Reunion

A whole day of gossip, gossip, and more gossip. It was a joyous reunion in Moscow.

Exit Visas

Exit visas were reintroduced. One has to apply through the government for permission to leave. Those on the top of the list are criminals (in the eyes of the government), drug user/dealers, except of course the higher officials involved in the drug trade. They will also stop anyone with questionable dedication to the regime. This has been developing for a long time. People pass through passport control without problem but are taken off the actual plan after everyone is seated. I guess it’s easier to find them when they’re in their seats--if Turkmen ever sat in their assigned seats in the first place. . .
It was said that this decision helps cut down on the 50% of those who fly out of Turkmenistan and don’t return. Those who fly to Eastern Europe and Turkey specifically. I just hope the UN steps in on this one.

Postlude

Enough time has passed since I left country in order to officially 'look back.' At the time, I thought I'd be an activist, a protestant, a something, just as soon as I left the country. I've dissapointed myself. I skim my weekly news briefs and I haven't held up a single sign protesting anything. Is this what happens to us all? We get connected to people, we live with them, help them, and care about them. Then distance gets in the way and we're lost. Now is the time when I can write about the current happenings without fear. I can read articles about Ogulsapar Muradova being killed, and Turkmenbashi's health being questioned. The freedoms, I suppose, are just easy to take advantage of. It seems so natural to have use of uncensored internet for instance. And feel like even if the government was listening in on my telephone conversations, they can do little about my insults. How does one prick themselves back to a second reality?

I'm Home

Freedom tastes like granola, yogurt and raspberries. I'll be in America for two weeks then off to Moscow. I now have the freedom to post and re-post all sensitive materials--or at least most of it. I'll get to work on that as soon as I finish my coffee. Yum, coffee.

The end

The last look at my perfect little apartment. I had to say goodbye to all the trinkets that made my life so full. I left behind the basket next to the toilet that housed used toilet paper. I won't forget the front door that held itself shut only with the lock locked. Memories to cherish forever!

A Few Weeks and Counting

Saying goodbye is huge here. If I miss even one person I have made eye-contact with in the past two years, I've got big problems. Rumors start to spread. Case in point: My host mother has told me the story--I don't know--49 times of her former volunteer Nathan. Yes, Nathan supposedly left without saying goodbye AND took the key with him. He didn't say goodbye to the kids and just ran off without a moment's thought or thanks for the family that had housed him.

In all acutality he probably did tell them--or they should have noticed him pack all his things and move them out of the house. At any rate, he is the devil. I don't want to be the devil, so my last few weeks will be spent saying goodbye over and over . . . and over again. Starting with a goodbye party I'm throwing for myself on July 23! You're all welcome!

Ice Palace

Yes, we did. We budged. The clump of hot and sweaty kids holding their hot and sweaty passports frightened us and we budged. Our "blue passports with problems" as the Turkmen report, saved us. "What do you mean. . . we have to push?? But we are guests. How will we push through that line?" I really do feel for the poor kids who sat ourside for hours waiting just to get to buy a ticket. . . but gosh was it hot outside! Maybe our karma will catch up with us, but it was worth it for an afternoon of ice skating in the desert on the 4th of July!

Thailand Observation #1

You should come to Thailand. It's the best place on earth.

Our Young Graduate

The ceremony was not a treat, though I did get to replace my usual teacher-like behavior with something more enjoyable. While they recited Ruhnama quotes and acted out scenes from the book, the auditorium was a buzz of talking, pictures, people getting up and walking around, and the occasional confused lady walking around looking for her son. I would usually be shushing, shunning, accusing, and disciplining everyone who made a peep (my job is 24/7 here, make no mistake), I sat in silence. I occasionally myself talked a bit to my neighbor and even walked over to chat with our own graduate. I could contain my inertia to discipline by considering the apathy towards these 'readings', by considering them purposeful. Sure, they weren't, but I felt great thinking of how our mass anti-something movement was going out here. Three cheers for uncivilization!

New Job

I screamed when I heard about the job, which was fodder for Dick, the middle-aged humorist of the group.

I am a little disappointed that I'll be leaving so soon and that I have so little time to say goodbye to everyone. I'm not sure how much closure I'll have, but I'm not moving that far away. I figure, I don't have to promise to return. I can tell everyone that now it's their turn to visit me in Moscow!

The job is a year contract but they usually want people to stay for two years. At least I'll be getting back to America gradually. One step at a time.

Seatbelts! We've got seatbelts!!

Thanks to Courtnee Neilsen in Serdar, the country of Turkmenistan is glorifying the seatbelt.

Ahh yes, I recently came to the taxi stand in Serdar "pit of hell", Turkmenistan to get a taxi back to Balkanabat. I am not 50 yards from the cars before I hear the usual, "Ashgabat!!!" "Chiliken!!!" "Turkmenbashy City!!!" "Balkanabat!!!" called out to me, as if I would decide my destination solely based on their exuberance. At any rate, amidst their cries I suddenly hear, "Seatbelts!!! I've got seatbelts!!!!" Picking up his scent, several other drivers join in--"Seatbelts! My car has them!." "We've got seatbelts here!"

Turns out Courtnee has made a habit of requiring seat belts every time she gets in the car. They now associate Americans with seatbelts. Hey, I say that's great! We went from not being able to find one, to agreeing on seatbelts before price.

We Peace Corps Volunteers are just trying to make the world a better place--one safe car trip at a time.

India Observations #5

Why do they just pee everywhere?! I've seen so many men peeing that it doesn't even suprise me anymore. Whoop, a man peeing. And a cow strolling past. And a man yelling "HELLO YOUNG WOMAN EXCUSE ME TAXI TAXI TAXI". I did have a very relaxing day today despite all the peeing. We saw a movie. It was in English.

Fascism

Here's an interesting conversation. I was talking to a Russian friend of mine about my humble opinion that we shouldn't really be celebrating 'Victory Day.' Yes, I'm fine with a Memory Day, or a Remembrance Day, but I don't see the point of a Victory Day. This was answered with lots of nonsense about how many people died etc. which I responded could be remembered during a Remembrance Day. The next excuse was that it wasn't the killing that we were celebrating, but the victory against fascism. Hmmmm. I bought that for about 10 seconds before I looked up the definition of fascism. If you have the same dictionary as I, I'd like to draw your attention to the combination of state and business leadership, and especially to the part about belligerent nationalism.

Yeah, great job at victory over that, T-stan.

Dizas are Following Me

Heading into the main bazaar yesterday, we happened upon two dizas squatting outside the entrance looking at gold rings. Just knowing that those two fat Turkmen women dictate the quality of items in Turkmenistan is a bit frustrating. I felt like coming up to them and mentioning loudly with lots of hand gestures, that those rings aren't pretty, and are, in fact, quite atrocious! Just buy pretty things! I'm sick of only hot pink and hot green purses on sale at the bazaar! I'm tired of the same three styles of pointy-toed shoes! Buy something I like! Please!

But instead, Courtnee and I merely grabbed each other's hand and steered ourselves away from the people of our Motherland before making a spectacle. Maybe next time.

India Observations #4

I promised myself before getting here that I wouldn't purchase anything pink and/or orange with mirrors sewn on. Courtnee and I made a pact. We were to stop all purchases if containing these colors and items. Since then, I'm sad to report, I have bought something pink, several items with glitter, and a yellowish orange thing. Courtnee has bought something pink, some glitter, and red jeweled item. So much for the pact. At least you'll be able to spot me when I get off of the plane!

India Observations #3

Turkmenistan has given me a few positive things. First and foremost, it was the rage built up from Turkmenistan that aided me in chasing a grown man through a busy train station after he groped me. Yes, chased, caught him twice for long enough to hit him on the head before he was halted by other Indian guys and a police officer. I then yelled to women standing near that their men are a disgrace, pointed him out to the police and yelled, "This man grabbed me! THIS MAN. . . ", and was assured by his restrainers that, "Don't worry, he will be punished." A bit more disgracing, and I asked to be let through the crowd. I guess the observation here is that the old saying is true: If you can brave Peace Corps, you can brave anything.

PS We decided against the train. We're taking a bus.

Apartment Aggravation

I've officially lost a friendship because of the lack of landlord policy. I gave my key to Vanessa when I left for America. Not a day later, she calls to report that Nina 'is the master of this flat' and refused her entry. This is after Vanessa explaining that our medical kits are in the apartment and we need to have access. The 'master of the flat' was not willing to grant access, which resulted in an angry phone call from me, and the end of my relationship with said 'master.' The problem with a lawless society is just that. The lack of laws. I don't even know if I'm in the right or wrong. I tried to do everything--I told her I'd be gone. I brought up people in the apartment previously and told them that Natasha could stay if she came into town. And yet there are people living there the second I leave. I miss laws.

India Observations #2

I saw a baby monkey get electrocuted this morning--but lived. So by comparison, our trip is going quite well. We saw a Baha'i temple today. Mostly I just feel brave going outside. There is a lot of honking and buzzing working as a deterrant.

India Observation #1

Being here in the bowels of New Delhi has made me realize that Turkmenistan has very few people. And not a lot gets done there. This place is just bustling.

Teaching

Old Hat New Hat was a favorite. . . of mine.

IREX

I came back to a developed city. Our center that was previously 4 computers and an unenthusiastic team of "voluneers" has now become one room of 10 computers and a second conference room with one large table, 10 chairs, and bookshelves. I already came in to label and organize all the books we'd already donated. Now they have little spine labels and a check-out card! The success of that, however, depends on how many people want to read. But at any rate, the room looks good. I feel like with this center, kids finally have a place to just go a few times a week and see what's going on. There are seminars and online chats--but mostly they just look at pictures online. At least they are getting some practice with technology and seeing other kids acting like civil people for once!

So I was asked what is positive here. . . I think this is one thing. We now have public internet.

Flags

Being in America was relaxing, and coming back was refreshing. I was surprised by how easy it was to jump back into Americanism and again how easy it was to come back to T-stan. I was expecting the feeling of not-fitting-in in either place, but I felt like myself in the states and I feel like myself here.

I came back, luckily, to a lot of work. Every school had to be visited and every person had to be seen for fear of offending someone. Maintenance here is key. So I did my rounds with a few pictures to show and some little gifts for people and was warmly welcomed. Truly, there is a reason we’re here for two years. That’s how long it takes not for you to get accustomed to your site, but for THEM to get used to you. Finally people know what language to speak to me in, and that I won’t criticize or assess their English. And that I’m not going to pressure them to do lots of extra work. The relationships are now at a comfortable level. Just in time to leave.

The gifts all went over wildly well. Especially, ironically enough, the two American flags I gave to Jeren and Zohre. These two girls are my best students and also awaiting the results of the only exchange program to America, the FLEX program. We’ll find out next week. They are model students and good friends.

Americans have a hard time understanding why people here would want flags so badly, but living in the midst of nothing good and nothing that actually works while having American friends and seeing American TV and pop music—there really is no other paradise than America for them.

Americans can’t see how much focus there is on them. Everyone knows America. Everyone knows our pop stars and our movies and our cars and our computer software and our songs and our conflicts and our allies and our wars. Everyone knows the president of our country and everyone knows who we are planning to attack next—since they are our next-door neighbors.

But for these girls, they’ve spent most of their time thinking about our clubs and classes. They’ve heard that we have no passport-checks in America, and that we have 12 years of school and not 9, and that you can find a job, and that they don’t read our mail. So to them, this was a representation of something they want but are both incredibly far from, yet reminded of on a daily basis. Amazing to think that so far from America, our flag can mean almost the opposite of allegiance, but can represent the longing for something better.

In Minnesota Teaching

This was taken in April or so, of my mom and me in our Turkmen dresses. I gave a few presentations in Minneapolis (the third goal of Peace Corps!) when I was home for a couple of weeks.

Smiles

Everyone in America is just so darn friendly! People are excusing themselves every 10 seconds and getting gracious replies. Bump into someone and out fly two "sorries". Every service worker has been so pleasant that I feel like I've made all these friends.

Not to mention, all the stores here have tons of stuff in them! Get that! Their are rows and rows of products, and they are not all identical. I was beginning to think shelving products wouldn't be needed there until 2058, there were so many identical things on the shelves. Here you have to look through a bunch of different things to find what you're looking for, but hey, fine by me.

This computer is so fast. I used to think faster than the computer. When that web site came up, my cursor was poised and I was alredy fixing my own spelling errors in my head. Now I just stare.

My taste buds are happy too!

Desert

So this is the desert, huh? When the wind blows harder than usual, I keep my mouth shut tight. Sunglasses help too. Washing sand out of my hair in the evening, I sometimes allow un-American thoughts to creep into my head like the practical purposes of wearing scarves and long dresses. No matter how windy or hot though, it always looks like a beautiful day in the desert, and without fail the people tell you the opposite.

"It's terribly cold and terribly windy this week, and when you come back, it'll be April, and April is already terribly hot."

So I try to enjoy the sand in my teeth.

It's Monday and I should be up already, but I slept in men's boxers I bought at the bazaar, which wildly confuses anyone who sees me in them, and my legs don't want to part with the sheets. This past year and a half I've found that I have to be woken up by something living. Today no one has called, no knock at the door, no one klinking around the kitchen, so I'm on my own. That's one reason not to live alone. There's no competition. When people live together and one is up at 8, there's a kind of automatic pressure on the second. I have to feel at least as productive as those around me, but when there's no one--why not stay in bed until 10? Having to pee helps some, and soon I'm up and around and boiling water for tea.

Bathing in my apartment happens rarely and in the evenings. It's a process that consists of using a plastic ladle and being cold. Don't get me wrong. I've got the miracle of running hot water, just no shower head. You get cold between ladles and during shampooing.

So my morning is free from that hassle. I pick an outfit based on the boss of today's activities. If it is my programs, I'm wearing jeans. If I'm going to be seen by other various bosses or workmates, I'll put on a skirt. Today it's off to School #15 first, so I'm going for a long skirt, flip-flops, and an oversized sweater. I know I look silly to someone every time I'm out. The Americans snicker at my hip russian outfits, the turkmen gasp at my immorality, and the Russians cringe at my tasteless, colorless outfits. So I give up and go for what's comfortable.

School 15 is a block away from my house which is convenient for walking purposes but means that I live next to 600 children who know both my name, and the word "Hello". Trust me--they are fluent at yelling both words.

A familiar face in a home abroad is rare and welcome oddity. Today it's Omar, a friend I helped with English practice. . . just enough attendance at Teacher's Club to get him a job at an oil company and the privilage of leaving the school for good. Since then, Anabibi (an older single woman with an angular smile) has taken the plunge as well.

Omar looks like he's from India. his nationality confuses everyone on the job too, since the most obvious words I taught him were "yep" and "nope." He loves it. Are you working this week Omar? "Nope." Oh, you have the week to relax huh? "Yep." I believe he was asked his nationality on the job after his first "yep."

Now, however, he's waiting in the teachers' room to ask about help updating his resume. Omar is one of few local men who will shake my hand. It's not done between women and men, which only bothers me when someone comes to a group of 10 and shakes the men's hands and ignores the women. He's not married and probably doesn't care to be.

Bibi sniffs us out as usual. She's so social that a social gathering happening without her is like a giant magnet. She's stylish and enjoys being so.

To be cont.

Ferris Wheel

I don't know how we survived the Ferris Wheel in the left of this picture. . .since I recall something being held together with a twisty-tie. Not dying feels great!

Things that are better in Turkmenistan:

Ketchup (It’s spicy and good)
Taxis any time you want (and cheap!)
Fresh bread at every corner
Photo ordering (you order as many as you want of any pictures on the roll)
Clothes made to order

Top 5 things Turkmenistan needs to fix/change:

Rampant corruption
Low level of education
Health care (any health care)
Rights of privacy
Covering of girls’ faces after marriage

School's Out

I'll never forget the 18 angry Russian women on their march to the culture department. We heard on December 27th that our school was to be 'liquidated' by the 31st. People were in shock. Everyone except our newly-appointed director, appropreately a Turkmen man with little actual talent besides making unmarried women feel uncomfortable. He had gone to a New Years party the night before with the department that was firing him, got immensely drunk, and we haven't seen him since.

So in the custom of people who have fought for their survival under one Stalinistic regime and are now fighting against another authoritarian regime, the women got ready. Coats and hats on, potent messages on posters, extremely discouraged--and we started off. On the way I heard the usual complaints--

"I'm not Turkmen, but I'm not Russian either. I have nowhere to go."

"I have 3 kids and no husband."

"It just gets worse and worse every year."

"I just feel sorry for the kids that won't have any music."

We got to the culture department and were, of course, herded into an office and told very vague answers to all our questions, which after the past month have even turned out to be very vague lies.

All teachers are fired.

No one gets offered any other jobs.

The kids won't be studying further.

We don't know why.

We don't know what will happen with the building.

Of course that was as much crap as the accusations that our friend was hiding 3,000,000$ in a suitcase in his house. He's since been arrested. We're hoping to find out if he's alive sometime soon, but lawyers aren't allowed to contact him, let alone friends.

The art school, which has a more 'traditional' program took over our building immediately. They moved all the furniture around and have smug smiles on their faces. I took almost everything from the music library (except the folders that already cover the music) that I put in. I now have an 'unsuccessful' grant in my opinion and no one to help me fight for the school. Peace Corps dissapproves of my work there.

I've kept in touch with my one private student, and we started lessons again. One down, 347 students to go!

My favorite student

Music schools gerek dal (unneeded)

A decree this past week shut down almost all the music schools in the country. This wasn't even an attempt to privatize and save government (officials') money--it was just a straight-up liquidation. Everyone is out of a job. Severance pay is two months (90$ a month). We're all pretty lost.