America!

We are going to America!! We'll be there in less than one week!

I must admit, America has taken on that glowy, mythical quality for me that I first associated with Azerbaijani friends who had never been there. I think this is because after being here for so long, I can't really remember what it's like. For example, someone asks me if tomatoes are expensive in America; I can't remember. One of my students pointed to a common desktop office accessory and asked what the word for it was in English; I can't remember. What do people wear? Do the really shower EVERY day?! I can't at this point imagine wearing my shoes inside someone's home or walking barefoot outside. I'm not saying I've forgotten everything. For example, I can walk mentally aisle by aisle through Trader Joe's and have been known to do so for entertainment purposes. I know exactly what it feels like to sit in my parents living room with my family. At least I think I do; I've never seen their new couch.

PCV's visiting America for vacation usually come back describing it as "big" "clean" and report that "the people are so nice!" and "everyone speaks English!" One friend says that hemlines are scandalously short these days and distracting amounts of skin exposure abound. I look forward to documenting my impressions.

I do know what I want to do when I get there. I want to drive a car to the store and buy a six-pack of beer. I don't even like beer, it will just feel so rebellious and free knowing that no one will care. And drive! I've only ridden in the front seat of a car once since getting here...

Rain and Shine

When things are very up and down its hard to decide what to blog about. I realize that while I often blog about various things I rarely get to the heart of what I do. Peace Corps is not what I expected at all, in good ways and in bad. It can be very very hard, followed by pretty darn good. The last two days are a good example of this.

Yesterday I was working on returning to my daily routine after spending a few days in Baku for medical. About two months ago my immune system finally gave up and since then I've had shingles, common but annoying colds and other maladies that require doctors visits and antibiotics. I've even had neighbors drip raw onion down my nose (attempted cure). So yesterday I was finally back home when I received a note from a student informing me that while I was gone the director of the women's center where I do most of my projects informed her that we can no longer meet there. I made a call and received confirmation, yes, while you were gone the entire place was shut down. No more tables, no more chairs. The computer containing the articles for the newsletter we've been working to publish for over three months is gone without warning. I fell apart. I may have said such dramatic things as "I have literally nothing to return to when we go to America." I may have laid in bed crying like a baby. The only thing that cheered me was how fabulously the rumbling thunderstorm in the background complemented my cinematic despair.

Today I woke to perfect temperatures and blue skies. For some strange reason, washing the dishes and sweeping the floor felt fun. I went and tutored a student. I went and visited a friend. She suggested we take a month long hiatus from the project, that it would be best for everyone what with the end of the school year and exams and vacations. And honestly, I would love a break from this project. Back home I thinned out the strawberry plants, spread broken eggshells on the lettuce to deter slugs and went over to the neighbors to borrow a scythe. She didn't have a scythe but she was working on cleaning some beautiful wool and after a short conversation about how I'm learning to spin she sent me home with lovely fluffy bunches in the most beautiful shade. I ate an Italian meal complete with french garlic bread I made myself from scratch and wine home-brewed by another close Azerbaijani friend.

What I'm trying to say is, this is what Peace Corps for me is like. Devastatingly disappointing days followed by bursts of sunshine. Or, to steal from Anne Lamott, it's Grace (Eventually).

"That's me, trying to make any progress at all with family, in work, relationships, self-image: scootch, scootch, stall; scootch, stall, catastrophic reversal; bog, bog, scootch. I wish grace and healing were more abracadabra kinds of things; also, that delicate silver bells would ring to announce grace's arrival. But no, it's clog and slog and scootch, on the floor, in silence, in the dark. I suppose that if you were snatched out of the mess, you'd miss the lesson; the lesson is the slog. I grew up thinking the lessons should be more like the von Trapp children: more marionettes, more dirndls and harmonies. But no: it's slog, bog, scootch."~Anne Lamott, Grace (Eventually) Thoughts on Faith.

Reunion

The first three months of any Peace Corps tour are reserved for Pre-Service Training. During this time, new Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) attend daily language lessons, live with a host family and do their best to gain some insight into their host country's culture. PCTs in Azerbaijan spend this period of time in, and around, the city of Sumqayit. Due to the large number of trainees and the fact Azerbaijan is host to three different sectors (Teaching English as a Foreign Language - TEFL, Youth Development and Community Economic Development) new arrivals are split into clusters. These clusters are supposedly created with a number of factors in mind: Sector, Prior Exposure to a Second Language and Personal Learning Styles.

Emma and I, being of different sectors, did not share the same cluster. We lived in the same community but when it came to language / sector development lessons, we went our separate ways. My cluster was made up of five guys (Jeremy, Jon, Kevin, Tim and Myself) and Linda (a fellow married volunteer whose husband was in Emma's all girl cluster... poor guy). We became pretty close friends over the course of PST and thankfully our friendship has continued into our two years of service.

Last weekend, we all meet up in Ucar for a cluster reunion. Just five guys, just two nights, just one Kevin Neighbors.



We ate at a local tea house, visited the Bazaar and played a little plastic ball wall toss. Kevin even had us assist him in the making of some pretty fantastic falafal... but for the most part we just hung out and caught up. The latter being the best by far. Here are a couple of photos to fill in the gaps.

Nov 2008

Tim

Jeremy

Comparing

Jon

Me

April 2010

What's Healthy?

Well I just found out that the health care bill passed. Also from what news I've gleaned a lot of people who really don't like the bill compare it to Socialism or living in the USSR.

My fellow PCV Aaron wrote a great post about views towards health here in the AZ. So instead of writing something myself, I thought I'd point you in his direction.

So this is for everybody, for the people who are celebrating and the people who are preparing to stand in bread lines: Health in Azerbaijan from Aaron's perspective.

P.S. If you're wondering, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Azerbaijan has gone from total Soviet health coverage to zero.

Thoughts from a Prostitute on Women's Day

Today was International Women's Day. It's celebrated all around the world with a lot of fanfare, though not as much in the U.S. The staple answer is because every day is "women's day" in America. It is also a governmental holiday so there was no school or work.

This morning in the middle of making pancakes I ran short of ingredients. So I set out to the store and not two blocks away encountered a group of boys in their late teens. As I walked by one of them yelled "red woman!" (prostitute) at me as his friends laughed and high-fived.

I was still thinking of cutting replies when I stumbled across one the sweetest women I know on her way to a friends house. "Happy Women's Day!" she exclaimed, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

All day I got text messages of congratulations and notes on facebook. Women called congratulations and holiday wishes across the streets to each other. Gifts of flowers, underwear, scarves, figurines and glassware were exchanged. I find myself grinning at just about every woman I pass.

All year women bring dinner and tea to men who never say thank you. Some are not allowed to work by their husbands and some are not even allowed to leave the house. There is statistical documentation that this is one country of many that have "missing daughters", meaning that there are statistically less girls born than should be, having been aborted after the ultrasound.

To paraphrase Julia, I'm not sure that saying "Happy Women's Day" and giving me a bottle of perfume makes up for that.

I've noticed that Women's Day is primarily celebrated by women themselves. The teachers get together and pitch in to throw themselves a party. Female friends give each other gifts (To be fair, I did get a lovely tea set from three of my seventh grade boys). A PCV friend said, "I like this better than what we do, because I may never get to be a mother", which is a good point.

And it really is an uplifting holiday. I saw genuine pride on the faces of women all weekend. It's like they know or hope that they are deserving, important, special and for the long weekend the answer is a resounding yes you are!

Which brings me back to the boy who called me a prostitute. Was he just trying to make sure I didn't get too uppity what with all the congratulations? Or maybe after 18 years of practice, it's just too hard to break the habit, even for one day.

Who Puts the Soap on Your Back?

Imagine this: You are sitting around on a Sunday afternoon with your extended family when your Aunt and Uncle, or maybe your brother and his wife, stand up and say, "Well, we're going to take a shower." No one blinks. And when they return everyone says "May you always be clean!" and the next couple skips off to the bathroom. What is your reaction?

I never really thought about how taboo showering together is in the States until we were living with our host family here in Shamaxi and I realized that the couples we were living with were not showering alone. In fact, our host brother once gave us the scoop on how much hot water was currently left in the tank by giving us the calculations for if we showered separately and if we showered together. At our second place of residence I noticed the same trend.

There are more than a couple of stories about PCV's being surprised by host family members appearing mid-shower to help. Talking to one of our friends today, she said that after she declined help her host mom asked "But who will put the soap on your back?" Host mom then explained that she and her daughter always help each other get to that pesky middle of the back.

What's interesting about stumbling across something like this is realizing that what for you is shocking, for someone else isn't the least bit questionable. And after being here for a while I'm seeing it for what it is, a simple cultural difference. There are some things in life that really are not black or white. Shower etiquette is one of them.

I'm even starting to wonder if a little bit of loosening up wouldn't be good for us. After our vacation to Georgia where we went to the public baths (boys to the boys side, girls the the other) At first I thought it would be weird. It wasn't. I couldn't stop enthusiastically raving about the benefits of public bathing for self-esteem. How valuable to stand in a huge room of women of all shapes, sizes, ages (and stages of gravitational influence) walking around completely un-self-consciously. And there's something about public bathing that leaves no room for cattiness; no room for "can you believe she's wearing that?"

And I think about the modesty standards in our country that would prevent this. Women in almost non-existent bathing suits will be a magazine staple in month or two but a few years back when a parenting magazine featured a cover of a woman breastfeeding the outcry was enormous. PCV's find themselves buying longer skirts and concurrently watching their underwear flap in the breeze for all to see.

Where do our feelings about the appropriateness of the human body and relationship come from? How come in Orthodox Georgia and Muslim Azerbaijan nudity within one's own gender is considered completely normal while in the United States it is not? It can't completely come from religion. Is it related to ideas about homosexuality? Was it Queen Victoria? Backlash from Freud? Just something to think about. See you at the baths.

Two Videos

I haven't posted in quite a while, so as an apology, ha ha, here are two videos.

The first is an Azerbaijani news clip where I end up calling the people of Azerbaijan "Guest Vegetable" - yes singular - instead of hospitable.

The second is a video I put together for a boys leadership camp at which I worked during the summer of 2009.

Enjoy.

Mathias