a peek at Democracy Camp, etc.

There was a thunderstorm on the first night of Democracy Camp!

                                     

                            The campers reading about the democratic process.

                           Team blue brainstorming about creating their own democratic nation.

                      The campers present their fictitious democratic nations to the rest of the camp.

I had the pleasure of meeting the U.S. Ambassador to The Kyrgyz Republic at the Swearing-in ceremony. Ambassador Spratlen just happens to be a fellow Northwest girl! :)

Jade The Blade.

                                          (wheat field, Barskoon village, Kyrgyzstan)


"May I practice my English with you? Please?" A young, tall, Russian girl approaches me confident and beaming with excitement. Even though she was one of the campers, she looked mature, maybe a few years younger than I. But I knew that sometimes, looks could be deceiving... "Absolutely! What's your name? How old are you?" I asked, glad to be speaking a language I felt comfortable with. "I'm Tanya! I am 14 years old." (or, "Jade The Blade", as she would later choose as her camp name) "No way!" I thought to myself and apparently also said out loud... "You look and seem much older than 14...." I replied honestly. "Yes, people tell me this all of the time. I think it is because I am tall." She spoke her English with such ease and free of mistakes... this was something I'd not yet experienced in Kyrgyzstan and especially not with someone as young as my new friend. "Well maybe so, but you're speaking English so well as well! This is very unusual for people your age, my dear.." "Oh yes, thank you very much! I study English a lot because I want to go to university in America. Maybe not at Harvard, but I would like to go to state university. Is this correct to say? A state university?" My young friend was blowing me away. Most 14 year old American teenagers have barely started thinking about which university they will attend (unless their parents have already decided for them ;).


Meeting my friend Jade The Blade was my introduction to the high school aged campers at a "Democracy Camp" put on by an American organization known as "IFES". Around 50 bright, talented, free thinking high schoolers were selected (based on submitted written essays) to participate in the 10 day Democracy Camp. I had the privilege of working with IFES and these young, promising individuals for one week. Soon after meeting Jade, I met many other 'youngins with incredibly impressive English speaking skills. Campers spent their morning in "lessons" regarding democracy and the democratic process. This information is invaluable to the campers for several reasons, one of those being that Kyrgyzstan is a democratic parliamentary republic, and it's important for the youth to be aware of how the government in the country works. Corruption exists, and the campers recognize this unfortunate fact, but they believe in progression towards a promising future for this country they call home. Several of the kids aspire to be politicians and even international diplomats. To say that I was impressed with these youth would be an understatement. We ended our work at the camp by teaching the kids the Cha Cha Slide... nothing like a 'lil nugget of silly American culture for the kids to remember us by ;)


Unfortunately, I'll have to wait until my next post to put up some pictures of the Democracy Camp. I'm in the city for a few days before I head back to Barskoon (a.k.a. "home") and later next week start a youth critical thinking and leadership camp with some fellow Peace Corps Volunteers. Jakshe Colingez! (Stay well!)

a surprise inside.

Lets remember back to a time of Cracker Jack boxes... a simpler time. Honestly, I didn't even like Cracker Jacks all that much but the surprise inside was always worth it! I remember when my brothers and I were addicted to playing with Pogs- and behold! Pogs were the surprise in the Cracker Jacks. Priceless.

My experience with my Eje has resembled a Cracker Jack surprise for me. This strong woman, in her late 30's, raising 2 sons while her husband is driving a truck half the time. She has a tough shell- something I can tell even though we don't speak the same native tongue. She loves to laugh and has many friends who visit her- I can tell she is adored by many people. She's not overly affectionate, which is a common characteristic of Kyrgyz women whose lives are overloaded with household responsibilities. Though, each time I've been sick, she's nursed me back to health in the comfort of my room. Although once I'm healthy again, the tough shell is back on with her fast speaking Kyrgyz. I wondered if my Eje really liked me, or if she sometimes looked at me as a burden- someone she could barely communicate with and who got sick a lot. Last night my question was answered.

I'm plastered up against the inside of the small taxi with 3 Kyrgyz women to the right of me sandwiched in the back seat. "Amanda, tura?" I looked to my side and noticed a 20 year old Kyrgyz girl I'd met my first day in the village. "Oh, hi!"I felt bad for not recognizing her but quickly forgot as I had to think fast and put my newly learned Kyrgyz skills to work. We began talking and before long, I noticed the astonished stares from the 2 other Ejes that this white girl was speaking Kyrgyz. Of course, one of the Ejes invited me to Chai Eech at her house. We drank tea, ate watermelon, and fresh bread with honey. When I left, she gave me an grocery bag full of raspberries. You couldn't have slapped the permagrin from my face. A Chai Eech get-to-know-you conversation with a family whom I didn't know conducted entirely in Kyrgyz... I felt as though I'd graduated.

While on this high, I head home to find the 20 year old Kyrgyz girl from the taxi and my Eje drinking tea. I set the raspberries down and tell them to "je!" (eat!). My Eje asked me who gave them to me with a slightly offended look on her face. Still struggling with Kyrgyz names, I told her I'd already forgotten the names. She said just as long as they knew that I was her "kuhz" (girl/daughter), then she'd eat the raspberries with me. There it was! I'd found my Eje's soft side- she was territorial over me. With only 2 days with them left, I ran to my room and grabbed the gifts I had for her and her family. A shot glass with an American flag (they love the vodka here), some Oregon jam, a book of postcards from Portland, and a nice bottle of wine I'd bought in Bishkek. She immediately opened the jam and started feeding some to my baby brother- success! My Eje then grabbed my hand and said she never wanted me to forget her. She took one of her rings off her finger and put it on mine. Both our eyes got teary and we embraced for our first hug. I'd found the sweet surprise inside my Eje- and she did a good job of hiding it!

A terrible picture, but a picture nonetheless. Here are some of the members of my current host family: My baby brother, Aidoniz, My 14 year old cousin, Nortelik, and myself.

Thunderstorms.

A thunderstorm booms just outside a small corner of the world I call my room. Turning the lights on would only interrupt the natural show of luminosity unfolding before my eyes. What an incredibly powerful show of might, a thunderstorm.  Many people are easily frightened by this illustration of booming sounds and light. However, thunderstorms always cause me to think. I remember back to the most incredible thunderstorm I’ve witnessed to date. I happened to be on a plane flying down the east coast, over the Atlantic Ocean to the Dominican Republic. I watched below me as the blanket of clouds lit up in swift sparks of lightening striking one strand after another in a rapid armed battle on the ocean. I imagine this is what a nighttime battle looks like. Flashes of light as the opposing sides open fire on each other. So there I had it, the clouds at war over the ocean, with only the beams of lightening to use as ammunition. For over an hour, I gazed wondrously at the most astonishing natural light show known to man.

It is late Saturday night in Peervomaiskey, a small village in rural Kyrgyzstan, which I temporarily call home. The baby boy (whom I refer to as “tamposhka” meaning “cute, chubby baby”) wails in the room next door, I assume from the booming of the thunder. The faint sound of Kyrgyz pop music drones down the hall from the kitchen where Erbol, the 9-year-old boy and his 13-year-old cousin are almost certainly playing a game of chess. My Kyrgyz family, including the children, typically stay up late, often past midnight. The overwhelming majority of Kyrgyz families do not eat their last meal of the day until somewhere between the hours of 9pm and 1am.

My Eje (honorable term referring to women older then yourself, also meaning “older sister”) is attempting to distract the sweet Tamposhka from his tears by singing to him a sweet Kyrgyz song which I can only assume is a lullaby. In Kyrgyzstan, the women are allowed 3 years of maternity leave after they give birth. In a conversation about professions with my Eje, she informed me that she is a Russian language teacher meanwhile explaining the “3 years off” standard to me. After which, she asked me how long women in the states are allowed for maternity leave. She was astounded when she heard my response. She thought I must’ve been pronouncing my words incorrectly (which routinely happens…) or I was confusing the words for “year” and “month”. When I assured her I indeed was not, she simply gasped and shook her head.

The concept of “family” is so incredibly important in this culture. In fact, the family card trumps all others. During introductions, Kyrgyz people are more likely to ask about your family even before inquiring about your profession. I was slightly shocked (in proper pretentious American fashion) when my host family inquired about my parent’s ages in our initial, introductory conversation. This concept of age is an entirely customary inquiry in Kyrgyzstan for one very important reason: respect. In Kyrgyz culture, respect is determined by age, and age is a factor of upmost importance in well, all settings. I made the mistake only once of referring to my Eje by her first name alone before my language teacher corrected me. “Amanda, you should always refer to people older than yourself as “Eje” or “Baike”. These are terms of respect. Please only call her “Ainura Eje”.” Note taken.

I realize I promised pictures of my host family in my previous post… I must report that I have yet to capture some. I’m working on it! Stay tuned! 
:)

Chai Eech!

Chai Eech! One of the most common, if not THE most commonly used phrase in Kyrgyzstan. These people love their tea. Chai Eech or “drink tea” is the term used for exactly that, drinking tea, or eating food, spending time with friends at your home, visiting friends at their home, and the list goes on and on. A neighbor may stop you on the street for Chai Eech or a friend may invite you over for late night Chai Eech on any given night. This collectivist culture’s focus is not hard to miss. The Kyrgyz absolutely love spending time around other people. It’s a beautiful concept that we Americans often drop the ball on. We value our space, alone time, and independence greatly- often to a fault for some. I have yet to meet someone in Kyrgyzstan who lives on their own!

There is so much more I could say about my time in Kyrgyzstan thus far… the struggles with language(s), the hospitality of the local host families, the excitable children playing in the streets, packed Marshrutka rides, the incredible “banya” (a.k.a. sauna + bucket bath), the breathtaking mountains, fried nan (bread), changing my name for children because the beginning is a dirty word in Kyrgyz (ha!), a hill conquering hike, Janul the café lady, my wonderful freckle faced 7 year old ini (little brother), and so much more! Often, I have to remind myself I’ve only been in Kyrgyzstan just under a month… it already feels like several months!

Stay tuned, pictures of the host family to come!

7 hours.

7 hours.  The first of three flights to Kyrgyzstan. You never know whom you’ll be seated next to on a flight. The lengthy international flights are especially interesting for this reason of seating... A chance meeting, a random allocation of travelers, yet often, something as simple as a seating assignment can easily be an intriguing discovery.

“Ouch!” Exclaimed the young, attractive, brown haired girl in the window seat directly to my right. She squeezed her index finger, which had been cut by the sharp edge of the foil covering her hot plate chicken, rice, and vegetables. “Oh no…” was all I could muster in sympathy for her small wound. “This foil just cut my finger! Can you believe that?” I could now make out her lovely accent among her well-spoken English. “No! That is terrible… would you like me to ask her for a band aid?” I motion to the flight attendant who had just handed the hot plates to us. “No. The open air will help it heal much quicker.” She was absolutely right. “You know, I couldn’t help but notice the papers you were reading were in Cyrillic…” I confess to her. I had studied the Cyrillic Alphabet a little in preparation for learning the Kyrgyz and Russian languages. “Russian. They are in Russian. The papers are my thesis for my master’s program in the Ukraine and I’m defending it on Monday morning.” Impressive, and as it turned out, this was the first of many impressive facets I learned about my soon to be friend.

Born and raised in Ukraine, fluent in Ukrainian, Russian, and English, Nastia (as she prefers over her given name of Anastasia) and I began what would be a nearly 6 hour long conversation that lasted the remainder of our “short” flight. We shared our diverse experiences from our lives thus far. Though, all I really wanted was to hear more of Nastia’s incredibly remarkable journey. Finishing high school and beginning college at the young age of 16, she balanced between 10-15 subjects a semester while taking English classes in addition to her university schooling. In her English classes, Nastia had an American English Teacher who would, a few short years later, become her husband. However, the story of this young couple’s relationship did not come without incredible hardship. A beautiful, romantic story of love crossing borders, language barriers, and the red tape of endless embassies… Nastia and her husband are now together and both successfully thriving in higher education in the U.S. A master’s degree in engineering, with specific interest in renewable energy, Nastia is now pursuing her second bachelor’s degree in physics while her husband works his way through law school.

A passion for education and academics, her wonderful family in Ukraine, her sweet husband, and a shared passion for adorable baby animals, Nastia and I found that we had quite a bit more in common than we might have originally thought. More accomplished than I at the young age of 22, Nastia’s maturity far surpasses her age in years.

My fortunate meeting with lovely Nastia brought me to the realization of a crucial message... This is what life is all about. Chance meetings with people of diverse backgrounds, experiences, passions, and pursuits. Learning from each other, listening to each other, respecting one another, and the mutual sharing of experiences- so much of our world problems could be solved by these simple discoveries. Listening to and respecting each other… what a simple idea. Hoping for many more “chance meetings” over these next 2+ years.  :)

home: (noun) a place of residence or refuge.

I've had the privilege of spending the past nearly 2 months with my family at home in the Northwest. I can't think of a better way to prepare for a grand adventure than basking in my roots. Whether you call it The City of Bridges, Stumptown, The Rose City, or the new cultural hipster phenomenon referred to as "Portlandia", Portland is my home and houses some of the best people I know. From visits from best friends, BBQs in the backyard, game nights, new memories with family, trips to the coast, to a lovely graduation causing one family to nearly burst with pride- my time at home has reminded me, as it always does, how truly blessed I am.

A glimpse of my time at home:

See you later, America!