July heat part II

July 17, 2009

Hooray for discovering new friends that speak English! A cousin is staying with my host family now, and she is studying English at university. It is a nice break, but apa is getting a little annoying with her demands that we both speak English together, but then tell her everything we said to each other. Oh well. I hope she stays for a while, it will be nice to have a friend I can talk to. She has a fantastic collection of late 80's and early 90's soft rock ballads on her cell phone so we had some fun sing-a-longs. I feel bad for her that she thinks this music is more recent than it is. Just like she thinks that the Backstreet Boys (her favorite band—she is 19-years-old and has a Backstreet Boys book cover on her English textbook!) are still together. Apa came into the room when we were singing along to “My Heart Will Go On,” sparking an argument over whether or not Jack was too beautiful for Rose. Apa is of the opinion that Kate Winslet is to big to be an attractive woman. And still, I don't understand the obsession with Leo DiCaprio. Did I write about how almost every family in my training village had a picture of Leo hanging up somewhere in their house like some sort of holy relic?

I have also started Kyrgyz lessons with the English speaking university student who lives down the street. He gave me a pleasant surprise when he showed up to our first lesson with his own white board (his mother is a teacher, apparently) and a prepared textbook-style dialogue for me to practice with. It was great.

I went swimming in the river with my English club girls the other day. It was actually a really nice place to swim, I was surprised. I wish I had thought ahead and brought my shampoo since I wash my hair with river water anyway. I was definitely the oldest person there by a lot, but I should get used to that since all I do is hang out with kids all day anyway.

I have been reading a book called “The Omnivore's Dilemma,” that I stole from a recently departed volunteer's library (I mean he completed his service. He didn't die). This book was the second that I read in a row that devoted an entire chapter to talking solely about Iowa and Iowan culture. The other was a collection of essays about Americans' perceptions of other countries, with the exception of one essay, which was a British citizen's thoughts on Centerville, Iowa, and why it should be considered “America's Hometown.” “The Omnivore's Dilemma” traces America's food from the beginning, which is why it starts out with a corn field in Iowa, where the author makes the claim that the base of most of our food comes from.

Anyway, the bottom line is that it was a strange for me to read so much about Iowa from outsiders' perspectives, especially when I wasn't expecting it. I mean, who would have thought that two random books that I would pick up, and that I probably wouldn't have read in any other circumstances, would have so much to say about Iowa? Nobody ever talks about Iowa! It seems like another one of those tricks on me.

But back to the book. So far, it is really great. You should pick it up. It has made me re-think my opinions of my diet in Kyrgyzstan a little bit, as well. The book talks a lot about feedlots and all the different things processed corn products are used for. While I was aware of these things, I didn't give them much thought. Now, while I daily lament the un-healthyness that I encounter here, I am also beginning to consider the ways in which people here are maybe smarter, or less barbaric, or something, in their lifestyles.

OK, think of it this way: looking at everything I have eaten in the past few days, I can list the processed foods that I consumed right now: peanut butter, granola bars, candy (all from America), instant coffee, and creamer (bought locally) and homemade jam. These are all things (with the exception of the jam) that Kyrgyz people probably wouldn't normally eat. I just eat them because I am used to the tastes.

Meat: While I complain about the taste and texture of the meat a lot, I think differently if I consider the life of the animal that it came from. The tough, greasy mutton that I usually eat was taken from a sheep that spent probably at least a few summers up in the green pastures in the mountains, drinking from clear, cold, mountain springs and being watched over by a kalpak-wearing man on a horse, who maybe spends his nights right there in a yurt. This sheep has already had a productive life, sparing its wool for making culturally significant and practical carpets or cushions. Contrast that with the ground beef in the American cheeseburger or taco. The cow was very young and in close confinement for most of its life, forced to eat food that is unnatural to it, including products from animals of its own species, and pumped full of antibiotics. Which culture sounds more civilized to you?

Although I can't be too preachy, considering that I am on antibiotics myself at the moment for a pesky little infection that, thankfully, isn't doing much more than changing the consistency of my poo (what's new? I don't even know what consistency it is supposed to be anymore) and making my tummy make really ridiculously loud gurgling noises. Is that all you've got Kyrgyzstan? Bring it on.

This also reminds me of something I heard a volunteer say recently: that some Uzbek people believe that outhouses are more sanitary—they don't like the idea of having an indoor toilet because it is in the house. Really, if you think about it, it does make some sense. Why would you want to do your business in the same place where you live?

OK, one more comment. I am finding myself becoming a cynical person. So much so that I annoy myself sometimes. I guess it is just the result of living in a place like Kyrgyzstan. I am going to be such an irritating person in two years, and I apologize in advance. It will be worse than all those “when I was your age...” Great Depression stories, because I chose to come here. But I know it will happen. I am sure that I will be one-upping everyone's complaints. Yeah. I will be that person. Someone will say something like, “Yesterday, the weather was so bad, the electricity was out for eight whole hours!” And I will be like, “Ha, when I lived in Kyrgyzstan, there was hardly a day when the electricity stayed ON for eight hours at a time.” Which is true, and which makes me sad, because this is supposed to be about as good as it gets, electricity wise.

I can also tell that my concept of time is already warped. I have been spending more and more time just sitting around at school, just like the other teachers. I guess the idea is is that they are supposed to make some sort of appearance of working during the summer. This pretty much means showing up, walking around the school a bit, maybe rearranging posters or something, sitting around with other teachers, taking a tea break, and then going home. The concept of “wasting time” seems completely foreign. The other day, I went to the internet cafe to help out my counterpart, but the electricity was out. The guy at the desk said it should be on in one to two hours, and as I started to turn around and head out the door, my counterpart plopped down in a chair to wait, without even a frustrated sigh. We did end up waiting just a little over an hour, literally just sitting, sometimes even in silence. I found myself constantly looking at the clock on my phone, but my counterpart, and even the guy at the desk didn't seem the least bit impatient. I was supposed to meet my English club at my house at three to go swimming, and on the way home I felt bad because I would end up being about 20 minutes late, and they had seemed pretty serious about meeting at exactly 3. I shouldn't have worried though, because none of them even started to show up until about 3:45.