Just a quick story. Today I had to work on a Saturday and was very angry. I spend all week doing mostly nothing in my dysfunctional organization, and then they pretend there's something really important we need to do on the weekend and make me come in. Very angry.
But then I went to the bazaar and what did I find? Strawberries! The first delicious bites of summer. I bought a half kilo for $1.83. Then my pal Sipra and I made summery salad for lunch at her house, and topped the meal off with ice cream and strawberries.
Best. Idea. Ever.
And I'm still trying to figure out my internet to load pictures. I'm working on it, I swear.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Nauryz!!, or Kazakh New Year in the Deep South
Backlogged, written March 27...
March 22 is Nauryz, one of the most important holidays here in Kazakhstan, especially in the very Kazakh south where I live. The holiday has been celebrated in this part of the world for a millennium. It's a time celebrate the arrival of spring with family, friends, and large amounts of food.
This time has special meaning not only for locals, but for volunteers who make a yearly exodus from the still-frozen north to the balmy south to join in the Nauryz celebration and catch up with friends. This year was no different. After a month of logistical prep (finding apartments, coordinating pickups at the train station, organizing projects to give our visitors business leave, at the beginning of last week we welcomed about 40 volunteers to Shymkent to spend a week living it up.
On Tuesday, the actual Nauryz holiday, we all went to the Hippodrome, the center of Nauryz festivities. Just outside the stadium grounds there were traditional dance performances and tons of food stalls serving traditional Kazakh fare including Nauryz-kozhe, a drink made from 7 ingredients (These seven ingredients can vary, but typically include: kefir, kurt (a rock hard, very sharp cheese), meat, wheat, salt, rice, and raisins). Locals love the stuff, and wait all year for it to make an appearance. I was less impressed with the dish. It sort of has the consistency but none of the sweetness of really water rice pudding, or super soggy cereal.
Apart from kozhe, there was plov (pilaf) and shashlik (grilled meat kebabs) served at food stalls, and huge feasts laid out at the dozens of yurts that had been set up around the square. Women in traditional dress waited around the yurt entrances and herded important-looking passersby (including a few volunteers) inside to enjoy the feast.
After gorging ourselves on food, we moved on to the stadium to take in the traditional horse games showcased during Nauryz. We watched horse races, horse jumping, kok-par (see previous post), a game that involved a boy on horseback chasing a girl on horseback and trying to kiss her, and a game that involved a girl on horseback chasing a boy on horseback and whipping him. The American section of the bleachers went crazy during this last event. We sat in a huge group eating ice cream, wearing t-shirts (the chill-fearing locals were all in jackets and sweatshirts), cheering on women's rights in horse games, and sticking out like a sore thumb. We were the uber-Americans, and we loved every minute of it.
March 22 is Nauryz, one of the most important holidays here in Kazakhstan, especially in the very Kazakh south where I live. The holiday has been celebrated in this part of the world for a millennium. It's a time celebrate the arrival of spring with family, friends, and large amounts of food.
This time has special meaning not only for locals, but for volunteers who make a yearly exodus from the still-frozen north to the balmy south to join in the Nauryz celebration and catch up with friends. This year was no different. After a month of logistical prep (finding apartments, coordinating pickups at the train station, organizing projects to give our visitors business leave, at the beginning of last week we welcomed about 40 volunteers to Shymkent to spend a week living it up.
On Tuesday, the actual Nauryz holiday, we all went to the Hippodrome, the center of Nauryz festivities. Just outside the stadium grounds there were traditional dance performances and tons of food stalls serving traditional Kazakh fare including Nauryz-kozhe, a drink made from 7 ingredients (These seven ingredients can vary, but typically include: kefir, kurt (a rock hard, very sharp cheese), meat, wheat, salt, rice, and raisins). Locals love the stuff, and wait all year for it to make an appearance. I was less impressed with the dish. It sort of has the consistency but none of the sweetness of really water rice pudding, or super soggy cereal.
Apart from kozhe, there was plov (pilaf) and shashlik (grilled meat kebabs) served at food stalls, and huge feasts laid out at the dozens of yurts that had been set up around the square. Women in traditional dress waited around the yurt entrances and herded important-looking passersby (including a few volunteers) inside to enjoy the feast.
After gorging ourselves on food, we moved on to the stadium to take in the traditional horse games showcased during Nauryz. We watched horse races, horse jumping, kok-par (see previous post), a game that involved a boy on horseback chasing a girl on horseback and trying to kiss her, and a game that involved a girl on horseback chasing a boy on horseback and whipping him. The American section of the bleachers went crazy during this last event. We sat in a huge group eating ice cream, wearing t-shirts (the chill-fearing locals were all in jackets and sweatshirts), cheering on women's rights in horse games, and sticking out like a sore thumb. We were the uber-Americans, and we loved every minute of it.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Adventures with Kok-Par
Backlogged, written March 14.
(Pictures to follow if the evil internet ever allows me to upload any...)
Last weekend I went to visit my pal Sarah (fellow Mac '10 Alum) in her town, about 2 hours south of me. I was aching to get out of the city, and itching for change of pace. Sarah telepathically sensed my discontent with city life, and called me up to invite me to spend the weekend with her and her host family. Her Kazakh tutor had heard about a traditional Kazakh event that would be happening that weekend and invited her along. She in turn invited me along. Hence, Friday afternoon I found myself on a bumpy, stuffy minibus ride down to see her and take in some Kazakh culture.
Friday night found us enjoying a traditional meal of plov (pilaf) and various salads in her host family's main room. We ate on the floor, lounging on mattresses (korpeshe), chatting, and intermittently watching Uzbek TV. [NOTE: They live so close to the Uzbek border, that they get better reception from TV channels in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, than from Shymkent or Almaty, Kazakhstan. The Kazakh and Uzbek languages are close cousins, so Sarah's Kazakh host family can understand Uzbek and Sarah, who's learning Kazakh, can follow along pretty well.] After dinner Sarah's tutor called to clarify plans for the next day. We were going to a village about 2 hours from Sarah's town to watch a game called kok-par (more on that later) with Sarah's tutor Sultan. We were supposed to take a taxi to a neighboring village and wait at a pastry stand near the town center for her tutor to meet us.
The next morning Sarah and I were up bright an early to eat breakfast before heading out to find a cab. During breakfast the Tutor called to change plans. Instead of making us take a taxi, he had found a friend that lived in Sarah's town to drive us to kok-par. The friend's name was Chinggis, and he would meet us at Sarah's school at 9am.
We left Sarah's house to walk to her school and meet Chinggis. He still hadn't arrived by 9:15 (Kazakhstani “on time” typically means being an hour late...), so Sarah gave me a tour of her school. Her students were all intrigued by the new American with curly hair that didn't speak any Kazakh, but instead spoke Russian. I met Sarah's fellow teachers, we chilled in her cushy teacher's lounge, and looked at the school yard out back. By this point is was 9:30, and we started to worry that we had somehow missed Chinggis and our ride to kok-par. Sarah called the Tutor, who confirmed that Chinggis had not yet arrived, but would be there in 10 minutes. We milled around out front of her school, talking to her students that were by this time hanging out the windows to talk to us instead of taking there tests.
Finally, at around 9:45 a car pulled into the school driveway. Sarah said something to him in Kazakh (presumably, “Are you Chinggis?”) he nodded, and we got in. We drove out of Sarah's town and through the neighboring countryside and villages. Thirty minutes into the ride, we still hadn't really spoken with the Driver, and began to wonder where Sarah's tutor was going to make his way into the plan. Sarah asked Chinggis where Sultan was, and Chinggis replied that he had no idea. This seemed problematic, so Sarah called her tutor and tried to figure out where he was, and passed the phone off to our driver so he and the tutor could sort things out.
Our driver Chinggis confirmed that we would pick up Sultan somewhere along the way to kok-par, and we drove on. About 20 minutes later, literally in the middle of nowhere, we see two men walking along the side of the road. There was nothing for miles around, so I have no idea how they got there, but these two men turned out to be Sarah's tutor Sultan and his pal Murat. We picked them up, and continued on our way to kok-par.
Sarah introduced me to her tutor, and he introduced us to our friends. [It was at this point that we found out that our driver's name was Kengis, not Chinggis, and had not bothered to correct us at any point in the ride.] So we had Sultan (the Guide), Kengis (the Driver), and Murat (the Security), as Sultan introduced them, and Sarah and me, driving off into the steppe in search of kok-par.
_____________________________________________________________________________________ASIDE: At this point, it's probably a good time to explain exactly what kok-par is. Some compare it to polo, some call is “Kazakh soccer”. Basically, you have a lot of men on horses and a headless sheep carcass. The sheep carcass has been soaked in salt water for 24 hours prior to game play to make it ridiculously heavy, and difficult to carry around. Then we have the field, which can really be an relatively large empty space, with a circle marked at each end. The goal is for the men on horseback to fight over the saltwater-logged sheep carcass, until one of them manages to haul it into a circle at the end of the field. Whoever succeeds in this, wins the round and any number of prizes. Play immediately starts again, as riders try to haul the carcass to the circle goal at the other end of the field.
Yes. This game is insane. People break bones, sprain things, etc. But it's actually surprisingly entertaining. Here's what Wiki has got to say about it.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Sarah had warned me that her tutor didn't speak any Russian, and this turned out to be mostly true. In many of the villages in the south, life operates in Kazakh or Uzbek, rather than in Russian. The Tutor was really nice, but all of our conversation went first through Sarah who translated my English questions into Kazakh and his Kazakh answers back into English. He was curious about my work in Shymkent, my lack of any knowledge of the Kazakh language, and my vegetarianism, but he was eager to explain everything he knew about kok-par and Kazakh culture.
After a 2 hour drive, we turned off the road, and drove out onto the empty step. It seemed like we were going nowhere, but the Driver clearly knew what he was doing. We drove until we reached a gathering of cars, and the Tutor announced “We're here.”
We parked the car and walked toward some shelters that had been erected in the middle of the steppe. We passed a giant banner with a picture of an ancient Kazakh man and woman standing side by side.
It turns out that this particular kok-par event was put on by a regional government deputy (like a state representative) in honor of his parents who had just turned 90, and Kazakhstan's 20th year of independence. Tables were lined up under the shelters and filled with food. Kok-par is traditionally started with a feast to honor all the guests who had in turn come to see a game that was held to honor some 90-year-old Kazakhs. The food is prepared by the women of the neighboring villages, and was delicious and free. We ate plov, bread, fruit, salads, and sweets. Men carried giant trays full of plov and roasted sheep heads around the grounds, giving the choice pieces to the oldest guests. During the meal, various area dignitaries gave speeches to honor the organizer of the event and his parents, and recited prayers.
After lunch, we headed to a small stage to watch eitus, an age-old Kazakh tradition that is surprisingly similar to rap battle or poetry slam. One old Kazakh man and one old Kazakh woman sat on the stage with dombras (2-stringed guitar). They took turns insulting each other in long, elegant verse sung to strummed chords. The crowd absolutely loved them. I had no idea what was going on, but every once in awhile the Tutor would explain a joke to Sarah, and she would explain it to me. Most of the jokes seemed pretty universal (the woman joked about the man's femininity, etc.), but the crowd ate it up. The battle continued for about 1 hour, and eventually a winner was declared. By this point we had lost the Tutor (who probably went off to chain smoke somewhere), so Sarah went in search of the restrooms.
We assumed there would be no restroom, and that we'd have to find some place to squat, but eventually we found the “restrooms” that had been constructed specifically for this event. It was essentially six holes in the ground surrounded on three sides with corrugated iron. It wasn't classy, but it did the job. On our way back to the stage we found the Tutor and the Security. They had heard the game was supposed to begin soon, so we headed over to the playing field.
The Tutor bought us some sunflower seeds to munch on while we looked for a good place to watch the action from. We walked past the small grandstand, as far away from the playing field as possible. The Tutor didn't want us to get trampled (very reasonable), so we would watch from far away until he got a feel for the play and we could move closer. He looked at us very seriously and sad that if the riders came charging in our direction, we should crawl under the trucks so we wouldn't be trampled. He wasn't kidding. In real kok-par, there is no out of bounds. Play continues until someone scores, and then just starts all over again.
We milled around and chatted with locals and men climbed onto the trucks to get a better view of the field. All around us riders were prepping their horses for play. The Tutor told us that horses from China, Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Russia, and all the 14 regions of Kazakhstan were taking part in today's play. He estimated that at least 700 riders were there, in addition to a crowd of at least 5,000. Prizes included a car, $500, sheep, and camels.
Quick note about the crowd, there were no women. Historically, women had been forbidden to attend kok-par, as it was a man's event. Now women are allowed to attend, but the don't mostly because they traditionally haven't. The only women we saw after the feast and the battle of the bards was a few women selling water and sunflower seeds. Sarah and I were very white, very American, and very much women. We stood out like sore thumbs. Lots of people wanted to talk to us and we were followed by catcalls. The Tutor explained that this was why he brought along two friends as security. We met a man that didn't believe we were Americans, which seemed very silly. The Tutor explained to this old Kazakh man that we were American, then Sarah explained to him in Kazakh that we were American, then we spoke at him for a bit in English just to carry the point home, but he wouldn't be convinced. I'm not sure where he thought we were from, but it certainly wasn't America.
Finally the game began. We couldn't tell what was happening because we were so far away, but the Tutor thought it was too dangerous for us to go any closer. He kept reminding us of our exit strategy, “If the horses trample, under the trucks!” At the end of each round, the winner and his prize would be announced. The Tutor explained that although there are no formal teams and it's every man for himself, lots of unofficial alliances spring up. Riders join together and set blocks for each other, and then split the prize if they win. The game ran over two days, each day from 2pm to sunset (around 6pm). So the riders just raced back and forth between the goals, taking breaks when they wanted, joining back in when it was convenient. Eventually we moved closer to the grandstand to get a better look, and the horses did trample twice, but we ran between some large vehicles and no one was hurt.
It was amazing to see so many people on horses, all chasing after this single sheep carcass. Kok-par is brutal, folks. By the end of the day, more than a few horses and riders were limping off the field. As the first day of play came to a close, we set off in search of our car and the Driver. We eventually found them, and headed home, dropping the Tutor and the Security off at the exact same empty patch of steppe where we had found them that morning.
And that, dear reader, is the story of how I got to see traditional Kazakh kok-par in the middle of the steppe.
(Pictures to follow if the evil internet ever allows me to upload any...)
Last weekend I went to visit my pal Sarah (fellow Mac '10 Alum) in her town, about 2 hours south of me. I was aching to get out of the city, and itching for change of pace. Sarah telepathically sensed my discontent with city life, and called me up to invite me to spend the weekend with her and her host family. Her Kazakh tutor had heard about a traditional Kazakh event that would be happening that weekend and invited her along. She in turn invited me along. Hence, Friday afternoon I found myself on a bumpy, stuffy minibus ride down to see her and take in some Kazakh culture.
Friday night found us enjoying a traditional meal of plov (pilaf) and various salads in her host family's main room. We ate on the floor, lounging on mattresses (korpeshe), chatting, and intermittently watching Uzbek TV. [NOTE: They live so close to the Uzbek border, that they get better reception from TV channels in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, than from Shymkent or Almaty, Kazakhstan. The Kazakh and Uzbek languages are close cousins, so Sarah's Kazakh host family can understand Uzbek and Sarah, who's learning Kazakh, can follow along pretty well.] After dinner Sarah's tutor called to clarify plans for the next day. We were going to a village about 2 hours from Sarah's town to watch a game called kok-par (more on that later) with Sarah's tutor Sultan. We were supposed to take a taxi to a neighboring village and wait at a pastry stand near the town center for her tutor to meet us.
The next morning Sarah and I were up bright an early to eat breakfast before heading out to find a cab. During breakfast the Tutor called to change plans. Instead of making us take a taxi, he had found a friend that lived in Sarah's town to drive us to kok-par. The friend's name was Chinggis, and he would meet us at Sarah's school at 9am.
We left Sarah's house to walk to her school and meet Chinggis. He still hadn't arrived by 9:15 (Kazakhstani “on time” typically means being an hour late...), so Sarah gave me a tour of her school. Her students were all intrigued by the new American with curly hair that didn't speak any Kazakh, but instead spoke Russian. I met Sarah's fellow teachers, we chilled in her cushy teacher's lounge, and looked at the school yard out back. By this point is was 9:30, and we started to worry that we had somehow missed Chinggis and our ride to kok-par. Sarah called the Tutor, who confirmed that Chinggis had not yet arrived, but would be there in 10 minutes. We milled around out front of her school, talking to her students that were by this time hanging out the windows to talk to us instead of taking there tests.
Finally, at around 9:45 a car pulled into the school driveway. Sarah said something to him in Kazakh (presumably, “Are you Chinggis?”) he nodded, and we got in. We drove out of Sarah's town and through the neighboring countryside and villages. Thirty minutes into the ride, we still hadn't really spoken with the Driver, and began to wonder where Sarah's tutor was going to make his way into the plan. Sarah asked Chinggis where Sultan was, and Chinggis replied that he had no idea. This seemed problematic, so Sarah called her tutor and tried to figure out where he was, and passed the phone off to our driver so he and the tutor could sort things out.
Our driver Chinggis confirmed that we would pick up Sultan somewhere along the way to kok-par, and we drove on. About 20 minutes later, literally in the middle of nowhere, we see two men walking along the side of the road. There was nothing for miles around, so I have no idea how they got there, but these two men turned out to be Sarah's tutor Sultan and his pal Murat. We picked them up, and continued on our way to kok-par.
Sarah introduced me to her tutor, and he introduced us to our friends. [It was at this point that we found out that our driver's name was Kengis, not Chinggis, and had not bothered to correct us at any point in the ride.] So we had Sultan (the Guide), Kengis (the Driver), and Murat (the Security), as Sultan introduced them, and Sarah and me, driving off into the steppe in search of kok-par.
_____________________________________________________________________________________ASIDE: At this point, it's probably a good time to explain exactly what kok-par is. Some compare it to polo, some call is “Kazakh soccer”. Basically, you have a lot of men on horses and a headless sheep carcass. The sheep carcass has been soaked in salt water for 24 hours prior to game play to make it ridiculously heavy, and difficult to carry around. Then we have the field, which can really be an relatively large empty space, with a circle marked at each end. The goal is for the men on horseback to fight over the saltwater-logged sheep carcass, until one of them manages to haul it into a circle at the end of the field. Whoever succeeds in this, wins the round and any number of prizes. Play immediately starts again, as riders try to haul the carcass to the circle goal at the other end of the field.
Yes. This game is insane. People break bones, sprain things, etc. But it's actually surprisingly entertaining. Here's what Wiki has got to say about it.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Sarah had warned me that her tutor didn't speak any Russian, and this turned out to be mostly true. In many of the villages in the south, life operates in Kazakh or Uzbek, rather than in Russian. The Tutor was really nice, but all of our conversation went first through Sarah who translated my English questions into Kazakh and his Kazakh answers back into English. He was curious about my work in Shymkent, my lack of any knowledge of the Kazakh language, and my vegetarianism, but he was eager to explain everything he knew about kok-par and Kazakh culture.
After a 2 hour drive, we turned off the road, and drove out onto the empty step. It seemed like we were going nowhere, but the Driver clearly knew what he was doing. We drove until we reached a gathering of cars, and the Tutor announced “We're here.”
We parked the car and walked toward some shelters that had been erected in the middle of the steppe. We passed a giant banner with a picture of an ancient Kazakh man and woman standing side by side.
It turns out that this particular kok-par event was put on by a regional government deputy (like a state representative) in honor of his parents who had just turned 90, and Kazakhstan's 20th year of independence. Tables were lined up under the shelters and filled with food. Kok-par is traditionally started with a feast to honor all the guests who had in turn come to see a game that was held to honor some 90-year-old Kazakhs. The food is prepared by the women of the neighboring villages, and was delicious and free. We ate plov, bread, fruit, salads, and sweets. Men carried giant trays full of plov and roasted sheep heads around the grounds, giving the choice pieces to the oldest guests. During the meal, various area dignitaries gave speeches to honor the organizer of the event and his parents, and recited prayers.
After lunch, we headed to a small stage to watch eitus, an age-old Kazakh tradition that is surprisingly similar to rap battle or poetry slam. One old Kazakh man and one old Kazakh woman sat on the stage with dombras (2-stringed guitar). They took turns insulting each other in long, elegant verse sung to strummed chords. The crowd absolutely loved them. I had no idea what was going on, but every once in awhile the Tutor would explain a joke to Sarah, and she would explain it to me. Most of the jokes seemed pretty universal (the woman joked about the man's femininity, etc.), but the crowd ate it up. The battle continued for about 1 hour, and eventually a winner was declared. By this point we had lost the Tutor (who probably went off to chain smoke somewhere), so Sarah went in search of the restrooms.
We assumed there would be no restroom, and that we'd have to find some place to squat, but eventually we found the “restrooms” that had been constructed specifically for this event. It was essentially six holes in the ground surrounded on three sides with corrugated iron. It wasn't classy, but it did the job. On our way back to the stage we found the Tutor and the Security. They had heard the game was supposed to begin soon, so we headed over to the playing field.
The Tutor bought us some sunflower seeds to munch on while we looked for a good place to watch the action from. We walked past the small grandstand, as far away from the playing field as possible. The Tutor didn't want us to get trampled (very reasonable), so we would watch from far away until he got a feel for the play and we could move closer. He looked at us very seriously and sad that if the riders came charging in our direction, we should crawl under the trucks so we wouldn't be trampled. He wasn't kidding. In real kok-par, there is no out of bounds. Play continues until someone scores, and then just starts all over again.
We milled around and chatted with locals and men climbed onto the trucks to get a better view of the field. All around us riders were prepping their horses for play. The Tutor told us that horses from China, Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Russia, and all the 14 regions of Kazakhstan were taking part in today's play. He estimated that at least 700 riders were there, in addition to a crowd of at least 5,000. Prizes included a car, $500, sheep, and camels.
Quick note about the crowd, there were no women. Historically, women had been forbidden to attend kok-par, as it was a man's event. Now women are allowed to attend, but the don't mostly because they traditionally haven't. The only women we saw after the feast and the battle of the bards was a few women selling water and sunflower seeds. Sarah and I were very white, very American, and very much women. We stood out like sore thumbs. Lots of people wanted to talk to us and we were followed by catcalls. The Tutor explained that this was why he brought along two friends as security. We met a man that didn't believe we were Americans, which seemed very silly. The Tutor explained to this old Kazakh man that we were American, then Sarah explained to him in Kazakh that we were American, then we spoke at him for a bit in English just to carry the point home, but he wouldn't be convinced. I'm not sure where he thought we were from, but it certainly wasn't America.
Finally the game began. We couldn't tell what was happening because we were so far away, but the Tutor thought it was too dangerous for us to go any closer. He kept reminding us of our exit strategy, “If the horses trample, under the trucks!” At the end of each round, the winner and his prize would be announced. The Tutor explained that although there are no formal teams and it's every man for himself, lots of unofficial alliances spring up. Riders join together and set blocks for each other, and then split the prize if they win. The game ran over two days, each day from 2pm to sunset (around 6pm). So the riders just raced back and forth between the goals, taking breaks when they wanted, joining back in when it was convenient. Eventually we moved closer to the grandstand to get a better look, and the horses did trample twice, but we ran between some large vehicles and no one was hurt.
It was amazing to see so many people on horses, all chasing after this single sheep carcass. Kok-par is brutal, folks. By the end of the day, more than a few horses and riders were limping off the field. As the first day of play came to a close, we set off in search of our car and the Driver. We eventually found them, and headed home, dropping the Tutor and the Security off at the exact same empty patch of steppe where we had found them that morning.
And that, dear reader, is the story of how I got to see traditional Kazakh kok-par in the middle of the steppe.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Happy Women's Day!!
To all of you ladies out there, Happy International Women's Day!!
International Women's Day (IWD) is a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. The first IWD event was run in 1911 with more than one million women and men attending rallies campaigning for women's rights, thus it is the centennial of this great day. It's a really important holiday here in Kazakhstan, and in the rest of the post-Soviet sphere, and in many ways has a similar status as Mother's Day. The main difference is that Women's Day in Kazakhstan sees men honoring their mothers, wives, girlfriends, colleagues, etc. with flowers, candy, and gifts.
As I work in an office solely operated by women, there's was lots of Women's Day camaraderie. I gave my co-workers American cosmetics (they love this stuff!!) and roses, and in turn received:
1. vanilla shower gel
2. "herb" scented bath salts
3. a candle
4. palmolive soap
5. "Forest Fruits" shower gel
6. "Forest Fruits" deoderant
People here love to give each other toiletry products. I mean, really like toiletry products generally. Our office neighbors brought us a cake, and with my English Club (all girls) we played an hour-long game of UNO.
Tomorrow for the actual holiday itself I plan to spend it strolling through various parks with my co-workers, and going to a movie with my host sister.
Ladies, I implore you. Take the day off! This day's for you!
For more info on International Women's Day, I refer you to The Internet.
International Women's Day (IWD) is a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. The first IWD event was run in 1911 with more than one million women and men attending rallies campaigning for women's rights, thus it is the centennial of this great day. It's a really important holiday here in Kazakhstan, and in the rest of the post-Soviet sphere, and in many ways has a similar status as Mother's Day. The main difference is that Women's Day in Kazakhstan sees men honoring their mothers, wives, girlfriends, colleagues, etc. with flowers, candy, and gifts.
As I work in an office solely operated by women, there's was lots of Women's Day camaraderie. I gave my co-workers American cosmetics (they love this stuff!!) and roses, and in turn received:
1. vanilla shower gel
2. "herb" scented bath salts
3. a candle
4. palmolive soap
5. "Forest Fruits" shower gel
6. "Forest Fruits" deoderant
People here love to give each other toiletry products. I mean, really like toiletry products generally. Our office neighbors brought us a cake, and with my English Club (all girls) we played an hour-long game of UNO.
Tomorrow for the actual holiday itself I plan to spend it strolling through various parks with my co-workers, and going to a movie with my host sister.
Ladies, I implore you. Take the day off! This day's for you!
For more info on International Women's Day, I refer you to The Internet.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
50 Years!!!
Can you believe it?? Peace Corps is 50 years old! 50! That's oooollllddd! Seriously, though, on October 14, 1960, then-Senator John F. Kennedy spoke in the early morning to a gathering of the students at the University of Michigan who were waiting for hours to hear the presidential candidate speak in Ann Arbor.
On the steps of the University of Michigan Student Union, President Kennedy challenged the students to serve their country in the cause of peace by living and working in developing countries, an idea that inspired the creation of the Peace Corps.
On March 1, 1961 President John F. Kennedy signed executive order 10924 to establish the program, and in September of that year congress authorized the program with the passage of the Peace Corps Act. The act declares the program's purpose:
"To promote world peace and friendship through a Peace Corps, which shall make available to interested countries and areas men and women of the United States qualified for service abroad and willing to serve, under conditions of hardship if necessary, to help the peoples of such countries and areas in meeting their needs for trained manpower."
Since 1961, over 200,000 Americans have joined the Peace Corps and have served in 139 countries. Currently 8,655 volunteers serve in 77 countries in the areas of education, youth & community development, health, business and information & communication technology, agriculture, environment, HIV/AIDS, and food security. Although times have changed, the Peace Corps continues to promote peace and friendship by remaining true to its mission, established in 1961:
1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.
Peace Corps volunteers and RPCVS (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) around the world will be celebrating Peace Corp's 50 years all year long. Wanna join in the celebrations?! If you haven't seen it yet, check out Peace Corps Kazakhstan's website celebrating the 50th anniversary. The site has great information on how you can get involved in celebrations this year. One of my favorite features is our PC Kaz Family Mapping. On the top menu click "Map" to see where the supporters of Peace Corps Kazakhstan are. You can participate by printing out the PDF sign, filling it out, taking a picture and emailing back to us with your location. I can't wait to see this map fill up!
On the steps of the University of Michigan Student Union, President Kennedy challenged the students to serve their country in the cause of peace by living and working in developing countries, an idea that inspired the creation of the Peace Corps.
On March 1, 1961 President John F. Kennedy signed executive order 10924 to establish the program, and in September of that year congress authorized the program with the passage of the Peace Corps Act. The act declares the program's purpose:
"To promote world peace and friendship through a Peace Corps, which shall make available to interested countries and areas men and women of the United States qualified for service abroad and willing to serve, under conditions of hardship if necessary, to help the peoples of such countries and areas in meeting their needs for trained manpower."
Since 1961, over 200,000 Americans have joined the Peace Corps and have served in 139 countries. Currently 8,655 volunteers serve in 77 countries in the areas of education, youth & community development, health, business and information & communication technology, agriculture, environment, HIV/AIDS, and food security. Although times have changed, the Peace Corps continues to promote peace and friendship by remaining true to its mission, established in 1961:
1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.
Peace Corps volunteers and RPCVS (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) around the world will be celebrating Peace Corp's 50 years all year long. Wanna join in the celebrations?! If you haven't seen it yet, check out Peace Corps Kazakhstan's website celebrating the 50th anniversary. The site has great information on how you can get involved in celebrations this year. One of my favorite features is our PC Kaz Family Mapping. On the top menu click "Map" to see where the supporters of Peace Corps Kazakhstan are. You can participate by printing out the PDF sign, filling it out, taking a picture and emailing back to us with your location. I can't wait to see this map fill up!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Work Shake-Ups
It's been forever and a day since my last post, and this is long overdue, so here goes.
These past couple months have been full of all kinds of crazy. On January 25, after 4 days' notice, my director Lena moved across the country to the capital city of Astana to take a job as some sort of program manager with the National Youth Congress. It was a good career move for her, a good change for my organization that was in need of fresh leadership, and was great for me. I finally felt the collar loosen a little, and felt like for the first time I was actually part of the organization, actually was allowed to have an opinion about things, and could actually start to get things done.
Things weren't easy after Lena moved. We all were trying to figure out our new roles, my counterpart Nastya became the new director, and we had to hire someone new to take over Nastya's old position (1. The new hire was our accountant's 19-year-old sister who is studying fashion design, 2. the position is “President of the Human Resources Department”... we have 4 employees and no long-term funding, but we have a President of Human Resources...). Throughout February things were still tricky, but beginning to look up. I still wasn't getting any kind of direction from my co-workers, but Nastya was at least working with me at Volunteer Club meetings and holding regular staff meetings.
Then yesterday, who should come bounding into the office in overly-sized sunglasses and and sequined hair scrunchy? Lena! Of course! Who else. It turns out that it's cold in Astana, and having a real job is hard. She didn't like working somewhere where she “couldn't do exactly what she wanted”. It made her “uncomfortable”. Thus, my old director is back, my new director is now no longer director, and we have an extra, recently-hired employee that we're not quite sure what to do with.
I'm rolling with the punches, etc., but it's been frustrating.
On the upside, it's March!! The month of spring, Maslenitsa, and Nauryz! Nauryz is the new year holiday celebrated by many Turkic people (Kazakh, Uzbek, Tadjik, and others) and falls on March 22. It's a national holiday here in Kazakhstan, and is especially important in the south, where I live, due to the large Kazakh population. Everybody gets off of work for 3 days, people gather with family and friends and eat copious amounts of food, these same people drink copious amounts of alcohol, and traditional events pop up all over. Traditional dances and performances are put on, and horse games [including but not limited to: polo with a goat carcass [kok par], races, men chase woman on horseback, and woman chases man on horseback with a whip. Exciting, huh?!]
Lots of Volunteers venture down to the south for a taste of balmy spring weather and traditional Kazakh culture. Only 2 weeks of eager anticipation before a glorious reunion with my friends from training, and epic amounts of Kazakh culture.
Oops, gotta run. My old/reinstated director Lena just sent one of our 15-year-old interns off as a representative of our organization. She's supposed to speak to the directors of 3 state universities and convince them to allow our organization to run voter's rights trainings at their respective places of higher learning. This could quite possibly end in disaster.
These past couple months have been full of all kinds of crazy. On January 25, after 4 days' notice, my director Lena moved across the country to the capital city of Astana to take a job as some sort of program manager with the National Youth Congress. It was a good career move for her, a good change for my organization that was in need of fresh leadership, and was great for me. I finally felt the collar loosen a little, and felt like for the first time I was actually part of the organization, actually was allowed to have an opinion about things, and could actually start to get things done.
Things weren't easy after Lena moved. We all were trying to figure out our new roles, my counterpart Nastya became the new director, and we had to hire someone new to take over Nastya's old position (1. The new hire was our accountant's 19-year-old sister who is studying fashion design, 2. the position is “President of the Human Resources Department”... we have 4 employees and no long-term funding, but we have a President of Human Resources...). Throughout February things were still tricky, but beginning to look up. I still wasn't getting any kind of direction from my co-workers, but Nastya was at least working with me at Volunteer Club meetings and holding regular staff meetings.
Then yesterday, who should come bounding into the office in overly-sized sunglasses and and sequined hair scrunchy? Lena! Of course! Who else. It turns out that it's cold in Astana, and having a real job is hard. She didn't like working somewhere where she “couldn't do exactly what she wanted”. It made her “uncomfortable”. Thus, my old director is back, my new director is now no longer director, and we have an extra, recently-hired employee that we're not quite sure what to do with.
I'm rolling with the punches, etc., but it's been frustrating.
On the upside, it's March!! The month of spring, Maslenitsa, and Nauryz! Nauryz is the new year holiday celebrated by many Turkic people (Kazakh, Uzbek, Tadjik, and others) and falls on March 22. It's a national holiday here in Kazakhstan, and is especially important in the south, where I live, due to the large Kazakh population. Everybody gets off of work for 3 days, people gather with family and friends and eat copious amounts of food, these same people drink copious amounts of alcohol, and traditional events pop up all over. Traditional dances and performances are put on, and horse games [including but not limited to: polo with a goat carcass [kok par], races, men chase woman on horseback, and woman chases man on horseback with a whip. Exciting, huh?!]
Lots of Volunteers venture down to the south for a taste of balmy spring weather and traditional Kazakh culture. Only 2 weeks of eager anticipation before a glorious reunion with my friends from training, and epic amounts of Kazakh culture.
Oops, gotta run. My old/reinstated director Lena just sent one of our 15-year-old interns off as a representative of our organization. She's supposed to speak to the directors of 3 state universities and convince them to allow our organization to run voter's rights trainings at their respective places of higher learning. This could quite possibly end in disaster.
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