Fruition

I am a volunteer!

Well, I've been a volunteer for a while now, but I'm an official, honest-to-goodness, been-inducted Peace Corps Volunteer. Guess I've made it to the pros,
finally.

My first week here has been interesting. It's a challenge transitioning from one host family to the other, particularly since I really, really liked my first
one. Now I get to face the fun of akward adjustment once again with my new family. For the most part they seem fairly genuine and nice. It may be a problem
when I tell them they will not be getting as much money as Peace Corps first paid them - I get the impression that most/all my salary (which, in effect, is
what PC paid them for September) is what's expected to be paid, which will not be the case. Cutting back may mean I have to/get to make and prepare food on
my own for one or two meals a day. Seeing as how I'm coddled and treated like a child for doing the most menial task (you braced a log while your 15 year old
host brother cut it!! good job!!! now here's a cookie...) this doesn't seem all that feasible right now, particularly since in Kyrgyz culture women do most
of the work (in and outside the house). But that's why I'm here, right? Sort of.

My village is fairly big, thus a good amount of people living here, as far as this country of 5 million goes. It's an odd feeling having strangers, children,
students, teachers etc. all knowing my name. I know about 10 people in my village, and I think every one of the 3-4 thousand here knows me. So much for
anonymity. It's a boon and a bane. Students calling my name out from across the hall, or constantly peaking into the teachers lounge for a good look, or
purposely using Russian when everyone knows I "speak" Kyrgyz? Bad. Every time I enter a classroom, speak, stand, or do anything inside of it, the
students all remain silent and attentive? Good.

My two counterparts are interesting as well. It will be a challenge, particularly since at the moment I don't see any opportunities to work with them on
lessons (their schedules are as follows - get up, make food/morning preparations for their family, go to work, go home, work work work at home until 11,
repeat for the next day). It will be a challenge, definately. None or very few of the students in all of my classes have books, and the books that my
counterparts use are primarily from the Soviet 80s (which, by the way, are fascinating to read - particularly the one talking about all the freedoms of
finding a job in a communist state and how people in capitalist states have to join the army of the unemployed). Nevertheless, I hope I can incorporate some
decent ideas and scrounge up a way to teach English effectively, even if it's just to motivate my counterparts and students (which is one of the biggest
problems, I've noticed).

Today (25-09) I had a complete "Holy Crap!" moment. As I'm waiting for the marshurtka to take me to a nearby village to open a bank account, a man comes up
and introduces himself - a former Russian language teacher from my school who now does something else. When he asked me what state I came from, I only had
to repeat it once because, get this, he knew it! For once someone didn't look at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears when mentioning Connecticut.
But, not only that, he also knew and could pronounce (in the Russified version, but still!) Hartford! But, that's not the best part. He was talking a little
about hockey, how he either played or coached, and here it is: he knew the Hartford Whalers! Holy! Not only did someone who isn't from Connecticut know
the Whalers, but I didn't even have to bring it up! In my excitement I forgot to adress him as сиз (formal you, I used the informal you, сен), so I hope that
was a mistake that can be rectified. But still, my mind is blown completely. He knew the Whalers! They haven't even existed for 11 years.

As for general stuff, things have been difficult just to the sheer transition factor. I've been reading a lot, particularly since for a good portion of the
day the electricity is turned off. My house isn't very "hang-out" friendly - places to just sit and talk are pretty much nonexistant, be it because of the
way in which rooms are situated or because everyone in the house seems to be occupied with one thing or the other (resulting in much of my time being spent
inside my room, when not working). It's also weird having my main host siblings (i.e. they are old enough to have some patience with me and I can have some
conversation with them) be my students, thus I'm always Mr. Teacher. Up until I told the vice-principal that I was uncomfortable with it, the running joke
seemed to have been that I was unmarried and thus by the end of my first year would be off in the land of love with some Kyrgyz girl (who that would be I
don't know - all the females in the village seem to be either married/older or greater than/equal to high school student aged). Right now, being in a home
with no heat is fine (particularly since I'm used to it, what with the no heat back home), but it's going to be pretty friggin' cold. I'm going to have to
splurge for a coat and boots, but could use some decent products from back home, especially since the electricity situation is so dicey.

It's not all bad though. What conversations I do have with my family are pleasant and enjoyable. One instance was particularly humorous to me - I was
helping a sister with some homework, and I got to say Canadada (in Kyrgyz a -da ending means in or at, and this text was about Canada). When I went to the
Talas library I was excstatic when I saw Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake (sorry for the lack of a proper title underlining/italicizing - notepad is quite limited); reading it brought back many good memories of a good friend or two (Nom!), and heck it's a good story to boot. My fellow volunteers here in Talas, while not quite all falling into what I would consider "my crowd," seem pretty good for the most part and I feel I have some good developing friendships here. The people here in my village also seem very hospitable, cordial, nice, inviting etc. (and protecting, perhaps overprotective at the moment), I just need to spend the time building a repor, getting to know people, having them get to know me, et al. It's time for some cross-cultural exchange, methinks!

Chris

Here's my latest journal entry from 18/09/08:

Things have changed so drastically for me over the past 5 months. I can hardly believe that not too long ago I was busting my hump at King's over courses I
loved (and some I didn't), or spending time at home, particularly with my sis' & nephew. Thursday was yet another gigantic transition: leaving my first
Kyrgyz family behind and being sworn in as a volunteer.

I absolutely love my first family here. My heart broke in the morning when I left my sister and brother. My brother was decked out in Red Sox clothing - his
bat, ball, and glove -- he wouldn't let my hand go as we shook hands and when he started to cry I embraced him as my brother. My sister completely shocked me
by telling me in English (she speaks very little) that she loves me and that I was the best big brother. I will always remember this gesture from her - it
had the power to shake the earth. Sadly, I then drove off in a taxi, after the farewells, refusing to look away while riding off and holding back the
choking up.

My mom and dad went to the swearing-in ceremony. Afterwards we had about an hour to talk, eat a bit, get some photos, etc. They gave me a gift which was
almost as powerful as my sister's words - a calender/planner and pen, and they had written a very nice note to me in both Kyrgyz and English. The time
finally came where I had to leave. As the announcement was made, I felt what I felt when I graduated from King's, when I saw my friends in America for the
last time, and when I departed from my family in the States - a sinking void in my heart. I said goodbye 3 or 4 times and almost lost it; my mom had tears
throughout. As I left on the marshrutka I let the sadness overtake me. They are no longer my host family - they are family, and I love them as I do my
family in America.

Thank you to everyone who put time, money, and effort into providing gifts from America. My family absolutely loved everything, and it meant the world to me,
being able to give them these gifts before I left. My last evening there will always remain with me - the happiness and sadness, and just an overall
realization that these people are my family.

Chris