorts and they were attacked by ravenous student-dogs and their pens. So I’ll probably have to weed out students with interviews. One kid signed up for my music school who takes German, not English. Well, he’s out. [Kari’s students have to be in the English program.] At least I know there’s interest. For the talent show I realize I’ll have to put every act together one by one and get each student to be in act on a one to one basis. I had thought they would have an idea of what to do. I do have a great English speaker who wants to be a “helper”, and I may find material and have her get the kids who can perform together and rehearse. At any rate, that’s on its way.
I’ve having less contact with the girl in my city who was the volunteer I most talked to and the only one who’s house I’ve been to. It’s hard to realize that although we randomly ended up together as the only 5 Americans in the city, we may not get along. I came here in part to relax myself and get used to being flexible and adaptable. There are 2 people who will never be flexible or relaxed, and it’s just as well that I stay away. Well, for now I have enough friends among the locals to turn to.
I still work half days, but I find myself overtired and swamped with un-deadlined work (i.e. practice, learn languages, create clubs). My hair is falling out, too. I feel downtrodden a lot. I may be sleeping too much recently, but I’ve also had a bad cold. (Who hasn’t here? Colds spread like you wouldn’t believe. It’s incredible.)
I find myself overly emotional, too, which is annoying. If I read a “Chicken Soup for the Soul”, I’d be crippled for hours. I feel like crying a lot, but mostly I just wax and wane on liking things here very quickly. Like in a matter of hours. I’ll have a great morning, but something at lunch will make me hate everyone and everything. I’d like to be at the point where I realize that everyone’s frustrated sometimes with or without reason. My emotions are reacting to--something--here. Maybe unfamiliarity or maybe high expectations of me from everyone. Some want me to tutor, start clubs, learn 2 languages, teach, and also do their own work for them. Then I have my own expectations of myself: being successful at everything everyone else wants. It seems like I shouldn’t feel pressure since I’m here as a volunteer, but no one’s expectations are related to how much I’m (not) being paid. They still want my best effort. I’ll have to learn either to say "no" or to accept myself even at an extremely un-perfect work level.
Anyway, I’ll find a way to describe my emotions better when I can figure them out. :)
Love,
Kari
Dec 8, 2004
December 8 letter
Alice,
I got your second letter first, so I’m replying a bit out of order. It’s so nice to have questions to answer, though. So far I’ve been writing whatever I could think of and haven’t had much response because of the time it takes to send things. I’ll try to describe things a bit here.
I’m in a city of 110,000, so I don’t see the real desert until I go out of town. Then you exit the city and drive for hours past nothing but camels on the worst roads you could imagine. Then I see the real desert. My family here is quite wealthy, so they have none other than a Chevrolet. Most people take taxis here, so there is little need for a car.
In Gypjak the population was more openly Muslim, but the two legal religions here are Islam and Russian Orthodoxy. (Sorry Bob!) So the city, with a much higher foreign population, has more variety. Not many people practice religion (left over from Soviet times), and I don’t think our city has a church of any religion.
As for landowning, I know there are landlords here, but the entire city has planned apartments. I don’t think there is a house in the entire city, but people often buy apartments here. We have 2 floors and have redone most everything in ours to look new. Our neighbors (in the same building) have a slum, basically. Our house is unique in its indoor plumbing and the fact that we have a pump. Most families have no running water from about 10 am until 7 pm, but we can draw water all day. No one has a boiler, though, so water is only hot with a special gas boiler-contraption. (We have one for the shower.)
One of the great things here (I told Mom a bit about this) is their system of dressmaking. You can purchase 2 meters of material from a store for about $3-$5 in any color/variety. Then you ask around and find a good dressmaker. They are usually women whose husbands work but not enough. For another $3-$6 she makes the dress however you request in about 2 days. I love not having to search in stores, and I hate how nothing in the states ever fits. This way you get exactly what you need, and it always fits. Usually your own family sews your dresses, but my family here is not “Turkmen” enough.
I wouldn’t worry too hard about not being able to visit. It’s really a pit here, and the things I love about it have grown through my connections to things. The postcards, I believe, are about the only thing the department of tourism puts out because they are extremely unwelcoming of visitors. They don’t like our presence here very much either. I assume by now you’ve seen descriptions I’ve sent to different people. I’ll keep up writing while I'm here for sure. I have an almost insatiable need to write something every day whether it be a journal, a letter, or an essay. Mom and I talked a while about your family and their current plans, but I would love to hear updates!
Right now, actually, I am sitting in a Turkmen language class (the students speak Russian natively) because it’s one of the 6 rooms in our school with heat. We teach with winter coats on and ‘visit’ the heated rooms as much as possible. Rumor has it that some rich kids’ parents bought heaters for the classrooms that their kids are in. That’s the routine here. There’s a strange dichotomy between attempting to make everyone and everything equal, and, on the other hand, surviving by who you know.
I hope my letters aren’t too negative, but I’m hoping to create as honest a picture as I can! It was great to hear from you! Keep writing!
Love,
Kari
I got your second letter first, so I’m replying a bit out of order. It’s so nice to have questions to answer, though. So far I’ve been writing whatever I could think of and haven’t had much response because of the time it takes to send things. I’ll try to describe things a bit here.
I’m in a city of 110,000, so I don’t see the real desert until I go out of town. Then you exit the city and drive for hours past nothing but camels on the worst roads you could imagine. Then I see the real desert. My family here is quite wealthy, so they have none other than a Chevrolet. Most people take taxis here, so there is little need for a car.
In Gypjak the population was more openly Muslim, but the two legal religions here are Islam and Russian Orthodoxy. (Sorry Bob!) So the city, with a much higher foreign population, has more variety. Not many people practice religion (left over from Soviet times), and I don’t think our city has a church of any religion.
As for landowning, I know there are landlords here, but the entire city has planned apartments. I don’t think there is a house in the entire city, but people often buy apartments here. We have 2 floors and have redone most everything in ours to look new. Our neighbors (in the same building) have a slum, basically. Our house is unique in its indoor plumbing and the fact that we have a pump. Most families have no running water from about 10 am until 7 pm, but we can draw water all day. No one has a boiler, though, so water is only hot with a special gas boiler-contraption. (We have one for the shower.)
One of the great things here (I told Mom a bit about this) is their system of dressmaking. You can purchase 2 meters of material from a store for about $3-$5 in any color/variety. Then you ask around and find a good dressmaker. They are usually women whose husbands work but not enough. For another $3-$6 she makes the dress however you request in about 2 days. I love not having to search in stores, and I hate how nothing in the states ever fits. This way you get exactly what you need, and it always fits. Usually your own family sews your dresses, but my family here is not “Turkmen” enough.
I wouldn’t worry too hard about not being able to visit. It’s really a pit here, and the things I love about it have grown through my connections to things. The postcards, I believe, are about the only thing the department of tourism puts out because they are extremely unwelcoming of visitors. They don’t like our presence here very much either. I assume by now you’ve seen descriptions I’ve sent to different people. I’ll keep up writing while I'm here for sure. I have an almost insatiable need to write something every day whether it be a journal, a letter, or an essay. Mom and I talked a while about your family and their current plans, but I would love to hear updates!
Right now, actually, I am sitting in a Turkmen language class (the students speak Russian natively) because it’s one of the 6 rooms in our school with heat. We teach with winter coats on and ‘visit’ the heated rooms as much as possible. Rumor has it that some rich kids’ parents bought heaters for the classrooms that their kids are in. That’s the routine here. There’s a strange dichotomy between attempting to make everyone and everything equal, and, on the other hand, surviving by who you know.
I hope my letters aren’t too negative, but I’m hoping to create as honest a picture as I can! It was great to hear from you! Keep writing!
Love,
Kari
Nov 29, 2004
Essay #9 (My Counterpart)
Bibi sat at our meeting at the Peace Corps office in her her jeans skirt trying depserately to memorize the names of all the Volunteers so as not to miss a bit of interesting gossip. A Supervisor or Counterpart was to attend a weekend in Ashgabat to go over expectations and plans with us. While most of the Counterparts tried to schmooze with the other well-to-do Supervisor types, Bibi Isgenovna regailed the PC Volunteers with her camp song entitled "Nature Nuts". She is 24, always has a smile on her face, and is continually disciplined by her school director NOT to wear the watch with bells on it as well as to cut down on rings.
The first thing she asked about me was my name and birthday (which has yet to pass). At the mention of my family visiting from America, she gets instantly excited and asks, "May I be introduced?!"
Her classroom discipline is tough--she carries a stick--but the students all like her even though she calls them crazy. Thought not yet married, boys are often on the brain. She claims there are no good men in Turkmenistan, and so far I can't prove her wrong.
In the one week I've been here, we've attended at least 4 one-hour clubs per week, she works in school for 35 classes a week, and she has lesson plans neatly written in her spare time. On one particularly rough day for me, she told me she never shows her emotions. She smiles, listens, and lets it go. I don't know where she gets the strength, but she is more put-together than anyone I've seen.
Some Volunteers report that their Counterpart is drunk at work, and some are unwilling to accept a Volunteer. Some are too busy, and some are impatient. All that trouble--and here I have a girl who shows up at my house to take me to a wedding as an equal with all of her colleagues. I have the perfect social butterfly ("Butterfly" was her camp name at Nature Nuts English Camp--fitting!) to include me in the lives of my co-workers.
Cheers to Bibi!!
The first thing she asked about me was my name and birthday (which has yet to pass). At the mention of my family visiting from America, she gets instantly excited and asks, "May I be introduced?!"
Her classroom discipline is tough--she carries a stick--but the students all like her even though she calls them crazy. Thought not yet married, boys are often on the brain. She claims there are no good men in Turkmenistan, and so far I can't prove her wrong.
In the one week I've been here, we've attended at least 4 one-hour clubs per week, she works in school for 35 classes a week, and she has lesson plans neatly written in her spare time. On one particularly rough day for me, she told me she never shows her emotions. She smiles, listens, and lets it go. I don't know where she gets the strength, but she is more put-together than anyone I've seen.
Some Volunteers report that their Counterpart is drunk at work, and some are unwilling to accept a Volunteer. Some are too busy, and some are impatient. All that trouble--and here I have a girl who shows up at my house to take me to a wedding as an equal with all of her colleagues. I have the perfect social butterfly ("Butterfly" was her camp name at Nature Nuts English Camp--fitting!) to include me in the lives of my co-workers.
Cheers to Bibi!!
Nov 28, 2004
November 28 letter
Well, I'm here!
I met Wayne Wildman's Turkmen twin who just happens to work in our English department at school. What a coincidence! He speaks in a very careful and polite British accent. Today I observed one of his classes. Before class he had said, "I would like to extend to you an invitation to my class which will be taking place next hour here at School Number 15 in Room 27." Once, during a class where teachers from around the city observed, (I know . . . on my 3rd day in town!), we were teaching a lesson and mentioned that it was unexpected. He piped up with, "Ah yes . . . unexpected like a winter storm." Later he came and said, "I truly apologize, Karen, for I meant to add that it was as unexpected as a winter storm IN MAY. I swear he's Wayne Wildman's ESL counterpersonality.
So far it's been hard to figure out what's really going to work at my school. The teachers seem to think I'm here as an expert in order to critique their classes, so I've seen a lot of great students answering pre-planned questions. Teachers get "checked on" a lot, but always through a strange list of necessities for classes. Like they get yelled at for not writing the month (the newly created months) in both languages on the board every day, but not given credit for creative classes. During the open lesson I mentioned that we did a Thanksgiving class that was very full of learning and practice. We were told that it wasn't REALLY a class, but more of a seminar. No new grammar introduced.
So hopefully I'll start music soon. I'll be playing for classes and doing a short lecture on orchestral instruments to get interest up.
Oh, yeah, and our school doesn't have heat--except 6 classrooms. Why? Because whoever has those teachers has rich parents that bought heaters for their kids' classes. These are also the kids with the most experienced teachers. Go figure. :)
Love,
Kari
I met Wayne Wildman's Turkmen twin who just happens to work in our English department at school. What a coincidence! He speaks in a very careful and polite British accent. Today I observed one of his classes. Before class he had said, "I would like to extend to you an invitation to my class which will be taking place next hour here at School Number 15 in Room 27." Once, during a class where teachers from around the city observed, (I know . . . on my 3rd day in town!), we were teaching a lesson and mentioned that it was unexpected. He piped up with, "Ah yes . . . unexpected like a winter storm." Later he came and said, "I truly apologize, Karen, for I meant to add that it was as unexpected as a winter storm IN MAY. I swear he's Wayne Wildman's ESL counterpersonality.
So far it's been hard to figure out what's really going to work at my school. The teachers seem to think I'm here as an expert in order to critique their classes, so I've seen a lot of great students answering pre-planned questions. Teachers get "checked on" a lot, but always through a strange list of necessities for classes. Like they get yelled at for not writing the month (the newly created months) in both languages on the board every day, but not given credit for creative classes. During the open lesson I mentioned that we did a Thanksgiving class that was very full of learning and practice. We were told that it wasn't REALLY a class, but more of a seminar. No new grammar introduced.
So hopefully I'll start music soon. I'll be playing for classes and doing a short lecture on orchestral instruments to get interest up.
Oh, yeah, and our school doesn't have heat--except 6 classrooms. Why? Because whoever has those teachers has rich parents that bought heaters for their kids' classes. These are also the kids with the most experienced teachers. Go figure. :)
Love,
Kari
Nov 27, 2004
Essay #8 (Music)
It's hard to actually listen to a song objectively here, but with the help of boredom and earplugs, I've finally been successful. I attended the infamous "toi" yesterday. The word is used for any big party but mostly for weddings. The musicians consisted of an electric guitar player, a synthesizer, a singer, and someone doing something unknown to me but on stage nonetheless. The dislike of the toi music spreads pretty wide among PCVs, and even the locals admit freely that "it's just too darn loud!" The beat varies somewhat, but it almost always uses a fast beat with a 2 against 3 feel. The melodic instruments play in three but the beat always makes listeners clap in 2 (which amazingly enough, they do consistently at the right time). The melody is played by a synthesized sound much like an accordion or oboe. The melody is improvised upon, and here's where the description gets fuzzy. I'm not sure if they follow a key or set of notes or if the choice is random. They are not in a single scale, and sometimes I'm convinced the keyboardist can't hear the background he's on top of. The mode, if there is one, may be drowned out by the fact that the beat comes from a button on the synth or a taped recording. Many times on TV the instrumentalists merely play over a prerecorded song, so I have yet to learn the real intricacies of Turkmen music.
Traditional music exists here and is a far cry from the horror of the toi. The group is made of a single drum held on one's lap and played with the hands, an erhu-type violin with four strings tuned in fourths, and a dutar, which is a small pear-shaped guitar. They play melodies on both, and I've only heard a couple of songs by this type of group. The music schools teach these instruments and have cancelled most Western music programs. I look forward to learning the erhu, as Balkanabat has a music school. My hope is that the country continues their traditional music and people start either to develop past, or to regress from, synthesizer music. I know if I ever marry a Turkmen, there will be no blaring synthesizer at my wedding. :)
Traditional music exists here and is a far cry from the horror of the toi. The group is made of a single drum held on one's lap and played with the hands, an erhu-type violin with four strings tuned in fourths, and a dutar, which is a small pear-shaped guitar. They play melodies on both, and I've only heard a couple of songs by this type of group. The music schools teach these instruments and have cancelled most Western music programs. I look forward to learning the erhu, as Balkanabat has a music school. My hope is that the country continues their traditional music and people start either to develop past, or to regress from, synthesizer music. I know if I ever marry a Turkmen, there will be no blaring synthesizer at my wedding. :)
Essay #7 (Balkanabat so far)
Seeing Balkanabat through rose-colored glasses has given me a few skewed ideas. I've been in the city for exactly one week, and for the first time I took my eyes off the nearby mountains long enough to notice the number of used needles lying on the ground. Maybe it's just my block (I hear it's not), but the moment I saw my first dirty needle, I started counting. Within ten steps the count was at four. I've already noticed the broken-glass-ridden playground near my building. They evidently don't believe in woodchips here! The drug problem supposedly comes across from A-stan. We call heroin users and sellers "Narcomen", and they are easily noticed. On my first late night out my mother made sure I had someone to walk me home-- specifically because of Narcomen.
My route to school is down a main road, so I've mostly seen businesses. In a startling revelation, we now understand how illogical business is here. No one takes the time to clearly mark their stores. No one ever puts on sales. If there is low demand and high supply, no one thinks to lower their prices. The store workers couldn't care less. The end result is our depleting economy and a bunch of unhappy store owners.
I mentioned rose-colored glasses because of my family setup here. I have a great cook for a mother, easy communication, and my own floor for peace and quiet. I don't think I have as much potential for strong bonds as the people living with Turkmen families do, but I'll take the convenience for all it's worth.
Taxis here are cheap and easy. 2000 anywhere within city limits. The atmosphere is overwhelmingly Russian, which makes the school completely undisciplined, but the city life more comfortable. I can dress as I wish and most Turkmen rules of culture don't apply. I hear the city is very rough overall--it's compared to New York in that respect--but I find the people very personable after meeting them. I'll just have to keep my head down and walk with a purpose through the streets, and hopefully I won't be bothered!
My route to school is down a main road, so I've mostly seen businesses. In a startling revelation, we now understand how illogical business is here. No one takes the time to clearly mark their stores. No one ever puts on sales. If there is low demand and high supply, no one thinks to lower their prices. The store workers couldn't care less. The end result is our depleting economy and a bunch of unhappy store owners.
I mentioned rose-colored glasses because of my family setup here. I have a great cook for a mother, easy communication, and my own floor for peace and quiet. I don't think I have as much potential for strong bonds as the people living with Turkmen families do, but I'll take the convenience for all it's worth.
Taxis here are cheap and easy. 2000 anywhere within city limits. The atmosphere is overwhelmingly Russian, which makes the school completely undisciplined, but the city life more comfortable. I can dress as I wish and most Turkmen rules of culture don't apply. I hear the city is very rough overall--it's compared to New York in that respect--but I find the people very personable after meeting them. I'll just have to keep my head down and walk with a purpose through the streets, and hopefully I won't be bothered!
Hello!
It's so hard to get at a computer around here!! I was so happy to see people writing and updating!! That's the best xmas gift I can think of. I'll try to keep getting letters out! Balkanabat is great, and I'm sure you'll hear more of it in the next two years! Best wishes to all!
kari
kari
Nov 14, 2004
November 14 Christmas notes
Mom,
Ah, the thrills of preparing for the holidays before Thanksgiving. I guess this is what people who write Christmas cards every year feel like. I think I would excel at sending Christmas cards on time.
Today is my last day at site, and I'm very sad! I got a new dress to wear, and hopefully soon I'll have pictures of me dressed like a Turkmen bride. :) My mother has been away for 2 days, so I've bonded with my dad a bit and also done some cooking in the fly-ridden hell-trap that is an outdoor kitchen.
I almost wish I had requested a Turkmen family instead of a Russian family, though I will like the language practice. We had a test scored on "Novice/Intermediate/Advanced" with "low/mid/high". I got an "Intermediate-low" (very good) in Turkmen and and "Intermediate-mid" in Russian. My teacher assures me that Russian is much harder, but it's still a bit funny. I talk more with my family here now, and I think they like me. I shake things up a bit, but overall it's been nice.
We will have our "fun week" in Ashgabat where we will all pretend to listen to lectures on the alcohol policy, and then we will be officially "sworn in" on Nov. 19th. Then I'm a real Volunteer. (So far, I guess, it's been mostly vacation!)
*****************************************************************************************
Michael A-dot,
How's the knee?
So, Turkmenistan's desert beauty is starting to grow on me. Though "The Economist" evidently rated T-stan as the worst place to live in 2004, I'm not sure that I'm as uncomfortable as they'd like me to believe.
I have some really awesome friends here, but in a week we're all leaving. My friends all will live in Dashoguz region, and I'm way the heck over in Nebitdag in Balkan. So I'm pretty much stuck for a good long time all by myself. That should be a good test. I couldn't tell Mom (haha), but I feel very directionless here. We haven't been on our own yet, and we sometimes don't know what kind of help anyone even wants. Are we just patronizing the people here? Well, the best or worst part is that I have nothing really to do in the States, so I have no reason to give up. It seems so far from college here, yet it's all the "2 years" idea. We have no grades, no annoying University stuff, but we still have this structure and ladder of power and 2-year deadline that makes it feel like a "Camping Master's Degree". I'll have had a class on outdoor cooking, using a hole as a toilet, and luggage carrying, but not much more. :)
So, how are Margo and school in general? Gee, I'm going to sound like dad here-- "So, hey, what classes are you taking? Are you still in engineering?" In 2 years I'll still think you're in engineering even if you're in art or something.
I'm sorry I couldn't send any real presents--I sent what's here. I figure the bracelets are manly because they're made of camel hair, and camel's spit and are hairy. Plus, if anyone asks, you can say it protects you from the evil eye which, from what I hear, is pretty bad.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
***********************************************************************************
Sharon,
Well, since they don't really have Christmas here, I'm using the UW cards I brought from home. I hope all is well with you. It's only November 13th or so, but I haven't heard anything from you other than Mom's reports.
I'm on my last day here at Gypjak. I've had so much more success with my family recently. I tested well in Turkmen, so I've been more confident. Now I have to go, and PC policy is that I can't leave my new site for 3 months--even to visit country nationals. Thumbs down!! So I think I'll be in a bit of a slump for the first month at least in Balkanabat.
I've been meaning to tell you that your skirt is about the best skirt ever! It's exactly what I'm supposed to have. I've had two dresses made here, but they're pretty traditional and conservative. Anyway, I feel like I fit in okay here, and I now think a lot about the work we're doing.
I definitely realize it's not the toughing it out that makes people leave, but rather the Peace Corps falling off its pedestal. Everyone thinks it such a life-changing, monumental thing to do, but really it's just like anything else. Anyone can make it through.
My mom here has been out of town (a rare occurrence here) for 2 or 3 days, so I got to do some cooking and a bit of "servant work" for my dad. He's actually a cool guy and would never ask me to do anything, but I felt responsible as the only girl. I'm going to take lessons in Turkmen sewing, etc. at my permanent site.
Well, this is sort of a Christmas card, so I'll apologize for the obvious lack of cool presents. :) If any of the stuff I sent appeals to you, fight for it. I made the bag with the zipper for you, though! It's a very early sewing attempt. I was still trying to work the pedals correctly. Anyway, good thoughts to you, and have a merry Christmas! Tell every family member who cares that I'm doing well, and make it sound sincere and personal. :) Miss you!
Love,
Kari
Ah, the thrills of preparing for the holidays before Thanksgiving. I guess this is what people who write Christmas cards every year feel like. I think I would excel at sending Christmas cards on time.
Today is my last day at site, and I'm very sad! I got a new dress to wear, and hopefully soon I'll have pictures of me dressed like a Turkmen bride. :) My mother has been away for 2 days, so I've bonded with my dad a bit and also done some cooking in the fly-ridden hell-trap that is an outdoor kitchen.
I almost wish I had requested a Turkmen family instead of a Russian family, though I will like the language practice. We had a test scored on "Novice/Intermediate/Advanced" with "low/mid/high". I got an "Intermediate-low" (very good) in Turkmen and and "Intermediate-mid" in Russian. My teacher assures me that Russian is much harder, but it's still a bit funny. I talk more with my family here now, and I think they like me. I shake things up a bit, but overall it's been nice.
We will have our "fun week" in Ashgabat where we will all pretend to listen to lectures on the alcohol policy, and then we will be officially "sworn in" on Nov. 19th. Then I'm a real Volunteer. (So far, I guess, it's been mostly vacation!)
*****************************************************************************************
Michael A-dot,
How's the knee?
So, Turkmenistan's desert beauty is starting to grow on me. Though "The Economist" evidently rated T-stan as the worst place to live in 2004, I'm not sure that I'm as uncomfortable as they'd like me to believe.
I have some really awesome friends here, but in a week we're all leaving. My friends all will live in Dashoguz region, and I'm way the heck over in Nebitdag in Balkan. So I'm pretty much stuck for a good long time all by myself. That should be a good test. I couldn't tell Mom (haha), but I feel very directionless here. We haven't been on our own yet, and we sometimes don't know what kind of help anyone even wants. Are we just patronizing the people here? Well, the best or worst part is that I have nothing really to do in the States, so I have no reason to give up. It seems so far from college here, yet it's all the "2 years" idea. We have no grades, no annoying University stuff, but we still have this structure and ladder of power and 2-year deadline that makes it feel like a "Camping Master's Degree". I'll have had a class on outdoor cooking, using a hole as a toilet, and luggage carrying, but not much more. :)
So, how are Margo and school in general? Gee, I'm going to sound like dad here-- "So, hey, what classes are you taking? Are you still in engineering?" In 2 years I'll still think you're in engineering even if you're in art or something.
I'm sorry I couldn't send any real presents--I sent what's here. I figure the bracelets are manly because they're made of camel hair, and camel's spit and are hairy. Plus, if anyone asks, you can say it protects you from the evil eye which, from what I hear, is pretty bad.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
***********************************************************************************
Sharon,
Well, since they don't really have Christmas here, I'm using the UW cards I brought from home. I hope all is well with you. It's only November 13th or so, but I haven't heard anything from you other than Mom's reports.
I'm on my last day here at Gypjak. I've had so much more success with my family recently. I tested well in Turkmen, so I've been more confident. Now I have to go, and PC policy is that I can't leave my new site for 3 months--even to visit country nationals. Thumbs down!! So I think I'll be in a bit of a slump for the first month at least in Balkanabat.
I've been meaning to tell you that your skirt is about the best skirt ever! It's exactly what I'm supposed to have. I've had two dresses made here, but they're pretty traditional and conservative. Anyway, I feel like I fit in okay here, and I now think a lot about the work we're doing.
I definitely realize it's not the toughing it out that makes people leave, but rather the Peace Corps falling off its pedestal. Everyone thinks it such a life-changing, monumental thing to do, but really it's just like anything else. Anyone can make it through.
My mom here has been out of town (a rare occurrence here) for 2 or 3 days, so I got to do some cooking and a bit of "servant work" for my dad. He's actually a cool guy and would never ask me to do anything, but I felt responsible as the only girl. I'm going to take lessons in Turkmen sewing, etc. at my permanent site.
Well, this is sort of a Christmas card, so I'll apologize for the obvious lack of cool presents. :) If any of the stuff I sent appeals to you, fight for it. I made the bag with the zipper for you, though! It's a very early sewing attempt. I was still trying to work the pedals correctly. Anyway, good thoughts to you, and have a merry Christmas! Tell every family member who cares that I'm doing well, and make it sound sincere and personal. :) Miss you!
Love,
Kari
Nov 8, 2004
November 8 letter
11/8/04
Dear Alice,
Well, here I am sitting on the floor (pillows are our only furniture) on my last week with my family. Right now my crazy grandma, that they claim is 83, is muttering and wandering around flipping on and off lights whenever she sees need. She’s the superhero of light switches. As soon as it starts getting dark, there she is. If she were 83, she’d have had my mom at age 60 or so, so I think she’s more like 65. The women here age very quickly. I told grandma (in the states) it’s probably the lack of iodine but I think it’s more like constant work outside in the sun or bent over a sewing machine. The women, once they are married, cover their hair always, which doesn’t help them look young. The strange thing is the young people look old also. We mistake 12 or 13 year-old girls for 22 year-olds. They don’t have clothes for young people. They just have very small adult clothes.
My house here in Gypjak is right out of a National Geographic magazine. The animals wake me up in the morning (usually a rooster/cow duet at about 6:30 am) and my sisters run down the street and hug me when I come home every day. My mother makes bread every 2-3 days which consists of sticking bread to the wall of an outdoor oven with her bare hands. The women work all day and all evening preparing food, cleaning, and taking care of the animals. The...
(my grandma just came up and checked my temperature and kissed me on the cheek)
...the men go to work but are used to such a different level of hard labor. The men are perfectly comfortable going to any house of a friend or neighbor and accepting food service and tea any time of the day. My father here is one of the nicest Turkmen men and still rarely spends time at home unless he’s watching TV.
The kids are very happy here and love any attention I give them. Their education is far behind kids in the states but for such a vast number of reasons that it’s hard to find things in schools to pinpoint and work on changing. Kids copy to be nice to each other to the extent that all homework is identical. The teachers let the best students call out every answer and tell without embarrassment who the ‘lazy' or ‘stupid’ students are right in front of them. The kids have very little creativity and even art class is basically copying pictures of famous paintings.
We’ve had trouble getting used to the way the government works here but the longer I’m here the more I learn. I should just accept it as a learning tool. We’re in a very pivotal time in this country’s history and we can’t do anything but watch. Our frustration will end up lying more in things like gender inequality that we see on a very personal level or the trials of starting programs that the people don’t join. There are so many people that don’t understand why we’re here. They are told and believe that they are an advanced country. People ask which is better, America or Turkmenistan. They ask if they have ‘said household item’ in America. They tell me Turkmen language is the most difficult in the world (it’s not). I want to explain that we volunteer to help developing nations and what that means, but we’re here to gain trust, not make enemies. Politics is off-limits and many are appalled at my dislike of Pres. Bush. (Them's fightin’ words?) What I realize is that Peace Corps people quit not because they’re not tough enough, but because not only is it hard to know why we’re here and what to do, but we’ll never know if the things we did made any measurable difference. I could co-teach here and give my counterpart a day off here and there, or I could increase literacy by great margins. We just won’t know if our programs help. For goal-driven Americans that’s a difficult proposition.
Music here is also in a sense developing. The country is encouraging going back to traditional musical instruments instead of Western which is ‘fun’ to say the least but I think there are ways to teach Western music if students have the desire. My school in Balkanabat is quite wealthy compared to the village so I’ll have to assess everything again when I get there.
Well, I hope this was information you’d like to hear! If you want, you can type it up on karianderson.blogspot.com and add to my small collection! Best wishes and thoughts! Tell Stew and Andrew I say “hi!”
Love, Kari
Dear Alice,
Well, here I am sitting on the floor (pillows are our only furniture) on my last week with my family. Right now my crazy grandma, that they claim is 83, is muttering and wandering around flipping on and off lights whenever she sees need. She’s the superhero of light switches. As soon as it starts getting dark, there she is. If she were 83, she’d have had my mom at age 60 or so, so I think she’s more like 65. The women here age very quickly. I told grandma (in the states) it’s probably the lack of iodine but I think it’s more like constant work outside in the sun or bent over a sewing machine. The women, once they are married, cover their hair always, which doesn’t help them look young. The strange thing is the young people look old also. We mistake 12 or 13 year-old girls for 22 year-olds. They don’t have clothes for young people. They just have very small adult clothes.
My house here in Gypjak is right out of a National Geographic magazine. The animals wake me up in the morning (usually a rooster/cow duet at about 6:30 am) and my sisters run down the street and hug me when I come home every day. My mother makes bread every 2-3 days which consists of sticking bread to the wall of an outdoor oven with her bare hands. The women work all day and all evening preparing food, cleaning, and taking care of the animals. The...
(my grandma just came up and checked my temperature and kissed me on the cheek)
...the men go to work but are used to such a different level of hard labor. The men are perfectly comfortable going to any house of a friend or neighbor and accepting food service and tea any time of the day. My father here is one of the nicest Turkmen men and still rarely spends time at home unless he’s watching TV.
The kids are very happy here and love any attention I give them. Their education is far behind kids in the states but for such a vast number of reasons that it’s hard to find things in schools to pinpoint and work on changing. Kids copy to be nice to each other to the extent that all homework is identical. The teachers let the best students call out every answer and tell without embarrassment who the ‘lazy' or ‘stupid’ students are right in front of them. The kids have very little creativity and even art class is basically copying pictures of famous paintings.
We’ve had trouble getting used to the way the government works here but the longer I’m here the more I learn. I should just accept it as a learning tool. We’re in a very pivotal time in this country’s history and we can’t do anything but watch. Our frustration will end up lying more in things like gender inequality that we see on a very personal level or the trials of starting programs that the people don’t join. There are so many people that don’t understand why we’re here. They are told and believe that they are an advanced country. People ask which is better, America or Turkmenistan. They ask if they have ‘said household item’ in America. They tell me Turkmen language is the most difficult in the world (it’s not). I want to explain that we volunteer to help developing nations and what that means, but we’re here to gain trust, not make enemies. Politics is off-limits and many are appalled at my dislike of Pres. Bush. (Them's fightin’ words?) What I realize is that Peace Corps people quit not because they’re not tough enough, but because not only is it hard to know why we’re here and what to do, but we’ll never know if the things we did made any measurable difference. I could co-teach here and give my counterpart a day off here and there, or I could increase literacy by great margins. We just won’t know if our programs help. For goal-driven Americans that’s a difficult proposition.
Music here is also in a sense developing. The country is encouraging going back to traditional musical instruments instead of Western which is ‘fun’ to say the least but I think there are ways to teach Western music if students have the desire. My school in Balkanabat is quite wealthy compared to the village so I’ll have to assess everything again when I get there.
Well, I hope this was information you’d like to hear! If you want, you can type it up on karianderson.blogspot.com and add to my small collection! Best wishes and thoughts! Tell Stew and Andrew I say “hi!”
Love, Kari
Nov 7, 2004
Essay #6 (Flies)
My sister's bride price party was beautiful! The guests loved it. My sister was great.
But each of the 50 guests left behind 12 flies, and they all wanted to live in my room. I had a little breakdown and swatted about 50 flies while my family, no doubt, sat in the other room discussing how strange Americans are. Exhausted, I finally went to sleep only to wake up to a house once again free of flies.
Dead, you ask? No, I later found out that what I had thought was a strange dancing ritual is really a fly-clearing technique. My first night in my house the women had appeared in my room and had waved scarves in the air while walking the length of the room towards the door. Evidently they also performed the fly dance after my sister's bride price party and successfully removed the entire population of flies in Turkmenistan in a few short minutes.
I can just picture them wondering why this strange girl wants to keep the dead flies instead of just waving them out with scarves like any normal person.
They are used to flies, unfortunately, since flies are present at every meal and on every animal they own. Telling a Turkmen woman to prepare food cleanly is like telling her to serve only food prepared entirely under a mosquito net in covered cups with straws to a family hiding under blankets in a very warm room.
But each of the 50 guests left behind 12 flies, and they all wanted to live in my room. I had a little breakdown and swatted about 50 flies while my family, no doubt, sat in the other room discussing how strange Americans are. Exhausted, I finally went to sleep only to wake up to a house once again free of flies.
Dead, you ask? No, I later found out that what I had thought was a strange dancing ritual is really a fly-clearing technique. My first night in my house the women had appeared in my room and had waved scarves in the air while walking the length of the room towards the door. Evidently they also performed the fly dance after my sister's bride price party and successfully removed the entire population of flies in Turkmenistan in a few short minutes.
I can just picture them wondering why this strange girl wants to keep the dead flies instead of just waving them out with scarves like any normal person.
They are used to flies, unfortunately, since flies are present at every meal and on every animal they own. Telling a Turkmen woman to prepare food cleanly is like telling her to serve only food prepared entirely under a mosquito net in covered cups with straws to a family hiding under blankets in a very warm room.
Nov 5, 2004
Essay #5 (Transportation)
The newest fad here in Turkmenistan is lane dividers on the highway. Previously, I marveled at the smooth drivers that swerved every which direction to pass slow traffic on this road with unofficial speed limits and bribe prices. Now, with lane markers, I can see which lane we're not in. The long drives from city to city are all done by taxi (any car on the road you desire to flag down) or Marshutka, a big private van usually without shocks (likewise, flagged down). I love the convenience of picking up a ride anywhere but often feel like the drivers may want more than 5000 Manat, as I've had several hand-holding attempts and some lively discussions about the price. "How much?", I say after getting in. "What do you mean how much?" and a big, gold-toothed smile.
I haven't sampled trains, but if they're anything like Russia, I'll be enjoying either a drunk man, a snoring man, or a drunk, snoring man in my cabin at all times.
Walking would be the transportation favorite in most cases, but the sun makes long walks unbearable. A few people here have bikes, but they aren't used often. Motorcycles with side cars, (I haven't seen a motorcycle without a sidecar yet), are mostly for fun, and I'm not allowed to ride them anywhere.
The crazy thing is--there are airplanes that fly in-country. The planes are new and trustworthy, and flights are about $1.50 anywhere in the country. The trouble is finding a ticket in the world of family favors. A taxi from Balkan to Ashgabat takes 4 hours and costs $4.00. A flight takes 45 minutes and costs $1.50. Go figure.
I'm sure taxi story after taxi story could be written by anyone. Half of our lives here are taken up finding, bargaining for, and riding public transportation.
Next to taxis are buses. For the less wealthy and more time-available customer, a bus can be taken anywhere in our Welayat for 1,000 manat (10 cents). The buses range from a normal European packed-with-people bus to a downright frightening scabies-ridden deathtrap with holes in the floor and actual chairs sitting on wooden planks driven by the oldest living Turkmen in a country without prescription glasses. When buses pass mosques here, everyone does a short prayer by sweeping their hands across their face. They do it out of reverance for the mosque, and I do it to get help surviving the ride from anyone who'll listen to a bus full of Muslims. Of course, the bus driver does it long enough to take his hands from the wheel so the bus can slowly veer into a lane.
I haven't sampled trains, but if they're anything like Russia, I'll be enjoying either a drunk man, a snoring man, or a drunk, snoring man in my cabin at all times.
Walking would be the transportation favorite in most cases, but the sun makes long walks unbearable. A few people here have bikes, but they aren't used often. Motorcycles with side cars, (I haven't seen a motorcycle without a sidecar yet), are mostly for fun, and I'm not allowed to ride them anywhere.
The crazy thing is--there are airplanes that fly in-country. The planes are new and trustworthy, and flights are about $1.50 anywhere in the country. The trouble is finding a ticket in the world of family favors. A taxi from Balkan to Ashgabat takes 4 hours and costs $4.00. A flight takes 45 minutes and costs $1.50. Go figure.
I'm sure taxi story after taxi story could be written by anyone. Half of our lives here are taken up finding, bargaining for, and riding public transportation.
Next to taxis are buses. For the less wealthy and more time-available customer, a bus can be taken anywhere in our Welayat for 1,000 manat (10 cents). The buses range from a normal European packed-with-people bus to a downright frightening scabies-ridden deathtrap with holes in the floor and actual chairs sitting on wooden planks driven by the oldest living Turkmen in a country without prescription glasses. When buses pass mosques here, everyone does a short prayer by sweeping their hands across their face. They do it out of reverance for the mosque, and I do it to get help surviving the ride from anyone who'll listen to a bus full of Muslims. Of course, the bus driver does it long enough to take his hands from the wheel so the bus can slowly veer into a lane.
Nov 3, 2004
Essay #4 (Sewing)
Watching my sister sew makes me question the value of money. Here I am able to do little more than think with my college degree, and I can't imagine learning the intricacy of stitchwork. These patterns of thick, entirely stitch-filled swirls are worn as borders on the necks of traditional Turkmen dresses as well as around the ankle-cuffs of womens undergarments (and yes, their undergarments reach their ankles).
The dresses are simple, always covering shoulder and elbow, with a few different options of neckline. The popular fabric currently has very small flower print, though Americans have a hard time believing they could stand a full dress of small-pattern flowers. We buy the material for a few dollars at the bazaar, and for a few more dollars a sibling or family friend assembles a koynek. Some come out like potato sacks and others like princess gowns. In the villages this is the only acceptable attire. For formal affairs, such as a wedding, they bring out the similarly shaped dress made of decorative felt. While dresses on the whole met with some resistance, we soon found that if we had to wear long sleeves and skirts to the ankle, this was certainly the best and most comfortable option.
Men wear suits to everything, and boys from kindergarten on wear full suits to school. Too bad their behavior doesn't match their attire! Ironing is very "in" here, of course done every morning by the women of the house. The men wake up and shave themselves (which I believe if women could do for them, they would), returning inside to warmly ironed dress shirts and a hot breakfast. At school everyone's appearance is of utmost importance as can be observed on the Turkmen television station. Cleaned and pressed without a creative stitch to be found. If only the women could stitch art as opposed to well-established patterns, this place could make some money! Until then we'll all just wear matching outfits and call it a day!
The dresses are simple, always covering shoulder and elbow, with a few different options of neckline. The popular fabric currently has very small flower print, though Americans have a hard time believing they could stand a full dress of small-pattern flowers. We buy the material for a few dollars at the bazaar, and for a few more dollars a sibling or family friend assembles a koynek. Some come out like potato sacks and others like princess gowns. In the villages this is the only acceptable attire. For formal affairs, such as a wedding, they bring out the similarly shaped dress made of decorative felt. While dresses on the whole met with some resistance, we soon found that if we had to wear long sleeves and skirts to the ankle, this was certainly the best and most comfortable option.
Men wear suits to everything, and boys from kindergarten on wear full suits to school. Too bad their behavior doesn't match their attire! Ironing is very "in" here, of course done every morning by the women of the house. The men wake up and shave themselves (which I believe if women could do for them, they would), returning inside to warmly ironed dress shirts and a hot breakfast. At school everyone's appearance is of utmost importance as can be observed on the Turkmen television station. Cleaned and pressed without a creative stitch to be found. If only the women could stitch art as opposed to well-established patterns, this place could make some money! Until then we'll all just wear matching outfits and call it a day!
Nov 2, 2004
November 2 letter
Well, since that letter I’ve had another interesting experience. Went to a birthday party for a 16 year-old and the whole neighborhood came. Turns out—at your party you still serve the men first, and when each of them has food, you serve the women. Then you and your friends sit down Cinderella-style to eat the more plentiful foods (no fruits/vegetables) in the back room of the kitchen. I hate men here. I find myself falling into the same patterns.
Today was pretty enjoyable. My mother made fresh bread, which involves sticking your arms literally inside an oven and sticking dough to a wall. It hangs there and cooks! We all sat around and scarfed fresh bread and talked about our visiting half-crazy grandma. She can’t hear so someone always has to get up and yell right in her ear to answer her questions. While I was sewing once she asked me to mend something quick and then patted me on the head and kissed my cheek in thanks upon completion. I don’t think she really knows who I am though!
I’m used to the food again and haven’t been as sick as some other people. I’ve been annoyed with my American group-mates for various reasons, but I’m starting to see that’s inevitable. It’s how you deal with it that counts.
Well, I’m off to sleep. This will be dropped in the mail on the 3rd, so you’ll be seeing it hopefully before Thanksgiving!
[Rec’d 11/20]
Today was pretty enjoyable. My mother made fresh bread, which involves sticking your arms literally inside an oven and sticking dough to a wall. It hangs there and cooks! We all sat around and scarfed fresh bread and talked about our visiting half-crazy grandma. She can’t hear so someone always has to get up and yell right in her ear to answer her questions. While I was sewing once she asked me to mend something quick and then patted me on the head and kissed my cheek in thanks upon completion. I don’t think she really knows who I am though!
I’m used to the food again and haven’t been as sick as some other people. I’ve been annoyed with my American group-mates for various reasons, but I’m starting to see that’s inevitable. It’s how you deal with it that counts.
Well, I’m off to sleep. This will be dropped in the mail on the 3rd, so you’ll be seeing it hopefully before Thanksgiving!
[Rec’d 11/20]
Oct 29, 2004
October 29 letter
Well, my family is having a stressful day.
My sister who is 20 is getting married in about a month, so I thought I’d tell you the system. I think it was arranged, since the man lives in another city. We actually met at the capitol when we went in for Independence Day. They had a date and dressed up nice, walked around the city, etc. together!
So tomorrow is the bride-price meeting where his family comes over for food and talk. From what I understand, they discuss the arrangements for the wedding and for life afterward. Who will book the restaurant, what her responsibilities in the home will be . . .
The wedding should be in about a month. The bride has an elaborate getup including a big blanket over her head and shoulders, and a handkerchief is always to be held over her mouth. She doesn’t speak during the ceremony at all. The wedding has dancing and eating and presents.
After the wedding the woman moves to the man’s house and becomes the “new bride”. She wears scarves over her hair and face, and when the man’s parents are present she covers her mouth with the corner of the scarf and doesn’t talk. (For months and months.)
Directly after the wedding she goes on a “40 day tour” where she guests at all the houses she knows every night and watches everyone talk and eat (as she cannot partake).
It sounds like a gender equality horror story, but in reality it’s more like any other culture’s rite of passage. They are excited to get out of their house, and everyone loves the tradition. Anyway, I thought I’d describe that since tomorrow is the big bartering day! It’s hard to just describe everything so I have to pick something!
I have been visiting friends and experiencing more freedom since I have learned to travel on my own, which is nice. It was getting stifling being stuck here all day every day. The country is really nice when I’m not being dragged along somewhere. I saw a beautiful sunrise against the mountains this morning and can’t imagine what it will be like to be without that.
My family is great, too. So I’m definitely on an upswing. I assume the readjustment to Balkanabat will be another challenge, but I’m happy here so far. I’m optimistic. I think that if I have nothing waiting in the states (a specific university, time or job), I have nothing really pulling me away and that’s a nice feeling.
My sister who is 20 is getting married in about a month, so I thought I’d tell you the system. I think it was arranged, since the man lives in another city. We actually met at the capitol when we went in for Independence Day. They had a date and dressed up nice, walked around the city, etc. together!
So tomorrow is the bride-price meeting where his family comes over for food and talk. From what I understand, they discuss the arrangements for the wedding and for life afterward. Who will book the restaurant, what her responsibilities in the home will be . . .
The wedding should be in about a month. The bride has an elaborate getup including a big blanket over her head and shoulders, and a handkerchief is always to be held over her mouth. She doesn’t speak during the ceremony at all. The wedding has dancing and eating and presents.
After the wedding the woman moves to the man’s house and becomes the “new bride”. She wears scarves over her hair and face, and when the man’s parents are present she covers her mouth with the corner of the scarf and doesn’t talk. (For months and months.)
Directly after the wedding she goes on a “40 day tour” where she guests at all the houses she knows every night and watches everyone talk and eat (as she cannot partake).
It sounds like a gender equality horror story, but in reality it’s more like any other culture’s rite of passage. They are excited to get out of their house, and everyone loves the tradition. Anyway, I thought I’d describe that since tomorrow is the big bartering day! It’s hard to just describe everything so I have to pick something!
I have been visiting friends and experiencing more freedom since I have learned to travel on my own, which is nice. It was getting stifling being stuck here all day every day. The country is really nice when I’m not being dragged along somewhere. I saw a beautiful sunrise against the mountains this morning and can’t imagine what it will be like to be without that.
My family is great, too. So I’m definitely on an upswing. I assume the readjustment to Balkanabat will be another challenge, but I’m happy here so far. I’m optimistic. I think that if I have nothing waiting in the states (a specific university, time or job), I have nothing really pulling me away and that’s a nice feeling.
Oct 28, 2004
Essay #3 (My Day)
Ashlee and I speak hurried, giggly English to each other as we break frequently to yell "Hello" to frighteningly persistant children dressed in suits and matching school-dresses. Girls wear long blue or green dresses with white aprons, and boys wear black dress pants and black ties. We get to school and find our language group in the bookless library where G___'s smiling face struggles to teach us Turkmen language for 3.5 hours every morning.
Our minds are on lunch at 11:00, and we finally migrate to Scott's family's house at 12:30 where a spread is ready for us. I chat with non-trilingual G___ in Russian, and we gossip in English about the latest PCV news. After eating, we lie against pillows and wallow in the most American surroundings we've got (each other).
Three of the five of us head back to school for technical training which usually involves observing classes taught by English teachers here. After class we trudge home in the hottest sun we could imagine. It never ever rains during the dry season, and I once saw a cloud. As Ashlee and I head to the main road, we hear footsteps approaching behind us. One set turns into 3, 4, 5 sets. Suddenly the first "Hello!" is shouted followed by a "How are you?", two "What is your name?" and even a few "My name is." We're beginning to get used to being followed. The shouting doesn't lessen the longer we're here. We keep going after a polite "Hello." At least they aren't throwing rocks and insults today.
I come home today to find my eldest sister visiting. I greet her and sit for chai as we all watch the video of her toi (wedding). The tape is worn from use, and my family seems to have it memorized. I sit and listen for a while, but soon walk to my room where 8 neighborhood girls could sense my intention and wait to look through my pictures of America and listen to my ipod. As conversation is slim, I often tell them which one smells the worst and how my intestines are working today. If I smile, they smile. They count the lines on my paper and play hand slapping games until finally I announce in Turkmen my intent to sleep. I fall asleep to muffled T.V. and dream of comfort and quiet. Thus ends another day.
Our minds are on lunch at 11:00, and we finally migrate to Scott's family's house at 12:30 where a spread is ready for us. I chat with non-trilingual G___ in Russian, and we gossip in English about the latest PCV news. After eating, we lie against pillows and wallow in the most American surroundings we've got (each other).
Three of the five of us head back to school for technical training which usually involves observing classes taught by English teachers here. After class we trudge home in the hottest sun we could imagine. It never ever rains during the dry season, and I once saw a cloud. As Ashlee and I head to the main road, we hear footsteps approaching behind us. One set turns into 3, 4, 5 sets. Suddenly the first "Hello!" is shouted followed by a "How are you?", two "What is your name?" and even a few "My name is." We're beginning to get used to being followed. The shouting doesn't lessen the longer we're here. We keep going after a polite "Hello." At least they aren't throwing rocks and insults today.
I come home today to find my eldest sister visiting. I greet her and sit for chai as we all watch the video of her toi (wedding). The tape is worn from use, and my family seems to have it memorized. I sit and listen for a while, but soon walk to my room where 8 neighborhood girls could sense my intention and wait to look through my pictures of America and listen to my ipod. As conversation is slim, I often tell them which one smells the worst and how my intestines are working today. If I smile, they smile. They count the lines on my paper and play hand slapping games until finally I announce in Turkmen my intent to sleep. I fall asleep to muffled T.V. and dream of comfort and quiet. Thus ends another day.
Oct 25, 2004
October 25 letter
Well this week is mostly vacation, so I have a lot of time to try out new Turkmen hobbies. I’m feeling really good about everything here this week. I spent a day with my best PC friend, and it felt like a real day off. It’s hard to explain, but it was a day without feeling trapped.
We took a trial run language test last week, and I scored exactly what we should score at the end of this month! So first, the PC “no speaking Russian” rule (which I had to break from day one) was stupid. Second, I feel good about language-learning in general. It’s nice to feel that I didn’t waste 4 years at something I’m not good at.
I made myself a dress today which turned out a bit funny in the sleeves. Sleeves are really hard. I’ll try repairing it tomorrow. The rest of it is quite nice.
I feel like I’m finally getting settled here in my neighborhood, and now I have to leave. And beyond that, I have to move to a neighborhood of richer people in the city. Yuck! I loved the visit to the city, but I’m going to miss this village life. It’s hard to get used to people and then up and leave.
I changed money over today to buy material, etc. But I’m buying some X-mas presents hopefully to send home, so it wasn’t like I can’t live on my salary. Hopefully I can use the mail to send things home.
The training is getting more specific and, therefore, more helpful as we go along. It’s so nice to be getting to know the T-12s through their presentations. People to ask advice of are valuable here.
Aside from about the worst gas you could imagine, I’m feeling pretty healthy. The lack of vegetables doesn’t phase me anymore, but I know I’ll have gourmet food in Balkanabat, so I’m not too worried.
My sister is getting married in about 2 months, which I’m really excited about. She has to dress in this ridiculous outfit that makes her look like a hunchback and hold a cloth over her mouth (and not talk, of course) for the wedding and the first 40 days after. She parades from house to house guesting in her gown, without talking or eating. Lovely customs!
We took a trial run language test last week, and I scored exactly what we should score at the end of this month! So first, the PC “no speaking Russian” rule (which I had to break from day one) was stupid. Second, I feel good about language-learning in general. It’s nice to feel that I didn’t waste 4 years at something I’m not good at.
I made myself a dress today which turned out a bit funny in the sleeves. Sleeves are really hard. I’ll try repairing it tomorrow. The rest of it is quite nice.
I feel like I’m finally getting settled here in my neighborhood, and now I have to leave. And beyond that, I have to move to a neighborhood of richer people in the city. Yuck! I loved the visit to the city, but I’m going to miss this village life. It’s hard to get used to people and then up and leave.
I changed money over today to buy material, etc. But I’m buying some X-mas presents hopefully to send home, so it wasn’t like I can’t live on my salary. Hopefully I can use the mail to send things home.
The training is getting more specific and, therefore, more helpful as we go along. It’s so nice to be getting to know the T-12s through their presentations. People to ask advice of are valuable here.
Aside from about the worst gas you could imagine, I’m feeling pretty healthy. The lack of vegetables doesn’t phase me anymore, but I know I’ll have gourmet food in Balkanabat, so I’m not too worried.
My sister is getting married in about 2 months, which I’m really excited about. She has to dress in this ridiculous outfit that makes her look like a hunchback and hold a cloth over her mouth (and not talk, of course) for the wedding and the first 40 days after. She parades from house to house guesting in her gown, without talking or eating. Lovely customs!
Oct 23, 2004
Essay #2 (My Family)
The piercing shrieks of my mother's voice can be heard as early as 6:00 a.m. She doesn't waste any time. Her grey hair, hidden by a scarf, makes her look not 44, but late 50s. She's round and achy but finds the strength to feed the chickens and turkeys twice a day, the cow, bake fresh bread, cook 3 meals, clean up, iron her husband's clothes each morning, and watch badly overdubbed films in the evening. Some days she even has time to catch me sneaking off to work without long underwear and 3 pairs of socks and a sweater. She seems to overpower my father in volume and size. He's a skinny guy with a monsterously lazy right eye. He enjoys teaching me vocabulary and leaving the house. Not much more do I know of him.
Most of my time is spent with Gulshirin, their youngest daughter of 9. She speaks horribly in English despite 3 yrs in school but plays great hand clapping games and treats me like her new pet. I love her admiration of me and sometimes loathe her unbounding attention. Even I need a rest. I've now gotten made fun of on a daily basis for my early bedtime (9:00 when I can), though I mostly enjoy the time alone more than the sleep. Gulshirin is always happy to see me, and that's a great gift in a foreign place.
Ayjahan, the elder (20) daughter, would be a potential pal, were she not working in a fabric factory making Tommy Jeans for low wages. She is getting married in about a month, so soon she will be her husband's servant as opposed to her mom's worker bee.
The neighborhood kids constitute the other half of my family. They come in without knocking and ask daily to see pictures and listen to my ipod. They're resiliant to dismissal and give great greetings on the street. I can't remember any of their 4-syllable names except for 2 favorites - Gulbibi and Bahtagul. If I ever need to hear giggling, I turn to the girls. All under 14 and as young as 7, they are my entertainment, and I am most certainly theirs. This place is scary without smiles at home. I love my Turkmen, and I'll be sad to see them go as I move to the Russian world.
Most of my time is spent with Gulshirin, their youngest daughter of 9. She speaks horribly in English despite 3 yrs in school but plays great hand clapping games and treats me like her new pet. I love her admiration of me and sometimes loathe her unbounding attention. Even I need a rest. I've now gotten made fun of on a daily basis for my early bedtime (9:00 when I can), though I mostly enjoy the time alone more than the sleep. Gulshirin is always happy to see me, and that's a great gift in a foreign place.
Ayjahan, the elder (20) daughter, would be a potential pal, were she not working in a fabric factory making Tommy Jeans for low wages. She is getting married in about a month, so soon she will be her husband's servant as opposed to her mom's worker bee.
The neighborhood kids constitute the other half of my family. They come in without knocking and ask daily to see pictures and listen to my ipod. They're resiliant to dismissal and give great greetings on the street. I can't remember any of their 4-syllable names except for 2 favorites - Gulbibi and Bahtagul. If I ever need to hear giggling, I turn to the girls. All under 14 and as young as 7, they are my entertainment, and I am most certainly theirs. This place is scary without smiles at home. I love my Turkmen, and I'll be sad to see them go as I move to the Russian world.
Oct 3, 2004
Essay #1 (10-03-04)
The cow doesn't wake up until 6 or 6:30. The roosters, on the other hand, take their jobs very seriously. They seem to be able to tell the sun's on its way a full two hours before the human eye. I roll over and assess the damage. Two on my left elbow. Well, that's better than the three I got on my left ankle all in one night. I'll try not to itch. My $1 alarm clock tells me it's 7 a.m., and I can hear Mama Aksoltan quietly shrieking at her youngest daughter of 9 to get out of bed and to her elder, Ayjahan, to iron her father's pants before he gets out of bed.
I walk outside, slip on my house shoes, and make a run to the outdoor hole and spicket. Washing my feet, hands and face makes me acceptable for Allah's gifts of food. Eje (Mom) makes me one or two very sunny-side up eggs and some Turk-spam in the mornings, and I sit with Kaka (Dad) and eat. I figured out that little Gulshirin eats our left-overs, so I make sure to not choke down any more spam than polite and leave the rest for her. Tea comes with every meal, every hour, every occasion, today being no different. I'm told to iy! iy! iy! and I tear a small chunk from the bread bowl to eat with some overly-sweet jelly.
Ayjahan finishes her ironing and heads off to work sewing in a Tommy Jeans factory. Dad heads to school in his daily-repaired car, and Aksoltan starts bringing the dishes to the spicket to rinse. She has yet to feed the chickens, bake new bread, repair a dress, and feed the cow before lunch, and I'm happy to retreat to my room. I try to "forget" a few books every day so as not to carry too much, and I head to school.
On the way down the street the greetings come from every direction--in every language I understand and a few I don't. A bilingual community greeting me in English is so far from America. Dressed in my full length dress, I arrive at Ashlee's house and get sucked in to tea for a few minutes. Little do they know Ashlee and I still plan to stop for ice cream from the tiny shop on the end of our block.
Waving goodbye, we head off to start our day!
I walk outside, slip on my house shoes, and make a run to the outdoor hole and spicket. Washing my feet, hands and face makes me acceptable for Allah's gifts of food. Eje (Mom) makes me one or two very sunny-side up eggs and some Turk-spam in the mornings, and I sit with Kaka (Dad) and eat. I figured out that little Gulshirin eats our left-overs, so I make sure to not choke down any more spam than polite and leave the rest for her. Tea comes with every meal, every hour, every occasion, today being no different. I'm told to iy! iy! iy! and I tear a small chunk from the bread bowl to eat with some overly-sweet jelly.
Ayjahan finishes her ironing and heads off to work sewing in a Tommy Jeans factory. Dad heads to school in his daily-repaired car, and Aksoltan starts bringing the dishes to the spicket to rinse. She has yet to feed the chickens, bake new bread, repair a dress, and feed the cow before lunch, and I'm happy to retreat to my room. I try to "forget" a few books every day so as not to carry too much, and I head to school.
On the way down the street the greetings come from every direction--in every language I understand and a few I don't. A bilingual community greeting me in English is so far from America. Dressed in my full length dress, I arrive at Ashlee's house and get sucked in to tea for a few minutes. Little do they know Ashlee and I still plan to stop for ice cream from the tiny shop on the end of our block.
Waving goodbye, we head off to start our day!
Aug 24, 2004
Jul 26, 2004
one month and counting
at t-one month i'm ready to roll. just dyed my hair darker hoping perhaps that the preparedness of my shell will prepare the rest of me. i can't wait to start packing ;)
Jun 23, 2004
purpose statement?
i'm not sure how interesting this will be, but i'm trying to find ways to tell people about my peace corps experience without bothering anyone. i'll try to keep this site somewhat updated so everyone at least knows i'm healthy and happy!
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