Christmas

December 22, 2006

7:00 AM

Three days to Christmas and it is weird, not having the barrage of an American Christmas surrounding me, it barely feels like Christmas. My families and friends back home are readying themselves for the events of the upcoming weekend. I know that I will miss not being able to spend Christmas with family and friends, but for some reason this first holiday season (of two) here has validated why I am here.

It honestly feels good to allow a new stream of emotions and actions inundate my daily tasks. At this point back home, I would be heading out for my one of beginning and ending my Christmas shopping (most likely at Target, the only place where I can go and in two hours to purchase everything I need for all of my family). But out here in the mountains of Central Asia, I will not be shopping, and that is fine.



December 27, 2006

7:15 AM


I will warn you now, this is going to be one of the longest posting I have typed since being in country. Due to a large amount of activities, work, and projects to take care of before and during the Christmas weekend I have really not had any time to sit down and release thoughts (onto my computer at least). Considered yourself warned, Fiona and I have a lot to talk about.

Before I start with the wonderful events of my Christmas weekend, I want to talk briefly about a discussion I have with my host family last week (host mother and father and host father’s brother and wife). Last Wednesday (December 20) my host father’s brother (host uncle?) and his wife had come over for a picture watching on my computer. People love looking at pictures here and my host family is no different. I take a ton of pictures and they love to sit down for a good hour and just watch a “My Pictures Slideshow” flip picture after picture for them.

On this particular night I showed a bunch of pictures I had taken in Kyrgyzstan and then followed that up with a good chunk of pictures I had taken from home. The pictures from home were family shots and then some shots of Chicago (that I had borrowed from the internet). After the pictures we all sat down to for dinner where the inevitable load of questions began to be fired my way. The dinner questions sessions have died down a bit now that I have become a part of the family; but once in a while they find their way back to the dinner table. After showing a load of pictures from home, I fully expected to sit down at the table and start handling the barrage of questions.

As a quick side note, I love the questions sessions. For one, I love being able to answer questions they have about America and quell some misconceptions they may hold on to. It is also very good language practice for me (I usually learn a few new words during the longer sessions). My language improves daily, but I still struggle understanding conversation when I am not part of it. Unless I have a contextual base to what is being talked about, it’s tough to just jump in and know what is going on. It sounds kind of selfish to say, but when I am being asked the questions, it really makes me feel like I am engaging in the discussion because I have the ability to guide it in certain directions (more than likely directions I know I can discuss or may need some help in, and know I can get in whatever context we are talking).

Back to the actual questions; during the picture showing I happened to show a bunch of beautiful night shots of the Chicago skyline and a few shots of the DP house. This brought on the usual ohhs and ahhs from my family (and anyone else who sees them). While responding and asking questions about Chicago the discussion seemed to drift slightly towards how wonderful and beautiful a nation of America is. I didn’t not disagree with them, but I was instantly struck with a need not let them place the U.S. as this perfect land on the other side of the planet.

My family is a very open-minded group and incredibly cultured through marriages, jobs, and parents as former government employees. Knowing this, I was very conscious of the fact that they understand that there are problems all over the world. But sometimes they get caught up in the technology, advancement, and grand specter of the U.S.A. This is where I believe my role as volunteer takes on its’ fun role of American “ambassador.” I tried to point out that while my home nation is an incredible place, it is still very young and still has many problems that seem to be unavoidable in the world of power, government, race, and society.

They asked me if the U.S. government has corruption (a Russian cognate!) at all. I pointed out that we have a system of “checks and balances” that attempts to thwart anyone person or party gaining too much power. But even though we have this, there is still a good amount of problems that sneak through the cracks. In response to their question of what kind of problems I did my best to explain some recent events dealing with corporations and the mishandling of money. This struck a cord in all of the adults at the table and this is where the conversation took a very refreshing turn.

Since I have been in country, the topic of corruption has been a very taboo topic. People seemed to be afraid to discuss with me because they were afraid it would shine a negative light onto their country. But I think with the comfort of realizing that the American government has problems too, my family felt a little more relaxed to open up about their opinions on some of the happenings in country. I really don’t want to go into specifics about what we discussed, because I feel as if I would be breaking their trust they gave me in the comfort of family conversation. But suffice to say, the corruption discussion was a wonderful sharing of similarities between the beauties of an organized government and the inevitable problems that occur sometimes in the struggle for power.

This discussion then led us into a pre-USSR/post-USSR discussion. This was by far the best part of the evening. It was very refreshing to hear someone finally admit that, while the economy was great and jobs were everywhere, they were ruled by an oppressive regime that removed a lot of their very old culture. We discussed how great it was to have work, but how people would disappear if they showed one hint of disliking the government. The schools were very strict and in turn did a great job at educating the youth. But on the flipside, as they stated, education was very narrow-minded and sometimes excluded knowledge and information on the premise that it questioned the ideals of the USSR. During this whole discussion about the USSR I just sat there and listened; it was so refreshing to hear about the world I now live in and to hear a group of people accept both the beauty and darkness of their country and mine. There is no perfect race, no perfect culture, no perfect government and no perfect nation; it felt good to finally have someone level with me on that thought here.

*** I am off to school for the final day of classes and a day filled with New Years celebrations. Expect pictures from New Years to be on the site. I will return this afternoon to get into the happenings of this past wonderful weekend. ***


3:30 PM

Ok, I am back for a brief hour before I need to head back to school for the evening festivities. This evening is a celebration (on the last day of classes) in honor of the upcoming New Year. I promise, I will talk more about these fun celebrations in a few pages. But for now, I need to recover old thoughts from the depths of my memory and recap this past weekend.

To start, I must honestly say that this past Christmas was by in large the best Christmas I have ever had. Now don’t get me wrong, I was brought to tears a few times this weekend (thanks mom!). This was the first Christmas away from home and my family. It was tough, but the activities that unfolded helped to make this weekend much easier to handle away from home.

This was the first Christmas where I truly felt like I was giving rather than receiving. I have always loved the feeling of giving. No matter whether it is making food for a group of people, giving presents, or helping someone in a time of need; I have always loved the feeling that I get. The feeling both from the unselfish acts and from the response I receive. I love it.

This past weekend I spent in one of the larger towns on the lake (Cholpon-Ata) with thirteen other volunteers. For three days we prepared and delivered cookies, presents, and Christmas carols to two different orphanages in the area. That in one sentence sums up the entire weekends events. But what kind of journal would this be if I didn’t live up to my reputation?

Thoughts on the weekend (in random bullet points):

The Arrival in Cholpon-Ata:

As I have mentioned before in other journal entries, I have gained a the tag on the lake as a volunteer who has “gone local” (which pretty much means anyone that spends more weekends in their own village than in other villages). I don’t mind the tag and actually think it to be kind of humorous at times. This being said, when I did finally make the trip out of my village this past weekend to head to C.A. (Cholpon-Ata), it felt good; it sort of felt like it used to feel like when I made into the city (Chicago) after a few months of not making the trip. Like when I would head into the city, I knew heading into C.A. I would be seeing some friends I hadn’t seen for a while and possibly meet some new people.

So as my marshutka rolled over the hills towards Cholpon-Ata the anticipation grew. All of the sudden Christmas carols started to creep into my head (since with a lack of television and radio, the onslaught of Christmas has been absent for the past month). Once I arrived in the center of the city, I hoped out and made the walk to the K-13 (the group of PCVs that have been here for a year already) couple’s apartment where preparations for the event were well underway.

Walking in the door, I felt a rush of love. It sounds really cheesy to say, but some where in between hearing Bing Crosby’s voice and giving hugs to all of the friends I hadn’t seen for a few months, I was glowing. As expected, I wandered the apartment giving hugs and quickly catching up with everyone. And just like Chicago, I met a new friend who I had not yet met in my few travels to different towns (another topic all in itself). It was a great arrival and reminded me how lovely it feels to return and appreciate something ten-fold because its’ previous absence (I can only imagine two years from now!).


Christmas Music:

The entire weekend was filled with both traditional and modern interpretations of Christmas classics. While we were cooking, talking, baking, wrapping, and just relaxing; there was always someone playing a Christmas tune from their iPod. I know that I mentioned before how it felt good to not be bombarded with Christmas since I have been here, but the music felt good. There is just something about Christmas music that makes you smile. Bing Crosby was a staple, and then Sarah McLachlan was tossed in, and then came about fifty renditions of “Little Drummer” boy. Overall, it felt good to get a nice heavy dose of Christmas music in the presence of people who have grown up with it.


Christmas Carols:

I have always liked the idea of Christmas caroling, but never really knew how to go about it. It always looked fun to grab a group of ten or so and just start wandering about singing Christmas music to random people at random locations. As best we could this weekend, we pulled off our own version of Christmas caroling. We had planned on giving two “performances” for the weekend, one at each orphanage we visited. We started practicing on Friday night for our first performance on Saturday. Suffice to say, the wine we had decided to relax with before the practice session turned the evening carols into a very poor attempt to create anything resembling harmony. The most successful part of the first night was that we decided which set of carols we wanted to sing (chosen from a set of lyrics a fellow volunteer had created for us all). We conceded defeat on Friday night and decided to return to them Saturday morning (the first “show” was at 3:00 on Saturday).

Saturday morning rolled around and out of no where we turned into a choir. I had shivers throughout our entire morning practice session as were tore through many of the classis (Rudolph, Frosty, Deck the Halls, etc.). It sounded really cool to have fourteen volunteers all singing together to songs that we all had grown up with. I remember looking around the room and I could tell that everyone was smiling. At some point it became quite obvious that everyone in the room was struck with the Christmas love. Christmas music sung by Bing is soothing; Christmas music sung with friends is loving.


Orphanage 1:

Our first orphanage was a short walk from a fellow volunteer’s apartment. After our morning session and some lunch, we headed over to the orphanage. The fist orphanage was sponsored by a set of Austrian donors and businesses that made this place look like a five star resort. It was a beautiful set-up with red-brick buildings, heated floors, and playgrounds that still had swings attached! It stood out in the center of the village because of the thick gates that surrounded it and the green grass that seemed to be defying winter (and Kyrgyzstan’s lack of grass, pretty much any where).

We were welcomed in by one of the teachers who lead us on a short winding tour of the lot to a building towards that back where we would be “performing.” We all entered the building with a slight gasp. It was beautiful. Wood paneled floors, real paint on the walls, and Christmas/New Years decorations everywhere. The ultimate selling point came after being in the building for about five minutes. We all suddenly realized that this building had central heating and was heated to the point of sweating (for me at least, I sweat easily).

After about fifteen minutes that children started to file into the building and take up positions on the floor and random chair set around the room. This was our defining moment. First of all, we had the difficult task of singing in harmony; but the harmony becomes much more important when most of the words from the songs you sing will not be understood by your audience. If we sounded bad, it would be obvious to the children and their teacher and house-parents. So we found our line-up, prayed for rhythm and set-off on a journey through the classics.

We moved steadily, and harmoniously, through all of the carols and stumbled upon a very surprising discovery during our singing. Apparently the children had been practicing “Deck the Halls” at school and at home. During our singing, some of the children jumped into the chorus (Fa la la la la la la la la). Noticing this, we had our good language speakers ask them in both Russian and Kyrgyz if we sang the song once more, would they sing the chorus for us. They loved the idea and so we struck up the vocal chords one more time, this time with a participatory audience.

It was wonderful; all of the children loved it and got really into it. We ended up repeating the song twice simply because we were having as much fun as they were singing the song. It was one of a dozen or so moments this past weekend where I stepped out of the my body to watch as smiles all around spread across the cheeks

Once we finished our “set,” we had planned on passing out some small gifts (coloring pictures and cookies); but before we could start this we were informed by one of the directors of the orphanage that a few children had prepared a few songs for us. This by and large ended up being the highlight of the day. Three children each took turns at singing us a few Kyrgyz winter songs (in the celebration of the New Year). They were all incredible, and the first boy that sang for us even did a Kyrgyz/English version of “Jingle Bells.” Simply put, we were speechless and many were near tears.

Orphanage 2:

The second orphanage we attended (on Christmas Eve) was a little more modest. This orphanage was sponsored by local donors and one couple that started the orphanage (after adopting one child, where upon they found it nearly impossible to leave other parentless children alone). There were no red brick buildings, no playgrounds, but this place tons of love. I saw in the eyes of the children the second we showed up.

The director/father of the orphanage came to pick us up in town and drove us all out to the orphanage. When he brought us into the building, all of the kids were glowing; most of them ran up and hugged the director and then gave us all a huge smile. It was much more obvious in this orphanage that a family had been created. There were nearly thirty kids at there and all of them had assumed the role of brothers and sisters. The older brothers and sisters had assumed the roles and leaders in the large family. All around there were children playing games with each other, smiling, and carrying for each other. It was pretty cool to see.

We started at this orphanage with the same set of Christmas Carols as the last one, with pretty much the same results. Once again we were able to get the children involved in “Deck the Halls” and they loved it. The carols seemed a bit more intimate and personal here due to the building being a bit smaller and the children much closer to us.

After the carols, we swiftly moved into cookie eating. A bunch of volunteers had spent a few days before the weekend making cookies for the children. For our first gift to the children, we all sat down with the children for some cookies and, of course, tea. It was a nice intro into our next activity with them (craft making) because it gave us a chance to talk a bit with the kids (even though most of them spoke Russian at this orphanage, and my Russian is a joke right now). But in the case of these children, language was not really needed. A few smiles took us a million miles.

The crafts we made with the children were the ever popular snowflakes and Christmas tree ornaments. We sat down with the children, tossed around the paper we had brought with us, and started our session of showing the children how to make winter crafts. Most of the children caught on very quickly and loved it. And as usually is the case, some of the craft leaders (volunteers) got really into themselves and made some pretty cool snowflakes and ornaments.

After the craft session we moved into the final and most exciting part of the afternoon. All of the volunteers who had arrived for this past weekend brought gifts, money for gifts, or helped package the gifts for all of the children. On Saturday night, a group of volunteers had graciously packed all of the gifts into bags for each child at the orphanage. This ended up being very important because every child got a personalized package with their name on it and a bunch of cool gifts. For the gift giving sessions, three volunteers sat up front next to the Christmas tree with big bags in front of them slowly calling out the names of all of the children in the orphanage. It was great to see as each child shyly walked up to get their gift and then a huge smile would appear once they got their gift.

Overall, the orphanages were a wonderful time.


Christmas Eve Dinner:

In the true spirit of Christmas, we cooked up two huge roasts for our big Christmas Eve dinner. Pot roast, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, stuffing, dressing, and apple and walnut pie; it was a Christmas dinner fit to feed a family, and that it did. Every one of the fourteen people in the apartment that night ate themselves silly. It was a wonderful dinner and in many ways reminded me Christmas dinner back home. You would have been proud Pops, the roast was a perfect medium rare; I did not cook it, but I was given the honor of carving it up.


Christmas Day Breakfast:

What Christmas would be complete without a wonderful breakfast to rise to? Well, in this case, by the time we got things roasting and underway, it was more like breakfast for lunch. Still, when I saw the opportunity to be able to cook up breakfast for all of the volunteers, I jumped at it. I swear I need to make another, longer list, of how I am becoming my parents!

Whatever, their wonderful people, if I had to choose two people to grow up to be like, I couldn’t think of a better set of role models!

Back to the breakfast; the night before we had bought a bunch of eggs and cheese. I am sure you know what this means! Omelets! I love making omelets; and with the amount of good leftovers we had from the dinner the night before, we had a beautiful set up of ingredients. It reminded me a lot like Minocqua (I miss the days), where we would accumulate all of the leftovers from previous nights and the just pile people into one cabin. It pretty much worked out the same way. People would just jump in line in a very “no-order” Kyrgyz style and place their order. I would have them dump their ingredients over the freshly poured eggs in the pan already and then tell them to return in five minutes.

I loved it; I always love cooking, but cooking for large crowds has always been a love of mine. It must be some type of leftover from my Schauls’ days. Andy, I don’t think it was presentation catering, but it surely wasn’t no shabby Newman Homes gig. This event has some pizzazz. The only thing missing was Schauls’ Seasoning. Ahhh man; that stuff was so, so good. Sorry, memories are flowing in now. Overall, Christmas morning was wonderful and it felt good to do a little work in the kitchen


My Peace Corps Family:

In all, the weekend was incredible and felt good to do some giving for Christmas. The entire weekend warmed my heart and really made me feel like I spent a Christmas in the true Christmas spirit of giving.

But beyond the joy of giving, a much unexpected gift was passed on my way during the weekend. I know that I have talked at length about my love for my village and how I tend to not move out and around a lot. But this weekend showed me the love on the other side of the spectrum. By the end of this weekend, I truly felt like I had a family I was part of a new PC family. Nothing will ever replace my loved ones back home, but my parents would be proud of my PC family I have here.

These past few months I have experienced an incredible decrease in the hug category. It sounds cheesy, but a good hug can go a million miles. This past weekend I gave a received plenty to bring me back up to par. It was wonderful to sit around and share in Christmas memories with everyone for a little bit; escape the world we were in and let our memories and emotions shoot around. I never once felt lonely this Christmas. I had thirteen family members surrounding me who were there to talk, joke, and hug at any given moment.

There is definitely an unspoken bond gained through shared experience here in Peace Corps; it is a beautiful thing that drops all barriers to conversation and friendship. No matter your background, your interests, or your destination, friendships are formed between volunteers simply because we are all here sharing in many of the same joys and struggles of life in a foreign country, away from everything we have ever known. Eventually, the friendships grow to become much more that just friendships. As the past weekend displayed, eventually you become family members. In time, your passion to help the people of Kyrgyzstan combines with everyone else’s passion to create a family doing their best to collectively help make the future better for everyone in this country.



December 30, 2006

7:45 AM


The new number is near,
waiting around the corner.
I am a different person
wiser and a bit older.

The past holds answers
that my future will need.
My direction, uncertain;
so much I want to be.

I see The light flicker
in my uncertain dreams.
A candle lit, burning,
lighting what seems

to be an image of me.
Not me now, not me here.
Me later, out of present
thought; future’s fear.

Fiona has become a flower.

December 9, 2006

8:30 PM

First things first: Happy Birthday Mama! Next up, the ½ century mark!


So here I am on the other side of the planet listening to “Wait Wait…Don’t tell me” (through Podcast) and I am rolling on the floor laughing. You might think that I am laughing at the show, which is hilarious, but that is not the case.

I am laughing at the recent news of a 500 million dollar library to be built in Texas; a library in honor of our President. Good ol’ Bush.

Money well spent.

Do you think they will attach a bar to the library for his daughters? It may be safer to keep them in Texas, there are no embassies to kick them out of Texas.

Good thing the war on ‘Turrur’ is boding well for the President. At this rate, the library may need to dedicate an entire wing to self-help books.

Possible new titles for the GW Library: “Geography for Dummies,” “Legacy: What to do When Yours is Ignorant Violence.”



December 10, 2006

9:00 AM

First things first: Happy Birthday Pops! Now you have a 1 attached to the 50!


I am reading some news articles that I pulled from the internet yesterday and I am once again overwhelmed. Does it not seem to anyone else that the entire world is arming itself for something? Every other news report has to do with someone spending more money to either: buy weapons, stop the spread of weapons, or protect against attack from weapons.

Now I refuse to take the “Peace and Love” stance to all of this, I have too much respect for myself and the world that I live in to believe that we can stop all the violence with a hug or two. Yet maybe our world could use a few more hugs. Reading headlines like “Britain, announced it will replace an aging fleet of nuclear submarines with a more modern fleet beginning in 2024 at a cost of around $40 billion,” or “a joint Pentagon-State Department report reveals that a $1.1 billion program to train Afghan police has run into equipment shortages and poor management” just makes me shiver.

A billion dollars is nothing these days. Well, at least nothing when it is placed in the context of national security. Yeah, I understand the need for national security and I thank the intelligence and military forces that have protected me my entire life. At some point in my youth though, I started to wonder. Now that I have grown up a bit more, my wondering has turned into questioning. A questioning that usually goes something like: “When did war replace education, guns replace books, and money replace handshakes or hugs?”

I would go no where near saying that we have lost hope, but while that entire world arms itself for the future, there is a new generation now growing up with two possibilities for their future: we exist or we won’t. That is my black and white analysis for APL. I hate to be so grim, but it hurts to watch as the world around me is arming itself for a war against itself.

There is no finger pointing here, the two headlines I quoted just happened to be from two powerful Western nations, but they are by no means the only ones taking part. Kashmir, Gaza, Darfur, Sri Lanka, Fiji, the locations could go on. Sometimes it feels like amidst the beauty and wonder of our planet there is a constant war being waged; war and violence which is often waged in the name of trying to make our world a better place. A gun with a dove painted on it or a missile with a religious emblem gracing it’s’ shell is contradiction in its finest form.

I have no answers, just grievances. So in the end, I am just an observer who is overwhelmed by some of the world’s actions. I am lost, weighted down and beaten. I will continue to read the headlines, scan the news; there always hope hidden amongst the horrible things that make the headlines. There is beauty that still lingers within the ugly, it is just hard sometimes to find it. But in a world where war and weapons mean more to the headlines than worship and wisdom, I can only pray that my children have a chance to see the beauty we seem bent on saving through a very destructive war.

Wage Peace.


December 11, 2006

6:15 PM

'The Nameless'

There are people that live in my head;
Nameless and faceless, filled with dread.
They appear to show of something to come;
A world lost in its wonders, excess, and fun.

I dream of a world where they won’t have worry;
I dream of a world where they won’t have to bury
The children they raised, the children they gave
The gift of life; now an engraved name.

My dreams are futile, they lack direction
Serving mainly as much needed reflection.
Sometimes I wish I knew them all,
They deserve face; I give ‘em scribble.


December 11, 2006

8:00 PM

I believe one of the toughest things to do in life is to raise a child. It’s given very little recognition, in my opinion, with the context of many great conversations. We make plans to visit Jupiter, continuously discover cures for diseases, and create technologies to solve our many “problems” in life. One invention eludes us though, the formula to raising children.

There is no formula because it would be impossible. Sure, there are plenty of books out there to help with the raising of children, grandparents with years of knowledge to share, and a long human history of child-bearing to tap into.

In the end though, it usually ends up being a large game of trial and error. The majority of parents on this planet only want the best for their children. There are many parents throughout this world, mine included, that have dedicated themselves to trying to provide their children with a better life than they had. And within this is one of the largest ironies of child-raising: in the drive to create a better future for their children, many parents inadvertently make it tougher on their children.

I cite an example from my current living situation. My host father, like many fathers, wants the best for his children. On many occasions I have either heard or talked with him while he boasted about his wonderful three children and the joy of having them in the house. He knows what they are capable of and recognizes how smart they are at their young ages. But this has not stopped him from berating them for being lazy.

His rants sometimes can be overwhelming and hard to listen to as he bears down on my host brother for not studying English enough. Five minutes before yelling at him for not studying English he was yelling at him for not helping around the house enough, which was preceded by a rant about how he is not studying Geography enough.

The kid is 11.

A little twist to the culture that gets tossed into this mix is that if Mairambek (my host brother) stays at school for a half-hour after classes to ‘play’ a bit he is then asked endlessly why, what was he doing, why did he come home late (this happens to my host sister too, just not as much). If he goofs around too much, or acts like he is eleven too much, he is snapped at. If I am displaying my host father out to be a military general, I don’t mean to be (though he was in the army).

Where I am trying to go with this is how sometimes my host father can, as I have seen in many people in my village, be very contradictory and have a tough time in catching the irony in their own rhetoric. My host father will berate Mairambek for not studying, and then boast to me about the new bicycle that he just bought for him. He, my host father, will get mad at my host brother for not knowing a word in English and then brag to a recently arrived guest how good his son is at learning languages.

In the end, my host father means nothing but good. He knows what an English education can lead to (university scholarships, study abroad opportunities, and wide range of future work options). He knows that employment in Kyrgyzstan is still struggling to regain footing (after fifteen years of independence); he knows the future can lead to two paths for his children: get a good education and make better lives for themselves or fade into the struggle of making ends meet.

But in trying his best to instill all of this into his children, he many times comes off as a dictator restricting growth rather than aiding it. I am only using my host family as an example because I live with them. This is not something unique to my family. This sentiment and mentality seems to filter throughout many of the families in my village. It is tough to watch as parents will tear into their children for not giving what they believe to be a satisfactory effort.

I want to remind these parents how mature their children are in many ways. Point out how much responsibility these children need to have to take care of animals, younger siblings, school work, and house work. It is very common here to see older siblings play a large role in taking care of their younger siblings. All over the streets I will see older sisters carrying their little sisters or pushing them in carriages. I have come home on more than one occasion to see my host brother take care or Sezim for hours at a time, on his own.

The most impressionable moments are when he asks if I can watch Sezim for a few minutes while heads outside to tie up and get the family cow food upon her return from the fields. He will take care of his animals duties, and then come back in to take care of his little sister. Dinner will role around, and then finally when my host mother is free and/or Sezim is tired, he and my host sister will get around to starting homework around 8:00 PM (sometimes working until 10:00 PM).

I have not breached the topic of my host sister (the older one, she is 8) yet because she is an entirely different topic. I am still floating between whether or not my host father gives her different treatment because she is young or because he expects her to just become a wife one day. My host sister, Nurila, is a wit. She is the tallest eight year-old in the world and has the brains to match her height. Sometimes I am glad that my host father doesn’t push her as hard as he does Mairambek. But there are times where I wonder why he doesn’t.

The overwhelming majority of my best English students at my school are girls; Nurila fits that mold perfectly. She will be fluent in English by the time she is sixteen. The problem with her, and a lot of my students that worries me, is that many of their parents expect them to go on and become a great housewife one day. Some may attend university, but as is the case with my host mother, they will return after university to fulfill their cultural roles as childbearing wives.

I can see a lot of my host mother’s wit in Nurila, but shiver when I think that a lot of it may be stifled by the duties of a Kyrgyz woman. There are a lot of girls in my classes that I know will one day be something great, providing they are allowed to make it that far. I have one student who wants to go to school to be a Chinese/English/Russian translator, and she is definitely smart enough to do so. I have another student that straight up told me that she wants to be an ambassador to America for Kyrgyzstan; she also has the wits and the will within her to do this. What scares me though is that while they have hopes, dreams, and even plans for their future, their family has another plan, that may inevitably take priority.

That plan usually involves becoming a bride, then a mother, then a housewife; a role in life that is very honorable in many ways (childcare being one major one), but also a role that can shut down every other future aspiration.

There are exceptions, plenty of them to these roles that both boys and girls struggle with here. But overall, there is a battle for both genders to grow both within and outside of the barriers that their culture has laid out. It is not easy to watch, and I expect is has to be a millions times tougher to be a part of. Especially when it may be the only way of life you may ever know.

This is where I come into play. Part of my role here is to learn their culture, respect their culture, and then try and show them some unique differences between my culture and theirs. Then use these unique differences to try and teach about different possibilities within gender roles, methods of education, and social life, all the while trying not to question the integrity and beauty of their own culture.

I am a teacher every moment my eyes are open, a representation of American culture 24/7, and connection to resources that my village is in dire need of.

No easy task.

I love it.


December 13, 2006

6:00 AM

Quite possibly the biggest difference in my life here has been how quickly days move. I expect this pace of life to slow down a bit the more I settle in here; but at this point, time is flying. There is a combination of a few things that keep this pace up. I wake up everyday and there is something new to challenge me, confuse me, or excite me. It could be something new with my language learning, teaching, or with my family.

The second I leave my bedroom I walk into a world that is far from what I have always known. I have been in my village for nearly three months now (and Kyrgyzstan for five months), but it is still all unique. I believe that Peace Corps has fondly labeled this the “honeymoon” stage of a volunteer’s service. It is the period when everything is still new and exciting. PC’s hope is that volunteers can spread this honeymoon stage across their two year service and keep up the excitement.

I have no idea what the next twenty-two months will bring, which why I choose to not think too much about extending the “honeymoon” stage. Right now, the world I live in is a daily lesson in the beauty and ugliness that exists worldwide. I am a participant daily in the struggles and wonders of life.

Another aspect to the rapid days stems from feeling more like a participant than an observer. While one of my favorite things to do in life is people watch, I have been able to take this to a new level here in Kyrgyzstan. I remember one of the best moments of people watching I had back home was when I traveled with my family to the East Coast for a week or so. One of our stops was New York. I fondly remember one night heading outside of our hotel to sit on a ledge for a few hours and just watch as the world stepped, strutted, and sped past me.

I loved that night, but in the end I loved it because it allowed me the comfort of stepping away from the world a bit and just watching it go. While I love to do this still, I also found that sometimes the best people watching, the best way to observe life is to step inside of it and experience it. It sounds kind of obvious, but, for me at least, this never really occurred to me as a possibility.

I had the comfort and restraint back home of knowing everything around me. As much as I could I tried to travel around and see our country. When I traveled, in country or out, I got my first tastes of a world that had more; a world that was waiting to be experienced, a world that needed to be experienced. But if I traveled in country, eventually, no matter where I was, the differences quickly leveled back into the ordinary. Sure, there was always different people, different scenery, and different stories created. But in the end, I was able to gain comfort fairly quickly with my surroundings.

So far here, I have gained levels of comfort in different aspects to my life; but as a whole, I am far from feeling like I know what is going on around me and far from understanding the world I live in. My troubles back home may have been partially due to a short-coming within me to be able to challenge myself internally, but that is who I am. I love reading books, but always feel like my mind is most stimulated when my book becomes the scene in front of me. I love exploring the depths of my mind, but have always had a tough time searching without something to spark the exploration.

This is where my life here has come into play. Everyday that I wake up and start walking through my village, teach an English class, or have dinner with my host family my assumptions, my thoughts, my passions, and my background is being challenged. Everything I have ever known is open to scrutiny here. The world I have always known is challenged daily. From the moment I set my feet on the ground in the morning to the second they raise back-up into the bed, my inner-world is spun through a dry-cycle. Then comes my next new wonder of life: dreams. This is an entirely different discussion; the time will come.

For now, I am loving the “honeymoon” stage and do hope that in one way or another this stays a part of my life for the next two years. I’ll keep you updated.


December 14, 2006

7:30 AM

'The Actual'

I don’t want to know.
I like the mystery,
The distance,
The blurry images.

The joy of searching,
Wondering and thinking
About the answer
Now outweighs

The actual answer.

Empirical and factual
Is a need for some.
I respect the collections
Of possible answers.

At the end of the day
We don’t really know.
I prefer that, I prefer
Not knowing

The actual answers.



December 15, 2006

6:00 AM

Why am I awake at 6:00 AM!?!?

I’ve become my father (not a bad thing, but it has come a little early). Let me cite some examples:

I have come fairly close to just accepting that for the rest of my life I will have a beard. I prefer the facial party over the ice rink.
My normal sleeping pattern has become: asleep by 9:30 PM and awake by 5:30. Within five minutes of being awake I am doing something.
I still cry while watching Lion King. I grew up watching my father cry to movies like “Forest Gump” and “Sound of Music.” The trait has been passed on.
I love Bing Crosby (‘White Christmas’ to be specific). Enough said.

While I am at, I may as well explain how I have become my mother also:

I am five feet, nine inches tall. My little brother passed me when he was a Freshman/Sophomore in high school. Suffice to say, my mama is short.
If I don’t have my morning coffee there are demons that will escape. I long ago learned the potion to keep them at bay is a mug of coffee.
I have gained the ability to make an impressive dinner out of what ever is within five feet of me in the kitchen. My father is also a good cook, but my mother has perfected the art of creating meals in minutes from the most random of selections.
I don’t feel normal unless I am reading. Enough said.



December 16, 2006

6:45 AM

I awoke this morning to an oddly vivid memory of my dreams.

I have done this a lot since being in Kyrgyzstan; it must be something with the mountain air. Whatever brings it on (mountain air or Fiona), I love being able to remember what happened in my head while I slept. There are some mornings which I wonder if it was really in head. These are the best mornings.

“Where was I last night?”

I love the feeling of waking up to the tangible world knowing that the intangible was keeping me in comfort as I laid resting. In this world that cannot be seen with eyes, I have met many wonderful characters and people of my past.

Last night was no different. I awoke this morning to images of friends from elementary school, junior high, and high school, my brothers, and my parents and many of their friends in my head. At some point in the evening cinema a large group of friends of mine and I had committed a crime. We had gotten in an argument with a police officer over something (it was never entirely clear). The argument ended with Jack Bauer of all sudden arriving to take out the officer and then lead us to his suburban where we took off. I remember spending a good amount of time running until we ended up in a hotel to hide out. The whole time we were running the word was spreading, throughout whatever town we were in, that we were wanted by the authorities. As we were driving/running through the town, people from my past started to appear and play the role of villagers who recognized me from the ‘Wanted’ posters.

By the time my group eventually made it to the hotel we were wanted criminals. Jack had faded away and then my brother, Casey, and I were talking in a hotel room. He had decided that he was going to gather the entire group’s parents at the hotel. The parents arrived and we had a discussion for the next plan of action. We discussed running, turning ourselves in, and the cheapest way to get an oil change in Des Plaines (huh?). Then right before I woke up, one parent suggested we accept that we were heroes, but needed to also remember that heroes can be villains. Her final statement before I woke up: turn yourselves in.

Ok, so that ends my dream recap. I have no idea what it means or where it came from. I love having dreams, but I don’t have much desire to analyze them. I just like the fact that I am living an exciting world in my sleep, as well as in my waking hours.



December 16, 2006

7:30 AM

Yesterday was a very long day, but one that I would repeat over and over again.

My morning began with a 5:30 AM rise where I took part in my usual morning rituals: clothe myself for the cold, fill up the water heater and turn it on, take Canopka out to the bathroom, head to the bathroom myself, and then return to my room to write.

After the morning rituals were finished, I quickly got dressed (I am always rushing after I sit down to write, I always lose track of time) and brushed my teeth. After brushing my teeth I made my way over to the extended house where the rest of my family sleeps in the winter (I will get some pictures later). In this extra house there are three rooms: a mud room, a dining room, and a bedroom (where my entire family of five people sleeps in the winter because it is the warmest room and heated by a coal heater)

In the extended house I sat down for quick breakfast of freshly baked nan (bread) and creamy butter (which is basically just ghee for all you Indian food fans). Hot nan and ghee is a damn near a sexual experience. I knew I was late when I sat down for a quick breakfast, but I couldn’t leave the hot nan alone! I then proceeded to piss off my host mother by informing her that I was not going to have chai (tea) because I was in a hurry.

To the Kyrgyz, chai cures everything from the flu to a hang over and is loaded with all of the necessary vitamins to keep anyone healthy. To not have my morning chai to them is like Batman heading out to fight crime without his Batsuit. Sure, he may still be witty and intelligent, but without his suit he has no armor and is weaponless.

So I daringly left the house with my siblings to head off to school without my weapons and armor. I was a bit fearful, but I had Nurila and Mairambek with me, and they are super-heroes in their own right, so I knew they could protect me if needed (plus, they had their morning chai, so if all else were to fail, they had their weapons on them). On the way to school I became new friends with my nine year-old neighbor. We had a lively talk discussing how many horses I like to eat for breakfast, what kind of animals I kept my bag, and how today (Saturday) I am taking a short vacation to the moon to visit some friends for tea.

By the time we all arrived to school, I had made a new friend (if anything out of his curiosity for how my travels to the moon went and if he could possibly join me next time). Once at school I passed on good luck to two of my students who were heading off to a neighboring town for a rayon-wide (district-wide) competition. On Thursday and Friday this week there was competitions (large tests) in all subjects. The best two students from each subject at my school headed off to the rayon competition where they were competing for a chance to go to the oblast (state) competition. Naturally, after the oblast competition there is a national competition held in Bishkek.

This is pretty big competition (called the Olympiad), so I made sure to wish both of my students luck and gave one of them my English-Kyrgyz dictionary for any help she made need. I would have liked to go with them, but I had four classes yesterday morning and did not want to miss them. After passing on my blessings I made my way to my classroom for a challenging Friday schedule with my 8th and 9th form (grade) classes. We recently have been working on Present Continuous Tense combined with Adverbs (“Tomorrow I am going to Bishkek”). With the exception of one of the 9th form classes (and two students from an 8th form), this concept was proving very difficult to cement in their brains.

One reason is that I still have students who do not understand the concept of Present Continuous Tense, even after nearly three weeks of lessons and exercises revolved around P.C.T. Most of the students that don’t understand P.C.T. are the ones that once they leave school see no reason in opening a book or many times have so much work to do at their home that they have no time. It is very tough to watch, but some of my brightest students already have their fates decided for them through the family. I am not saying that becoming a farmer or a sheep herder lacks honor and talent. But it is tough to watch a student not try in school because he or she knows that no matter what they do, their future is already decided for them.

This is another part of the culture hung in the balance between the traditional roles of a villager and the future possibilities of a college education. College is not for everyone, both in Kyrgyzstan and America; and not all people have the choice to go to college in both Kyrgyzstan and America. Even so, it is difficult to see natural wit within a child and to see them not care about it because they have no other choice but to learn the family trade.

Back to my classes; the day went fairly smoothly and was basically another review, done slightly differently with the hope the something sticks within the students’ minds. After classes I headed to the teachers lounge and had very lively discussion with the director of my school. She can really talk; she is a very intelligent woman, so talking with her is always fun. Plus, it is has become a game for me to sit down and try and tame the pace of her speech so that I can do more than just concentrate as hard as I can to understand everything she is saying. Slowly but surely, I am gaining the ability to respond to her before she moves onto another topic (which is tough if my mind is still processing what she said, and then trying to process a response).

After my discussion with her I ran into a fellow teacher who I have become fairly decent friends with. He invited me to Friday prayer at the local Mosque (Mecheit), which I glady accepted. I quickly ran home, grabbed some quick lunch, my computer (for teacher’s club later on in the afternoon), and journeyed off to the Mosque. The last time I went to the Mosque was a great experience, but I felt slightly out of place. My Kyrgyz was still fairly poor and my knowledge of Islam was minimal at best. Since then (about a month ago), I have greatly improved my Kyrgyz and done a good amount of reading about Islam. So this time I felt a little more prepared to participate in the events at the Mosque.

The prayer was incredibly relaxing and was a great way to be able to take a few breaths and just reflect. Namas (prayer, also known as Salat) has some very specific actions and prayers to be performed (both physically and mentally). I have done a fairly good job at learning the physical aspect to Namas, but I am still working on the Arabic prayers that are to be recited during the physical part of prayer. For now, I take part in the physical part of prayer and then use the moments of silence (while everyone in the Mosque does their own individual Namas) to have a few conversations with the world beyond. It is very relaxing to reflect and react to the thoughts the sputter through my head during Namas.

Following the prayer, I had a great deal of conversations with many of the men at the Mosque. They loved the fact that I was there, and many of them were men that I have become friends with throughout the village (the local animal doctor was one of them and I love this guy. His name is Asanbek Bikay—Bikay translates as ‘brother’ and is used, as well as Aje—sister—following every adult-aged persons’ name here). Many of the men were glad to finally meet the American in the village who was teaching English at their school. I even had the chance to meet some younger men (twenty-five years old). I have had a hard time finding people my age (men and women alike) to talk to in my village, so it was nice to be able to have some lengthy conversation with them. They were really interested in what I am doing here and also seemed excited to be able to have conversation with someone new who is their age.

After some great conversations I made my way back to school for my Friday computer club for teachers. The club has basically become a three person club (which is fine with me, it could be tough to teach more three people how to use at computer at once): my counterpart, the other English teacher at school, and the daughter of the vice-principal (Zavooch), who is a part-time college student. Yesterday was the first real assignment I gave them all: create your resume. I needed something that could give them practice with typing, different keys on the keyboard (Tab, Shift, etc.), and MS Word tools (Center alignment, Bold, Save). The resume offered a chance to use all of these; plus it also gave them a chance to create something that they might need or would like to have in the future.

The computer club went well, and they really seemed to enjoy being able to create something of their own; something that was theirs and unique to them. After the resume session, I then succumbed to their requests to show them more pictures on my computer. They love looking at pictures, and I have a ton; we move around from Kyrgyzstan pictures to pictures from Semester at Sea, to pictures from home. It really doesn’t matter which pictures I choose, they love watching them and always have a million questions about pictures (that are not from Kyrgyzstan).

By time I made it home it was around 6:00 PM and I was feeling slightly tired. But like is usually the case, I was greeted by Sezim at the doorway when I arrived home. She is like a shot of espresso when I am tired or stressed; Sezim has the magic ability to cure fatigue in all forms. So with a new kick of energy I sat down with her and my other siblings for some relaxing and goofing around. After a few minutes of sitting down a very popular cartoon named “Keremet” came on TV. I love this cartoon, honestly; this is a Kyrgyz cartoon for kids, but with my mental state and language level, I seem to fit in well with the kids when we all watch the show. The show is about a Kyrgyz boy and girl that travel across Kyrgyzstan teaching morality, safety, and life lessons to a very clumsy set of friends they have. It is such a fun show to watch and cleverly made. Sometimes I have to laugh out loud at how cute the show is; it is a fifteen minute entourage of cuteness and much needed lessons for children.

After the show, I sat down with my family for a nice dinner of steamed rice, carrots, and tiny bits of sheep meat. At the dinner table we had a lively discussion about what my parents ‘actually’ do. My host parents know that my father is a businessman and my mother is a secretary, but they wanted to know what those actually entailed. So I broke down that my dad is a salesman who travels a lot to talk to different clients (a Russian cognate, thank god) in the Chicagoland area. I then discussed how my mother works on the phone a lot with clients and helps her company by collecting information from clients around the country. Now keep in mind that all of this was done in Kyrgyz, which I still have many limits with. So as best I could, I explained minimally what my parents do; which is where the description from above comes into play.

Overall this was a very long day and I eventually made it into bed around 11:30 PM (after writing some emails and doing some reading). But no matter how long the days are, if they involve as much excitement as yesterday did, I will take the same every day I am here.

It just doesn’t stop. I love it.





I end with a quote from Huston Smith:

“Where we go wrong is in mistaking our presently assigned part for what we truly are...We live in a world which there is no chance or accident. Those are simply covers for ignorance.”

Thank you Mr. Smith.

Жейсон жинди!

December 5, 2006

7:45 AM

The common sentiment, and essentially agreed upon between all residents, throughout my oblast on the lake is that the west end rarely gets snow in the winter.

This morning I arose to our second snow of the early winter season. While I am typing this the snow is still in its’ lovely sifting state from the sky. It is not a heavy snow, and I bet if the sun were to rise around noon, the snow would fade by evening. But nonetheless, either the locals have a different definition of snow than me, or the weather is cooperating to my liking.

I love the snow and the cold weather; I love having to bundle up. But above all, one of my favorite things about the winter and its’ snow is rising in the morning to find a fresh powdering. The early morning darkness here adds a wonderful canopy for the bright white snow to light up the village. The site is breathtaking and is magnified by the silence provided by the snow. I grew up loving the snow and must admit that I get a fuzzy feeling in my belly when I see the snow falling.

Even during my days of driving a car (you know, back in my American residency days), I loved heading out in the Chicago snow. The snow forced drivers to find some patience behind the wheel. There was no road rage happening when everyone was forced to drive five miles per hour. Essentially, snow forced the fast-paced life of America to slow down a bit and act a bit more deliberately. Snow by no means shut life down in Chicago, but it did alter life quite a bit.

Schools were sometimes closed, work may be cancelled, or showing up late to either could be excused by simply saying, “Sorry, it a crazy winter world out there.” But even if nothing was cancelled, and life did its’ best to stay the course, there were still plenty of tiny alterations forced to occur that I loved about winter.

The most obvious change is the role that winter plays in bringing families together. With a blizzard outside, not many people are going to be heading out to fight battle Father Frost. What usually ends up being the case is that often family members end up in the house together enjoying the warmth of a fire and each other. True, the holiday season plays a large role in bringing families together. Still, there very few things (in my mind) that rival sitting around with family on a chilly snowy evening.

Out of the restrictions and restraints of winter there blossoms an incredible feeling of love. In many ways, winter narrows the choices you have to get out of the house and brings to the surface the love of family members. I love winter for many reasons, many of which stem from wonderful winter memories. But I realize now that the thing I love the most about winter is how close it brings people. Try it someday, hug someone to escape the cold and maybe you will feel much more than just the warmth of temperature. I like to call it love.


December 7, 2006

6:15 AM

“… a day that will forever live in infamy”


I am on the brink of a new challenge with my students. I never realized it until yesterday just how comfortable I was becoming with them being able to complete all of the assignments and tests with a fairly dead on accuracy (most of them at least). I was becoming very proud of myself and my students for steadily moving along with the lesson plans in a seemingly efficient manner. Then it hit me, in the middle of class (like many of my thoughts do); was I becoming too content with them knowing the answers and being able to do the work and not challenging them?

I know personally I do not grow or learn unless I have something challenging my existing (or even non-existent) thoughts. I wonder if this was the case with my students. I have been giving them new material, new words, new grammar techniques, and plenty of new worldwide culture lessons in the clubs. But overall, I have been endlessly attacking the areas within them that I had previously attacked. Knowing sure well that I could use the entry point to provide them with new information.

But this is not education, for me at least, and how I believe that my students will be able to grow. I was convinced I was doing something wrong when one of my better students asked me for tougher homework yesterday. She was not doing it to show her superiority, she simply felt the need to be challenged. She needs to be challenged, and I believe that so do the rest of my students; many of my students want to learn English and many want to head off to the university next year to study it.

In order to be sure they are ready for this, I do believe that I have a responsibility in the next half school year to start challenging their minds. I decided to test this new desire of mine to challenge in yesterday’s afternoons English club. I decided that the activity of the club was going to be an oral question and answers session. I would read out loud the questions and then they would answer them. The hope was that this would force them to both listen carefully and then have to search for the answers.

I asked some basic questions (Is today Friday? What color is my sweater? Are there seven days in a week? Etc.), and then moved on to some tougher, more thought provoking questions. My two big questions, which I hoped could stir some discussion where: Can girls play sports? Can boys cook?

Overall, these are very basic questions, but I wanted to provide an ambiguous question or two to see what the result would be. The result ending up being my first actual debate in class (which they searched deep within their vocab knowledge to try and do so in English). There were boys and girls on both sides of the debate. I had a few girls that believed girls should not play sports and a few boys that saw nothing wrong with boys cooking, and vice versa. Overall, the mini-debate was fun to watch, especially since they were challenging themselves to do it all in English. I decided that I will try and expand on this theme next week with them. The hope is to challenge, but not discourage. I’ll have to see where this I can take this new realization of mine.


December 7, 2006

8:00 AM

It is still overwhelming to me, and I love it.

I am speaking a second language; and slowly but surely I am doing so more and more fluently, but more importantly, instinctively. To some people who have grown up their entire lives knowing two languages this may not be as exciting to them. Or for people who learning a new language is like learning how to drink out of straw, this again may not be that exciting for them.

For me, I love this. I have tried to learn Spanish before, but struggled with the language only being in a classroom. Even when I traveled to Mexico, I was only there for two separate months and that was enough to find some new words, but by no means pick up a second language. This is something incredible, I love it. I have started to have long conversations after dinner with my host family and it rarely ever hits me that I am having the entire conversation in Kyrgyz!

And to add on to this joy, Russian is becoming needed more and more while I am teaching English. There are just some words and grammar techniques that don’t translate into Kyrgyz. So while my Kyrgyz is steadily improving, my Russian is being dragged along as well. I used to dream of having the ability to switch back and forth between two languages, now I am doing it instinctively.

I remember watching my beloved friend Dr. Hanni Taylor while I was in Mexico. She would be sitting at the table with her friend Mausi having a lively discussion bouncing between German, Spanish, and English. It was incredible to watch and fueled my desire to learn another language.

But in the states I had a few problems: I am horrible at languages, especially when it comes to studying for one (I am lazy in this aspect). Even here, I have to smack myself once in a while to pick up my Kyrgyz book and study some new words and grammar. Still, the book doesn’t always work for me. My best learning so far has simply been to sit down with my family and talk, and they will randomly correct me or offer up a new word in conversation that I suddenly stick to my brain.

I love it, it never stops.

Meet Fiona and Insanity

November 25, 2006

4:00 PM

Sorry the last post was short and choppy, had a busy week…

…on to the consistency of my rambling thoughts:

I just got back from town to check my email and every single email that I received (from someone other than Peace Corps) mentioned how much they enjoyed reading my blog. It struck me walking to the internet, before I even saw my emails, how my blog is playing a much larger role in my life here than I thought it would when I created it back home.

For me, it is the therapy I need; it is the bag for which I can collect my thoughts to one day come back to and relive the ups and downs of life here. There are some days when I feel as if my mind is overflowing and scrambled; it is not until I sit down and release the thoughts that I calm down. Writing for the blog has also spurred a passion for writing in me that I seemed to have lost for the past few years. My surroundings and my life have created so many new thoughts and in my mind that I don’t feel normal unless I am writing. But while my need to write is constantly pressing forth, I do think that I would get a bit lazy with it if I didn’t know that there were people counting on me to write.

I have never once thought that my experience here was for myself. I initially sought after the life of Peace Corps for many selfish reasons, and those quickly subsided the second I saw the interest other people took in me taking this big step in life. Yeah, it feels good to hear people tell me how proud of me they are, but it honestly feels just as good, if not better, to hear someone tell me they love reading my blog. To know that people are truly interested in hearing what I am doing here is an incredibly warm feeling. Sometimes I just get weird with my blog; sometimes I unfold a series of events that are beyond belief. Which ever it may be, it feels good to know that people care about what I am doing.

It may sound mean, but I know plenty of people that could care less what goes on two inches beyond their own nose. I have no problem with those people, but it is those people that I have lost touch with. The friends, the family, the people who care about the world that surrounds them have joined me in an effort to stay in touch and at the same time experience the world beyond their own. Not all people could or would even want to do what I doing right now. And there is nothing wrong with that. There are millions of ways to show that you care about life, and it is those people that take a concerted effort to care for their friends and the world beyond their own.

I will end this sappy randomness with a quote from Mr. Moser’s last email (Mark, after this email, Cindy may have some competition):

“I am not sure if it is good or bad, but I think you going away has made our relationship closer (as I am sure with other people as well). I religiously check your blog for updated posts and I love reading your writing and hearing all about everything you do. I tell a lot of my teacher friends about you and your stories. Even though you are half way around the world, you are close to my heart and my mind. Thank you for being who you are, a great person, and friend. You are always in my heart, thoughts, and prayers.”

My reason to exist resides in the people I care for.

And yes Mark, I do wear all of those clothes to work. I took all of those pictures right before I would leave to go to work!


November 30, 2006

7:00 AM

Ahhh the humanity!

I love what I am doing. I love where I live, I love my job, and I love the people that have become a regular part of my life.

I caught wind that word is spreading recently through the Peace Corps rumor chain (text messaging and random visits from PCVs) that I have made it into the swirl of talk, at least as far as Bishkek; which means that I have made it into conversation in at least one different Oblast than my own.

The word on the street about me: I am spending a lot of time in my village and barely coming up to breathe.

Now I know that I talked briefly about this before in a post, but I feel kind of obligated to further elaborate on this topic. Basically, Peace Corps offers its’ Volunteers an incredible amount of freedom combined with an unending support in case of problems. What this freedom opens Volunteers up to can be stretched from weekend trips to the organizing of different clubs and camps at your site. In addition to those simpler things, there are also the very frequent seminars, gatherings, presentations, and Volunteer-organized events that all are welcome to attend. What this freedom of movement offers up to Volunteers is a few choices: acknowledge the freedom but choose to not travel much or take off to every event and free weekend possible. Obviously there is a balance between the two choices, but that is how it basically breaks down.

From my previous comments about the rumor mill, I guess you could guess which category I have joined. I really enjoy my village, I love my students, and my host family would make my family back home proud for the love and care they offer me. I am really comfortable with my life here right now. Obviously, the homebody within me has played a large role in this. In my love of getting away from the ordinary, I still prefer to just settle down sometimes and become comfortable in one spot. In my case here, I am growing more and more comfortable with life in my village.

Of course as stated in the last post, homesickness still pervades my thoughts once in a while. But I expected the homesickness and actually see it as part of the growth I expected to do here. The toughest times here are going to be the times when I am having a hard day at school, my language is having an off day, and I start running my mind across thoughts of home. I have experienced days like this, they suck; but in the end they are when I have to try the hardest to settle myself down and learn from the struggle. It sounds kind of cheesy and like I am trying to be some Buddhist guru sitting under his tree. This is far from the case; I am honestly just beginning to see the light of reason behind why I am here.

I am here to learn, as I suspect many other volunteers are also; some are here to learn a culture, some a here to learn a language, some are here to learn work-related skills for future plans. Many are here to do all of the above, and within all of the above there are elements of personal growth necessary and required. I suck at learning Kyrgyz, my teaching is improving but I still am fairly poor, and there is still so much of the culture that I have not yet explored. I am improving daily with all of the above, but most importantly, I believe that in my five months I have grown incredibly as a person.

I believe that much of my growth has come because I have tried to take a concerted effort to become acquainted and comfortable with my village. I am by no means a better Volunteer because I have chosen to do this; this is just the path I have chosen to take here. Others have found different, sometimes better, paths to follow here that allow them to both contribute and grow. This is where the necessary questioning of my own position comes into play.

I have made and hung a sign on my wall in my room that reads, “Why Are You Here?” A volunteer visited me here at home and asked me if it was my existential question I ask myself daily? I responded slightly unsure with a “no.” Unsure because I don’t believe it to be my existential question; but I do believe it to be a valid question we should all ask ourselves once in a while: Is what I am doing the right thing? Are their better ways to do this? Is this the path that I should be following? When do I ask her to marry me? (Robert, Prague is pretty!).

When I caught wind of this “rumor” about me I jumped right into the questioning phase. Am I doing the right thing here? Should I be getting out more? I do believe that I need to get out more, but for now, I am very comfortable. I plan to see the beautiful country I now live, in time. For now I have too much work and too many people to meet and befriend in my village.

It’s kind of funny because with my internet usage (once a week) and my cell phone (about an hour 1½ a week), I have stayed fairly connected with home. And in a twisted way it has allowed me to spend more time in my village. I seem to get my doses of companionship through my connections with home and then head of back into the world I now live. I am not saying that I have not found friends through Peace Corps. I love many of the new friends I have. They are necessary to release some of the unique aspects to life here. But to see them I need to leave my site and remove myself from the world I want to become closer with. I see friends and I will travel in time to visit more friends, but for now, I feel as if what I am doing and where I am at is the best, if not a bit sheltered, way for me to do what I came here for: to grow and help give others the lessons that I have learned from.

***Change of Thought Process***

It is 8:00 AM and the sun just rose. Without daylight savings time, the world brightens up a bit later in the day here. It kills your desire to rise in the morning when it is still pitch black out at 7:30 AM! Another fun aspect to the wonderful world of winter that I have found out I have to become accustomed to.


November 30, 2006

4:15 PM

I’m going insane and I love it!

I catch myself talking to myself frequently during the day. Many times I talk with a purpose, but sometimes I just wander off and discuss life with the person who lives inside my skull. She is just as crazy as I am and sometimes she talks back to me. We have had great conversations, the lady in my head and me, in the past few months.

Honestly, you think I am kidding. I have come damn near solving world peace, global hunger, and AIDS with her. The shitty part is that we have all of these conversations on my way to and from work. By the time I actually make it to a location where I can record our words of enlightenment, the thoughts have receded into the depths my mind. For some odd reason the one person that keeps me insane (Fiona, the lady in my head) believes a tiny bit of sanity is necessary to live. She steals all of our thoughts away until I once again make my way back to dirt paths of my village.

“…I’ll make the most of it, I’m an extraordinary machine.”

Yesterday morning when I was walking to school and I had an incredible conversation with Fiona; she began by asking me, “What is it that motivates people?” I had to think for second and then I asked her in what context was she talking. She responded, “I don’t mean in context; I mean in the grand scheme of things, what pushes people along?”

Fiona is smart; she was going right after a topic that I struggle with daily. I snapped back quickly and stated that we are all motivated by a need to fulfill inner desires. No matter whether it is the need to give, the need to accumulate, or the need to learn; we are all motivated by the need to fulfill something inside of us that is always reaching out for something more. Upon hearing this, she laughed at me.

“Mature you may pretend to be, but entirely informed you are not,” she told me with the sting of a cracked whip.

“You must realize my young tangible friend that it may appear that the world functions on a selfish order; but you need to look not where the shade lies, but where the shade was created. Look beyond the beauty of the object being outlined and find the source of the light. It is here where you will find your vehicle for understanding.”

I slowed my pace down a bit and started to escape from the world I was walking in. I ran her words over the surface of my mind and my pace began to slow down. Have I been looking at the shade without taking the effort to find its’ source? I contemplated the concept for a moment; if I have been looking at the shade, where has the light been coming from? Within minutes I was floating in a surreal that is usually reserved for children’s minds. I began to watch as a curtain collapsed in front of me to reveal a stage filled with people of my past, present, and future.

It was kind of odd, especially since everyone was wearing Dunkin’ Donuts employee uniforms. No one was talking; they were just all standing there in peace. Finally, after a few minutes, a young child spoke up with a few simple words: “We exist, and so do you, because we are meant to.” I asked him who he was and where they all came from. He smiled and told me, “In time you will meet me, I will change your life. But you cannot know of me yet, you have much to discover before you are ready to meet me.” With those words he faded away and, against my protest, so did all of the others.

I quickly asked Fiona what was that I just saw, and to that she quoted a line from Huston Smith, “For to live, people must believe in that for the sake of which they live.” Just like the young child, with her words she faded away from my perception and left me to ponder. I believe in who I am, at least I think so. I turned my head to look up at the sun; slowly I floated back to the surface of earth I was previously walking.

I reached the doors of the school and left my last thought at the door: Who am I, for what sake am I living?


November 30, 2006

5:30 PM

As I am sure most of you who look at the picture site have realized, I have a bad-ass host sister that I live with named Sezim. In more ways than one, she has been an incredible addition to the mix of life here. Above all, it has been amazing to watch her grow up right in front of my eyes. I have never had the opportunity to be old enough to truly appreciate the process of growth within in children. It may be a combination of my new profession and living situation, or it may just be a slightly more mature lens that I now watch life through.

Which ever it is, I have found out that I love watching a child grow. Since I have been here I have watched Sezim go from an unsure walker who would take no more than five steps without needing something or someone to fall into to a marathon runner who gets lost in the house because she doesn’t stop moving. I have watched as her vocabulary in Kyrgyz (and some in English) has gone from words to short sentences. She now knows objects and people and is in full swing of beginning her own language (due to the creation of words from a perceived sound that all children seem to take part in).

I would say she keeps me sane, but I think I have already proven that I am not sane. I think more correctly I could state that she has opened up another portal through which I can watch the beauties of life perform. She is cuter than kittens in a bed of roses, and for the next two years I am thankful that I have her to add to the joy of family and life here.


December 1, 2006

5:15 PM

It’s December.

Dizzy damn!



‘A Rhyme While Walking’

So here I am, a school teacher;
A regular old English lan’ge preacher.
I teach a language I barely understand,
I do more studyin’ than teachin’ my friend
I’m doin’ my best to give these children
A chance to go on and become somethin’ differen’
Somewhere in my mind I know
That time is short and soon I go
Back to the world I used to live
Back to the world I need to give
A bag of stories and lessons I’m learnin’
A passion to stop the world from burnin’.
I’ve joined the fight as a soldier,
To ensure that the world is far from over.
There is no answer to this riddle
We j’st need to stop takin’ an’ give a little.
I am no savior, no different from you;
We all play a role in changin’ the view.
The time has come for us to happen;
For our gen’ration to stop from dancin’.
We have the power, we have the means;
Now’s the time to do our thing.


December 1, 2006

6:00 PM

I would like to introduce you to my neighbor, her name is…

SNOW!

The dance is not 1, 1, 2, 2…Look out!

Why do I have this feeling that the sun is rising?

The world is turning and we don’t even feel it. Doesn’t that make you wonder what else is happening while we skip along in life? I was thinking the other day about this time in my freshman year in high school when I spent a lunch period hiding in corner of the library crying. There was a lot that built up inside of me then that was waiting to escape. I couldn’t tell you exactly what lead to the roof coming off, but I know now how important that moment was to my life.

It was from then that emotions within me lost control and began to move with freedom. The sadness was allowed to cry and the joy was allowed to sing. Now as I sit and type this posting on the other side of the planet, I am still feeling the effects of that beginning step in maturity.

While being the only American in a tiny Kyrgyz village has made me a walking theater, I have been able to spend many moments of deep introspection here. The kind of moments where I really take a look back at my past, present, and future and run my fingers over the brail of every moment. I have begun to discover a new ability and love for reaching out and touching the world I am in. The people around me are no longer just part of a play I watch and comment on; they are now all actors in a movie that I wake up every morning to play a supporting role in.

I feel the pain of the people around me and glow and shine when their love is thriving. I smile when they smile and feel sick when their smile is upside down. This is not just my new neighbors or village friends, it is all people. People I talk on the phone with, pass on the electronic word to, or simply just think about; all of these people have some how woven their way into to my emotional state of being and I love it. I would have it no other way.

I have become oddly selfish in needing their emotion to keep me moving. I do not aim to please, but I do wish to find the source of everyone’s love. I have many faults and piss a lot of people off and this is what makes me human. I am not any better than any person next to me or the people now living twelve hours behind me. We all live, we all eat, and we all sleep. And somewhere within these routines there is something inside us all that keeps us moving.

My parents busted their ass the way many parents do to ensure their children have the opportunity to become something great. Friends will go to the ends of the earth to show their love for each other. Teachers dedicate their lives to change the lives of students for the better. But many teachers are also working to create a better life for their children’s future. Many parents are working to help out their parents and often go to the ends of the earth to show love for their friends. Friends often dedicate their lives to creating a better world for the people that taught and raised them, be it parents or teachers.

The world of love can endlessly be cyclical if we allow it. We are all here with the ability to change someone’s life. The question I have begun to ask myself every morning: How will I change the world around me today?



December 1, 2006

9:45 PM


If you do not own an album by Atmosphere, buy one now as a gift for yourself for Christmas; this is not just rap, this is the next movement in poetry!