Haiku

May 24, 2011

 

A year or three ago, my family was on vacation and my mom told us every girl could pick one activity and the whole family would participate.  We were all adult-ish people by this time, but I don't think it ever crossed our minds that we were strategizing vacation just like we did when we were eight.

 

The suggestions were all pretty standard until Corri proposed that we all compose haikus.  I remember thinking that sounded like a far cry from fun.  Good thing I didn't complain out loud because I would have had to insert my foot in my mouth.  It was hilarious and wonderful. 

 

Since that time, the occasional opportunity has presented itself in which the only way to fully express myself has been through those 17 syllables of verse.  This is my Shakespearean masterpiece for the night:

 

Midnight Run

 

Phone falls in outhouse

Three parts scatter in the dark

Searching hands feel pee.

Outhouse

May 21, 2011

 

You know, I thought the outhouse thing would really bug me.  The idea of tramping across the yard at midnight in the dead of winter was less-than-appealing.  Plus, having to squat and balance over a vat of fecal matter sounded like a recipe for disaster.

 

These past nine months I've realized that those concerns are pretty trivial.  Middle-of-the-night potty runs can generally be prevented with some strategic tea restrictions.  As for balancing… okay, that still provides reason for caution.  But I trust moldy scaffoldings a lot more these days.

 

What I'm having a little trouble adjusting to is walking the length of the yard, saying "hello" to all my neighbors and students working in their gardens as I venture toward the lavatory.  For some reason it feels a little strange to pause for a chat with Mrs. Smith and little Johnny while I do the potty dance. 

 

Nothing like advertising all your bodily functions.

Best. News. Ever.

May 15, 2011

 

It's been getting a little toasty in southern Kazakhstan these days.  The thermometer is topping off in the 80s and 90s.  I have absolutely no complaints about that.  I love the heat.  The issue is my clothing.  I live with a pretty conservative older couple in a rural village.  They are convinced that if I don't wear a jacket in 70-degree weather, I'll probably die. Not to mention they are always telling me about village scandal or some girl's supposedly skanky behavior- following it up with "But not our Anne!  She would never do something like that."  No pressure or anything, right?!

 

When the temperature broke 90, I started sweating bullets, but I remained true to my long pants. 

 

Well, today I was washing my clothes and I felt like I'd die of a heat stroke.  Seriously, the only thing to do was sit in the house and read a book until the sun went down.  It was just me in the back yard, scrubbing away at my clothes.  In a moment of desperation I decided to ditch my concern for honor.  I hiked up my pants around my thighs, creating makeshift shorts.

 

About that time, Beisikul (host mom) came back from the outhouse.  She looked at me and kinda scrunched her nose.

 

"Anne…" Here it comes. "…you need shorts!"

 

If the heat didn't kill me, I'm pretty sure that news about did.  Holy Kamolie!  I can wear shorts here?!?!  Praise the Lord! 

 

I did a little dance by the washbasin then ran to my room for some much needed relief!  Oh my dear shorts, I've never loved you so much!

“Devlenye”

May 8, 2011

 

Let me tell you something interesting about language acquisition:

 

When you learn a language through immersion, the words you learn fastest are those that are most useful to you in daily life. 

 

Last week, I came to work and they told me one of my coworkers was in the hospital.  When I asked what was wrong, the English speaker hesitated and told me she didn't know how to say "devlenye" in English.  Without missing a beat I respond: "High blood pressure."  Then I caught myself, and what had just happened. It made me laugh, but in a sad way.  I learned the word "devlenye" out of necessity.  This is the third person in two months that I've seen go to the hospital for high blood pressure.  Sure, loads of people have "devlenye" at home, but it doesn't mandate a hospital stay most of the time, does it? Here, it is as much a part of daily life as the standardized tests prep at school and spring-cleaning at home.

 

Living in Kazakhstan, I need to know how to say, "I'm full," and "thank you." "I don't know" was an important addition to my vocabulary. "Electricity" has proven quite helpful. And yes, even "high blood pressure" is unfortunately useful in my day-to-day conversations.

The Parade

May 2, 2011

 

Happy Unity Day Everyone! Actually, it was yesterday, but since the holiday fell on a Sunday, we get Monday off as well.  I have a newfound respect for two-day weekends seeing as I normally only get one day a week.

 

To celebrate the holiday I went to what was potentially the strangest parade of my life. For pretty much every state holiday, there is a concert in the center of town.  My village actually has an outdoor stage permanently constructed in the town square.  All the traffic from the "highway," which is our Main Street, is diverted through the neighborhoods as people flock to the square for the concert at 10AM… which really means 10:30 or 11AM. 

 

I joined the crowd and when I got there I noticed no one was actually standing in the square like they usually do.  They would walk all around the edge of the center, but it was like there was an equally charged magnet repelling everyone from that spot.  I was confused.  Then without any announcement, my host mother pulled me to the street.  Suddenly people were lining both sides of the street and there was a cluster of men walking down the road.  They wore regular street clothes and carried a banner as they walked straight-faced, not waving or acknowledging the crowed.  Meanwhile, the crowd didn't cheer or wave back.  We just stared at them.  They walked the equivalent of two city blocks and evaporated into the crowd.  Then the next group came.  They were stoic.  We were stoic.  Yet, everyone gave them their complete attention.  This repeated itself for about ten "floats" (aka- groups of people walking down the street) before the parade ended.  Then the concert began and people started mingling in the street again.

 

Like so many things in Kazakhstan, it was "an experience." 

The Calendar Says It's Easter

April 30, 2011

 

I told myself I would write about Easter at some point, but I'm not really sure what to say.  Holy week in Kazakhstan was simply a set of days on a calendar.  They are marked in my planner, but other than that, they receive no recognition in a Muslim country.  It was a little odd going through the week.  I know this is a really important season in my faith, but the spirit of anticipation is absolutely zero in the community.

 

I woke up Easter Sunday feeling sad and a little bit guilty at my lack of enthusiasm.  This is only the biggest day on the Christian calendar and I can barely bring myself to consciously remember the holiday for a full morning.  Needless to say, there is a reason you practice faith in a community.

 

As I got out of bed, I committed to consciously remembering the sacrifices of the season for a whole day. I had almost forgotten that promise as I walked into the kitchen.  But there, sitting on the table was a plate of colorful eggs-one with a sticker of an angle and Jesus.  Who knew about Easter, and how did they get the supplies to make these vividly colored eggs?  I didn't tell anyone about this holiday or our traditions, yet somehow the Easter Bunny made a trip to Kazakhstan. 

 

As it turns out, a neighboring family is Russian Orthodox.  There is a small group of them in my village and they practice their faith rather quietly.  (I'm not sure they even have a building or weekly meetings.) But every year on Easter, they prepare baskets of eggs, cakes, and cookies and take them around to their neighbors. 

 

I don't know if they were thinking of me specifically when they brought those eggs to my door, but seeing them on the kitchen table was a little miracle for my spirit- which had otherwise been celebrating Holy Week alone.

A Pot of Tea

April 23, 2011

 

A school principal once asked me what I liked about Kazakhstan.  Within seconds I answered, "tea." He looked surprised, and maybe my response seemed a little snide at first. But if you've grown up in a tea-drinking culture, I think sometimes it's easy to overlook what tea really entails. It is a part of every phase of your day and life.  So when I say I love tea, it is not that I particularly care for the leaves you put in the teapot or the scalding sensation of liquid assaulting my tongue.  I mean I love the whole culture that has been permeated by tea.

 

I love seeing neighbors in the street and being invited in for tea.  I love coming home after a long day at work and pausing for a cup of tea.  I love, love, LOVE sitting down with friends and talking over a cup of tea.  To me, tea is a sign of hospitality, a calming moment, and a gesture of friendship.

 

Last week, I was sitting with some young teachers at lunch.  We have seen each other in the halls for months, but we never talked until yesterday.  To be honest, I wasn't sure they liked me, but I didn't want to eat alone, so I asked to join them.  In true Kazakh style, they welcomed me whole-heartedly.  As the conversation unfolded, I was amazed at my good fortune to be sitting with these people.  Their faces will never show it in the halls of the school, but they are filled with good spirits and a genuine energy.  Lunch ended but the conversation carried on as we poured more tea.

 

What started as a "get to know you" session turned into young women telling me life stories.  I heard about dating and what it's like to be a daughter-in-law in Kazakhstan. They told me about abusive husbands and being single moms.  We talked about dreams for the future and the struggles that come in getting to those dreams.  I only just met these women, but as we drained the teapot they shared their stories- some joyful, others tragic.

 

Over and over, I continue to be amazed at how much you can learn simply by listening.  And I can't say "thank you" enough to these women for their company and friendship, and for sharing a pot of tea.