Warning: The following contains a lengthy and detail narrative of a party. It was written over the course of three days and the tense is not consistent. Read at your own risk!Our host brother is back from the army and there is great celebration. It is my understanding that all Azerbaijani men when they graduate from high school must do a stint in the army. This lasts usually a year and six months. According to our LCF Aytac, there is always a party to celebrate the return of the sons from the army. Our family is throwing theirs tomorrow.
Things had started into motion a few days ago. I noticed a giant bowl of apples and pears in the larder under the stairs. As apples keep well, I wondered if this might be our winter’s supply. Later that day, four men struggled through the yard with a giant bag of potatoes (possibly also for winter?) Then Aytac mentioned the possibility of a party.
It made the bowl full of a dozen dead chickens in the hallway sort of make sense. I went to school and learned how to say: Bizim evda coxlu olu toyugmuz var! We have a lot of dead chickens in our house!
As the afternoon has progressed, the preparations have sped up. There are several relatives here-a few of my host mom’s sisters, two of our host fathers brothers, and an assortment of extra 20-something men and children. I looked out my window to see the guys hoisting a long table to the second floor balcony and came out to see what was going on. All of the “youth” had a single thumbprint of blood upon their forehead. I peered into the backyard and couldn’t quite figure out what I was seeing so I pointed and said “Olar?” (May I?). As our Ata (host father) took me into the back of the garden we walked past the severed head and legs of a brown goat. Suspended from a hook in a tree was the rest of the goat. My host father’s cousin was working on removing the insides. I was pleased that they let me stay and watch, and it was really interesting. First the digestive tract is removed and set aside, followed by the lungs and heart. He cut and pulled with such skill, it seemed that all creatures are meant to come apart as easily as a jigsaw puzzle. Then the butcher’s wife came with a large bowl and began rinsing the innards. It seemed like she was splitting and cleaning out the intestinal casing, but I can’t be sure, having never seen this done before. I can’t say that the process was as “sanitary” as the PC medical officers would suggest, but I can imagine that this is how its done all over the country (in fact, just this morning on the way to school, I was able to witness an earlier step to the process: a man hanging a beheaded but still furry sheep from a hook). Eventually I wandered towards the kitchen where I found the table and chairs removed and large blanket spread on the floor. On the blanket sat on of our host aunts, cutting apart mounds of fresh herbs. On the other end of the kitchen lay piles and piles of china and cups. I asked Ana (host mom) if I could help and for the first time since we arrived she said yes. She sat me on the floor and handed me a knife and bowl, proceeding to show me how to cut the root from the bunch of cilantro and discard any yellow leaves. There was also dill, scallions, anise (I think?) and something that looked like giant dill. When I finished with my pile I returned to the back end of the yard, where the goat was being thoroughly butchered and distributed equally into plastic bags which my host parents explained would go to all of the different relatives (goody bags of liver?!). Ana is currently boiling the largest carrots I have ever seen in my life-as long as my forearm and almost as thick. The larder under the stairs is stocked with apples, pears, grapes, pomegranates, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, the dead chickens, soda (yes! Soda!), juice and vodka.
I’m told the party will be tomorrow evening and I can’t wait.
Party preparations continued the next day. I went to school and when I got back the dining room was completely set up. Tables were arranged in two long rows with chairs (and the couch and armchairs) along them. There were about 28 place settings. At increments, bowls of fruit, plates of pickled vegetables and cold roast chicken. To drink, (downstairs, at the “women party”) sparkling pear juice, nectarine juice, and fanta. Before the guests arrived I was invited upstairs to see the “man party” set up. As the good dining room chairs were all occupied downstairs, the two long tables of the man party were flanked with benches (boards on cinderblocks, with carpets on top). The upstairs is not yet finished, which paired with the benches gives an appropriately rustic feel. Men also had rows of place settings and fruit, fanta and juice, but with the addition of bottles of vodka and a shot glass at each place. A large blanket/carpet was spread upon the stairs to accommodate the numerous pairs of shoes that would soon inundate the doorway.
Outside the “men” were grilling the kabobs (actually, one uncle was grilling kabobs while the rest stood around and watched). The women who arrived early were working together to assemble plates of salad (in Azerbaijan, salad equals a plate of sliced tomatoes, herbs, and cucumbers). About three o’clock, relatives began to arrive. I was confused about the official start time. I dressed up and hung around with my host sister Arzu and her friend who were putting on make up. They kept saying “Do you want to eat?” Eventually I said sure and was ushered into the dining room to find one table already full of various aunts and great aunts and friends and children eating and array of food. I sat and was served:
• Potato salad with mayo and peas
• Cold roast chicken
• Another mayo based salad with potato, shredded carrots and pecans
• A sort of lamb/goat stew.
• Goat kabobs (delicious, by the way)
• Salad (cucumber, tomato, herbs)
• Pickles (cucumber, carrots, cabbage, green tomatoes)
• Bread (LOTS of bread)
And I drank pear soda, which was incredibly sweet, after which I switched to fanta.
The women talked, and ate, ate and talked. The very very nice teacher of Russian from mektab iki (School number 2) explained over and over who I was, that I was from America, no I didn’t speak Russian OR Azeri. Also, a thousand brownie points to Sabina, my six year old host cousin, who served me food when I was afraid to get it myself, and who would take my hand reassuringly and usher me wherever I should go. In a lot of ways, younger children are the best-they automatically accept you, even if you can’t talk and care for you without pitying you. As soon as our table was just about finished eating, another wave of women appeared and settled on the second table and started eating. At this point I decided to take a breather and escaped to our room, where I found Mathias already hiding. We watched an episode of Family Guy on our computer and then went back out. At this point table #2 was making their exit while table #1 (more family than friends) were going for another round, particularly more kabobs and for the fruit. Each fruit bowl had a paring knife in it, which everyone used to cut open their apples, pears and nar (pomegranates). Someone cut a nar for me and I think I ate the whole thing. I love nar. There were also grapes and little bowls of candy. That was about it for the food. There was more talking, asking if I had children, more explaining who I was…Upstairs it began to get louder and louder. Apparently the man party had two things which we did not-music and vodka-and they had begun dancing. I could here distinctly the dulcet tones of uncensored American hip hop floating down the stairwell. As the man party ampted up, the woman party continued to wane. When most of the guests had left, my host sister put on a soap opera and we all drank tea and watched or talked. Eventually I went to bed.
I asked Mathias for the man-party perspective. Basically it had broken into two groups. The older men, our host father and uncles, had gone outside to smoke and chat. What I heard upstairs were the “youth” (teenagers and 20’s) drinking and dancing. In Azerbaijan, young men may drink, but they are not supposed to do so directly in front of their parents.
So that was Cavid’s party!
