Chess (And Funerals)

Salut, 

It’s not spring if it doesn’t rain for days on end and flood for just a little bit. 

I recently began a chess and checkers game club at my school on Tuesdays, and I’ve had several students come play with me. Students here have unusual checkers rules, and they often confuse chess and checkers. I’ve had students grab the chess pieces and set up the board checkers style. Students universally know checkers, less so chess. I’m good enough to beat my students and play against the computer on my phone (yay chess.com), but I’m very behind on strategy. I have been playing other volunteers, but I’m not very good. It’s a current work in progress, but I much prefer in-person games. 

I taught Baktygul to play chess! I don’t have a brain that gets into chess so easily. Maybe it’s time to watch the Queen’s Gamit. Speaking of movies and shows, I’ve been trying to watch a lot of new movies at night, many of varying genres (Super Mario's movie finally! Poor Things, which is insanely weird, Orion and the Dark which is wholesome, Memento which is brilliantly confusing, and Who Framed Roger Rabbit, a classic I didn’t know about. The Truman Show, Groundhog’s Day, etc.)

A relative of Baktygul’s recently died of cancer. He was young, in his mid-40s, I think, and he was related to Baktygul through her husband, but I spoke to the other teachers and many knew him too. Unlike the last funeral I went to, which was more of a pata, which was at least a week or a few after his death, I went to one just a few days after his death. Baktygul was absent for two days of school for the funeral services. 

The man who died was well-loved, and that was evident when we went. It was a few Fridays ago, and most of the teachers went in the middle of the day; the yurt was set up just a few houses down from Baktygul’s house. On the street as we walked, long files of cars were parked along the road, hundreds of people in drab colors and shuffling on the street. Yurts are for camping but also funerals and your average Kyrgyz person won’t see a yurt on an average day unless it’s for a funeral. 

Funerals here are gender-segregated and gender prescribed, too. Men are not allowed inside yurts at funerals; only women, so the men stand outside and mourn, standing in lines, their kalpaks in their hands as they cry. The women inside sit in a circle, the body placed in the center, a loose cloth or sheen sheet covering it. Women comfort the men crying outside before they enter. The women inside are relatives of the deceased, often the most eldest mother/wife/sister closer to the center. You walk in a circle inside the yurt, pushed along as the women inside embrace near the body, their wails piercing even outside. It’s a strange sensation and an even stranger thing to try to describe. Death lingers inside the room, yet everyone feels so alive even in their grief. The women huddle despite the scorching sun, layers of scarves adorning their heads, obscuring their hair, which makes it easier to see their tear-stained faces and the red in their eyes. 

I stepped outside, and in the heat, I still could not escape it. It feels at times uncomfortable, to be an outsider intruding on their grief and their sadness, but it also feels right to be a witness to it. In their grief, in the unsaid words, I can see their love, beyond what language is capable of telling me. I briefly ate at Baktygul’s house, and after, waited on the lawn as the men prayed over the body. Men, and men only, gather around the body, too many to be able to see anything, huddled together and blocking the road, only whispers audible from so far away. They pray and prepare it, and then during the last prayer, everyone kneels for a last goodbye, a last word. Then the men lift the body onto a truck, where two trucks of the deceased’s (male) relatives and family accompany it to the cemetery. Only men are allowed at cemeteries. The procession departs, and uncomfortable silence descends, as the remaining women return to the yurt, their shoes the last sound as they pray in silence. 

As I said, Baktygul missed classes, which meant I taught alone for a bit. I don't like teaching alone, as students are extremely loud and difficult to discipline. Attempting to shout and corral students has never really gotten me anywhere. At the end of the day, it’s not my duty or responsibility to police students to listen and to focus, especially if they don’t listen. You can only do so much. I suppose this is one of those instances where I had to reconcile what can be done; I’m not a babysitter, I’m a teacher. 6th-8th grade boys are the loudest, 9th too but I don’t teach them. 10th grade and above they have enough maturity that, if they don’t pay attention, they at least do it quietly. 

Norwuz recently passed too, it is the Iranian New Year, but particularly seen as a spring festival. The actual day of Norwuz is the solstice, though it rained pretty hard. The day before, at school, we had another concert. For Norwuz, they make something called somolak (maybe that’s the spelling), a sort of brown, chocolatey gooey paste; I thought it was okay. 

I’ve had a very middling spring break; the weather sort of screwed me over. It’s been raining and very cold, which I should have expected. I had plans to do some traveling and go to the walnut forests, but the weather has been unpredictable and cold, so I wasn’t able to. Additionally, Baktygul’s schedule has been off (and her son got sick) which further muddled plans. I visited Jalal Abad city twice, the first time to take notes of school supply prices for our project. We went around the bazaar, collecting notes, as we’re currently trying to start grant writing. Secondly, I went to Jalal Abad again for American Corner. This time I went and a bunch of very young 3-5th grade students came to visit. All of the students had come from across the country. I showed the college students pictures from my high school, as their teacher had asked me. Also, I was right in my last post; college in Kyrgyzstan is like a pre-college program in the US, where it’s advanced specialized study before you enter regular university (all the students I practice English with are around 15-17). 

I also went to visit Frank’s school where they were having a teacher competition. A few blog entries ago I mentioned that Gullai eje, a local informatics teacher at our school, was prepping for a local teacher competition. I hadn’t heard any information about it since, but during the break, she competed against 6 other teachers ( of different subjects). Basically, the teachers give a presentation about themselves, their classes, and lessons, and it sounded like they described what makes a good teacher/lesson as well. Gullai’s was good; she brought props. I heard that she did well and that she most likely will go compete in our raion (district) competition at some point later. 

Volunteers this spring break have been all around, I know that; some have gone to South Korea, Uzbekistan, Turkey, Kazakhstan, etc. I ended up getting very sick at the end of the break, hacking up my lungs for at least four days. So during most of my break then, I’ve been rewatching the Captain America and Avengers movies, as they’ve been my comfort movies for a while (though I think Doctor Strange is severely underrated). 

I know it’s finally spring mostly by the field by my house is now teeming with kids every day. For months it has been a quiet empty white blanket, beautiful in its silence. Trudging through it with not-quite-high-enough boots, turning what usually is a 30-second sprint to school into a 2-3 minute leisurely and aimless circle. Now, the kids have come back; I see my neighbors (including the ones that I teach) swinging on the extremely barebones playground equipment (some of it is dangerously high). 

We walk out there, bundling Adelya and Alihan in layers of jackets, as they waddle across the ditch and go sprinting onto the field. One of my fourth graders asked me if Alihan (who is 4, going on 5 soon) was my son haha (my sister-in-law said Alihan is too pale/white for that). The tree in the courtyard of our house has come back to bloom, its light pink petals falling and getting scrapped up by Adelya’s toy truck.

À Bientôt,
Grace

PS. Music! Cowboy Carter and Eternal Sunshine are both so good!

1. We Can’t Be Friends- Ariana Grande
2. True Story- Ariana Grande
3. Head and My heart- Ruelle
4. Tattoo- Loreen
5. Can You Feel the Sun- Missio
6. Ameriican Requiem- Beyonce
7. Jolene- Beyonce
8. 16 Carriages- Beyonce
9. In the City- Charli XCX and Sam Smith
10. Cruel- Foxes
11. Bedroom- Litany
12. Heat Seeker- DREAMERS
13. Die a Little- YUNGBLUD
14. Bye- Ariana Grande
15. Fur Elise- Faouzia
16. Praising You- Rita Ora