I haven’t been writing on my blog. I know this makes me a bad person. But I just really haven’t been able to adequately put my experiences into words. It’s hard to see different and new things everyday and try to explain it to someone. But I will try.
My life has begun to settle down into some semblance of normalcy. I am very happy to be where I am and starting to feel like a real part of my community. I will admit my Russian is horrible due to the fact my students speak almost perfect English, but somehow I am able to get around. I have been living with my host family for almost six months now, and have decided to actually stay with them for another extra month then required by Peace Corps (Peace Corps requires volunteers to live with their host family for a minimum of six months at permanent site, after they are free to find other housing). This is mostly due to the fact that my family keeps hinting that living in my own apartment would not be good (wow they actually like me?). I also have a great relationship with my counterpart (the teacher I work with at school) and thank god everyday for her. Another great thing about living in my city of Kokshetau is I have three site mates (other volunteers living in my city) who are incredibly supportive and fun.
I am also starting to begin thinking of long-term projects. My one main project is a starting a mentoring program in my city. I was trained as a mentor in Michigan and really found the program interesting. In my little city of Kokshetau we have a large population of youths without parent(s) and many lacking guidance. My idea is to start a program that matches people in the community with youths in need of attention and support. At this point the idea is still in planning stages and we are trying to recruit people from the community to help.
Another possible project for this coming summer is an art camp that I am planning with another volunteer in a nearby village. This would be a day camp that would teach students about art history and also allow them to express themselves artistically with painting, sketching, and other forms of art. The ending project would be to design and complete a mural on one of the walls at the school.
Another exciting part of life right now is SPRING! The snow has finally melted, cross your fingers, and now we have some thing that kind of resembles spring. I have finally started to feel energized by the sun and want to go outside all the time. I started to just walk around my neighborhood for fun now. One of the reasons I haven’t been walking around the exploring since I have arrived is because it’s too cold and the ice is slippery. Now I am going to try to get to know every little nook and cranny of the city.
I do occasionally miss America. Yes, I know! How is that possible!? But as time goes on, I am actually experiencing these pangs of emotion less and less. One thing I miss less and less is the food. When I first arrived here I would have daydreams about things like enchiladas and milk shakes. Now I rarely think about these things. In fact when I am hungry I actually usually think about foods I have eaten here. I even started having dreams about Kazakhstan rather than the USA. Generally I think these things mean I am adapting to the culture well.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Horse Sausage, Vodka, and Family Values
BACK DATED: January 5th, 2009
Since arriving in Kazakhstan I have lived for the last 5 months with families. This is not a choice, but a mandatory aspect of Peace Corps service. The Peace Corps reasoning behind this is that one learns the language and the culture better when completely immersed in it. And when living with a family, there is little chance that one can fully escape from these things. For this reason a volunteer must live with a family for the first 3 months of training and also for the first 6 months of living at their permanent site (of course there are exceptions). This aspect of training actually causes many volunteers a lot of anxiety and nervousness before their service. I was one of these volunteers.
Before coming to Kazakhstan I had to wait a year before I was accepted and finally left for my Peace Corps service. Since I had graduated and didn’t have a real job (not saying Greenfield Village isn’t a legitimate form of employment, but it didn’t pay my bills) I was forced to move back in with my parents. When I first moved in I thought it would be manageable. But very quickly it become pretty obvious I could not live with my parents comfortably anymore. After having lived on my own for four years, I couldn’t escape my status as the child and they couldn’t escape their own as the parents. For this reason that last year of my life in America involved a lot of fighting with my parents and general household strife mainly due to my own behavior.
Because of the last year of my life, I wasn’t very excited about the concept of living with a family again. At twenty-three years old, I cannot imagine many people are. But despite my own outlook on the issue, I have greatly enjoyed spending the last 5 months living together with a family. And while to a certain extent my relationships with my families’ are influenced by my own personality, I think it is also due to the institution that is the Kazakhstanian* family.
While there are exceptions, for the most part, families in Kazakhstan are extremely welcoming, generous, and gracious to guests. Families here seem pretty close compared to America and its not uncommon to see extend family members living with the family. It also seems a general custom here that children, if they can, come home just about every weekend. This means that if they study in the city and their parents live in the village, they hop on a bus or train every Friday to go home. There also doesn’t seem to be much of a network of friends outside the family. Many of the Kazakhs I know here have vast extended families and therefore don’t seem to really need to venture outside their family for friends. Another issue that may contribute to this closeness is a lack of privacy. People in this country do not have the western view of privacy and consider everything they have to be shared goods and space. Besides these differences between American and Kazakhstanian families, there are also some differences between ethnic groups here.
During my service I have lived with both a Kazakh and Russian Family. I have to say that while both families were similar, they were also very different. My Russian family, for instance, was very westernized. My twenty-year-old sister drove and my family allowed her boyfriend to sleep over in the same room as her. They also owned a coffee machine and treated their pets like we do in America. My Kazakh family is not as western but still not exactly the average family. My host parents were married later in life and have a fourteen-year-old daughter. My mother will become a pensioner next year (get kaz. social security) and my father is now sixty years old. For Kazakhstan this is a pretty rare occurrence. My Kazakh family is also relatively wealthy. My mother owns her own boutique in the bazaar and sells curtains. My host sister is also treated pretty differently. She is actually allowed to drive the car (“practice”) and my parents let her get away with doing very little housework. Generally for a Kazakh girl these seem pretty abnormal practices. Another thing that blew me away about my Kazakh family is that they are Muslim and still drink vodka. It’s not abnormal on a holiday to actually be expected to consume 6 shots of vodka (there will have to be another blog on the role of vodka and alcohol here because its way to complicated to explain here). But in general even with these differences the two were actually more alike than different.
Now that I have been living with families for a while I have really begun to retract my previous ideas about living with others. While I will admit there are conflicts and problems that erupt, in general I am very content living with my host family. It’s nice to get to go home to a family every night and have someone to talk to, and also good to have someone to hold my hand along the way. I have great memories of my host mother and sister making horsemeat sausage and telling me how to do it in a mix or Russian and English. I also have become so frustrated with my sister some nights that I have turned to my Russian dictionary to look up the word spoiled. It’s a good and bad situation, but one that I am happy to come home to every night.
* President Nursultan Nazarbayev has ordered that the word Kazakhstanian or Kazakhstanian the replace term of Kazakhstani and Kazakhstanis when talking about the citizens of Kazakhstan. But the importance here is to realize when I say Kazakhstanian I am talking about a citizen of Kazakhstan, not a Kazakh person. Kazakhs are an ethnic group, like Russians.
Since arriving in Kazakhstan I have lived for the last 5 months with families. This is not a choice, but a mandatory aspect of Peace Corps service. The Peace Corps reasoning behind this is that one learns the language and the culture better when completely immersed in it. And when living with a family, there is little chance that one can fully escape from these things. For this reason a volunteer must live with a family for the first 3 months of training and also for the first 6 months of living at their permanent site (of course there are exceptions). This aspect of training actually causes many volunteers a lot of anxiety and nervousness before their service. I was one of these volunteers.
Before coming to Kazakhstan I had to wait a year before I was accepted and finally left for my Peace Corps service. Since I had graduated and didn’t have a real job (not saying Greenfield Village isn’t a legitimate form of employment, but it didn’t pay my bills) I was forced to move back in with my parents. When I first moved in I thought it would be manageable. But very quickly it become pretty obvious I could not live with my parents comfortably anymore. After having lived on my own for four years, I couldn’t escape my status as the child and they couldn’t escape their own as the parents. For this reason that last year of my life in America involved a lot of fighting with my parents and general household strife mainly due to my own behavior.
Because of the last year of my life, I wasn’t very excited about the concept of living with a family again. At twenty-three years old, I cannot imagine many people are. But despite my own outlook on the issue, I have greatly enjoyed spending the last 5 months living together with a family. And while to a certain extent my relationships with my families’ are influenced by my own personality, I think it is also due to the institution that is the Kazakhstanian* family.
While there are exceptions, for the most part, families in Kazakhstan are extremely welcoming, generous, and gracious to guests. Families here seem pretty close compared to America and its not uncommon to see extend family members living with the family. It also seems a general custom here that children, if they can, come home just about every weekend. This means that if they study in the city and their parents live in the village, they hop on a bus or train every Friday to go home. There also doesn’t seem to be much of a network of friends outside the family. Many of the Kazakhs I know here have vast extended families and therefore don’t seem to really need to venture outside their family for friends. Another issue that may contribute to this closeness is a lack of privacy. People in this country do not have the western view of privacy and consider everything they have to be shared goods and space. Besides these differences between American and Kazakhstanian families, there are also some differences between ethnic groups here.
During my service I have lived with both a Kazakh and Russian Family. I have to say that while both families were similar, they were also very different. My Russian family, for instance, was very westernized. My twenty-year-old sister drove and my family allowed her boyfriend to sleep over in the same room as her. They also owned a coffee machine and treated their pets like we do in America. My Kazakh family is not as western but still not exactly the average family. My host parents were married later in life and have a fourteen-year-old daughter. My mother will become a pensioner next year (get kaz. social security) and my father is now sixty years old. For Kazakhstan this is a pretty rare occurrence. My Kazakh family is also relatively wealthy. My mother owns her own boutique in the bazaar and sells curtains. My host sister is also treated pretty differently. She is actually allowed to drive the car (“practice”) and my parents let her get away with doing very little housework. Generally for a Kazakh girl these seem pretty abnormal practices. Another thing that blew me away about my Kazakh family is that they are Muslim and still drink vodka. It’s not abnormal on a holiday to actually be expected to consume 6 shots of vodka (there will have to be another blog on the role of vodka and alcohol here because its way to complicated to explain here). But in general even with these differences the two were actually more alike than different.
Now that I have been living with families for a while I have really begun to retract my previous ideas about living with others. While I will admit there are conflicts and problems that erupt, in general I am very content living with my host family. It’s nice to get to go home to a family every night and have someone to talk to, and also good to have someone to hold my hand along the way. I have great memories of my host mother and sister making horsemeat sausage and telling me how to do it in a mix or Russian and English. I also have become so frustrated with my sister some nights that I have turned to my Russian dictionary to look up the word spoiled. It’s a good and bad situation, but one that I am happy to come home to every night.
* President Nursultan Nazarbayev has ordered that the word Kazakhstanian or Kazakhstanian the replace term of Kazakhstani and Kazakhstanis when talking about the citizens of Kazakhstan. But the importance here is to realize when I say Kazakhstanian I am talking about a citizen of Kazakhstan, not a Kazakh person. Kazakhs are an ethnic group, like Russians.
Vou Zamozhyem? Вы Замужем?
Back Dated: November 24, 2008
In the last three months I have met a variety of new people. My own introduction has quickly become a robotic like statement that simply rolls off my tongue without effort or thought. I tell people my name, where I am from, and the statistics of my life on a daily basis. But one question I have yet to which I have yet to adjust is the incessant, vou zamozhyem? All this lovely question means in Russian is simply, are you married (technically I think it means do you have a husband, but let’s not get picky)? It is a question that I am asked literally on a daily basis. Usually this comes after my age. And the conversation goes something like this…
“Skolka vam lyet?” “—колько вам лет? ª (How old are you?)
“Dvatsat tree goda.” ´Двадцать три года. ª (I am 23 years old.)
“Vou Zamozhyem?” ´Вы Замужем?ª (Are you married?)
“Nyet.” ´Нет. ª (No.)
“Pachyemo?!?” ´Почему? ª (WHY!?)
After this part it varies. Occasionally I actually try to say something. This usually involves something like I am young or I don’t want to have children yet. This usually meets with stares of complete and utter astonishment, and of course incessant assurances that I am not young, but in fact already a spinster. I have heard stories from random strangers about how by the time I am 30 I should have three kids “this” tall. I have also been told I need to stop worrying about my job and start having babies before I am old. When I am feeling especially accommodating, I will say no I am not married yet. As if I am hoping that maybe just maybe, if I am lucky, some wonderful man will come bless me with a marriage proposal and the prospect of a bunch of screaming babies.
Yet, while this is strange, in certain ways it reminds of Detroit. It was a general assumption amongst my students for the first half the year, maybe even longer in some cases, that I was married and had children. They just were not used to seeing a 20 something year old without some babies hiding somewhere. But in the case of Detroit I wasn’t incessantly pestered with questions about my status or the status of my babies, nor was I told that I made bad choices. While some of my students might have thought I was strange for not wanting to get married young, they never expressed it to my face.
To an American, this is obviously pretty annoying. We are not use to complete strangers inquiring into our relationships and life choices. But in Kazakhstan, it’s fair game. If you have a conversation with someone on the train, on the bus, hell even in the street, you are more than likely to get asked whether or not you have a husband at home ( I think men also experience this but in a less intense way). The idea of personal privacy is just not understood in Kazakhstanian society. This might come from the history of nomadic society or something else, I don’t really know. All I know is that asking questions about things we would consider personal in America are considered normal and suitable questions.
In Kazakhstan, especially in the case of village folk, getting married early is the norm. I cannot really give you a typical age, because what I have seen isn’t necessarily the norm, but it seems that the early twenties is pretty normal (keep in mind I live in a city where western culture is more prevalent). But while this age may not seem that young you also have to realize it used to be younger. It seems westernization has increased this number in the last decade or so. I have met quite a few people that were married at 18, 16, etc. This earlier age is obviously pretty come in most developing countries, but its not the actual age that bothers me.
It’s not that I don’t want to get married or that I think people who get married young are foolish, quite the opposite. I have no problems with people getting married young and know quite a few very happy young couples in America. I suppose my problem is rather the incessant reminder by people I know that I am unmarried and the clock is ticking. It’s one of the cultural habits here that isn’t necessarily bad but simply bugs me sometimes. The lack of privacy and openness about ones personal life is not something I am use to in America. In the end I think this is one of the aspects of the culture here that will continue to bother me.
In the last three months I have met a variety of new people. My own introduction has quickly become a robotic like statement that simply rolls off my tongue without effort or thought. I tell people my name, where I am from, and the statistics of my life on a daily basis. But one question I have yet to which I have yet to adjust is the incessant, vou zamozhyem? All this lovely question means in Russian is simply, are you married (technically I think it means do you have a husband, but let’s not get picky)? It is a question that I am asked literally on a daily basis. Usually this comes after my age. And the conversation goes something like this…
“Skolka vam lyet?” “—колько вам лет? ª (How old are you?)
“Dvatsat tree goda.” ´Двадцать три года. ª (I am 23 years old.)
“Vou Zamozhyem?” ´Вы Замужем?ª (Are you married?)
“Nyet.” ´Нет. ª (No.)
“Pachyemo?!?” ´Почему? ª (WHY!?)
After this part it varies. Occasionally I actually try to say something. This usually involves something like I am young or I don’t want to have children yet. This usually meets with stares of complete and utter astonishment, and of course incessant assurances that I am not young, but in fact already a spinster. I have heard stories from random strangers about how by the time I am 30 I should have three kids “this” tall. I have also been told I need to stop worrying about my job and start having babies before I am old. When I am feeling especially accommodating, I will say no I am not married yet. As if I am hoping that maybe just maybe, if I am lucky, some wonderful man will come bless me with a marriage proposal and the prospect of a bunch of screaming babies.
Yet, while this is strange, in certain ways it reminds of Detroit. It was a general assumption amongst my students for the first half the year, maybe even longer in some cases, that I was married and had children. They just were not used to seeing a 20 something year old without some babies hiding somewhere. But in the case of Detroit I wasn’t incessantly pestered with questions about my status or the status of my babies, nor was I told that I made bad choices. While some of my students might have thought I was strange for not wanting to get married young, they never expressed it to my face.
To an American, this is obviously pretty annoying. We are not use to complete strangers inquiring into our relationships and life choices. But in Kazakhstan, it’s fair game. If you have a conversation with someone on the train, on the bus, hell even in the street, you are more than likely to get asked whether or not you have a husband at home ( I think men also experience this but in a less intense way). The idea of personal privacy is just not understood in Kazakhstanian society. This might come from the history of nomadic society or something else, I don’t really know. All I know is that asking questions about things we would consider personal in America are considered normal and suitable questions.
In Kazakhstan, especially in the case of village folk, getting married early is the norm. I cannot really give you a typical age, because what I have seen isn’t necessarily the norm, but it seems that the early twenties is pretty normal (keep in mind I live in a city where western culture is more prevalent). But while this age may not seem that young you also have to realize it used to be younger. It seems westernization has increased this number in the last decade or so. I have met quite a few people that were married at 18, 16, etc. This earlier age is obviously pretty come in most developing countries, but its not the actual age that bothers me.
It’s not that I don’t want to get married or that I think people who get married young are foolish, quite the opposite. I have no problems with people getting married young and know quite a few very happy young couples in America. I suppose my problem is rather the incessant reminder by people I know that I am unmarried and the clock is ticking. It’s one of the cultural habits here that isn’t necessarily bad but simply bugs me sometimes. The lack of privacy and openness about ones personal life is not something I am use to in America. In the end I think this is one of the aspects of the culture here that will continue to bother me.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Kokshetau, oh how I love thee
This previous week I visited my permanent site for the first time. And I am in love. I already sort of figured I would have this reaction, but it was even cooler than I thought.
Before leaving for my site, I stayed for two days in a sanatorium with other volunteers in Almaty. This was also the same sanatorium we had our orientation at. The food was not better and we got to eat milky noodles again, ugh. Here we met our counterparts (the teachers we will be team-teaching with for the next two years), attended seminars, and basically got ready for site visit. It was a nice break from teaching and Almalybak, and also nice because we got to see all the other TEFL trainees. We also got to meet some of the Kaz 19s, the volunteers who have been working here for a year, and hear their stories.
This conference started on Thursday and my train left on Saturday in the afternoon. Peace Corps gave us a bus to get to the train station in Almaty from the sanatorium. Peace Corps advised us to leave half of our luggage at our site once we got there, so all of us volunteers had crap loads of stuff. We basically made a pile outside the train station and went in groups to lug it in. The train ride was pretty fun, but I will talk about riding the train in a later blog.
When we finally arrived in Kokshetau after our 26 hour train ride, I was greeted by a group of my students, the director of my lyceum, and the volunteers working nearby. It almost made me cry seeing all of them holding up a giant sign that said "Welcome Jennifer!" in English. They then quickly whisked away my luggage and put me into a car to go to my host family for the week (I was suppose to stay with my CP, but her power was out, so a student at my school’s family volunteered to host me for the week). My host family was great and I quickly learned that the daughter, Indira, speaks English very well along with her boyfriend who is a translator for an agricultural firm in Kokshetau.
After the train station, we went back to their apartment and I was served Besbarmak (not sheep but HORSE) and ate at the traditional Kazakh table. The Kazak tradition is that the father of the home distributes the meat between the family, and I was given meat first because of my status as a guest. I was very surprised by the taste of the horsemeat; it was very much like beef. I also ate some horse liver, pretty ambitious of me since I have never even eaten liver in the USA. But I really liked the Besbarkmak and was excited to eat it because everyone other volunteer seems to have eaten it but me!
The rest of the week I was extremely busy going to school and taking care of business. I spent every day of the week in school from about 9am-3pm observing classes and giving question and answer sessions. I got to introduce myself to all the teachers in Russian and got to attend a staff meeting on the first day. Observing the classes was also interesting, I saw History, English, Kazakh, Russian, Ethics, and a few other classes. Most of the time I had no clue what was going on, but the president of the 10th grade class acted as my translator for some of it. I also taught 3 classes independently and team-taught three others. My students have Macmillan textbooks, which are amazing, so it was great to start teaching with these. My school also has a very close-knit group of teachers. Because the Lyceum only has about 200 students, there are only about 20 teachers. The last day the teachers even had a little party for me with cake, tea, and other goodies. I am really excited to be part of the school’s family and to work with everyone there.
During the week I spent in Kokshetau, I feel like I really got to know my family well. Indira, my sister is 17 years old and attends the Lyceum where I teach. She is also a contestant in the Miss Kazakhstan competition and drop dead gorgeous. Like many Kazak women/girls she is extremely skinny and has beautiful long hair. She is also a bright girl and seems to do well in school. When I asked her about her plans for the next year (after 11th grade students in Kazakhstan go onto Universities) she talked about going to a university in China to study business, and explained she needed to get a scholarship of some kind because her family has four kids and cannot afford to pay for all of them.
One interesting aspect of my week was the questions asked by students when I did a Q and A sessions in each class. Some students were shy and didn’t ask much, others asked some very interesting questions. I was asked what I knew about Kazakhstan before I came, whether I was a democrat or republican, if the USA liked Russia, who I was voting for in the election and why, what I thought of Kazakhstan now, why I wasn’t married( a very common question and something I will probably address later in my blog), where I studied in the USA, what the schools were like in America, if it was true that in America students could do whatever they wanted in class and wear whatever they wanted, etc. Many of these questions have easy answers, but some are pretty complicated. Students in Kazakhstan seem to realize that Americans know very little about their country, but I don’t really think they realize just how little we know. I was also asked about the movie Borat, which everyone hates here.
Overall I am very excited to be living in Kokshetau soon, and will have a hard time going back and not thinking about the things I am going to do there. My last two weeks will be in Almalybak with my original family and then I will be sworn in as an official volunteer!
Before leaving for my site, I stayed for two days in a sanatorium with other volunteers in Almaty. This was also the same sanatorium we had our orientation at. The food was not better and we got to eat milky noodles again, ugh. Here we met our counterparts (the teachers we will be team-teaching with for the next two years), attended seminars, and basically got ready for site visit. It was a nice break from teaching and Almalybak, and also nice because we got to see all the other TEFL trainees. We also got to meet some of the Kaz 19s, the volunteers who have been working here for a year, and hear their stories.
This conference started on Thursday and my train left on Saturday in the afternoon. Peace Corps gave us a bus to get to the train station in Almaty from the sanatorium. Peace Corps advised us to leave half of our luggage at our site once we got there, so all of us volunteers had crap loads of stuff. We basically made a pile outside the train station and went in groups to lug it in. The train ride was pretty fun, but I will talk about riding the train in a later blog.
When we finally arrived in Kokshetau after our 26 hour train ride, I was greeted by a group of my students, the director of my lyceum, and the volunteers working nearby. It almost made me cry seeing all of them holding up a giant sign that said "Welcome Jennifer!" in English. They then quickly whisked away my luggage and put me into a car to go to my host family for the week (I was suppose to stay with my CP, but her power was out, so a student at my school’s family volunteered to host me for the week). My host family was great and I quickly learned that the daughter, Indira, speaks English very well along with her boyfriend who is a translator for an agricultural firm in Kokshetau.
After the train station, we went back to their apartment and I was served Besbarmak (not sheep but HORSE) and ate at the traditional Kazakh table. The Kazak tradition is that the father of the home distributes the meat between the family, and I was given meat first because of my status as a guest. I was very surprised by the taste of the horsemeat; it was very much like beef. I also ate some horse liver, pretty ambitious of me since I have never even eaten liver in the USA. But I really liked the Besbarkmak and was excited to eat it because everyone other volunteer seems to have eaten it but me!
The rest of the week I was extremely busy going to school and taking care of business. I spent every day of the week in school from about 9am-3pm observing classes and giving question and answer sessions. I got to introduce myself to all the teachers in Russian and got to attend a staff meeting on the first day. Observing the classes was also interesting, I saw History, English, Kazakh, Russian, Ethics, and a few other classes. Most of the time I had no clue what was going on, but the president of the 10th grade class acted as my translator for some of it. I also taught 3 classes independently and team-taught three others. My students have Macmillan textbooks, which are amazing, so it was great to start teaching with these. My school also has a very close-knit group of teachers. Because the Lyceum only has about 200 students, there are only about 20 teachers. The last day the teachers even had a little party for me with cake, tea, and other goodies. I am really excited to be part of the school’s family and to work with everyone there.
During the week I spent in Kokshetau, I feel like I really got to know my family well. Indira, my sister is 17 years old and attends the Lyceum where I teach. She is also a contestant in the Miss Kazakhstan competition and drop dead gorgeous. Like many Kazak women/girls she is extremely skinny and has beautiful long hair. She is also a bright girl and seems to do well in school. When I asked her about her plans for the next year (after 11th grade students in Kazakhstan go onto Universities) she talked about going to a university in China to study business, and explained she needed to get a scholarship of some kind because her family has four kids and cannot afford to pay for all of them.
One interesting aspect of my week was the questions asked by students when I did a Q and A sessions in each class. Some students were shy and didn’t ask much, others asked some very interesting questions. I was asked what I knew about Kazakhstan before I came, whether I was a democrat or republican, if the USA liked Russia, who I was voting for in the election and why, what I thought of Kazakhstan now, why I wasn’t married( a very common question and something I will probably address later in my blog), where I studied in the USA, what the schools were like in America, if it was true that in America students could do whatever they wanted in class and wear whatever they wanted, etc. Many of these questions have easy answers, but some are pretty complicated. Students in Kazakhstan seem to realize that Americans know very little about their country, but I don’t really think they realize just how little we know. I was also asked about the movie Borat, which everyone hates here.
Overall I am very excited to be living in Kokshetau soon, and will have a hard time going back and not thinking about the things I am going to do there. My last two weeks will be in Almalybak with my original family and then I will be sworn in as an official volunteer!
Graff: The Chicken Killer
One of the best things about my family besides their generosity, openness, kindness, and numerous other positive adjectives, is that they have two pets. All of you who know me in America know I am a huge animal lover. It actually borders on obsession. I love my pets and love having them around. So when I realized my family had a dog and cat I was naturally happy. Our kitten, Zobrik, welcomed me on the first night by climbing into my bed and has continued to provide me with entertainment.
Graff on the other hand, is a little strange. While Zobrik is under a year old, Graff (this means Duke in Russian) is 10 years old and enormous. My family seemed to be extremely worried that I would freak out when I saw him, which is a pretty legitimate concern. He looks extremely menacing. He is huge, and muscular, and barks a lot. But despite his looks, Graff is actually a sweet heart. He likes to put his head in my lap when I sit down and stare at me hoping I will pet him. He enjoys rolling around in the yard and I assume scratching his back on the grass. Most of the time he is either sleeping, eating, or bugging some one in the family for attention.
But Graff’s hobby lately has been killing our neighbor’s chickens. The first time this happened I was out the door on my way to school. I had come home from lunch and was walking the 20 feet from my front door to the fence. Suddenly I looked over into the area next to our house and was completely confused to see a small chicken. Our neighbors on both sides have chickens, but I have never seen them in our yard. My natural instinct was to pick up the chicken and toss him out (I am not afraid of chickens due to my own history with our three stupid pet chickens in Michigan). But before I could even get near the chicken, Graff noticed the little intruder and began to chase him in a circle around the tree in our front yard. This scene resembled a cartoon as the chicken ran around clucking wildly and attempting to fly, as Graff chased him menacingly. Finally Graff cornered the thing and within a minute had broke its neck and killed the poor chicken.
I was horrified. I must have screamed and yelled and then finally realized I should go get my sister in the house. I ran in screaming and tried to tell her in my pathetic Russian that Graff had killed a chicken but she didn’t really get it. Once I got her outside she analyzed the scene and immediately started laughing. Apparently this isn’t a new thing. Graff had killed another chicken the previous week and didn’t actually even eat the chickens, just liked killing them.
When I told my language teacher about this, she replied, "to my mind he his not hungry, he is just a killer." For the last few weeks of my time in Almalybak I began to notice that about every couple of days there was a new chicken corpse in our yard. The funny thing is my family didn’t really mess with these. They kind of sat and decomposed. I don’t know if they didn’t notice them, or if they just didn’t feel like moving them anymore. By the time the 7th or 8th chicken died, I was starting to wonder if our neighbors noticed. My family said they didn’t tell them, but I don’t really know. It’s kind of hard to miss that many missing chickens.
Anyway, I think that I will probably miss Graff and his chicken killing. Despite my initial horror, this experience has actually made me laugh really hard.
Graff on the other hand, is a little strange. While Zobrik is under a year old, Graff (this means Duke in Russian) is 10 years old and enormous. My family seemed to be extremely worried that I would freak out when I saw him, which is a pretty legitimate concern. He looks extremely menacing. He is huge, and muscular, and barks a lot. But despite his looks, Graff is actually a sweet heart. He likes to put his head in my lap when I sit down and stare at me hoping I will pet him. He enjoys rolling around in the yard and I assume scratching his back on the grass. Most of the time he is either sleeping, eating, or bugging some one in the family for attention.
But Graff’s hobby lately has been killing our neighbor’s chickens. The first time this happened I was out the door on my way to school. I had come home from lunch and was walking the 20 feet from my front door to the fence. Suddenly I looked over into the area next to our house and was completely confused to see a small chicken. Our neighbors on both sides have chickens, but I have never seen them in our yard. My natural instinct was to pick up the chicken and toss him out (I am not afraid of chickens due to my own history with our three stupid pet chickens in Michigan). But before I could even get near the chicken, Graff noticed the little intruder and began to chase him in a circle around the tree in our front yard. This scene resembled a cartoon as the chicken ran around clucking wildly and attempting to fly, as Graff chased him menacingly. Finally Graff cornered the thing and within a minute had broke its neck and killed the poor chicken.
I was horrified. I must have screamed and yelled and then finally realized I should go get my sister in the house. I ran in screaming and tried to tell her in my pathetic Russian that Graff had killed a chicken but she didn’t really get it. Once I got her outside she analyzed the scene and immediately started laughing. Apparently this isn’t a new thing. Graff had killed another chicken the previous week and didn’t actually even eat the chickens, just liked killing them.
When I told my language teacher about this, she replied, "to my mind he his not hungry, he is just a killer." For the last few weeks of my time in Almalybak I began to notice that about every couple of days there was a new chicken corpse in our yard. The funny thing is my family didn’t really mess with these. They kind of sat and decomposed. I don’t know if they didn’t notice them, or if they just didn’t feel like moving them anymore. By the time the 7th or 8th chicken died, I was starting to wonder if our neighbors noticed. My family said they didn’t tell them, but I don’t really know. It’s kind of hard to miss that many missing chickens.
Anyway, I think that I will probably miss Graff and his chicken killing. Despite my initial horror, this experience has actually made me laugh really hard.
The Banya
Note: I promise that I will post more blog entries including my summary of my brother’s wedding. But I am super busy and haven’t had time. You will have to live with this description of banya-ing.
Banya-ing is one of my favorite activities in Kazakhstan. A banya is basically a sauna, a dry or wet sauna in Kazakhstan (I believe this comes from Russian tradition, but I am not really sure. I know I read about it in my books on the Tsars). This is a tradition here and pretty essential when you don’t have running hot water or a shower. It is basically the only way you are really going to get clean on many days. It is also really nice when its -20 Celsius outside. Even if your family doesn’t have one in their yard or home, you will probably go to the public banya or visit a relative’s.
My family actually has there own banya that is located in a separate building about 15 feet from our front door. Our banya has a large outer room that includes a futon, shelves, chairs, etc. We also have hooks for robes and towels. This is the room where you get undressed or if there is a crowd, you hang out. During my first few weeks here I had a great time on a Saturday night when my brother’s friends came over to hang out, drink beer, eat, and banya. The second room is pretty warm and located directly outside of the sauna room or par. This room in our banya has shelves that have our shampoo, soap, sponges, and other bathing utensils. There are also plastic buckets with handles to use to scoop out water. We also have a barrel full of cold water and also a large metal heater that has a spout for hot water.
Once in the banya you pour water on to the stones to create steam and then sit on one of the bleacher or shelf like seats and sweat profusely. Depending on your family or when you go in, it may be super hot or just really hot. I can usually only stay in this inner room for about 15 minutes before I feel like I am going to pass out. While inside it is also pretty common for people to use a bundle of branches to beat themselves. I believe the thinking is that this improves circulation. I haven’t tried it yet, but I know my family does it pretty often.
After remaining inside the inner most room of the banya, you move into the next room and wash off the sweat. My family has many sponges, pumice stones, and other utensils to rub off your dead skin along with soap, shampoo, and other cleansers. I usually pour water from the cold water tap one of our giant basins and then add a little bit of warm water to get a decent temperature. Then I simply pour the water over myself with the small buckets. It may not sound like it gets you that clean, but it really does. Also, do too the extreme temperature, I usually come out with my face completely red. And sometimes when its cold, my body actually steams after coming out. After you are done with washing, you throw on a bathrobe and go back to the house. In the winter you throw on a coat first of course.
I think when I come back to America I may just have to build myself a banya.
Banya-ing is one of my favorite activities in Kazakhstan. A banya is basically a sauna, a dry or wet sauna in Kazakhstan (I believe this comes from Russian tradition, but I am not really sure. I know I read about it in my books on the Tsars). This is a tradition here and pretty essential when you don’t have running hot water or a shower. It is basically the only way you are really going to get clean on many days. It is also really nice when its -20 Celsius outside. Even if your family doesn’t have one in their yard or home, you will probably go to the public banya or visit a relative’s.
My family actually has there own banya that is located in a separate building about 15 feet from our front door. Our banya has a large outer room that includes a futon, shelves, chairs, etc. We also have hooks for robes and towels. This is the room where you get undressed or if there is a crowd, you hang out. During my first few weeks here I had a great time on a Saturday night when my brother’s friends came over to hang out, drink beer, eat, and banya. The second room is pretty warm and located directly outside of the sauna room or par. This room in our banya has shelves that have our shampoo, soap, sponges, and other bathing utensils. There are also plastic buckets with handles to use to scoop out water. We also have a barrel full of cold water and also a large metal heater that has a spout for hot water.
Once in the banya you pour water on to the stones to create steam and then sit on one of the bleacher or shelf like seats and sweat profusely. Depending on your family or when you go in, it may be super hot or just really hot. I can usually only stay in this inner room for about 15 minutes before I feel like I am going to pass out. While inside it is also pretty common for people to use a bundle of branches to beat themselves. I believe the thinking is that this improves circulation. I haven’t tried it yet, but I know my family does it pretty often.
After remaining inside the inner most room of the banya, you move into the next room and wash off the sweat. My family has many sponges, pumice stones, and other utensils to rub off your dead skin along with soap, shampoo, and other cleansers. I usually pour water from the cold water tap one of our giant basins and then add a little bit of warm water to get a decent temperature. Then I simply pour the water over myself with the small buckets. It may not sound like it gets you that clean, but it really does. Also, do too the extreme temperature, I usually come out with my face completely red. And sometimes when its cold, my body actually steams after coming out. After you are done with washing, you throw on a bathrobe and go back to the house. In the winter you throw on a coat first of course.
I think when I come back to America I may just have to build myself a banya.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
OBAMA!
Just want to say how happy I am that Barack Obama will be our next president. Don't worry mom now I will come back to America after Peace Corps!
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