Anna and Sean, the two other staple volunteers at the Alpine Fund, hosted thanksgiving at their Kruschev apartment. All of the Alpine Fund office folk and English students were there. All together, there were nine of us.
I asked my mother for some good recipes and was blessed to receive a family-friend’s apple crisp recipe. It is always delicious beyond explanation. It was well received in Kyrgyzstan, home of the apple. I also made a simple green salad with polmegranite-raspberry vinegarette. Even after winter hit and the produce prices have climbed, the grand total for all of my relatively fancy ingredients was something like $10. Not bad for salad and dessert for nine.
As I prepared the salad in our office kitchen, (the office was a one room plus bath apartment) Ulan informed me he wanted to be a chef. He has quite an ambitious list going. That I know of, he intends to become an Allam (like an Islamic bishop), work in the US, speak Arabic, Spanish, and English fluently in addition to Russian and Kyrgyz and be a professional chef. While none of those things are mutually exclusive, they are pretty much mutually exclusive. Perhaps Ulan should learn to juggle.
After I instructed Ulan on how to separate lettuce from stem to make “salad,” we headed over to Sean and Anna’s place. They prepared the bird and apple pie. Ulan and Adilet brought traditional Kyrgyz flatbread that they made at home. Our Knowledgeable Director Arianna and her sister Acel brought a variety of Russian salads. These actually lent authenticity to the gathering as the Russian style of picking and salting everything to Kingdom Come pretty much out-relishes any American relish platter. There is one thing, they put chicken in the veggies.
The relish tray and salad received ample attention because the Council of American Elders met for a goodly round of fact bargaining. The oven had taken a few hours to get up to 350 so the turkey warmed up at 325 for about 2 hours before gradually climbing up to 375 for a little more than an hour. The intent had been to cook it at exactly 350 for 2½ hours. None of us had any actual experience cooking a turkey. But we had plenty of perceived and relative experience. I really love those moments when a group of people is forced to resolve a problem with which they have no experience resolving, but they have to do it in a group and “expertly.” Having a car break down in the middle of nowhere or a plumbing problem at College are sure fire opportunities for watching humanity BS its way through adversity. After all concerns had been bargained (or shoulder shrugged) out of existence, we ate turkey. It turned out fine.
It is a bit odd to have two fairly distinct language groups at such a gathering. Much like the young colonies at the time of the revolutionary war, we were split about evenly three ways. The three other foreign volunteers don’t speak English well. Acel speaks English fluently… but a back and forth four person conversation will tire most any fluent speaker. Our Knowledgeable Director is almost as capable. I can speak/understand Russian when I concentrate very hard and the other party works at being understood. Ulan is the same way, the other way around. The other two students have studied English but are not conversational. Furthermore, one student only haltingly understands Kyrgyz, the language of choice for the other locals.
So at times we would all speak together but for the most part the language barrier stood about 1.3 meters.
Salavat, Christine, Me, Ulan, Adilet, Anna and Sean
We ate in Kyrgyz style. It is fortunate that Kyrgyz style involves sitting on the floor because it is almost certain that there would not have been space for any other style. We also ate college student style: on a broken closet door laid flat.
After dinner we set a digital camera to video recording mode so that Our Knowledgeable Director Arianna could tell Ulan that he was enrolled in the American University’s prep year. In one word, his reaction was muted. Destiny’s landscape appeared before Ulan for one of those rare moments when the past, present and future are both clear and endless. Ulan did what anyone would do, he stared blankly. Eventually prompted to respond, he mulled over a goodly silent moment and said “I will use this opportunity.”
Some of the volunteers, those who worked the hardest on arranging this for Ulan, seemed somewhat confused and a little distraught by his reaction. “It’s really true, Ulan.” “We’re not kidding.” So forth. Ulan remained unphased. I think this would be a little bit like someone coming up to you and telling you that you won a house. It’s clearly great… but it is unclear exactly what that means and it is going to be a lot of work.
This should put Ulan on a track towards a professional career. Once he takes the entrance exam, he will almost assuredly get a full ride due to his economic situation. A year’s tuition in Central Asia’s top school, The American School in Bishkek is about $950. That is less than the cost of my Ipod and digital camera combined. Rightfully, this makes me feel bad about how I value things.
The American School is the only school in Kyrgyzstan (perhaps the only in Central Asia) with a contemporary Anglo style curriculum in which the students take a base of classes, select a major and then select classes within the major. All of the other schools hold to the Soviet system. The applying students submit their score to schools with different specialities and once you are admitted into a program, the path is set. The top five scores for each school are given a totally free ride. This is a new reform to prevent rich kids from bribing for the scholarships. Apparently it is a big improvement. It still seems to ignore the advantage rich kids have in preparing for the test. But I suppose it is not too different from the SATs. Except that the scores are binding and the only consideration for getting into university.
On Friday everyone else from the office went to Ulan’s house to tell his family about his scholarship. They were most exuberant. His mother cried. His father hugged all present gratefully. The family lives in a house about the size of my living room at school (or a small cabin at camp). It has two rooms. There are six family members.
Ulan defines his father as “a good man now.” He helps the family and does not beat his kids. If this is the definition of a good father, so be it. Seeing the situations that people deal with here makes me view the concept of Human Rights with renewed skepticism. This is a hot-button issue, but prosethetizing people to another cultures norms of proper behavior seems quite egotistical. Before I can hope to change someone’s behavior I must understand it fully. If a devout Kyrgyz Muslim were to come to my home, kick out the filthy dogs and cats and get irate that I do make my mother and sisters cover their heads. I would react with perplexed awe and hope he would go away.
That said, I do not mean to advocate absolutist relativism. That would be self-defeating. Sometimes you can understand why someone does something and rightfully believe they are wrong for doing it. Torture, for example. People torture others when they see them as less than fully human. I can understand that they have that perspective, but disagree.
Since Thanksgiving, Ulan has asked if various people thnk he could go to football (soccer) school in London. At this school apparently you study, but mostly play football. I would guess that Ulan stands under 5 feet tall. He is not very fast. Bishkek is pretty sheltered and the boys love football. It is hard to gauge how to nudge this particular dream gently away without crushing one of his favorite things.
We are hoping that he plays on the University team. There it should be apparent that while Ulan is not a useless football player, that he is not going to play for Real Madrid.
In other events, I went to the big bazaar in Bishkek. It was quite overwhelming. It stretches great distances in all directions though the actual size is obscured by the laberynthine layout and seasonal variation. I was completely overwhelmed. It was crowded, I had no bearing as to where I had gotten off my transport relative or where I should go. I have learned in these situations to just follow the flow in situations like this and walk like everyone else. That is, purposefully and quickly. I am already one of the few men in Kyrgyzstan with a beard. My clothes are marginally within exeptible norms. But basically, I look like an American. Best to look like an American that knows what he is about. This prevents me from enduring extra-sales attempts and/or scams. Eventually, after walking in a few rapid and purposeful circles, I moved in for the purchase.
The cold weather has arrived, I could wear almost all of my clothes at once to stay warm on my pre-dawn trek to language school. About $50 later, my wardrobe more than doubled in size. I was no doubt moderately ripped off but I am an American, so that is my job. The proximity to China is very apparent on such occasions. No new wool pants though.
The being ripped off is fine by me, within reason. If it seems like a good deal to me, I accept, if I don’t want to pay that much I move on. It seems immoral to drive a hard bargain when a dollar or two is a few minutes work for me and half a day’s wage for successful people here. It is always funny though when I ask for a taxi fare and the driver hesitates for a solid 15 seconds trying to consider what the price should be for the guy who clearly is a foreigner but clearly speaks better than some.
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