As I noted earlier last update, I went into Bishkek and for the first time ventured outside of the walls of Hotel Issyk-Kul. Well, with the Host-Family matching ceremony, I truly left any semblance of living in America. Hotel Issyk-Kul was not posh by any American standards, but it did have indoor showers and toilets, hot water heaters, and no livestock running around. The same can not be said of my PST host family. There is nothing wrong with this as it really is the norm among the Kyrgyz, but it is quite the culture shock to walk by a lowing cow to take a shower outside in a stall that borders the cow’s pen. The host-family matching ceremony was a quite touching ceremony as the Kyrgyz hosts looked onto the body of Peace Corps Trainees and the Trainees looked eagerly back until they were matched. There was also an adorable little Kyrgyz girl dancing and everyone clapped. My family is an ethnic Russian family that lives in a small outskirt of Kant. They are very friendly and despite the massive language barrier (my Russian vocabulary is probably under 100 words) I feel we actually had a fair amount of communication, even if it often disintegrated into my nodding at a question I didn’t understand (they won’t accept my limitations and will re-ask the question in various ways until I give some semblance of an answer). Mama Lubov, Papa, and their twenty year old grand-daughter Alyoona came to pick me up at the matching ceremony where I gave them flowers (Tsivite) that I had bought in Bishkek that afternoon. After we came home, I met their son Maxime, he was helpful and friendly.
Probably the highlight of the day, and my Peace Corps Training so far, was the activity that followed settling into my room. The way PC trains is something called CBT, or Community Based Training, and I am living in a village with 4 other people within walking distance with a LCF (Language and Culture Facilitator) that acts as our tutor for the three months of PST. One of my fellow village residents is a friendly woman named Laura. She was out in the road with some village children playing the epitome of games – throw the ball. I joined in with these adorable children, and introduced myself. Eventually other village children became intrigued with these American young adults playing ball (myatch) with Kyrgyz village children and joined in. I turned it into a lesson by starting to yell the name of whomever I was throwing the ball to and encouraging them to do the same. Laura mentioned, and I concurred, that this was one of the first time that it was really setting in that, woah, we are in Kyrgyzstan in the middle of the road throwing a ball with local children, avoiding Soviet-era cars and livestock all around us. How wild for a middle class American.
Getting to know (kind of) my host family has been really fun, challenging, and interesting. I was shown where the outhouse was as soon as I arrived (I am really happy/excited because it has a Styrofoam seat and I don’t have to squat! I was told I would probably have to! Yay!) and also the outdoor solar shower. Taking a shower outside was a really nice experience, very refreshing and I made sure not to overuse the water. Kyrgyzstan is having some difficulties with water and electricity right now, so apparently there are rolling blackouts with make water unavailable for hours at a time.
The compound I am living at is basically a small farm. They have large gardens, lots of chickens and roosters (I am sure they will keep me up), ducks, a donkey, at least one cow, rabbits, dogs, pigs, and other livestock living around. My room is small but nicely furnished and will do just fine. Dinner was an interesting event, I was told to expect an enormous pressure to drink alcohol and eat and was prepared to be firm in my negations. Fortunately, while Mama Lubov encouraged me to eat the ploov she had prepared (a rice pilaf, this time it had chicken in it) whenever I let my fork stop moving for more than a millisecond (Kooshai! Kooshai!) she respected me when I said I was full and I had no problem refusing the second glass of beer. The dreaded vodka was not even offered. Maybe it will be a problem another day, but for now it is fine.
As Peace Corps Trainees/Volunteers, we have to remain object and realize the differences in culture and appreciate them. This means viewing things such as the treatment of animals (especially dogs), eating and drinking habits, and other behaviors with a culturally sensitive light. So far, this has been relatively unchallenging, but after giving the village children some candy after playing with them and watching them litter the wrappers, my heart couldn’t help but cry. I know the facilities for responsible disposal don’t exist here, but it was still a gut reaction to what to me is an unthinkable action and it did hurt me inside.
(up) Adorable Turkish children that live across the street- I have now introduced them to the joys of Frisbee.
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