Weddings and Other Stuff

Salut,

It’s toi season, so I’ve been told. As I said before, a toi is a party, usually referring to a wedding, but it can also be a party for other large life events (like funerals, the birth of children, circumcision, etc.). I had been to a toi during the summer, but it was at my family’s house. The act of going out and guesting is still relatively new. Even here at my new house, despite the wonderful and large family, we still don’t go guesting a ton. My host mom and dad do a fair amount of guesting but have never brought me before, and I’ve never been in a circumstance to join them because I’m usually at school. 

I went to my first wedding! It was a colleague’s son who was marrying. I also got the chance to visit a bridal party for our cafeteria lady’s daughter. Weddings here have evolved significantly from what I understand, and they can happen in regular venues or at home. My host mom married over forty years ago, and she said she married at home. The wedding I attended was at a large restaurant/venue at night. It ran 4 hours, and we got there early. I have only been to one wedding, so perhaps it is too soon to make generalizations about weddings here in Kyrgyzstan. However, one immediate thing I noticed is how family-centered the weddings are. Weddings in Kyrgyzstan, because the divorce rates are so low, are huge milestones. People here also tend to marry early and consistently (20-28). The bride and groom at the wedding sat at the end of the venue on an elevated platform and table. The bride and groom’s families were all present and enthusiastic, bestowing blessings on the family. One tradition is that extended family, friends, and colleagues of the groom and bride’s families bring kalpaks and headscarves (the kalpak is the traditional Kyrgyz hat for men) as gifts for the families. In Kyrgyz culture, the new bride moves households, becoming the families’ new daughter-in-law (and new cook and cleaner), so I see it as symbolic of the unity of the two families. They are also largely community centered as well. I didn’t know the bride and groom, and yet I got invited! The weddings aren’t open invites but because it is the unification of families, the families’ friends and colleagues all converge as well. 

The bride and groom entered the grand hall flanked by a singer, and they bowed to all the guests, which I interpreted as humility and gratitude to their friends and family. Lots and lots of blessings were bestowed. The bride receives her headscarf, the mark of a married woman (I think women early in their marriage wear it but it becomes completely optional later on… there’s a lot of variety everywhere in regards to whether some women wear it or not). Food, dancing, and competitions. Singing competitions have grand prizes for those who win (a drying rack and kettles were at the one I went to). Another tradition I learned is that at tois in general, if you impress someone or if someone wants to reward you for a good performance (singing, dancing, komuz playing, etc.), then they hand you money, often sticking it in your hat or sleeves. Sometimes they also give you a kalpak or head scarf as well. 

I really love dancing, and it is my semi-hidden talent here that in some ways gets communication across in a way I often can’t with language barriers. I danced at the cafe after the first bell ceremony on the 1st of September, and the teachers like to dance in a circle. Most do, and I enjoy dancing with them. Unfortunately, they don’t like to let me rest as they think it saps the energy, so I often have to force myself out. Regardless, at the wedding, I received some money from impressed guests. Many of the women pushed me to dance with their bachelor sons… and they weren’t the greatest dancers. At my second toi, which was more of a bridal party, I dragged my host dad to dance with me. Another guest gave me money and another gave me a head scarf. I wasn’t even at the second toi for that long, maybe 45 minutes to an hour. Even then, I found both tois to be beautiful experiences and so eye-opening to Kyrgyz culture. 

I keep buying stuff for my host family because I am a spending maniac. We have a new dog too, named Bingo! No one in the family pets him, so I do sometimes. 

Working on Kyrgyz is a slow and ever-changing progress. It has been somewhat stagnant the last few weeks, and I actually find it really hard to acquire new vocab. As opposed to at the beginning where words were flying at me, now it’s a much slower churn. My fundamental vocabulary is there, and I can use it for almost anything in a casual conversation. Part of not knowing enough vocabulary is finding a creative way to express what you want to, and then I hope my host family fills in the details themselves or can resay it for me correctly. Before, in Chuy, I relied on my host sister, but here it’s just me. 

I made my host family pesto pasta over the weekend. I came to my jengem (sister-in-law), Aidana, the head of the kitchen and maker of all the food to ask for help and also permission. They ran to the market to grab me basil and cheese, and it wasn’t my finest dish as we were missing pine nuts and tomatoes. But I think they liked it!

Classes themselves have been good. Teaching itself is interesting. I observed my counterpart’s classes, and she is a good teacher, but I also know that motivation is difficult to work with. I reflect now on my strengths as a teacher and my weaknesses, and my weaknesses include that I find it difficult to motivate people. My students are already so kind, and one teacher asked me last week if any of them had said anything mean to me or messed with me. Firstly, I doubt I would have been able to tell regardless, but second, their vocabulary is limited to “Hi, Hello, Good morning teacher,” and “Goodbye, bye-bye”. 

Of course, I see universal experiences in this one. I remember students’ names who are engaged and tend to forget the ones who never speak. I get frustrated easily and am occasionally very impatient. Of course, seeing beyond yourself is important. Seeing this as analogous to a high school French/Spanish class has helped me ground myself in both expectations for English ability and also for the motivation present. Lots of students are not motivated to learn English, and some, some rumors say, aren’t motivated to learn at all. In addition, some who are quiet may well excel in their Russian class or biology class. Growing up, there always was the stereotype, and it was occasionally true, that if you were smart and hardworking and out there, then you were out there in everything. You tried at everything, and people who didn’t try usually didn’t care about school at all. Language skills are hard and it doesn’t come naturally to most people, hell it never came easy to me. It takes forcing me to live in a home where no one speaks English for me to learn. 

I usually remember 3-4 students per class, and I remember their faces much better than I remember their names. Concurrently, I am trying to learn all the teachers’ names. There are at least thirty teachers, and I would say I know a third. Unfortunately for me, many have similar names and some take on and off their own head scarves so it makes it harder when they look different on different days. 

Something I have become especially thoughtful about in class is a lesson we had in training about gender-equitable classrooms and encouraging girls to be more active. Like all things, it’s complicated. There are some classes where the girls are active and dominate the conversation and have amazing English. In others, they are quiet and uninterested. Women here work as cooks, tailors, sellers, teachers, and housewives. Part of me already is being very thoughtful about ways I can bring small bits to the girls here. It feels like a strange dichotomy here to me, where for all intents and purposes, Kyrgyzstan is a pretty patriarchal society, but at the same time, there are evident carved-out spaces for women where they occupy significant power. Obviously, the social and domestic space, which I believe is significantly more valued in Kyrgyz culture than in American culture already. Women guest to each other’s houses and have large get-togethers. Women are incredibly visible, and most obviously in my school. There are four male teachers, and the entirety of the rest of the school is women-run and led. This is not unique to Kyrgyzstan, teaching has always been a female-dominated space until the last decade or so, but I guess it feels strange for a school to be led by women only for many of the pupils to eventually settle down as housewives while their husbands go off to work. 

I can see right in front of me the way women and men are socialized differently here. I have both male and female young host siblings and one very young host cousin (he’s 6). I remember being proud but also sort of sad when Adelia, my host sister, began helping me and my adult host sisters clean up the table, and then when she started cleaning and folding the clothing inside her own room. The boys were right there, on their phones (and one is older than her so it’s not about them being too young or younger than her). 

My solution, however subtle, has been to consciously include boys in cleaning. I noticed teachers always call on the girls to clean the chalkboard (and many times the girls would volunteer or do it automatically) and I started calling on the boys to do it, which some did very reluctantly. In my examples when we teach verb tenses, I write “he cooks food” and “she drives a car” or “she builds a house” and “he sews clothes” which are reverse gendered expectations. For our verb games, we printed out photos, and I consciously went looking for clip art photos of a girl driving a car and building, and a man making food. 

Cheating is also a pervasive part of school culture, and I know I’m not alone, as countless other volunteers have remarked about it. Students do it all the time, and it’s nearly impossible to truly prevent. One volunteer said it had to do with an ingrained Soviet culture, which is interesting but not something I’ve studied enough. Students talk during class, constantly. Last week, we gave them a baseline exam, to see how much English students know. It was difficult, evidently, with students cheating. Some students know more than they say. 

Two of my students are also my neighbors which is fun. Their English is okay, but they are quiet and reserved. 

The other day I had my first lesson with my local language tutor (I had had previous issues scheduling as she works at my school so when I was free, she was often busy). She told me to arrive at 9, and Kyrgyz time being Kyrgyz time, I arrived a few minutes late and the other teachers had to help me find her. We finally did; she had just started a Kyrgyz language class for 9th graders. Once I walked in, she said enthusiastically, “Hey, here’s your language lesson: talk to the students!” Despite it being a Kyrgyz language class, she suggested they ask me questions in English and I would answer in Kyrgyz. On their end, it got us only two questions due to their limited language abilities. So we ended up switching to almost entirely Kyrgyz which was fine. My local tutor, Rahima eje, speaks Kyrgyz VERY fast, probably as fast or faster than I speak English, which I’m not sure how conducive that is to tutoring. I was surprised and so I guess it just ended up not being an actual lesson for the students. I think part of that is reflected in the chaotic nature of the school and the loose calendar. Things just sort of happen. Embrace the ushundai (ushundai- that’s how it is). 

A funny observation I made is that my host family uses hot boiling chai to clean the baby’s pacifier. They just chuck it into the cup, slosh it around for a second, and put it back in the baby’s mouth. Not sure if she appreciates that haha. 

Peace Corps staff paid me a visit to my site. They visit all volunteers every few months, checking in and all. I got the very first visit, from the country director himself, Hoyt, alongside the ever-dutiful Zhenish who translated. Thank god, because Hoyt’s Kyrgyz leaves a lot to be desired (I sympathize, he’s a former FSO who’s studied a lot of languages before). They visited my family and house, and that day was very dreary, as it had poured and was very grey. We ate inside our guesting room, and then I took them to our local cafe, where we had Lagman. Sidenote: recurring readers know of my love of Lagman, it is a central Asian noodle dish that reminds me of udon a bit. I ate it on occasion with my host family in Chuy, but here my host family has never made it. Despite my telling them on the very first day how much I love it :(. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but having a large family here provides unique challenges, namely being the food we eat. Lots of soup and ash (plov- fried rice of sorts, ash is the southern word for it). 

It also means one bathroom, which I lamented to Hoyt about. One bathroom for 14 people (originally it was 17). Lots of waiting around, and the lightbulb in it recently went out, so I now have to carry a flashlight. I do compare the houses, the one in my training and this one; I can’t help it, but the bathroom here I think is worse. The shower head pressure, temperature, and angle are so wack that I take baths instead (and less frequently, I used to shower daily in Chuy, here I bathe 2-3 times a week, but it’s also not summer anymore so that makes it easier). 

I think my linguistic observation I’ll make for this blog post is the filler words and responses, which is something I rarely thought about in other languages while learning. First of all, um is inappropriate to use as I’ve been told it is a bad word (as is the word sick). I default to using uh (a strange thing I’ve noticed is that I don’t use um when I speak Kyrgyz but I use it when I teach English which is awkward) or mundai which means “like this” or “this way”. Also, random sounds we make when people try to get our attention are different in Kyrgyz. When you say “Hey Grace”, in English to get my attention, I might respond with “Yeah?”. Here they say “o?”. In English, if I don’t understand what you said, I might say “Hmmm or huh?”, in Kyrgyz, they say “Ya?” There are some others which I’m still trying to discern. If I understand, am acknowledging you, and want you to keep talking, I might say “uhuh” in English. In Kyrgyz, I say ooa, which just means yes, but I can’t remember what everyone else says. 

Life here is all different. I’ve visited Frank, the other volunteer here, and his experience, despite us being in the exact same village, is so different. Everyone here has a variable experience. My house is overrun with people and loud (it cools down around midday when the men are at work and people sometimes take naps but is especially loud in the morning and during dinner). Other volunteers have smaller families and spend more time in their rooms. I spend time in my room lesson planning, watching YouTube videos/TV shows, and spending time at night reading, but otherwise, I try to just be around the house. I’m a 15-minute walk to the village center and those three blocks create a whole different vibe. 

I think I’ve settled in a semblance of a routine but things happen out of nowhere. Kyrgyz language celebrations threw a wrench in my lesson plans but jashoo ushundai (that’s life). There are also long periods where I have nothing to do, where I just read. I play outside with Adelia and Alihan, who both have become spoiled and want me to carry them around the house like princes and princesses. For my host family, their daily life is work, cooking, and cleaning. Not as much time for hobbies. I know several of them want me to teach them English or practice with them, so I might try that later. My work is only 20 or so hours, with a few more for lesson planning. For now, the rest of the time is going to tois or being at home. 14 people is enough to feel like I’m guesting every day. 

I don’t have many grand epiphanies for this blog post. I take lots of photos, and sometimes I just savor the moment. The full moon recently passed and oh how beautiful it is. I have been asked/coerced at tois to give speeches to the bride and groom (also very common for other PC volunteers). I buy candy for my family and Alihan tosses it all into his toy cars and litters the ground with candywrappers. I braided Adelia’s hair and bought her new starfish ponytails she now wears in two high ponytails. Birthday week is well over, so now life is just life. It moves fast and slowly, I find myself embracing the time I am able to take walks, the times I luxuriate in the feel of the approaching cold and wind, and I savor the amazing macaroni pasta my host family makes. 

À Bientôt

Grace

Music

1. Ne sebep? - Sadraddin
2. Aiga qarap- Sadraddin
3. 3apи- Toni, Aldro
4. Жалынам- мирбек атабеков (this is an extremely iconic Kyrgyz pop song, I hear it at every toi and in the city all the time)
5. Good Grief- Bastille
6. Shut Off the Lights- Bastille 
7. Quarter Past Midnight- Bastille
8. I Know You- Craig David feat Bastille
9. Grip- Seeb & Bastille