Some of my students still think that winter is a month. Don’t ask me how they think that, considering the Russian words for the months are cognates. But if winter is in fact a month, I’m totally screwed, because it is the longest, worst month ever (just like this post- brace yourself).
Things in Zhanatas have been extraordinarily rough for me lately. I was featured in this foreigners in Kazakhstan news spot, which was fine. Then they started playing it over and over and over all across national television. Embarrassing? A little. Fine? Not so much, because now any anonymity that I had in Zhanatas has been tossed out the window. It was nice to don my hat, head outside and have people assume I was Russian. No such luck anymore.
As it stands now, I am constantly harassed, mostly by drunken men who grab my arm or touch my face and breathe on me. I get shouted after in the streets. It’s just too much sometimes. I hate leaving my house, I’ve become a hermit because I just can’t take it anymore. I’m afraid I’ll have an ‘American woman’ moment, turn around, and tell the drunk jerk what I really think of him. And that would just not be an intelligent move in this country.
Then, in case you missed the news, Oliver went missing. This past week, according to the vet, someone poisoned my other dog Shoshka. Watching her dying was absolutely excruciating. She couldn’t eat anything, couldn’t drink water, and had terrible bloody diarrhea that smelled like the worst things you can imagine. She got thinner and thinner until she finally could barely walk, and stumbled around like another local drunk.
Some of my students came over and Shoshka had an accident (which as I mentioned, smelled terribly).
Their response? ”Oh God, it’s dying- put it outside.”
My response (besides feeling crushed)? ”If your sister was dying would you put her outside?”
I’ve also had two attempted break-ins (one while I was at home, the other my neighbors caught).
Now, to top it all off, I’ve had to decide about extending in Kazakhstan. This basically means accepting a position as PCVL (Peace Corps Volunteer Leader) and staying another 9-12 months in Kazakhstan from August 2011. The position would allow me to move to a city, work with higher level students and technically have a ‘promotion’ from within a governmental organization which plays directly into what I want to do for grad school. Not to mention, I really love working with new volunteers.
While I love KZ, considering all that’s been going on in my life lately, it’s pretty hard to decide to stay. Ultimately, I feel that staying will allow me to make a big impact on future volunteer’s lives, but right now, it’s really rough.
Let’s talk about some good stuff for a second.
On the fifth floor of my apartment complex there’s a family that’s basically adopted me. It’s pretty awesome because it’s like having a host family with the ability to go into my own house, shut the door, and revel in spicy foods and vegetables. Over winter break we got especially close, they are just plain wonderful to me. I hope having me around is as interesting and good for them as it is to me.
There’s school too- it’s going great. My kids are wonderful. People ask why I choose to stay here if it’s so bad- just know that I’m explaining a lot of what’s rough in this post, but there’s a lot of wonderful stuff too.
On Monday I found Oliver dead, with his throat all messed up. With Shoskha being poisoned I just really felt like a target. Wednesday I finally emailed my papers into PC HQs regarding extension. It was a terrible, really emotional moment. Shoskha was dying on the couch, I couldn’t get her to drink, and I sent in papers to stay even longer in a culture that I am constantly swimming against.
When my neighbors called me to dinner I went upstairs, but I just wasn’t myself. They all noticed it, but no one really said anything. When dinner was over I asked my ‘Mamau’ to talk. We went into the TV room and shut the door. She laid down on the corpeshays (these are bed pads they sleep on top of on the floor).
“Well Laura? What’s up?”
Before I knew it I was in this 50 year-old Kazakh woman’s arms, crying my eyes out. And since Kazakh isn’t my native language I couldn’t explain all of this to her, all of the build up and terror and sadness. So you know how it came out?
It came out: ”I miss my mommy.”
She held me for a long awhile and stroked my head like a little kid.
America, I miss you. Mommy, I miss you too. Dad, Leigh, Kate- I miss you guys more than I can possibly explain.
I just need to stay a little while longer, for me.
Thanks for supporting me no matter what.
-L
PS The same neighbor woman came and poured vodka down Shoshka’s throat every few hours. I thought, hey, at least she’s in less pain. Believe it or not, and though freakishly thin, Shoshka appears to be making it through!
