Also, I work.

I am aware that this blog might perhaps create the impression that all I do in Kyrgyzstan is hike around and visit walnut forests. While I do not deny such activities, I also work.  I thought I’d attempt to straighten the record a bit. Things have really picked up for me recently, and I’m juggling several projects right now, all of which I’m very excited about.

One such endeavor is my work with Ratbu Satarova, whose NGO provides opportunities for disabled children in the Toktogul area. Read about it here: http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2013310200003&nclick_check=1t

I’ve also devoted a lot of energy recently to my “Youth Health Educator” project. I work with a group of students—aka rockstars—who teach health lessons to their peers at school. They taught a successful round of anti-smoking lessons in and around Toktogul this October. In November, we’ll be working on HIV/AIDS awareness.

My English club has been going pretty well. I let my students pick out American names recently, which they thought was fun, and is really helping me keep track of them. My groups started out HUGE—thirty-five 8^th and 9^th graders, and twenty-five 10^th and 11^th graders—but the numbers have dropped off a bit. It’s been a lot easier to teach a smaller group, and they tend to be the more motivated students.

This past weekend, I went to Issyk-Kul with my counterpart, Tursunkan, to attend a training on creating women’s health clubs. The training provided a lot of useful information on topics including nutrition, reproductive health, pre-post natal health, as well as the logistics of running such a club. Tursunkan and I plan to start a club for young mothers in January. We’ll run it for at least six weeks, but longer if interest stays strong. We’ll be focusing a lot pre/post-natal health, and will have a weekly healthy cooking demo by yours truly.

I’m also looking towards spring and summer with some projects in mind. Max (my sitemate) and I would like to run a camp for Toktogul teens next summer. I am also investigating the possibility of having a feminism and gender conference in Toktogul this spring. We’ll see how all this plays out.

Otherwise, I fill my time not showering, inventing new uses for cabbage, watching sheep get slaughtered, eating recently-slaughtered sheep, fueling my newfound addiction to yoga podcasts, wearing woolen things, and going to sleep at 9:30pm. LIVING THE DREAM.

(but actually, life is great! I hope yours is, too!)

Youth Health Educators taking Toktogul by storm.

And I made cookies recently!

In the land of lions

Among its several claims to fame—including being birthplace of the epic hero Manas and having developed many innovative uses for horse milk—Kyrgyzstan is home to the world’s largest walnut forest. This forest, which surrounds the village of Arslanbob, was for me one of the big selling points of Jalalabad, the province in which I live. Six months into life in Kyrgyzstan, the fact that I hadn’t yet made it to Arslanbob was beginning to weigh on me. Luckily, my friend and fellow PCV Maryn was planning a trip to Arlsanbob with her friend, Rose, who was visiting from the States. Maryn and Rose invited me to come along, and because we didn’t want to be rude, we let Max come too.

As the crow flies, Arslanbob lies about 50 miles south of my town, Toktogul. Of course, the flight paths of crows are not very useful ways to measure distances in places as mountainous as Kyrgyzstan. I’m not sure exactly how far we traveled to get to Arslanbob, but it took about seven hours between the marshrutka (mini-bus) ride down the Bishkek-Osh highway, and the bumpy taxi trip up into the hills.

Despite my eagerness to visit Arslanbob, I was preparing myself to be underwhelmed. As we drove south, the mountains tapered and gave way to wide cotton fields. Even as we turned off the main road and once again rose in elevation, the hills were dusty and brown, gravely and desolate. But then—suddenly, somehow, perhaps through some sort of mountain magic—we found ourselves in a gorgeous valley. We drove up the windy, forested road to the village of Arslanbob. Houses were perched in the hillside, and the mountains rose up around us.

Arlsanbob is also called Arstanbop, and “arstan” is the Kyrgyz word for lion. I asked about all this and was given a very long answer in Kyrgyz, of which I understood maybe 60 percent—enough to gather that the two names are used interchangeably, and have something to do with lions. Then I asked if there were lions in the mountains, and was laughed at.

There is at least one lion, though—a giant stone one in the town’s center. Behind him, old men—called “ak sakaldar,” white beards—gather under a pagoda. The town center is small, with narrow streets that twist outward like spider legs. You don’t see many women out on the streets, and none without headscarves. Uzbek language is sprinkled in with Kyrgyz and Russian, and the letter “j” is pronounced like a “y.” In Kyrgyzstan’s south, the Uzbek influence is stronger, and the area tends to be more conservative and religious than the north. Though technically Toktogul is located in the southern state of Jalalabad, my town identifies much more with the north culturually. This was my first experience with the true “south,” and it felt much different than other places I’ve visited in Kyrgyzstan.  

We arranged our lodging through a “Community-Based Tourism” agency, which meant we stayed in a homestay. The house was lovely, and our hostess was a sweet little Uzbek woman who made great food. The best part, however, was the little porch where we took our meals and took in the fantastic valley view. Every night, we sat for hours in the porch, working our way through Uzbek plov, talking and watching the full moon rise over the mountains.

We spent our two days exploring the area—hiking in the hills, visiting two waterfalls, wandering through orchards and pastures and into the shaded groves of the walnut forest. We watched as people climbed high into the trees to shake down walnuts, encountered few other tourists but many cows, and were met with beautiful views at every turn.

After three nights in Arslanbob, we rose early to head back home—this time by taxi, which shaved some time off the trip. We wound our way for hours through the steep valley that follows the Naryn River, and then suddenly came out on the south shore of the Toktogul resevoir. Stretched out in front of me, as if to welcome me back, was my home—the long glimmering lake, the mountains that frame my view as I bustle around each day and, tucked into the foothills, little ole Toktogul.

View from the porch where we took our meals

Walnut forest!

Land of Lada

Small waterfall

Our sweet little hostess

Rollin'

Autumn has arrived in Toktogul. Leaves are turning yellow, the evenings are crisp and cool, and I’ve been eating apples by the bucketload. People are busy with school, with the harvests and the many parties and celebrations that go along with the harvests. And, at long last, I’m busy too.

The Kyrgyz word for summer is jai, which literally means “slow” and certainly described my life for much of the past few months. Everyone—Peace Corps staff, other volunteers, my host family, my work counterparts—told me to chill out over the summer, to rest, to meet people, improve my language, read a few books, get extra sleep. And I did, repressing the ultra-American/Seifert part of me that likes to have 80 things on my plate and move at 100 mph at all times.

Now though, as kyz (just means “autumn.” No cool double meaning) rolls in, things are picking up for me, and I’m excited. I’m forming a “Youth Health Educator” group, and spent much of the past week visiting local schools to recruit students. Two high school students from each of the four schools in Toktogul have been selected be in my group. We’ll identify pressing health issues for youth here, create lessons and activities to implement in the local schools. My eight students are stellar; we have our first meeting on Monday and I can’t wait.

I’m also teaching four hours of English club per week at a local high school. I constantly get requests to teach English and I mostly agreed to do the club in hopes that some of the haranguement would subsist. But yesterday was my first club, and it felt so good to be back in the classroom. It made me miss my days teaching at good ole Marshall High School last winter! My students are very sweet, and I think that forming relationships with them will help me integrate here. Plus, I plan to have a health bent to many of my English lessons and activities. So how’s that for, as the Kyrgyz say, “killing one rabbit with two bullets”?

Other news is that I’ve moved. No more IKEA palace, no more shower, no more sweet little Malika luring me out to play with her by telling me it’s dinner time (she’s smart, that one, and I fell for it every time). The grandmother in my previous host family fell ill and had to move in, along with other relatives to care for her, and they couldn’t host me anymore. I understood, and now I’m living with another host family. They are great, too—my host “parents” are only 25 and 26; they have an infant son and their 11-year-old nephew lives with them as well.

I really like my new place. Because my hosts are about my age, our relationship is very relaxed. They’re very interested in learning about American culture, and teaching me about theirs. I feel very comfortable in my new space, and have been doing a lot of cooking, which has been great. PLUS, they have a banya, my most favorite way to sweat it out and get clean.

That’s about the update, friends. The weather's changed here, things are rolling along, and overall life is ever so good. Hoping you’re all well, and sending my love.

Roses and Thorns

Time is passing. The summer heat has finally yielded to pleasantly warm days and cool nights. The mountains are capped with a new layer of snow. In a few days, I’ll pass the five-month mark of my time in Kyrgyzstan. I’ve learned a thing or two about this place over the past 150-some days. I thought it’d be interesting to share some of my  “roses,” my favorite things about Kyrgyzstan, and some of the…er…“thorns.”

Rose: Roses. Or simply flowers and plants in general. Most Kyrgyz people have vegetable gardens, but they also grow flowers and keep potted plants in their homes. I see a lot of jade plants here, which always reminds me of the jade plants my dad grew in my home in America. It’s nice to be among people who value the beauty of living, growing things.

Thorn: The myth that wind carries dangerous diseases. This myth is particularly frustrating on long, stuffy taxi/bus rides, when fellow passengers refuse to open windows. On my six-hour bus ride to Karakol, I was pleased with myself when I managed to grab a seat right behind an open window. But then, a young father seated near me asked that the window be closed, clearly convinced that the wind would infect his infant with a fatal disease. Not wanting to be the insensitive American who wants babies to die, and lacking the language skills to engage my fellow passengers in a discussion of how diseases are actually spread, I bit my tongue—and sweated it out—for six hours.

Rose: Fresh, delicious, bountiful, cheap, local produce. This is the stuff that yuppies and hippies in America pay the big bucks for—delicious tomatoes grown only miles away, deep pink watermelons, cucumbers by the bucketload, trees that offer more apricots and plums than anyone knows what to do with. In the winter, of course, this will change drastically. But, for now, it’s been darn good.

Thorn: Sheep fat. Specifically the widespread belief that it is 1) tasty 2) healthy and 3) will make you strong and capable of producing many children, and thus should be eaten often and in great quantities.

Rose: Families take care of eachother. Within a very short period of time, my host family in Toktogul took in an orphan (somehow related to us) who had nowhere else to go, and my host dad’s mother who needed care following a stroke. This is the norm here—in fact, there are very few nursing homes or orphanages here because they aren’t needed. Families are big, and very close-knit. When someone needs to be taken care of, Kyrgyz families step up and make sure no one gets left out in the cold.

Thorn: Kurut. I have to give the Kyrgyz people credit for finding some pretty creative uses for horse’s milk, but kurut is one I could gladly go without. It is horse’s milk boiled until it becomes solid, and is then formed into balls. At some point, an obscene amount of salt is added. Kyrgyz people eat this like candy. Personally, I consider it to be one of the more offensive things I’ve ever tasted. 

Rose: MOUNTAINS. The beautiful, beautiful mountains, everywhere you look. This country—particularly my little corner in Toktogul—is absolutely stunning. I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to spend two years in such a gorgeous place.

Nur Bala Camp

I spent the past week in the northern province of Talas, home of epic Kyrgyz hero Manas, as well as the country’s only McDonald’s. While it was great to eat chicken nuggets and see Manas’s 1100-year-old pants (which were giant. He was a big dude), the real reason I journeyed north was to work at a camp for children with disabilities. The camp was organized by an organization called Nur Bala, where another PCV named Huy works. Nur means  something along the lines of “ray of light;” bala means “child.” Nur Bala works to address the extremely undermet needs of disabled children in Talas City and neighboring villages. The camp allowed kids and their caregivers to get a break from normal life, to receive some education on health and nutrition, but mostly to play games and do crafts and relax.

We had about 15-20 kids (some came a day or two late, some left early) between the ages of 3 and 15, with a range of disabilities. Some were wheelchair-bound, some used crutches to get around, some had developmental delays. It was difficult to find activities that worked for everyone, but crafts were a big hit. We spent a lot of time making bracelets, painting and coloring, and making origami. “Red light, green light” turned out to be a pretty popular. Rest time, on the other hand, was not popular.

Befor this camp, I had very little experience working with kids with disabilites. It was interesting, and certainly relevant for me as I will be doing similar work in Toktogul come autumn. The kids were bright and sweet, and it was encouraging to see most of them with very loving and engaged caretakers. On the hand, there are so few resources for kids with disabilities here. Many of them only go to school for a few years, if at all, and tend not to leave the house much. It makes me wonder what these kids’ lives would be like if they had access to the resources that are available in the States (not to say, however, that all disabled individuals in the States have access to these resources).

In autumn, I’ll work on a project with Ratbu, an English teacher/rockstar in Toktogul. Two PCVs from days past (aka 2010) are coming from the States to help implement the project, which will allow kids with disabilities to create skits about their experiences and perform them at Toktogul’s culture center. I’m sure I’ll learn more about the lives of disabled individuals in Kyrgyzstan, and will have even more to report on the matter.

Otherwise, it was nice to spend a week in Talas. There were several volunteers helping at the camp, and we all stayed at Huy’s apartment in Talas City every night. We spent a lot of time cooking and eating—mac n’ cheese, tamale pie, chocolate chip cookies, and SO MUCH WATERMELON. It was nice to have a week of reduced sheep consumption, and to kick back with other Americans for a few days.

In a few minutes, I’ll hop a taxi back to Toktogul. It’s been a good week and I’ve learned a lot, but I am excited to get back home. While I enjoyed spending time with the kids at camp, there is one particular round-faced three-year-old I’m pretty stoked to see.

P.S. There isn’t really a McDonald’s in Talas. Gotcha.

Super cute, but don't be fooled: these two
were very tintek (aka naughty)

Crafts were a hit.

Aidana taking a whiff in order to tell me that I smell bad.
Thanks a lot. 

The group.

This grandpa was awesome. He told me stories about fighting for the
Soviet Union in Afghanistan. Also, he thought it was hilarious to
make fun the American tradition of smiling in photos. 

Beautiful Akilai and her momma.