Spring is Here.

January 24, 2008

5:00 PM


I can’t return home and be who I was. That is going to challenging. Everything that was part of my life (and still is – though in a personal holding pattern) will be different when I return home. Career, family, friends, and all else will have new lenses twisted onto them. Everything is going to be different, even though it will all be part of a life I (should) know. How, you ask, will I reenter American society? (Houston, we have a problem. Reentry looks to be a bit shaky.) Good question. If you have an answer, I would love some help.

I know I can’t return home and look at a salary the same. For Benjamin’s sake, minimum wage (for one person) for a year in the States would nearly cover all of the teacher’s yearly salaries (combined) at my school. Money in general is going to be just plain odd.. I have lived a year and half with a tenth of the luxuries I grew up with. I’ve never once gone into convulsions due to a lack of microwave. Shit, running water! I’m still standing despite my lack of running water. And after this winter (widely being touted as the coldest in recent Kyrgyz history), setting the thermostat will mean so much more (or little?).

The thing is, when I return home I’m surely going to use these luxuries. They are there; and I am surely no minimalist. I guess the question I think about most is the question of privilege (and growing up in a situation of privilege). My current notion of what it means to be privileged is a bit different than it used to be. How about growing up with running water, access to constant electricity, and having a school with text books? Does that count as privileged? Would anything beyond this count as living in excess? Should I feel bad, when I return home, for using a toilet? Shower? Internet? I want to return home and live like I know I should be living (like a person who has lived in a developing nation for two years). Where do I start, how do I start? Do I buy energy saving light bulbs? What about a water saving shower head? Maybe I buy only organic food and fair-trade coffee.

Oh! I got! I could ride my bike everywhere. That’s it! Riding my bike will surely make me feel better about toasting my bread (in a toaster) and making a protein shake (in a blender) before I leave for work. Only question is where do I put my Starbucks while riding my bike; do they make cup holders for bikes? Will they let me go through the drive through with my bike)? No, that’s not it. Wait, I know…Save the whales! Yeah, screw riding my bike (where will I go on my bike?). I am going to join the WWF (Hulk Hogan) and champion for whale saving. That is obviously the goal of joining Peace Corps. Return home and save the world (one whale at a time)!

Obviously Robert L. Strauss (the now famous – in PCV talks at least – NY Times Op-Ed columnist) returned home and found it easier to get the back into Peace Corps. He even questioned Peace Corps’ effectiveness while he was a PCV, but then must have struggled being home so much that he decided to join Peace Corps for a while in varying fashions. (Maybe he felt instead of saving the world, he was going to save Peace Corps.) Did he struggle returning home because of doubts with his own service and inexperience? Did he have any struggles returning home? Is his current career – management consulting – a step up from Peace Corps or acknowledgement to the depth of what life is (and how little control we have over what we want to change)?

Mr. Strauss, do you have any tips for returning home? Apparently you felt like pissing off every RPCV and PC Washington before saving the world.

Thing is, I agree with about little parts of Mr. Strauss’ Op-Ed, and that fact has led me to have even more inner battles about returning home. Optimism is the name of our ship, but our water is swirling with pessimistic sharks. Can international development be counted one person at a time? I am proud of what I’m doing. The question I have sometimes, though, is what is it that I’m really doing? Gaining experience or passing it on? Should I return home feeling I gained or gave more?

If my holiday trip home was any indication as to how incredibly easy returning home will be, I should be hyperventilating for, say, only the first three months I’m home (instead of just one night at Barnaby’s). My worry is I can’t just transfer my mentality here into life back home. My two realities are entirely different (we’ll save the third reality – in my head – for my doctoral thesis); I can’t just transfer my lessons and habits from one into the other. No matter which direction I go.

Home has problems and struggles (no matter where I call home). A lot of people in my life in the States have worked hard to get what they have. Does that mean they need to give up some of what they have because the rest of the world doesn’t have that? I don’t know. I don’t know what we/I need to do in the States. I guess that will be part of the return process.

(I do think we need to calm the F down in America; but in what way I am not really sure…we could stop bombing people…)

Damn, I knew this experience would seriously kick my balance off kilter. I came here for that. Returning home never really crossed my mind though. Can someone put some padding down for me, hopefully the fall won’t hurt as much then (or if anything, just remove the floor when I fall; free falling for a while would be better than crashing into the floor a few feet below).



January 30, 2008

7:20 AM

Thanks Charles Frazier (and your book Cold Mountain):

On Marriage:

“Marrying a woman for her beauty [alone] makes no more sense than eating a bird for its singing. But it’s a common mistake nonetheless.”


On Advancement:

“A song went around from fiddler to fiddler and each one added something and took something away so that in time the song became a different thing from what it had been, barely recognizable in either tune or lyric. But you could not say the song had improved, for as was true of all human effort, there was never advancement. Everything added meant something lost, and about as often as not the thing lost was preferable to the thing gained, so that over time we’d be lucky if we just broke even. Any thought otherwise was empty pride.”

Interesting viewpoints, though I don’t entirely agree both of them.



February 13, 2008

8:25 PM

I am constantly learning Kyrgyz, and have come to understand it the same way I learn about and understand much of life: I study a tiny bit, listen very carefully, and take a genuine interest in the life I live. A lot of my knowledge seems to just be. My understanding of most of the Kyrgyz grammar rules is just there, something in my mind linked up and allowed me to “get it.” There are lot of things in life (and with the Kyrgyz language) that I would have a very hard time explaining – both in how I know them and how someone else could learn them. I grab on to a lot of phrases and grammar without knowing the formal names. My life tends to follow the same course.

I need to work on building a base of knowledge outside of the lived and experienced. It might help to know some facts once in a while.



February 15, 2008

9:10 AM

‘Say you want a revolution;
well, you know,
we all want to change the world.
You tell me that it’s evolution;
well, you know,
we all want to change the world.’

Jason, every generation IS A REVOLUTION; stop being so immature to think that your own is on the verge of something new. Saving the world will have to be done on a personal level.




February 15, 2008

10:50 PM

This world needs help. Another shooting. WTF.


February 15, 2008

11:15 PM

An article from January 21, 2008 issue titled, “Kenya is a Nasty Surprise But it is hardly Another Rwanda,” and written by Scott Johnson stated the following:

“…Kenya is no Rwanda…In the first two weeks of the Rwandan genocide, more than 100,000 were killed. Just over two weeks into the mayhem, even the most liberal estimates put the Kenyan death toll at less than 1,000…The world was slow to recognize Rwanda as a genocide, and still feels the guilt, but rushing to judgment in Kenya [and labeling it genocide] won’t help matters; in fact, it could prove destructive.”

Ok, Scott, here are my thoughts: I understand where you’re coming from. Genocide has become, sadly, a buzz word and is often labeled much too generously to military conflicts. What I don’t understand, Mr. Johnson (and Newsweek) is at what point does discussing the severity of human loss become so easy as to debate humans as numbers rather than humans? I don’t really feel the need to write more of your article because it isn’t needed. You said all you had to in the few sentences above (both in and out of context). Report as you may, but you surely aren’t helping making the world any more human (we are 6 billion strong, but somewhere in all those numbers are individuals). Maybe it’s easier, though, to reduce our world to numbers (you can’t turn a blind eye to something you’ve never seen).




March 4, 2008

10:20 AM


Two poems written during sessions of a Like Skill HIV/AIDS workshop that I attended last week (with 14 other PCVS and our local counterparts):



Their Children

At some point they will disperse;
When that day arrives, the
Next will perch atop.
Their view will be
Unimpeded.
Their dreams will have
No restraints.
Soon the NEXT will take
Their throne;
When they own their
Future, they will own
Themselves.

For now, they sit and hope;
Confused as to what “hope”
Really is.




Progress

The lands I walk rotate;
I move in idle.
Forward I think
Among peripheral winds.
Today our light rose;
(why do we still misuse “rose”?)
Tonight I will stand still.
Another revelation will pass
As I (naively) fight inevitability.





March 5, 2008

2:45 PM

Well, recently I have caught myself changing in ways that I don’t like and doing things that aren’t me. No, I have not turned into a killer or a drunk, but I have moved out of character a bit.

Before I joined Peace Corps I was proud of the fact that I had never been in a physical fight before. The act of aggressively acting out my frustrations and disagreements with my fists seemed very counterproductive to me. I still have never been in a fight; but I cannot lie, I’ve thought about hitting a few men while being here.

The Kyrgyz male culture is a very Alpha Male culture. It is rare to go a day without seeing the “Rooster Men,” as my host father calls them. Mid-twenty males who walk with their chest so high I’ve wondered if they ever exhale. They are everywhere in the capital (Bishkek) and they appear randomly in the village. Usually I would ignore people so absorbed in themselves, but there is something about the presence of an American Male that makes them want to start displaying their feathers.

I can honestly say as many people that have asked me to marry their daughters, the same number of young men have challenged me to a fight – most of the time without provocation (though I can be rude sometimes and laugh at their strutting, which tends to piss them off). Some would call this ‘machismo,’ I call it an ignorant lack of perspective.

I am not writing all of this to say that all Kyrgyz men are like this. Nor am I writing this to say that the “rooster men” are bad people. I have become good friends with many of these so-called Alpha Males in my village. The problem is getting past their shell, looking past their strut and seeing the person behind it.

It is not easy.

I have caught myself on more than one occasion enraged over nothing. The sight of a man in the road in front of me used to piss me off and I would expect something bad to happen as I walked past him. I’ve gotten wrapped up in the Alpha Male mentality, and I have begun to recognize it and change it. I know I love to preach that is takes more effort to hate than to not think about it at all, but sometimes that is easier said than done.




March 6, 2008

7:40 PM

Well, I’ve talked about the “Alpha Male,” how about now the “Pious Male.” Pious men in Kyrgyzstan have become a source of knowledge and understanding for me, and not in the way that most would expect. I have great respect and look up to many of the dedicated Muslims in my village.

I look up to anyone that has chosen to dedicate themselves to something (religion, sport, music, etc.), and I’ve met some very dedicated men in my village. By and large, most of my best male friends in my village are men I’ve met while visiting the mosque. Their dedication to their religion tends to translate into life outside of the mosque, a trait displayed in their care and openness to the world around them. Many of my friendships have begun at the mosque and have thus grown into comrades I will have for life.

I respect many of these men largely because they respect me in return. Conversations with them are always on level ground; they can be fifty or twenty-five, I always feel like I am their equal when talking to them. Their dedication impresses me, but even more moving to me is the place in which it occurs. It is one thing to be dedicated to your religion when the place you live in exudes it. In the case of my village (and much of my oblast), seventy-plus years of Soviet rule nearly wiped out all signs of religion here. But like seedlings in a burned forest, the strongest and most dedicated people have found faith lingering within them and have begun to sprout.

I look up to many of these men as role models. Not necessarily for their dedication to religion specifically, but more so for their dedication in itself. By choosing to dedicate themselves to Islam, they are fighting against the grains here. I am not saying that Kyrgyzstan is against religion, nor am I saying they inherently need religion. What I am saying is that for several generations the population of Kyrgyzstan knew nothing but a secular life that punished anything else. The punishment and oppression is in the past, but the remnants of a secular life are still a very visible part of society.

I’ve watched as many of my pious friends attend parties where vodka is poured in excess. I’ve seen them exiting prayer at the mosque as men all around them light-up cigarettes. I’ve tensed up as the so-called “Alpha-males” will feel threatened and get in the face of my friends. I’ve seen them in many very tough situations, and in the end they all tend to lead to the same thing: a smile and a very calm response. I look up to these men because they don’t judge when they have so many reasons to. Their religion tells them not be take part in a lot of what they see daily here, yet they don’t judge it, or try to avoid it. They simply take it in stride, respect the people for who they are, and keep their faith to themselves.

I look up them because their actions are so much more than their religion, they are traits the world needs and endlessly lacks: compassion and an unprejudiced outlook.




March 8, 2008

9:00 AM

Happy Women’s Day! (A National Kyrgyz Holiday)


I’ve begun to change. My two postings above are shining examples of this. I expected to change while being here, but expectations and experiences are very distant relatives. Recently I’ve discovered myself in one of the toughest struggles I’ve had in country: the struggle to see past my embedded beliefs and perceptions. As much as I thought I was objectively living my life here – seeing life as it is rather than as how I thought it should be – my insides were slowing being weathered by the pressures living a new life in a new place.

I’ve grown comfortable with my new surroundings. Life is no longer new to me, it is normal, it is where I live. That, I believe, is where I allowed the pressures that come of living in a new culture erode my objectivity. I became arrogant with my comfort here and thus believed, subconsciously, I was allowed to judge. How very wrong I have been.

There is a very fine line between judgment and constructive criticism. Both involve accessing a situation, many times on the go, and using that assessment for future actions. There difference between the two (for me) is that judgment is a blind assessment. Constructive criticism is a calm and informed assessment. This may be obvious to a lot of people (it seems obvious to me as I write this), but my recent revelations have taught me that the obvious is not always easy to see (especially when you’ve built up a mental block against it).

I love my village, the people I live with, and in broad terms, the country I am living in. By my nature (an endless idealist always searching for the good in people), I’m sure I could have come to this feeling in any country that I was placed in. That being said, I was placed in Kyrgyzstan, so my love has grown for my new home. My love, for the people I live and work with, the village I live in, and the future I see in my students, has been the driving force in helping to open my eyes.

Comfort is a dangerous feeling for me because it puts me on my heels. I sit back and lose the sharpness that I pride myself in having. Feeling so proud that I started to feel at home in my village, I began to relax and come down off my toes. In doing so, I began to ignorantly judge little parts of life (Kyrgyz men taking the blunt of my internal judgments). My internal judgments then seeped out to become vocal judgments of other little things (fellow PCVs and even upon myself). All in all, I began to drift away from the person I pride myself in being: an idealist always searching for the good in people. Sure, I can be naïve sometimes in my idealism and I am working on that. In the end, though, I prefer my idealism any day over my ignorant judging.

I think my next step will be a mental cleansing (and maybe I should clean some boxers too before I start have to go commando).



March 9, 2008

9:00 AM


Did Martin Luther King Jr. ever have relationship problems? What about Gandhi; did he and his wife ever fight? Figures like these two men are heroes of mine (and much of the world). They fought against oppression with a vehement stance of nonviolence. I look to them as models to which I strive for. But every once in a while I read something they wrote or see a picture of theirs and wonder to myself, “Did they have the same problems the rest of us do?” Problems like arguments with their lovers, disagreements with friends, or debilitating self-doubt.

I will not even try to compare myself to these two men, but I would like to compare my goals in life to what they accomplished. I would like to believe in my life time I will be able to help make the world a better, more peaceful, place. With all of my heart I know that my purpose in living is help the world around me – to help make the people I live with better people. To give everything I have towards making the world more suitable for generations after me.

The problem is that I am human. This human body I live in keeps me grounded. My skin and bones constantly remind me that sometimes the most difficult person to help is myself. How can I think about making the world a better place when the greatest love I’ve ever found is a half a planet away from me? How am I supposed to think about the “grand mosaic” of peace when my piece of the puzzle back home is missing me? I want to help guide the world to peace, yet I am far from finding peace within me.

Sure, to an outsider my life is a grain of sand when compared to world I live in. But for me these things are more important than saving the world. Is that selfish? I am not sure. Is it selfish to give myself over to my lover? Who knows? I want to go save the world from pain, but I cannot bring myself to do this over my friends and family back home. Maybe in time I will find a way to balance this all. At this point I am not ready. I cannot give myself over to anything knowing it will take me away from the people who need me most, and who I need the most.




March 9, 2008

1:00 PM

Thoughts on life from Victor Villaseñor’s book Burro Genius:

“…a real King doesn’t need to tell anyone that he’s the king. In fact, a real king keeps his reign as much of a secret as he can.”

If feels good to see a favorite sentiment of mine restated in simple eloquence.

“…there is no such thing as a kids’ game…there are only games with which kids are learning the facts of life, but it’s the parents that are so tapados – so blind and constipated that they can’t see what these games are really all about.”

Beautiful. We all need to keep the kid.

“And trust, remember, is the foundation of all love.”

Seeing more and more how clear and difficult this belief is.

“The beginning of all wisdom is to understand that you don’t know. To know is the enemy of all learning. To be sure is the enemy of all wisdom.”

A clearer telling of another one of my favorite sentiments: those that know they know don’t know. Those that know they don’t know are the ones who know.



And how about a random thought from Richard Brautigan’s book Trout Fishing in America (Published 1967):

“O, THERE ARE COYOTES UP ON SALT CREEK so the sign on the trails says, and it also says, WATCH OUT FOR CYANIDE CAPSULES PUT ALONG THE CREEK TO KILL COYOTES. DON’T PICK THEM UP AND EAT THEM. NOT UNLESS YOU’RE A COYOTE. THEY’LL KILL YOU. LEAVE THEM ALONE.

The sign says this all over again in Spanish. ¡AH! HAY COYOTES EN SALT CREEK, TAMBIEN. CIUDADO CON LAS CAPSULAS DE CIANURO: MATAN. NO LAS COMA; A MENOS QUE SEA VD. UN COYOTE. MATAN. NO LAS TOQUE.

It does not say it in Russian.”



March 9, 2008

6:30 PM

I’ve spent the past two days in my room reading and writing. I haven’t left except to use the washroom and get food. It’s been a great two days in my head. I have discovered that I’m pretty messed up. It’s kind of exciting. I always used to wonder whether or not I was, but this weekend has confirmed it. I am a whack job (who has found a way to adjust his insanity to not show too much to the outside world).

Why I am writing this here? It will blow my cover.

The sheep are calling and want to talk.

Peace.