We're Coming Home

Well, our time here in Kyrgyzstan is finished. We leave on a plane tomorrow and will fly through London and Chicago before we end up in Sacramento. We're excited to go home to see all our friends and family, but it is a bitter-sweet. The goodbyes here have been difficult. Our best friends here, Bakyt and Cholpon, have been so amazing that it's hard to think that we might not see them for a long time. Devin got an awesome going-away present from Bakyt. It's a sheepskin coat. He looks like a caveman in it! We look forward to seeing you all and showing it (and the rest of our souvenirs) to everyone. Thanks again for being part of our experience here in Kyrgyzstan! See you soon!

An Untitled Work By Sarah Lyle

Happy Holidays everyone! There’s a lot to report this time around. Unfortunately, we didn’t get pictures of the stories below, so you’ll have to use your imagination.

Chapter One: Devin Meets the Eye

Before we left for Kyrgyzstan we always joked about the “eye,” the sheep eye, that is. And after being in country for a few months, I didn’t think that either of us would end up eating the sheep eyeball because we hadn’t seen it presented to any guests of honor. In fact, we hadn’t seen it at all. So imagine my surprise when I looked across the tablecloth and saw Devin scraping (yes, with a fork) the eye socket of a sheep. I was grossed out, but Devin seemed to be enjoying himself. When we all went outside for the next eating break, I decided to interview the courageous DD. Here’s how it went:

Sarah: Did you eat the eyeball?!

Devin: Yeah (nonchalantly).

Sarah: Eww! How was it?

Devin: Good, it was the closest thing to having crab meat since being in country. It was a little stringy. You don’t eat the whole thing at once, you just pick a little bit off. But I only stuck to the “white meat,” avoiding all the veins and retina.

Sarah: (no response, just shock)

By the way, Devin almost got to eat sheep brain that night, but they weren’t able to crack open the skull. He was a little disappointed! (no response, just shock…again)

Chapter Two: Walter’s Tragic Thanksgiving

Unfortunately for us, Kyrgyz people don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here, so instead of getting a turkey at the local market, Devin went to the bazaar to find one. Devin, along with our local friend Bakyt, went to the “Avian Bird Flu Bazaar” (as Devin calls it) to find a suitable bird for our thirteen person American feast. He left the house with nothing but his courageous attitude (and his Peace Corps ID…see next chapter). Thirty minutes later, after I inquired into the status of the mission, he reassured me with the following text message, “Have Walter. He’s looking skinny since moving to Kyrgyzstan though.” Another thirty minutes later, I checked in with my brave huntsman, and received the following correspondence, “Walter just pooped in taxi. What do I do?” In a state of shock, I wasn’t sure what to do. Poor Devin. Poor Walter. The three of them then went to Bakyt’s apartment and killed, plucked, and cleaned Walter. Two hours later Devin returned with our Thanksgiving friend. He was quite delicious when we cooked him the next day. And we were all very thankful to have real turkey for Thanksgiving.

Oh, and to clarify, our turkey was named Walter by another volunteer named Lindsay who names her turkey Walter every year. She told us that it’s a tradition in her family. And in addition to naming him, she, with her approval and encouragement of her father, also “shit-talks” him with such taunting statements as, “I’m gonna eat you! You’re mine, Walter! You’re gonna meet you’re maker!” All of this is said in a quite menacing tone, which makes me happy that Walter is already dead. Poor Walter.

Chapter Three: Police Harassment, Meeting the Mayor and Police Chief, and More Harassment

When we arrived to our site in Jalalabat, we were warned by veteran volunteers that the militsia (aka police officers) sometimes harass foreigners. After being here for over a year, however, none of us had been bothered by the militsia or asked to show our “documents.” Then it happened. Devin and another volunteer named Nate (who had a very dangerous-looking beard) were stopped by the militsia. They asked to see identification. After showing them their Peace Corps IDs, Devin and Nate left. There was no problem, but we teased Nate that because he wore a beard, the locals think he is a terrorist (we’ve actually heard locals say this). So Nate shaved his beard and Devin went on with his business until a few days later when Devin was stopped again by the militsia. This time it was 10 o’clock at night and Devin was by himself. The militsia stopped him and were surprised to see a “white guy” wearing a kalpak (Devin had just received a kalpak because he said an impressive speech in Kyrgyz at a wedding reception). After encircling him, asking him if he was drunk, smelling his breath, and checking his ID, they discovered that Devin wasn’t the criminal they were looking for, and proceeded to ask if they could taste some of the goodies he was bringing back from the wedding feast. We both became a little concerned that Devin had been stopped twice in one week, so when our Safety and Security Coordinator (SSC) and Country Director came to visit us and see how things were going, we decided to tell them about the recent militsia incidents. Then we all went to introduce ourselves to the mayor of Jalalabat. He gave us his card and told us to contact him if we had any problems. Then we went to the police station to meet the head of the militsia. He brought us into a room and we introduced ourselves to a room of 60 militsia men and women. He also gave us his card and told us to call if we had any problems. We felt confident that we were safer in Jalalabat.

Two days later Devin was coming home from Nate’s village after helping Nate and his host family plant wheat. The militsia again stopped Devin. One officer pushed into Devin with his shoulder and asked to see his ID. Devin asked to see his, and the officer replied that since he had a uniform, he didn’t need to show his ID. Three other officers came up and asked Devin if he was a thief. In a state of disbelief, Devin answered no, and after several other questions, they let him go. Oh, Kyrgyzstan!

Happy Halloween From The Cradle Of Revolution

In case it wasn’t all over the American news- papers, Jalalabat turned 130 last week. That’s right. I was shocked too. Oh, how quickly they grow-up. It was absolutely incredible. The Kyrgyz do not skimp when it comes to partying. All the bread, sheep, and other various sheep-fat-fried delicacies you could imagine were on display anxiously anticipating a visit from none other than Kurmanbek Bakiev (With whom I’m sure you’re all familiar, but in case you’re not, he’s the president. And also a fellow Jalala-buddy, whose family, except for those he has employed in the White House, still lives here. And, yes, they do refer to their grey capitol building as the white house).

My first-ever in-person sighting of a head of state was, well, lackluster. My fellow denizens and I were on our way home from the yurt-filled stadium when we saw a group of people surrounding a newly erected statue to commemorate the big

1-3-0 (although it was not nearly as large a group as the crowd crammed onto the nearby, outdoor dance floor) who were listening to someone speak over a loudspeaker (although not nearly as loud a speaker as those blaring music at the
outdoor club less than 100 yards away) when we realized it was none other than the main man himself. We hurried over and tried to distinguish his words from those of Pussy Cat Dolls’ “Buttons”. I couldn’t. But I did notice the sign behind him that translated to “Jalalabat: the cradle of revolution,” which is referencing the origin of the revolution that ousted the incumbent and hoisted Bakiev into power almost three years ago.

Thanks to the Pussy Cat Dolls, I also began to notice the other signs plastered throughout the square reminding people to vote on the constitutional referendum, proposed by their fellow Jalala-buddy, the following day. The timing of such an over-the-top birthday bash on the eve of a huge constitutional amendment and Bakiev’s presence is a little…ummmm…sheepy.

The referendum passed with an astounding 90-percent approval. And for their loyalty, my fellow Jalala-buddies were allowed to vote twice—once with a Russian language ballot, and once with a Kyrgyz language ballot—and, according to locals, if you voted “no” on the referendum, it was just thrown away anyway. Two days later, with his new powers, Bakiev dissolved congress and started his own, new political party, which, ironically, is the same reason he lead the revolution against his predecessor Askar Akiev. There will be an election in mid-November to decide which political party should take power of the new congress. And judging by the fact that state-run universities are forcing their students to sign-up as members of Bakiev’s new political party, I have a hunch as to whom the victor will be. $100 on Bakiev. Any takers?

Nonetheless, even amongst his fellow Jalala-buddies, whispers and rumors of civil-war and revolution abound. Corruption, rigged elections, and skyrocketing cost-of-living should make for an interesting winter. Maybe we will be home for Christmas.

Happy 130^th Jalalabat!

No real segue for this, but here are some pics from Halloween. Sarah and I found some real treasures from the local second-hand store. She was one of the Holograms from Jem and the Holograms (the ‘80s all-girl rock band cartoon that was the bane of boys’ existence who would much rather have filled the time-slot with GI Joe) and I was a ‘70s or ‘80s skier (maybe you can help me decide which decade).

Jalalabat Bazaar

Bread! This unleavened bread is the best, and it is a staple of all Kyrgyz meals. It's amazing just out of the oven.



Thanks to the warmer weather and longer growing season, the fruits and veggies in Jalalabat are the most delicious and plentiful in country.



Meat, meat, and more meat. I didn't ask but judging by the carcass at the bottom of the picture I'm guessing this is mutton...yum!



The samsa oven stand we pass everyday from our apartment. For just 17 som, we can get a kinda of pot-pie to go. It has a flaky outer layer with meat, onions, and potatoes inside. (The metal disc is covering the opening from which I took the picture below).



Looking down inside the samsa oven. Look at all of those delicious samsas stuck to the side of the wall!

The Girl Who Got Away

Bride kidnapping is Kyrgyzstan’s saddest and most appalling tradition. And today I received the saddest and most appalling news since being in country.

To give you a thorough and unbiased background on bride kidnapping, I have included an excerpt from an article on bride kidnapping from Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bride_kidnapping):

Ala kachuu

Despite its illegality, in many, primarily rural, areas bride kidnapping is still the accepted way of taking a wife. This act of ala kachuu (to take and flee) prevails to this day, despite modern social and moral standards. Women play an integral role in the process: the success of the kidnapping is dependant on her conduct while she is held hostage. If she truly does not wish to stay, she will not accept the family’s kind advances. She may tell them that she has a boyfriend, or impart to them that she is not a virgin, which still carries a major social stigma. Many of these women have boyfriends and participate in dating, which can make the experience all the more traumatic. A couple may court for many months, but another suitor could still kidnap the young woman, as she is unmarried. The question, “What would you do if you were kidnapped?” is asked of many Kyrgyz women in their late teens and early twenties. While this may not be their preferred method of becoming engaged, a majority of them, consensual or nonconsensual, do end up married in this way. Ala kachuu is a tradition that has endured to the present day in Central Asia and is integral to their society and culture.

Role of the family

The families of both the bride and the groom play large roles in these arranged marriages. The groom's family, primarily the menfolk, decide who they want to kidnap and take as the bride. Often, rather than selecting a particular young woman to kidnap, they select a house; that way they can still kidnap one of the sisters if the woman they desire is not home. Once at the home of the bride, they grab the woman and bring her back to the groom's house. The girl's family is usually also there, as they know about the kidnapping and encourage their loved one to accept the man as her husband and to stay with him. The woman can still leave the house, but her family usually does everything in their power to convince the girl to stay. The reason for this is that as women get older, they become less desirable. Therefore, the family has no idea if she will still be able to find a husband if she does not accept this man. Since young women are obedient to their parents in Central Asia, they will stay with the husband.

Since being in country, Sarah and I have become very familiar with the tradition of bride kidnapping. In fact, both sets of host-parents we’ve lived with were unions as a result of bride kidnapping. To be fair, not all bride kidnappings are first-time meetings against the will of the bride. Some men will bride kidnap their girlfriends at an arranged time and place just for tradition’s sake, and they usually continue on to have a normal relationship; however, majority of them occur with the woman unknowingly and unwillingly being pulled off the street and driven to the family’s house and pressured into marriage. It always puts a damper on my day when I show up to the university and ask the other students why I haven’t seen one of their classmates in class and they tell me she’s been bride kidnapped. Anyway, I’m rambling.

Today, a friend of ours who lives in a nearby village was telling us about a failed bride kidnapping. A 26-year old son of a local high school teacher attempted to bride kidnap a 17-year old recent high school graduate and former student of the suitor’s mother from the street in her village. She was able to keep her suitor at bay by refusing to go with him and showing him a picture of her boyfriend whom she intended to marry. The girl’s family also came to her rescue refusing to let her be taken. The suitor and his entourage finally conceded and returned home ashamed and embarrassed. This was two days ago.

Up to this point, I thought, the story was a success story. As our friend was telling the story, I was so happy for and proud of this girl who, with the support of her family, was able to stick-up for herself and remain in control of her own destiny while striking a blow to a misogynistic and feckless tradition. But my mood soon changed.

Our friend continued. The jilted suitor went home and told his family the news. Word quickly spread throughout the small village. The embarrassment of the suitor and his family grew with every new person who heard. So in order to save face, the mother of the suitor and former teacher of the girl began spreading rumors around the village that the girl wasn’t a virgin.

I was appalled, as were many of the others living in the village, that this woman would spread rumors, true or not, about a young girl, and her former student, who just hours before she wanted to take as her daughter-in-law. Even still, I thought it was an inspiring story of a young girl overcoming immense social pressure and standing up for her rights.

Our friend went home, but, unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the story.

A few hours after she left, our friend sent a text message. “The girl who got away killed herself.”

FYI

So we can be more open and honest about our experience in Kyrgyzstan, we will be switching the format of this blog to private, which means by invite only. If you would like to continue having access to this blog, please email us so we can add your email address to the invite list when we make the change.

We apologize for the inconvenience but think it will result in more interesting blogs more often.

Thanks!

The War on Roaches

Okay…it’s been awhile. We have lots of excuses but none quite as significant as just plain laziness. But now we’re rejuvenated from our trip back to the states, and hopefully this blog will be too.

I won’t talk too much about our trip to the U.S., but the trip back was awesome, and we’re so glad we did it. It was great seeing everyone and welcoming a new member to the family. Sarah played her special auntie card whenever possible so she could hold our beautiful niece, Celicianna, at every possible moment. The food was another highlight, but I don’t want to torture myself by reminiscing about what I can’t have. Suffice it to say the people and food were amazing and hard to leave.

After 45 hours of traveling from San Francisco to Jalalabat, we were happy to be home in our apartment. However, to our chagrin, our apartment had turned into a safe haven for cockroaches. They were everywhere—bathtub, cabinets, refrigerator, toilet, and oven. We moved quickly. First we assembled a coalition of the willing (Sarah and I), and then we smoked them out of their holes with our aerosol Raid on high density targets, killing what we thought was the majority of the little, photophobic evil doers. We knew we didn’t get them all but thought we had at least broken their will to stay. After the aerosol Raid, we adopted a clear, clean, and hold policy, in which we cleared all dishes, glasses, cleaning products and the like from the harboring areas, then cleaned everything from top to bottom inside to out, and then we outlined the area with a poison pencil (it looks like chalk but leaves a poisonous powder behind) and Combat traps. Satisfied with ourselves, we declared an end to major combat. However, this war didn’t have the necessary initial funding or forethought. We were so happy with our aerosol Raid we didn’t put enough thought into the exit strategy and therefore failed to acquire the necessary number of Combat traps to sufficiently secure the perimeter, thus letting the safe zones fall to the insurgents. So once again we are fighting the insurgency from counter-top to counter-top and probably not killing them as quickly as they are multiplying. I guess we should rethink our strategy.

Besides the cockroaches, though, we are really happy to be back to work in Kyrgyzstan. We’ve missed our volunteer and local friends here, who after one more year we may not see again. After our vacation, we are seeing the country with fresh eyes, and are really looking forward to spending the next year tackling old problems with fresh ideas.

Superbowl in March?! A call for help and being on TV…

Devin and I moved into a new apartment a few weeks ago and love it. The location is great; we’re in the center of the town/city. And it’s a pretty clean apartment in a safe neighborhood. We’ve already had several people over for dinner. Last week I started Cooking Club where students came over and learned to make American food (they chose pizza and brownies). But the main event was last week. We had a Superbowl party. Actually, we didn’t even have the actual Superbowl game. Instead we watched the Superbowl highlights clip with the commentator narrating, or should I say dramatizing, the whole game. It didn’t really matter though because the real highlights were all the friends and the incredible amount of junk food that we ate. Thanks to Jeremy and Christina Lyle and the rest of the family we had Cheetos, Tostitos Cheese Dip, five bags of Doritos, and three huge bowls of candy (M&Ms, Milky Way, Andes Mints, Hershey’s, Starburst, Skittles, and so much more). We also made deviled eggs, spinach dip, artichoke dip, vegetarian chili, grilled cheese, and tuna salad. It was a big success.

Other news is that I’ve been working on a big project with another volunteer. We’re planning a Leadership Camp for Girls this summer. We wrote a Peace Corps Partnership Grant, which is posted online so people can donate money to the project. Anyone can donate, and the idea behind it is that family, friends, and any other community members can contribute to projects volunteers are doing here in Kyrgyzstan. The people here in Kyrgyzstan must contribute 25% of the total cost and the rest is funded through the partnership grant. This is the 4^th annual camp, and we have some great ideas to promote democracy, health education, critical thinking, leadership skills, and we even have Devin as our expert to teach business skills. The camp is only three months away, so if you get a chance, please spread the word to other people about the project we’re doing here. To access the website, you have to go to www.peacecorps.gov and go to the “family and friends” section and click on “donate now.” You can then choose “volunteer projects” and look for the Kyrgyz Republic project 307-078. It is under the name R. Ingram, another volunteer with whom I’m working.

Last bit of news. I was on TV recently. It was a last minute thing. I was just finishing my classes when a camera crew came into my classroom to film me teaching, but my classes were over, so they brought in some other university students whom I didn’t know. Then I taught a very short “pretend” lesson. Afterwards I had to give a speech in Kyrgyz and English. It was a little stressful, but I guess I didn’t sound too bad. I haven’t seen it, but several students, some volunteers, and a few strangers on the street saw it. Life just keeps getting more and more interesting here. Happy Easter to you all!