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.
Dec 23, 2004
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
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