4.19 Project: Village Life

Project: Village Life Parts I, II, III
Ok, so I said check back with me later to see if I was as strong as I thought I was. Well, lets make sure I was clear on what defines, Strong. Then you decide. Im on the edge, not quite sure.
If crying on my first night at my new home places me in the Not So Strong column than mark in down in ink, "Jen, not so strong." What can I say, its 'weird' enough to be worlds away from home home and then to, all in one day, up root myself just as I was beginning to get comfortable (and I say 'myself' because this whole experience is of my doing, my choice. No one to blame but myself, not that I'm complaining, just to be clear) to then be placed in yet another version of Uzbek life, the life of a true villager, far far away from the life that revolves around the capitol city. Id say this calls for a real culture shock, "holy s***, what the heck am I doing!" reaction. It wasn't anything dramatic or that entertaining really, just a typical little cry yourself to sleep type deal. Let me tell you how my first few days of village life have gone now that I possibly have peaked your curiosity.

(***WARNING*** THIS IS A VERY LONG BLOG. I KNOW YOU WHO LOVE ME SO WANT TO READ ALL I WRITE BUT PROBABLY HATE ACTUALLY READING SOOOO MUCH AND GET ANNOYED THAT I CAN GO ON AND ON AND ON. SO EITHER READ IT IN PARTS OR GRAB A TALL CUP COFFEE AND SETTLE IN. SORRY, BUT YA CANT SAY I DIDNT WARN YA.)

PART I
I arrive to my new abode with 5 big ass bags (I had to buy three buvi bags (granny bags we call buvi bags. They are these huge cheep bags that the old women who work at the bazar carry their merchandize to and from in. Amazingly, they are quite durable and since the PC gave us about two tons of books, a countertop water filter, a med kit and more, I, and many others went buvi style on moving to site day. Anyways, who cares...), I arrive and am staying in a room that is quite large and comfy enough but it is not my permanent living arrangement. This is only temporary until they are done repairing (whatever that means) my two rooms that is in this little house that is not connected to the main house, or the oshhonna (kitchen) but is attached to the gardeners house. Which I am really stoked about, not to have my rooms in the main house. It's like I'm halfway having my own place. And because in this small town the only apartments I could rent would include sharing a community pit toilet (not kidding), hence me probably not moving out on my own, I'm glad I will at least have my own space. My 'compound" is quite nice. It is courtyard style. There are gardens all in the center area, we have apple, apricot, and cherry trees. We have strawberries, lots of veggies, and a huge amount of rose bushes and other flowers. Over the main walk is grape vines (which would be much more pretty if there were more vines but hey, picky picky.) My little house (and the gardeners. By the way, hes a great little old man, 60 something, no pool boy/gardener romance for all you with dirty little minds, michelle.) is right up on the garden, I have a porch and it is half shaded by the two cherry trees, as is the house which will hopefully be great during the summer. I cant tell you more than that about my rooms because they haven't let me see it. There was a fire not long ago that didn't totally reck the little house, the outside looks fine, but it did some damage inside they say (this I knew but I also just found out today that it wasn't only the little house but there used to be a shower house and a oshhonna right next to the garden, close to the the little house and that burned down completely) Anyways, its driving me nuts (Typical American: impatient, impatient.) that they wont let me see it yet because the gardener, Marat, is painting and rewiring the place. But its the Uzbek way not to let 'guests' see an area of the house that is untidy or unfinished. And they are building a new bathhouse right now (humm, when will that be done?). So they I guess had two oshhonna's because the one they use now is separate from the main house also and is fairly nice. It is absolutely nothing like what any of you (or I until I got here) have ever seen in the states. Think 1930's farm house but it has a real fridge-orator! Ive seen ice box like fridges, like my other host family but many people, esp. in a village, dont have fridges. No running water in the kitchen but we go a fridge.The main house (everything 1 story high) has a large living room that has satellite Russian tv and a phone that seems to ring pretty frequently. Off of the living room is my host mother and fathers room, my host sister's room, the room Im staying in now and a bathroom, of sorts. I say "of sorts" cause this is where the fun begins. First of all, when I first saw the house, when I came to visit a month or so ago, I was so stoked because she showed me this bathroom and I was like "Wow!" cause there was a toilet, a shower (unconventional, not bathtub shower but still), and even a washer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I almost had to sit down when I saw that. Krista was with me on site visit she was so jealous. Yea well, For one, no hot water. There is running water in the sink bowl and in the facet that is in the shower area but what good is a shower head if it only spats out cold water? Sooo, no shower. The washer is just for looks, doesnt work, acts as storage. And here is the kicker yall, the toilet, the toilet is to be used only at night, and then only if you need to just wee a tinny tinny bit, cause that doesnt really work that well either. I have a sneaking suspicion that its actually mainly used by the father and we just cant use it. But I may be wrong. So this leads to the one part of the house that I havent introduced you to yet, the pit toilet. Yes folks, I will be using a p.t. for two years. Now this shouldn't surprise me, I live in a village, I willed these lack of amenities on myself. And really, the only thing that really bothers me is when I get really sick and want to lay on the bathroom floor of moms house. Ill stop there, cause honestly, I can handle this.....that was funny timing, I just got 'called' for my first 'washing,' my Opa (Im just going to here on out call my host mom and dad Opa and Aka. Big brother and big sister. For one they are only 5-7 years older than me (even though they seem years older) and also that is what you call elders here, FirstName-Opa or FirstName-Aka anyways) had to heat up water for my bucket bath. Anyways, now Im refreshed, yet bed less (currently sleeping on the floor, on a bunch of Ko'rpacha's (quilts) so its totally fine but still, fighting a cold, and my stomach is upset right now because I dont think Im used to the food she is preparing, maybe its the cotton oil I think she is cooking with, or maybe the canned vegetables I ate at lunch and Im trying to ignore the churning and at the same time saying not only can I handle this, its what I want and even though its not really easy, per-say, its a little bit trying, but thats one of the reasons Im here. But you can maybe see its all a bit to get used to. So can you see why a good sober this-is-your-reality,-you-spoiled-American-girl cry was in order?
Enough about that. So, what else. Well, I met my host Aka on the first night I was here. He was friendly, nice to me, talked to me for a bit, and since then, I see him in and out and he says "Hello!" and thats about it. I did have lunch with him the other day, Ive never seen anyone eat with their hands like he did. It was an art. We were eating palov, national dish, its a rice dish, oily as hell, so you can imagine. Ive heard that people frequently eat with their hands, from a community dish, but Id never seen it. Again, Toshkent is a different world. He is a farmer. He works a lot, I think. He comes zooming in and out if the compound on one of those motorcycles with the side passenger carts. He is a religious man. I did hear him saying, chanting more like, morning prayers the other day. It was quite nice early morning sound. Those who know me, I myself am not religious. Spiritual, definitely, but anyone who is so unquestionably committed to any organized religion fascinates me. Thats a whole other thang. Anyways, he asked me if we have Muslims in the America. He and Opa seem to have quite a strange relationship. She doesn't seem, well, that happy around him, yet she is quite subservient and isn't miserable acting, it just seems, I dont know, weird. Hes not mean to her either. Though he does have a second wife somewhere here in town, did I mention that? Yea. Wow. Religious or not, how does that really work? I dono. Im not even going to get into that right now cause I dont know details so I dont have really anything to say except wonder how she lives with knowing this. And she does know this. I feel comfortable enough, its just a very strange and foreign dynamic. Again, another reason it will be nice to have my own little house, detached from the main house, so Im not smack dab in the middle of their lives, Im just a sweet, outa the way, little addition, attached to the family by a string, not velcro.

(Went to sleep, continuing Monday evening, after first day of school...)

PART II
So I arrived Thursday. On Friday night we went to a birthday party. Aka's brother's wife's birthday. All just say that the best part of the evening was the ride over. I rode passenger in the side cart of the motorcar (I dont know what you call it.) It was so rad. Im such a geek but it was so cool. Aka driving, Opa on the back behind him, all done up in her romal (head scarf) and traditional dress and my host sister on my lap in the passenger cart. It was dark out, stars shining, driving just to the other side of town, passing by cows and sheep roaming the streets an elbow away from me, people out walking their animals home or talking on the benches outside their houses, as we zoom over to the uncles house. It was a real, toss my head back, laugh and smile to myself, saying, "where the heck am I and how did I get to this moment." God I love those moments. Thats why the p.t. a piece of cake.
Oh, yea. So the party itself. Yomon emas. So, so. First of all, I dont even see the men. they are sitting outside on these outdoor bed/bench/tables (I cant explain, everyone has them, and they eat outside on them during the hot summer months. They look like a rod iron bed with a coffee table in the middle. Chun'dem? Understand?) and the women were sitting on the floor in a room off the courtyard. Lots of food, some good, some not so good (when they use cotton oil I can so tell, my Opa cooks with it too and I just hate the taste. I cant explain it but all the food tastes the same to me when they use it. Be it palov or soup or what not. And it gives me a stomach ache. Its probably my biggest problem right now. Not quite sure what Im going to do about it. At least now that school is starting I will buy my own groceries and bring my lunch so I will only have dinner to deal with.). And no one seemed all that interested in me which I thought was a little weird. Dont take that statement the wrong way. First of all, the lack of attention is wonderful. Attention as the "American" can be tiring quick but its just that if a family member of yours brought someone from a different country over to you house for the first time and they are going to be around for two years, wouldn't you be a little bit curious and a little extra friendly? Well I say this but I really think its all just a cultural thing. I think that for one, there was the language barrier, two, its not really in their small village culture to be overly friendly and shyness can be disguised as disinterest. It wasnt that lively of a crew. And there were moments when not one of the 24 (I counted, like 100 times, keeping my self entertained "one left to get choi, thats, 22. Shes back, 23 again. Hey that baby's a girl I think, thats 24..." and so on and so on.) not one of the 24 women were talking. Oh, but again, the eating with the hands thing. Now this time it was a women, it startled me a little I will admit. This women, donned in traditional dress, but dressed up Uzbek style just dives in the community plate she is sharing with my neighbors. Her paw was skilled, man. I tell ya. I would have been a mess. And the way they eat this meat, using the hand again, that is 80% fat and 20% meat (I guess) is beyond me. After my initial shock of the contrast of her apperance and eating style, I again said to myself. "Yes! This is awesome!" and somehow I got down indistinguishable own bowl of Cotton Oil Delight.

This makes me think of other thing. I am now pretty much a vegetarian. I dont do dairy much either. Some qatiq (a sourcream/yogurt deal) and expensive fruit yogurt (store bought, American like). I plan on eating alot of hard boiled eggs, beans when I can and lots of fruit and veggies. For the summer and fall at least. The summer may be tough. Ill deal with that as it comes. Meat has always been mentally tough to swallow (ha!) but here, seeing the meat hanging out in the bazars and God, I dont even want to think of it in the hot summer months, yek! And its so fatty and really, I just really, really dont like the taste. Really, not. So yea, Ill pass. Just cant do it. Pick my battles, I will. This is just one of them and its a toughie. There is no such thing as a vegetarian in this country. Very rare. And meat is expensive and is always given to guests. So then I fight this "I cant be rude" issue. Theres ways around it. So far, ok. Just take it and push it around, hide it, whatever. Thats that.

PART III
Saturday, I went into Jizzakh with an English teacher from my school. Its about a 20 minute taxi ride to Jizzakh. She is fantastic and unfortunately she will be moving to Jizzakh this summer. Getting married. This is a very common problem, biggest problem besides having any good teachers at all (good teachers and can actually speak ok English. You would be amazed by how many English teacher do not actually speak the language. At all.) is keeping the good ones at your school. Esp. in the villages. The good ones are usually a bit more educated and most likely want to move out of the tough life of the villages and move into or closer to the cities. Anyways, we went to a regional teachers association meeting that one of my fellow PCVs is trying to get started up again. It is a nationwide association that holds seminars and conferences and workshops. Has a resource center and puts out a monthly magazine, all for teachers. The main office is in Tashkent, ofcorse, and it is very active and productive. Its the regional offices that usually are lacking commitment of volunteer presidents and so on to keep them up and running. So another volunteer is trying to get the region interested in starting monthly seminars and this was the third seminar. The guest speakers were this couple who work for the U.S. state department and were hired to work in Uz, at a University for a10 months or so. He also goes around doing seminars and workshops when asked to. She actually is just visiting and is going to work in Thailand for a few months, doing the same thing. They were great people, she was a former PC volunteer. Anyways, I saw Miquela for the first time since we have been to site (a whole 3 days) as well as some other volunteers that already have been in the region. It was nice to 'work' a little, get to know some people in the edu. field in the area. Meet some teachers. I met this one teacher who I hired on the spot as my Uzbek tutor. Once a week I will go to Jizzakh for a lesson (I figure and do my shopping and email, pochta (post office, hint hint). So I made plans to visit Miquela this coming weekend! Yea! She, if you remember, had a really rough time of it during training concerning her host family. She was better than a sport about it all. And now at her permeant site in Zomin, (20 min away from me) she says she is living in a mansion. Her own bathroom, two rooms to herself. It sounds fantastic, I cant wait to see it. And she said her family is fantastic too. And Im a little jealous of that fact that she is alot closer to the mountains than I am. But that just means Ill be visiting alot! Anyways, that girl deserves it after such a shitty time during training.

So Sunday was yesterday and I did alot of prepping for my first day of school which was today.

First let me say, good day. Meaning I forsee this being a seriously doable, mostly happy, two years. This mainly has to do with my counterpart. Ive met her before, and let me just say she is wonderful. She is middle aged, has a great sense of humor, loves teaching English, is well respected in the school and the community, is close to the director of the school (who is also a nice man, seriously wants to learn English, but is very supportive and thats a great thing cause with out that, it can be tough) and she has had two volunteers before her and she understands a good bit about how Americans are, how we are different , be it good or bad and all that jazz. Her English is quite well also. So I get to school and sit in the directors office for a half an hour and then they usher me out into the school yard where all the students are lined up by class (about 1500 students, primary and secondary), all the teachers are out there, theres a photographer and the director makes a big speech and welcomes me to the school. A bunch of the kids came up and gave me flowers from their mothers gardens, so much so that I couldnt even carry them all, two of us couldn't. But generally the teachers were very nice, some were more than kind and I didnt get one cold sholder which is fantastic. The English department is fairly week. Only my counterpart and the teacher I told you about above, whos leaving after this year, really speak any English. Hopefully we will get some good replacements next year because in total there are tow or three Eng. teachers leaving. My counterpart tells me every year she trys to find the young girls husbands in town so they stay. Doesnt always work. So the classes went well, Im just observing, taking kopious notes to try and figure out what exactly they know and where I should start with them. I will be teaching 3rd, 4th, and 6th forms, just one class from each (the best class from each grade) and next year in addition to that I will teach 5, 2nd (next year 3rd) forms that my counterpart is prepping right now with ABC's and a few other basics. I had lunch at Sayyora Opa's house today (sorry, thats my counterparts name!), and met her eldest son, he is home sick. He is 20 and is studying English at the Foreign Language University in Tashkent, one of the best schools around here. He was fun to talk to and promised to help me with my summer camp this June. Her other son is in my 6th form class. Oh, and her family is from Zomin as well. Her sister is Miquelas counterpart. WE will be visiting them together this weekend. Should be fun. So, the kids are cute as hell. It was a great day, and today, all is well on the set of Project: Village Life.

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