Every culture has its collection of folklore and old wives' tale and Kazakhstan is far from an exception. Some of the ancient wisdom that locals have tried to pass down to me has been predictable. Other tidbits have been downright strange. Still more have simply been horrifying. Sadly, I have not been able to make even a modest breakthrough in any of my many attempts to refute these tales. Intellectual curiosity is not Kazakhstan's forte.
* I discovered one of the more innocuous superstitions when I had the gall to sit at the corner of the dinner table. Apparently, my chances of getting married are now hanging in the balance. For now, that is probably a good thing, so if the Kazakhs know something that I don't, that is fine by me.
* There is a depressingly large percentage of the population who think that vodka has not one, but several medicinal uses. While I personally have avoided this misguided fate, several other volunteers have been exhorted to take a shot of vodka to cure whatever ailed them. I have also heard stories of a few doctors who routinely inject vodka intravenously as a remedy, which I sincerely hope is not actually true. Perhaps the best vodka-based panacea was the warm-vodka neckwrap that one volunteer was encouraged to wear during Pre-Service Training when she had a cough. It seemed more like an ironic advertising campaign for Absolut than reality.
* Germ theory has not made it to Kazakhstan. During the winter, you will often hear people worry about the health ramifications of an open window despite the extreme temperatures to which they heat their buildings. Many people in Zhezkazgan also have an unshakable belief that snow and/or frost "kills viruses". Not the cold, but specifically the snow or frost. In my time here, nobody has put two and two together and realized that these pet theories flatly contradict each other.
* The most stunning piece of "conventional wisdom" I have encountered in this country dates back to my time in Issyk. Another volunteer had developed a bit of a cough, which slowly worsened. His family generously suggested that they opt for the tried-and-true method of killing a dog and rubbing the fat on his chest. Of course, it wouldn't be acceptable to use one of Issyk's dozens of mangy stray dogs -- one must buy a clean one from a pet store. Dave declined the offer. It's the thought that counts!
* The Kazakh discomfort with the cold extends to drinks as well. I am an oddity for enjoying plain cold water -- although drinking buckets of cold water is a singularly American thing. When another volunteer recovered from a short illness, we went to a cafe and had a few beers. Upon his arrival back home, his family admonished him for drinking cold beers so soon after being sick, which is an entirely reasonable thing to do; except, of course, their argument was entirely based on the fact that it was a cold drink, not the fact that it was alcohol. Apparently, cold drinks give you sore throats and make you even thirstier. I don't know how I've survived the past 22 years.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
What The Heck Do You Actually Do? Part II
The bulk of my time is devoted to Damu-Ulytau and the Association of Family Physicians, but the scope of my work extends a little bit beyond NGOs. Most volunteers in Kazakhstan become involved with work in English sooner rather than later. For EDU volunteers, English Club is an inevitable fate. OCAP volunteers have a little more leeway in the matter, but I was sucked in almost immediately. Today, I am involved with five clubs spread out over six days. I may soon discover that I am overcommitted, but for now I am largely enjoying it.
English Club is a funny thing. Clubs generally consist of a variety of games and activities that force kids to practice their English. While they are not meant to be lessons, our interactive style and the lack of the typical authoritarian atmosphere lends clubs a radical novelty that makes some meetings feel, at times, like a social event. In truth, this is a good thing. English Club can be fun practice for language, but it is a far cry from a real lesson. For me, that's not the point.
When we introduce new games, it can be baffling to watch how much some kids struggle with them. It has nothing to do with a language barrier and everything to do with a culture barrier. More specifically, it shines a lot of light on the the differences in our cultural attitudes. Recently at our big English Club, we played a modified game of Pictionary. After several fairly standard rounds, we started giving kids absurd things to draw like 'a dancing computer' or 'a texting horse'. At first, it was a formidable challenge to get them to simply use their imaginations, but after they got over the hump, everything went smoothly.
The culture in this country is marked by very strong social pressure to conform. A dinner party at one house is a dinner party at every house. When I am invited to come 'guesting', as they say, it is invariably very pleasant, but always extremely predictable. In an insular society, people simply are not exposed to many differing methods or viewpoints in many areas. Since the vast majority of Zhezkazgan's English students will not end up using the language, encouraging them to think outside the box seems like the most efficient use of English Club time. Like any country, Kazakhstan has many problems, but here people seem to have a high level of acceptance and apathy towards them. By instilling a creative spirit into everything, I hope that I can help a few people to truly consider things in another light. Since many English Club participants are studying to be English teachers, my most immediate hope is that they will remember the usefulness of interactive learning methods in their future careers. While I do not have any illusions about the impact that a few evening English clubs could have, you do have to start somewhere. After all, Peace Corps is no place for a pessimist.
English Club is a funny thing. Clubs generally consist of a variety of games and activities that force kids to practice their English. While they are not meant to be lessons, our interactive style and the lack of the typical authoritarian atmosphere lends clubs a radical novelty that makes some meetings feel, at times, like a social event. In truth, this is a good thing. English Club can be fun practice for language, but it is a far cry from a real lesson. For me, that's not the point.
When we introduce new games, it can be baffling to watch how much some kids struggle with them. It has nothing to do with a language barrier and everything to do with a culture barrier. More specifically, it shines a lot of light on the the differences in our cultural attitudes. Recently at our big English Club, we played a modified game of Pictionary. After several fairly standard rounds, we started giving kids absurd things to draw like 'a dancing computer' or 'a texting horse'. At first, it was a formidable challenge to get them to simply use their imaginations, but after they got over the hump, everything went smoothly.
The culture in this country is marked by very strong social pressure to conform. A dinner party at one house is a dinner party at every house. When I am invited to come 'guesting', as they say, it is invariably very pleasant, but always extremely predictable. In an insular society, people simply are not exposed to many differing methods or viewpoints in many areas. Since the vast majority of Zhezkazgan's English students will not end up using the language, encouraging them to think outside the box seems like the most efficient use of English Club time. Like any country, Kazakhstan has many problems, but here people seem to have a high level of acceptance and apathy towards them. By instilling a creative spirit into everything, I hope that I can help a few people to truly consider things in another light. Since many English Club participants are studying to be English teachers, my most immediate hope is that they will remember the usefulness of interactive learning methods in their future careers. While I do not have any illusions about the impact that a few evening English clubs could have, you do have to start somewhere. After all, Peace Corps is no place for a pessimist.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
So, What Is It That You Actually Do?
Instead of babbling inanely about Kazakh culture, for once I'll write about what, exactly, I am doing in Zhezkazgan.
Peace Corps in Kazakhstan currently maintains two programs: Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) and Organization and Community Assistance Program (OCAP). TEFL claims about twice as many volunteers as the OCAP program. In some ways it is a very simple program – they teach English! That does not mean it is not a big challenge and in truth it is not nearly that simple. The problems with the education system in Kazakhstan are, to be charitable, byzantine. In a school, a TEFL volunteer's task is not only to teach classes, but to train teachers. The ethical problems in schools are simply shocking, but the system is deeply engrained; each element of the system is so interconnected that it is extremely difficult to isolate and improve one area without disrupting the entire machine. It is also very difficult to be a maverick and try to implement something new when your ability to work effectively depends on personal relationships. I think I would have found life as a TEFL volunteer very frustrating and I probably would have firebombed a few too many bridges along the way. TEFL work is a long, slow process and admire those who can really get through to a group of teachers.
The OCAP program is very different. TEFL volunteers have a relatively steady flow of work. On this side of the fence, it can be feast-or-famine because each OCAP volunteer is in a very different situation. Some organizations are great and some organizations are not. Some are big and some are small. Some are busy and some are essentially vacant. That's the great thing and the terrifying thing about OCAP. There is a huge range of outcomes from our work -- so much is possible, yet it is also possible to accomplish nothing. We are community volunteers so although we are assigned to an organization, we are not chained to them and we can leave if there is no work. At least, I could because I live in a city and there are many NGOs. Village volunteers have fewer options.
In Zhezkazgan, I have been assigned to two NGOs: a health organization and another organization that is nominally ecological, but currently suffers from an identity crisis. Both are quite small and both are very different. The health NGO has an established track record and full-time employees. At the moment, we are trying to find funding for an oncology seminar for about 30 local family physicians – in Kazakhstan, doctors are not prestigious and the standard of practice is not the best. In Damu-Ulytau, the organization is the project; they are ambitious and passionate but inexperienced and unrealistic. I am planning to facilitate a project-planning and NGO management seminar to improve our organizational capacity. If the long process of building an NGO is a marathon then, essentially, my director is a pure sprinter.
Sometimes work is easy and sometimes it is a big challenge. There's nothing better than a good Russian-language strategic/philosophic argument on organizational strategy. Needless to say, it is easy for things to get lost in translation – or at least lost in the wild jungle of Russian case endings and verb aspect. In the grand scheme of things in PC-Kazakhstan, I have a good situation. I am working with two organizations who are active and who care. An apathetic organization is the kiss of death, but if there is motivation, progress can be made, no matter how grim the situation may appear. It is a process and that is why we are here for two years.
Peace Corps in Kazakhstan currently maintains two programs: Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) and Organization and Community Assistance Program (OCAP). TEFL claims about twice as many volunteers as the OCAP program. In some ways it is a very simple program – they teach English! That does not mean it is not a big challenge and in truth it is not nearly that simple. The problems with the education system in Kazakhstan are, to be charitable, byzantine. In a school, a TEFL volunteer's task is not only to teach classes, but to train teachers. The ethical problems in schools are simply shocking, but the system is deeply engrained; each element of the system is so interconnected that it is extremely difficult to isolate and improve one area without disrupting the entire machine. It is also very difficult to be a maverick and try to implement something new when your ability to work effectively depends on personal relationships. I think I would have found life as a TEFL volunteer very frustrating and I probably would have firebombed a few too many bridges along the way. TEFL work is a long, slow process and admire those who can really get through to a group of teachers.
The OCAP program is very different. TEFL volunteers have a relatively steady flow of work. On this side of the fence, it can be feast-or-famine because each OCAP volunteer is in a very different situation. Some organizations are great and some organizations are not. Some are big and some are small. Some are busy and some are essentially vacant. That's the great thing and the terrifying thing about OCAP. There is a huge range of outcomes from our work -- so much is possible, yet it is also possible to accomplish nothing. We are community volunteers so although we are assigned to an organization, we are not chained to them and we can leave if there is no work. At least, I could because I live in a city and there are many NGOs. Village volunteers have fewer options.
In Zhezkazgan, I have been assigned to two NGOs: a health organization and another organization that is nominally ecological, but currently suffers from an identity crisis. Both are quite small and both are very different. The health NGO has an established track record and full-time employees. At the moment, we are trying to find funding for an oncology seminar for about 30 local family physicians – in Kazakhstan, doctors are not prestigious and the standard of practice is not the best. In Damu-Ulytau, the organization is the project; they are ambitious and passionate but inexperienced and unrealistic. I am planning to facilitate a project-planning and NGO management seminar to improve our organizational capacity. If the long process of building an NGO is a marathon then, essentially, my director is a pure sprinter.
Sometimes work is easy and sometimes it is a big challenge. There's nothing better than a good Russian-language strategic/philosophic argument on organizational strategy. Needless to say, it is easy for things to get lost in translation – or at least lost in the wild jungle of Russian case endings and verb aspect. In the grand scheme of things in PC-Kazakhstan, I have a good situation. I am working with two organizations who are active and who care. An apathetic organization is the kiss of death, but if there is motivation, progress can be made, no matter how grim the situation may appear. It is a process and that is why we are here for two years.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Kazakhstan in Love
Last Sunday was a momentous occasion for my host family: the younger of their two daughters got engaged. The Kazakh engagement is definitely not the typical American on-bended-knee type of proposal. In fact, the engagement itself is a long, planned-out party. The whole process felt more like Sonia was getting engaged to her boyfriend's family rather than her boyfriend himself, a feeling that was fueled by the fact that the groom-to-be wasn't even present! It's tradition, I'm told.
(Sheep's head is one of the most notorious delicacies in Kazakhstan. Thankfully I wasn't deemed important enough to partake.)
The festivities began around 3pm in the afternoon in the same fashion of every social function in Kazakh culture. The guests came and everyone took their seat around the table and began tucking in to the disconcertingly huge piles of food heaped everywhere. My host mother then brought out several huge platters of beshbarmak, the Kazakh national dish. Kazakh women seem to gain a great deal of personal satisfaction by exhorting me to eat as much as I possibly can. The only way to cope with such a gastronomic onslaught is to leave something, anything, on your plate. This method works nicely for me because that "something" is usually the huge mess of horse fat, tendons, and arteries that inevitably sneaks onto my plate. While that may be appealing to some people at the table, I call that killing two birds with one stone.
(One of many heart-felt toasts, I'm sure, but I wouldn't really know because everything was in Kazakh)
The whole event lasted about six hours, which for me is pretty intimidating. Kazakhs are perfectly content to sit around a table for hours on end, but I became unbearably restless by the end of the third hour, especially because all conversation was in Kazakh, except for my toast in Russian. Fortunately I had home-field advantage and I was able to wander around the few other rooms in the apartment to stretch my legs. This also served a dual purpose because I was able to keep my soon-to-be-engaged sister company while she wasn't allowed in the dining room! While the two extended families were meeting each other for the first time, Sonia was biding her time in the next room. Eventually, her older sister brought her into the room to officially meet all of her in-laws.
Instead of a ring, the engagement was made official by two earrings, a gift from the groom's family. After this little ceremony, everybody stayed for another few hours. A few hours and countless bottles of vodka and cognac later, the visiting family finally departed.
(A proud father makes a final toast)
The wedding is in early April and that should be really interesting. Sheep's head for everybody! Hopefully the groom will show up for that one.
(Sheep's head is one of the most notorious delicacies in Kazakhstan. Thankfully I wasn't deemed important enough to partake.)The festivities began around 3pm in the afternoon in the same fashion of every social function in Kazakh culture. The guests came and everyone took their seat around the table and began tucking in to the disconcertingly huge piles of food heaped everywhere. My host mother then brought out several huge platters of beshbarmak, the Kazakh national dish. Kazakh women seem to gain a great deal of personal satisfaction by exhorting me to eat as much as I possibly can. The only way to cope with such a gastronomic onslaught is to leave something, anything, on your plate. This method works nicely for me because that "something" is usually the huge mess of horse fat, tendons, and arteries that inevitably sneaks onto my plate. While that may be appealing to some people at the table, I call that killing two birds with one stone.
(One of many heart-felt toasts, I'm sure, but I wouldn't really know because everything was in Kazakh)The whole event lasted about six hours, which for me is pretty intimidating. Kazakhs are perfectly content to sit around a table for hours on end, but I became unbearably restless by the end of the third hour, especially because all conversation was in Kazakh, except for my toast in Russian. Fortunately I had home-field advantage and I was able to wander around the few other rooms in the apartment to stretch my legs. This also served a dual purpose because I was able to keep my soon-to-be-engaged sister company while she wasn't allowed in the dining room! While the two extended families were meeting each other for the first time, Sonia was biding her time in the next room. Eventually, her older sister brought her into the room to officially meet all of her in-laws.
Instead of a ring, the engagement was made official by two earrings, a gift from the groom's family. After this little ceremony, everybody stayed for another few hours. A few hours and countless bottles of vodka and cognac later, the visiting family finally departed.
(A proud father makes a final toast)The wedding is in early April and that should be really interesting. Sheep's head for everybody! Hopefully the groom will show up for that one.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
There's Trouble In Paradise
The economic crisis officially hits Kazakhstan.
I'm not well-versed in macroeconomics, but this comes at a very unfortunate time for Zhezkazgan. The Kazakhmys corporation was laying off miners and limiting the hours of others before this even happened. The devaluation of the tenge has already led to some price increases in stores here, which is unfortunate considering the declining incomes and unwise spending habits of many families here. From what I can tell, saving money isn't very popular and most people seem to live paycheck-to-paycheck even when times are good.
At least takes a whole lot of pressure off the Peace Corps Kazakhstan budget...
I'm not well-versed in macroeconomics, but this comes at a very unfortunate time for Zhezkazgan. The Kazakhmys corporation was laying off miners and limiting the hours of others before this even happened. The devaluation of the tenge has already led to some price increases in stores here, which is unfortunate considering the declining incomes and unwise spending habits of many families here. From what I can tell, saving money isn't very popular and most people seem to live paycheck-to-paycheck even when times are good.
At least takes a whole lot of pressure off the Peace Corps Kazakhstan budget...
Monday, January 26, 2009
Hot and Cold
People often ask me what surprised me the most about Kazakhstan. It's a hard question to answer because I came to this country without finely crafted expectations and after five months here, some of the strangeness has already faded into normality. There is, however, one thing that I still haven't come to terms with on a deeper level.
Culturally, it was hard to know what to expect. Weatherwise, it was not hard to know what to expect. With the exception of the milder southern belt, winters are brutal across the country. I was sure that I would be among a sea of hardy Kazakhs, laughing in the face of -20 F and wind. I couldn't have been further from the truth. Everyone in America has a friend who is always freezing, no matter what -- and in Kazakhstan, everyone is that person. Every building in Zhezkazgan feels like a furnace and people love it.
As wimpy as Kazakhstanis are (this attribute is universal and runs across ethnic lines) in the cold, the local population displays an inhuman tolerance for heat, which is why they will probably have the last laugh come the summer. On trains, in house, on buses, and everywhere else people can be seen luxuriating beneath mounds of clothes and blankets despite the stifling oppressiveness of the air -- all the while downing cup after cup of piping hot tea. I dread summer traveling because the trains are hot and stuffy enough in the dead of winter; in warmer times I expect sleeping to be nearly impossible for us colder-blooded Americans.
During Pre-Service Training we were told that heating in Kazakhstan can be iffy in the winter, which is the most utterly untrue thing I have been told by Peace Corps to date. Maybe Zhezkazgan is an exception -- most village homes are heated by coal-fed pechkas, so their warmth likely fluctuates depending on the diligence and determination of their occupants. While it's possible that this is simply a Zhezkazgan thing, I suspect that it's common throughout Kazakhstan. I think it must be because people here have no conception of, on a global scale, how warm their homes are or how bland their food is. I think it's safe to assume that there's a different scale for many things when a red bell pepper is viewed as the mother of all spicy foods.
Culturally, it was hard to know what to expect. Weatherwise, it was not hard to know what to expect. With the exception of the milder southern belt, winters are brutal across the country. I was sure that I would be among a sea of hardy Kazakhs, laughing in the face of -20 F and wind. I couldn't have been further from the truth. Everyone in America has a friend who is always freezing, no matter what -- and in Kazakhstan, everyone is that person. Every building in Zhezkazgan feels like a furnace and people love it.
As wimpy as Kazakhstanis are (this attribute is universal and runs across ethnic lines) in the cold, the local population displays an inhuman tolerance for heat, which is why they will probably have the last laugh come the summer. On trains, in house, on buses, and everywhere else people can be seen luxuriating beneath mounds of clothes and blankets despite the stifling oppressiveness of the air -- all the while downing cup after cup of piping hot tea. I dread summer traveling because the trains are hot and stuffy enough in the dead of winter; in warmer times I expect sleeping to be nearly impossible for us colder-blooded Americans.
During Pre-Service Training we were told that heating in Kazakhstan can be iffy in the winter, which is the most utterly untrue thing I have been told by Peace Corps to date. Maybe Zhezkazgan is an exception -- most village homes are heated by coal-fed pechkas, so their warmth likely fluctuates depending on the diligence and determination of their occupants. While it's possible that this is simply a Zhezkazgan thing, I suspect that it's common throughout Kazakhstan. I think it must be because people here have no conception of, on a global scale, how warm their homes are or how bland their food is. I think it's safe to assume that there's a different scale for many things when a red bell pepper is viewed as the mother of all spicy foods.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A Very Kazakh Christmas
I didn't know what to expect Christmas to be like in Kazakhstan. Kazakhs are Muslims and Russians are Orthodox Christians, neither of whom celebrate Christmas on December 25. Furthermore, Russian or Kazakh, this country is possibly the most secular I have ever seen -- Islam is very weak in Central Asia except for Uzbekistan. Nonetheless, the locals here know not to waste a good religious holiday and at the very least, they become family gatherings.
Christmas was ignored by many, but some people took advantage of the opportunity to throw a bit of a party. People don't understand much about Christmas here -- in fact, many people believe that the name of the holiday is "Merry Christmas" and asked me what one says on "Merry Christmas". "Do you say 'Happy Merry Christmas?'" Furthermore, most people think that Jingle Bells is the official song of Christmas and is the main carol. I've heard the techno version so many times that it became painful.
For the three volunteers in Zhezkazgan, Christmas amounted to a series of parties. Parties here are a lot different and first and foremost they require structure. Here, structure means a seat at the table and a well-defined agenda. Kazakhs hate any sort of mingling and generally become extremely uncomfortable when forced to do so, especially at a party where not everyone knows each other. Parties here generally consist of a big dinner with several courses interspersed with various dancing sessions and other games. Among other things, I've been to a party during which I was forced to wear a diaper and later was eating apple slices off of my sitemate. Yes, things can get weird. At our main Christmas party, we were surprised to be thrown without warning into a dance contest, so we did the best we could. Dancing all the time here has already become a norm so we didn't think twice about it.
On Christmas Eve my sitemate Drew organized a small Christmas festival at his school. It largely consisted of songs, skits, and a few games. To sweeten the deal for the kids learning Christmas carols, we promised to perform a traditional Kazakh dance. One of the younger girls tried to teach us but we proved to be poor students. Nonetheless, we did our best and this haggard performance was luckily our best execution:
Christmas was ignored by many, but some people took advantage of the opportunity to throw a bit of a party. People don't understand much about Christmas here -- in fact, many people believe that the name of the holiday is "Merry Christmas" and asked me what one says on "Merry Christmas". "Do you say 'Happy Merry Christmas?'" Furthermore, most people think that Jingle Bells is the official song of Christmas and is the main carol. I've heard the techno version so many times that it became painful.
For the three volunteers in Zhezkazgan, Christmas amounted to a series of parties. Parties here are a lot different and first and foremost they require structure. Here, structure means a seat at the table and a well-defined agenda. Kazakhs hate any sort of mingling and generally become extremely uncomfortable when forced to do so, especially at a party where not everyone knows each other. Parties here generally consist of a big dinner with several courses interspersed with various dancing sessions and other games. Among other things, I've been to a party during which I was forced to wear a diaper and later was eating apple slices off of my sitemate. Yes, things can get weird. At our main Christmas party, we were surprised to be thrown without warning into a dance contest, so we did the best we could. Dancing all the time here has already become a norm so we didn't think twice about it.
On Christmas Eve my sitemate Drew organized a small Christmas festival at his school. It largely consisted of songs, skits, and a few games. To sweeten the deal for the kids learning Christmas carols, we promised to perform a traditional Kazakh dance. One of the younger girls tried to teach us but we proved to be poor students. Nonetheless, we did our best and this haggard performance was luckily our best execution:
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