·
Sunday, 30 July 2006
Heading off to Summer Camp…
Here I am in
Sudak. I sit on the balcony of my room
at the sanatorium looking out at the Black sea and a thin sliver of moon. The sun has gone down, but the light has not
yet left the sky. I hear the clashing sounds of battling stereo systems
blasting out odd mixes of hip-hop, rock-and-roll, and contemporary music from a
variety of nations in many languages.
Karaoke singers on the boardwalk are also competing in this musical
war. Tomorrow will be our first day as
teachers at Intellect Camp for Students of English.
Today has been
nonstop and we started out at a disadvantage since we only got a couple hours
sleep Saturday night. We were printing
lesson plans and activities; packing for our week at camp; and also trying to
get the house organized. We had no water
for several days so those challenges added to our list of challenges. It was about 3 AM when our heads hit the
pillows and, like good soldiers, we were up at 5 AM to walk across town to the
bus station for the trip to 3-hour bus ride to Sudak.
The Crimean
seacoast scenery is beautiful – much like a drive across northern California’s
wine country on winding mountain roads that parallel the sea. We observed
people hang gliding from mountaintops and at Koktebel, we saw the early morning
crowds heading to the beaches that were part of the old Greek myths –the
gateway to Hades, etc.
The Camp
Director’s delightful spouse escorted us to camp and kept me happily engaged in
conversation while Mark caught a few winks of sleep. She runs a travel agency providing
specialized excursions for visitors to Kerch. She clearly loves her work. L. was (is) a good friend of a previous Peace
Corps Volunteer and in the course of conversation, I learned much about the
impact a person has on other people. So
many small things, things that sometimes go un-noticed, are like seeds that,
when falling on the rich soil of an entrepreneurial mind, become lush, vibrant,
plants.
I must add two
classic films to my list of Ukrainian/Russian movies: “The Circus” and an
adaptation of a Green classic, “The Scarlet Sails”. L. shared personal stories about these films
while I quietly listened; absorbing details about life in the former USSR.
We Arrive in Sudak…
A little past ten
we stepped off the bus, in the shadow of a magnificent 13th Century Genoese
(Italian?) fortress that dominates the hillside by the sea. We piled all our
gear, including Mark’s banjo, into a small taxi and sped off through winding
narrow streets filled with bikini-clad men and women heading down to bathe in
the sea. As is typical of many Ukrainian
and Russian women, the slim, long-legged, confident beauties carried themselves
like models on a runway and dress like movie stars on parade. No t-shirts and cut off jeans here! Everyone we saw was as brown a piece of
vintage mahogany. Tans are a sign of
health here.
There is a whole
attitude toward vacationing by the sea that amuses me (an occasionally
irritates me). Guidebooks and
advertising always promote the health effects of spending time at the sea. The simple joy and beauty of the locale are
not part of the script, nor part of discussions. It is all about health. In the USA, we do not encourage people to
tan nor do we encourage them to swim immediately following meals. Here, swimmers take a brief break to dine in
the sanitarium’s community dining room and then immediately head back to the
beach for more healthful swimming and sunbathing. (What happened to waiting 30-60 minutes after
dining to avoid cramps?)
Did I mention we
are guests at a sanatorium?
Yep, this is a
real Soviet style sanatorium. The
complex includes seven large (5 –floors) dormitories filled with guests
enjoying - oops, not enjoying…let’s say “participating” in a health cure. This particular sanatorium (there are many
more in town and all over the seacoast and in the mountains too) is a former
Soviet-era Air Force health sanatorium.
The shower is down the hall. It
is a two-headed shower with a large dressing room adjacent. The toilets are also down the hall. (The toilets are the kind you squat above and
hover over as you accomplish your “mission”…I guess people in this part of the
world do not read in the bathroom! This
has got to be great for the thighs though!)
We share our meals in a communal dining room where our special diet is
served at three meals and two snacks each day.
No
air-conditioning here or in places around town either…but there are sea
breezes.
When we checked in
at the sanatorium, we were weighed and our height was taken. Our blood-pressure was noted, a few questions
asked and then the doctor determined an appropriate diet for each of us. Special bottled water from Feodosia is
prescribed. We may collect it during
special hours throughout the day.
Meeting the Campers…
Next we had the
opportunity to meet the campers. This camp has been around for ten years. It seems to cater to the children of middle
to upper-middleclass parents from around Kiev.
At about $400 for 2-weeksof amp tuition, the cost is about the same as
the average Ukrainian makes each month.
Add to this the cost of additional excursions, spending money and
transportation and it is a pricey place!
The camp has about 50 campers and has two upper floors of one of the
buildings in the compound. Campers are
housed three to a room (two narrow beds and a mattress on the floor). The facilities, ours included, are similar to
the facilities we encountered at the tart of our Peace Corps training here in
Ukraine. Facilities are slowly being
renovated and more western amenities and features are incorporated.
Most of the
campers (ages 11-18) seem eager to interact with Americans. We are kind of a
novelty still. Some of the campers
shared some anti-American opinions making me wonder about political
conversations at home. All campers
speak some English since they began learning the language when they were about 6. Of course there are degrees of proficiency,
interest, and confidence to deal with.
The campers, do
not dress like campers in the USA. The girls wear tiny skirts and skimpy,
low-necked tees. I see many in heels. In
the evening, they dress up for a walk on the boardwalk and a visit to the
nearby discos.
After 1330 lunch
(salad, borsch, potatoes and typical camp mystery-meat) we headed off with the
campers to spend several hours hiking around the aforementioned fortress that
overlooks the beautiful bay. To our
delight, there was a medieval fair in progress.
Dinner at 1930 (Kefir,
pureed potatoes, tiny portions of mystery-meat and a slice of tomato and hot
tea) and then camp meeting and at team meeting and now finally bedtime. Outside, the boardwalk is still alive with
karaoke and strolling vacationers outside the compound. The campers are in the building for the
night, but they are still dancing and prowling the halls. It is lights out for us. Mark is already snoring in his hard, narrow
sanatorium bed with the funny sheets we do not understand how to use.
The real camp adventures
begin tomorrow.
·
Wednesday, 26 July 2006 – Saturday, 29 July
2006
No time or patience.
The past few days
the water has been off more than it has been on.
I have been
preoccupied with several things. Getting
ready for camp and providing some information for someone to brief attendees at
the “Friends of Ukraine” annual business meeting in Chicago this weekend. (My name is on the ballot for a position with
this group!)
I am also spending
way too much energy trying NOT to write reactive responses to some former PCVs
who had challenging times (primarily with the PC bureaucracy) here in
Ukraine. There is a lot of anger and
bitterness in the e-mail traffic from several individuals who are spewing toxic
comments. I am getting caught in the
crossfire. I have determined I will wait
until after camp to make my final comments.
It is difficult to
write anything at all, because I am allowing their issues to contaminate my
life. So, a moratorium on writing…
·
Tuesday, 25 July 2006
This experience has unfolded in unexpected
ways.
I could use the
word surprising, instead of unexpected, but that would be inaccurate. This opportunity, this blessing, of living by
the calm seas here at the eastern tip of Crimea is so totally unexpected and
yet it is such a joyful experience.
Had I tried to
outline a plan to get me to this place (assuming I had the good fortune to even
know of this place!) it could not have unfolded in such a perfect way.
Throughout my life
I have been schooled to believe, and learned to know, that we are always
exactly where we need to be, with the skills and ability to do exactly what
needs to be done. This reflects my
confidence that God, our Father-Mother, is divine Principle, Mind, Soul,
Spirit, Life, Truth and Love and that our role is merely to reflect those
qualities.
In my current
role, I have ample opportunity to read and to contemplate and to pray. This experience blesses me and all those on
whom my thoughts rest.
I like to think I
have lived a life of service. One of the
values in my own mission statements reflects something I learned to strive for
during my Air Force career (it is one of the Air Force core values) and that is
to put service before self.
I do not mean this
as living a life of public service exactly - I see it more as a way of being
prayerful in my approach to daily activities and making choices that serve a
larger purpose than simply my own desires.
This is often a humbling experience and has taught me much about
character, commitment and caring.
It has also taught
me a lot about joy and gratitude, laughter and love, living in the now.
This sense of
service is NOT a sacrifice nor an opportunity to be pious – no, I am certain
that we are supposed to dance or sing or smile or laugh and joke. Life is very good.
I think maybe we
are here to remind one another to be joyful, to serve happily, to take pleasure
in the gifts, the abundance we have.
And those sad, world
weary, cynics lashing out at the circumstances they believe they are suffering
through…well, I am grateful for them too, because they remind me how important
it is to not just believe in laughter, joy, love, etc, but to express it too.
So, putting joy
and trust, (and all the qualities of Life, Truth, Love, Soul, Spirit, Mind and
Principal) ahead of my petty, limited, mortal observations and predictions will
be a huge step toward serving the world more effectively, right where I am now
– working for peace in my own way…
_________________________________________
(I am grateful for powerful spiritual lessons I
have learned from Christian Science…these truths have enrished my life in so
many ways.)
·
Monday 24 July 2006
Sunday was a social day.
At 8 AM, we
boarded the bus to Feodosia. Mark
plugged my ear into his Mp3 player so I could listen to an old “This American
Life” episode as we rolled across the 90 kilometers of flat, dry land between
Kerch and Feodosia.
I think of
Nebraska as we make our way. There are cows and sunflowers, lots of blue sky
and horizon and few trees to block the view.
We arrived around
ten and sat in an outdoor café, sipping coffee, while we waited for our friends
to join us. A couple PCVs we trained
with were staying in a nearby town and had arranged for us to meet them to
spend the day catching up.
Feodosia is a
tourist town with miles of crowded beaches and the venders and cafes that popup
where there are people with money to spend and time to linger. We had no real agenda for the day, so we took
the bus to the central city and walked along the beach talking.
I had not seen C.
since April 2005 - she looked well and
attractive in her white summer skirt and black halter top. T. is always
fun. We have managed to see him fairly
often over the past year. It was a
pleasure to have a relaxed visit with no schedule to follow except the shadow
of doubt concerning seats on the last bus home.
A day in Feodosia
at the height of tourist season reminded me of the joys and pleasure our
community of Kerch offers.
Unlike some PCVs
experiences in Ukraine, we seldom see other PCVs. There are about 300 volunteers here in this
country, about the size of Texas (I think).
We are isolated because we are the tip of a long peninsula – one way in,
one way out. People who come to Kerch,
come because this is their destination.
There are no people “just passing through”. It also means leaving is a decision too; a
decision that involves hours on a bus or train.
I rather like the
fact that we are generally the only Americans in town.
While I lead a
rich, full social life via e-mail, I prefer to live my real life within this
community we currently call home.
Coming to Kerch for
the first time, last September was love at first sight.
Mark had been
living here for over three months when I arrived, and perhaps that made my
transition different than it might have been otherwise. I choose to believe my feelings are simply
heartfelt.
There is an
ambience here that I cannot explain. It
is something I feel.
There is a sense
of community here added to a joy in daily living. There is a quiet dignity (no overt smiles but
a calmness and strength)…I cannot really articulate this feeling I have for
this community.
Even during the
summer months when friends and family arrive from far away, the crowded city
seems like a private party at an elegant bed and breakfast rather than a
blowout at the beach. Guests stroll the
streets and along the sea. Even the
nightlife seems less frantic and more like an extension of their usual
life.
In many seaside
communities, outsiders crowd the beaches and cafes and sometimes seem rude or
oblivious to the local people. Perhaps
this is part if the reason I like this city.
The people of Kerch treat people as if they are houseguests rather than
simply visitors.
Coming home from
our daytrip to Feodosia, it was a pleasure to breast the hill and see the city
of Kerch stretched out below, with the blue summer sea beyond it. I let that feeling wash over me as I gazed
out the bus windows, peering at the gardens in the dachas on the edge of
town.
I was glad to come
home.
·
Saturday, 22 July 2006
Russian Sign Language…
Here’s a question –
is learning Russian sign language easier than learning to speak Russian?
Do older learners
have a harder time learning sign language than do younger learners? (They say older learners have greater
difficulty learning the spoken and written language.)
I am curious about
Russian signing - I imagine there are fewer grammatical challenges than in
spoken language, so maybe it would be easier to learn - imagine NO
CASES! Hmmm - and what about verbs of motion?
·
Friday, 21 July 2006
We are Going to Summer Camp!
We have a week to
prepare to teach at a summer camp in Sudak.
This is an unexpected and mixed blessing.
·
Thursday, 20 July 2006
How did the rose ever open its heart and give to this
world all of its beauty?
It felt the encouragement of Light against its being;
otherwise we all remain too frightened.
- Hafiz, translated
by Daniel Ladinsky
Love Poems from God
Kicking Dogs…a Metaphor about Disillusioned
People (Associates)…
It always comes as
a surprise to me that seemingly kind, good people will sometimes respond to the
overtures of an excited dog by kicking them.
I suppose they are
responding in fear, but it becomes a challenge once I have seen this side of a
person, to trust them in other areas of life.
In this country,
there are many stray dogs. There are
also many kindly people who pause to share a small bit of meat or a few kind
words with these creatures. I am
grateful to see this.
There is a
metaphor here.
One of the
struggles of life is dealing with people who do not share the same
worldview. Recently I have observed many
seemingly good-hearted people who lash out in cruel ways. I see their cynical
views posted in periodicals and e-mail with no consideration for alternate
views. There seems to be anger and hostility
and a disillusionment that is frightening.
One might expect
people who work in organizations such as the Peace Corps or in the teaching
professions or in the military, or even in religion (or other fields that
demand some idealism and dedication to values) to work well with others and to
strive to be proactive.
But of course this
is one of those expectations that really may be doomed from the start. But do we have to accept of culture of
cynicism among the people we associate with?
Can we be a
catalyst for change?
It is alarming
when people allow themselves to become lost in the miasma of jaded
thinking. I see them become mired
down. I see reactive, negative behavior. And in this state, these very people reject
the efforts of others. In fact they
often belittle the efforts of those who work hard to keep their vision clear
and their motivation pure. In their
anger and fear, they become reactive and vocal, spewing negative opinions and
attitudes throughout the organization.
They drag everyone down, casting aspersions as they go.
This is what galls
me: the belief that those of us who resist this deadly cycle are somehow less
intelligent or inexperienced or just plain foolish.
It is sad when
people are suspicious of goodness.
(And yes, I
understand that life is not always sunshine and rainbows. I have had my share of days when the icy
north winds have blown and the wolf is howling at my door – I will not
credential my life’s challenges here, but I have faced some, both publicly and privately. My point is stuff happens; you get up and
politely try again, You find some humor…you do not lay down and whine yourself
to death or machinegun everyone in the room. )
There is a sad
myth that seems to permeate or culture in the USA. Many of our people seem to think skeptics and
cynics are somehow wise and experienced.
In reality they are weak and beaten down. They cannot find a way to stand up, look
beyond the problem, smile and begin again.
Now that takes strength.
The word
Weltschmerz comes to mind. These people
sigh and in their pain, strike a sophisticated pose and make cutting
remarks. Sadly they influence those
around them and drag the world down.
In our culture we
seem to think these negative people have the answers.
In my opinion,
they do not. They are bullies, hiding
behind a patina of aggression. They are abusive. They are toxic.
They bite the hand
that tries to feed them.
It takes a lot
more courage and hard work to seek out the good in people and situations and to
channel energy into positive solutions….To try again when rebuffed and again
and again and again. And that is the
challenge - to find ways to eliminate
this behavior and find ways to improve the corporate culture, find ways to
mentor true strength of character.
The individuals I
respect and wish to associate with are those who realize the strength of
character and courage it takes to continually, over and over, extend a hand in
friendship and confidence; even if they are occasionally bitten by a dog.
This is the
behavior to cultivate and reward.
These jaded and
often vocal people are afraid. They are
simply kicking dogs.
(Am I venting…a little…some of the above is
prompted by a recent newspaper article and the responses of several
associates…)
·
Wednesday, 19 July 2006
Day to Day Life…
The day dawned
bright but at 10AM it is grey and a steady rain is pouring down. Inside the flat, there is still no
water. Laundry is piling up and dirty
dishes too. Flushing the commode is a
luxury. The fingerprints and sawdust and
mess from the welders is still evident.
It is unlikely the water problems will be resolved anytime soon since
the workers cannot do their job in the downpour.
Earlier I observed
people walking off with empty water bottles, in search of H2O. We have three large jugs of tap water and
half a large jug of bottled water.
We are fine, but I
write these facts down simply to share what it is like to live here. I am not complaining, merely writing about my
experience.
I know how I cope
with challenges (I take a prayerful approach, acknowledging all the blessings
and the abundance that is already mine; I sing hymns as my Mother used to do –
my Christian Science background shines through and for that I am grateful!) and
consider how the local people cope. This
is how life is here. For them it is not
even worth mentioning. It reminds me of
how people living in cold, snowy climates simply forge ahead and do not really
acknowledge the hardships of winter – these are facts of life and talking about
them only makes them more real. (L. was
without water for about two weeks once and did not mention it till after the
fact – the water was back on for her birthday!)
Mark and I manage
to keep a sense of humor about hardships and challenges. When the going gets really tough, it is
sometimes a conscious choice to find humor, rather than a natural
inclination!
I have a healthy
respect for the people here.
Navigating life’s
challenges with grace is an amazing feat.
How I Wash the Dishes…
After a few days
without water, the dishes are piling up. In the humble lifestyle we live here,
there are few dishes to dirty really so washing them becomes more
critical. This morning I tackled the
dirty dishes piled up on my sink.
My first step was
to wipe each dish and utensil to remove any food remnants and/or surface
grease. I use old newspapers. Next, I boil a few cups of water and use a
soapy sponge to lather up each item. I
stack them neatly on the counter and cover them with a dishtowel. In order to
conserve water, I wait until I actually need items before I rinse them. When we need an item, I will boil a few cups
of water and rinse the necessary dish or utensil item. (I pour the rinse water over the item and
catch the residue in a pan underneath – the soapy water can be recycled a bit
to pre-wash dirty dishes – I add a teaspoon or so of bleach to this water.)
For brushing
teeth, washing faces, sticky hands and so forth I have a small tin bowl and
Mark uses a tin shaving mug. We use the
electric hot-pot to make warm water and have learned the art of sponge
bathing. (I am reminded of an old Peace
Corps joke that plays on the optimist/pessimist question about a glass
half-empty or a glass half-full – “I don’t care,” says the RPCV, ”But that’s
enough water for me to bathe in!”)
Ambiguity…
This all makes one
very grateful for the luxury of on-demand water. It also makes me appreciate
the luxury of a reliable infra-structure, because once you become accustomed to
having indoor plumbing, it is much harder to revert back to a more primitive
system.
I think of what it
is like to have to haul your daily water.
I think of my brother’s home in Malawi.
One thing that makes this more challenging is that we have an
expectation. We expect to have water
because we have plumbing. At least in
Malawi, on my brother’s farm, he knows the demands of the day will always
include hauling water.
It is the
ambiguity of this situation (and of many other situations) that is the real
challenge here.
·
Tuesday, 18 July 2006
The Reality Versus the Plan…
The welder walked
into my kitchen and said, “How about some coffee?”
I paused, a bit
surprised by how direct this man was.
I began making
mental adjustments to my plans.
“Yes,” I said
replied, “Coffee sounds good.” I looked
at the slim young man who was here to install the pipes and the meter for our
new gas system. He had a nice smile,
despite the extensive amount of gold colored metalwork that covered his
teeth.
“I am Tatar,” he
said in Russian. That was the beginning
of a strange conversation that continued in several languages as the afternoon
and the work progressed.
I learned more
about the deportation of Tartars and some of the politics involved in their
return. Aziz (the welder) often resorted
to scribbling words or pictures on a piece of paper to help me understand his
train of thought. He cut and measured
and talked incessantly. I stood in the
doorway, sipping coffee and listening.
This is not how I
planned to spend my day. I had cleaned
the flat, preparing for Marks’ homecoming and had planned to go to the bazaar
for some special groceries and a bouquet. A bottle of champagne was chilling in
the refrigerator. At 8AM, the landlady
called and said she would be right over.
I should have
known then that my day would be highjacked.
The overriding theme of my life in Ukraine seems to be flexibility and
change. Things seldom go according to any kind of plan or outline. It is hard to explain or describe, but life
here, takes on its own shape. Type-A
people spin their wheels and sputter.
In mid-afternoon
when Mark finally dragged home after his 23 hour train-ride and a week away
from home, he was greeted by the two welders.
He stepped over welding equipment and pipes, waded through the sawdust
and debris and clutter in our formerly tidy kitchen and finally slumped onto
the couch.
“Welcome home!” I
said, smiling at him.
So much for our
leisurely lunch plans. I managed to
squeeze past the workers to forage in the refrigerator for some Russian
kohlbasa, an apple, and some Crimean wine.
We picnicked on the couch, just a few feet away from the noisy, messy
work going on in our tiny kitchen.
Soon, as Mark
unpacked and talked about his adventures in the city, the tidy living room was
cluttered with books, DVDs and dirty laundry.
At 6PM, the
workers coiled up their cables and packed up their tools. They were pleased with their project and
smiled as they said their farewells.
A quick assessment
of the work left us wondering what the landlady will say. Our American ideas of where the kolanka and
the gas meter and all the associated pipes were not consistent with the
Ukrainian implementation of the plan!
There are now
meters and meters of ugly bare black pipes spanning the kitchen walls. (Why not
put the pipes inside the walls?) When the kolanka is actually installed there
will be more pipes to transport the water.
The kolanka will be mounted far from the kitchen sink and the bathroom
plumbing. It is a puzzle to us why the decision was made to place things in
this way.
There white walls
are covered with black fingerprints and there are a couple scorched spots where
the welding devise melted the cornice board near the ceiling.
My day’s plans had
gone awry. Now in the wake of the
workers departure, I was left exhausted, with a flat in chaos. Mark helped me tidy up and then began making
dinner preparations, improvising creatively with ingredients we already had on
hand. No flowers, no candlelight or soft
music…sadly, we dined by the light of the television, exhausted and numb.
No Water…Except for the Rain and the Sea…
Today, Mark is
back at work and here in the flat I have no water. This is unexpected, but not unusual. Today, I
had plans to clean, however, with no water, scrubbing walls, mopping floors,
doing laundry, and washing dishes are not possible. (Not to mention the challenges of personal
hygiene issues!)
I guess I may just
read a book and go for a walk by the sea.
Or perhaps I will
wander over to the library and meet Mark for lunch –disrupt his plans a bit
too!
Life is good – but
not exactly what you expect sometimes!
(Footnote: The
lunch adventure ended up being
frustrating or laughable -
typical of dining out in this evolving culture…nothing on the menu is
available, but the waitress reports this one item at a time…I walked home in a
sudden shower…)
·
Monday, 17 July 2006 – Mark comes home
today!
Cookin’ with gas – soon!
This morning my
tiny, overheated kitchen was crowded
with four barefoot adults hammering away in Russian, debating the pros and cons
of where to place the kolanka. The new
hot water heater is the result of the city gas lines. Our neighborhood will soon be cookin’ with
gas! That also means our water will be heated by gas too, hence the
kolanka.
I stood in the
corner of the kitchen curling my toes inside my slippers and trying to follow
the conversation. I kind of let the conversation wash over me and understand
much of it, despite new terms relative toi the project at hand. Mentally I am
wondering if I should interrupt to offer them slippers – I have two “guest”
pair, but what about the other two people?
My thoughts drift back to the robust exchange as the two workmen, the
landlady and another woman whose role I am uncertain of, finally come to
consensus on the matter of where to place the water heater and where the pipes
should go.
They move on to
the topic of measurements. I offer a measuring devise, but they decline and simply
eyeball the distances. More discussion
and then finally they drift toward the door, pausing to verify that I will
indeed be home throughout the day. I
stand quietly in the doorway. I think
about how soft-spoken Mark and I might seem to these spirited local people.
When people
consult in this Russian language, they sound as if they are angry – they speak
urgently and in shrill voices. They are
enthusiastic speakers; they fill the room with their conversation.
I close the door
behind them and listen to the lovely quiet. I can hear the water drip, drip,
dripping from the leaky electric water heater in the bathroom and I can hear my
parakeets happily cheeping at one another in the next room.
·
Sunday, 16 July 2006
The Band Bond…
Svetlana, an amateur
singer from Moscow and Slava, a local linguist and English Club member, invited
me to stroll on Saturday night. We took
the marshrutka to the southern part of town and walked in the lovely seaside
park there. The municipal band performed
there, so we enjoyed their concert and watched the crowd dance.
Of course, my
friend Igor, the drummer, saw us and invited us closer, played songs for us and
encouraged Svetlana to sing a bit. She
needs little encouragement. She does a
remarkable rendition of “Summertime” from Porgy and Bess and everyone is
suitably impressed.
Svetlana is a
curvy, blond, independent woman in here 40s.
She is enamored of Marilyn Monroe and sometimes it shows.
We ended up riding
back to city center in the band bus, making friends with the rest of the band
as we bounced down the road. I practiced
my Russian and others practiced their English.
Of course, I told about my “trombonista” sister and my belly-dancing
sister. The director of the municipal
band is retired from the military where he served as a conductor. He studied in Moscow. Another fellow, a French Horn player (I
played the horn in HS) shared his stories of being deported during the Stalin
years. He is a Muslim (Tatar). The bus ride ended with lots of hand kissing
for the two of us women. Friend Slava
just smiled quietly and laughed as he watched all the fuss.
Free Advice…
Today I hung some
laundry on the lines I our small garden.
Catwoman, ever eager to advise me, insisted I hang my clothes on the
lines across the courtyard. Honestly, I
have been hesitant to use those lines, not really knowing the protocol. Perhaps some lines belong to particular
flats…or perhaps if I assume used of a line someone else will be annoyed. I also feel a bit uncomfortable with my
clothes and linens so far from my flat – they could disappear, though I know
this is very unlikely.
After she needled
me into hanging my laundry on the public lines, Catwoman began shaming me about
not picking the berries that are ripening in our garden. She says we should
pick them and put them up for winter.
Mark and I do not care for the berries so I suggested that Catwoman
might like to pick them for herself. No,
she has them at her dacha.
People here like
to interact and help. Often the helping
is very overt. Catwoman cleaned our
garden one day, taking away the mulch Mark put around our plants (they do not
mulch here).
More Grousing about Helpful People…
We generally just
let people “help” us…it is hard to do otherwise, especially since we are not
fluent with the language. In the small
store adjacent to our flat, when we want to make a purchase, the saleswoman
will often decline to sell us the kind of sausage or cheese we request. Instead she will insist that another kind is
much better and cheaper. She will go to
great lengths, coming out from behind the counter and making a choice from the
cooler herself, carefully eyeing the
expiration dates.
This happens
often. Of course we know that this is their
way of being helpful and kind, but often our own preferences are ignored.
So I am now
avoiding Catwoman, since I really do not want to go out into the hot sun to
harvest berries which I have no intention of eating.
I will also have
to retrieve my laundry from the other side of the courtyard. I suspect someone will have an unsolicited
opinion and advice about my towels and sheets.
Tomorrow, the gas
company will send workers to install the lines for the central gas line in our
flat. So the stage moves from public
areas to inside my home! Sigh.
It is hard for
people here to realize we are not truly living here, we are here for only 27
months. When we leave, we will not take
much with us so we do not wish to accumulate things. We live a modest life here and make
accommodations we would probably not make in our own country. I am not impervious to people’s opinions and
though I am a straightforward, open individual, I am a private person.
These kinds of
challenges are the small pebbles that slip into the comfortable shoe on an
evening walk. If you walk long, a
blister forms. It is best to find a way to deal with the issue before the
problem arises.
Part of my
survival plan has been to keep my home private.
I seldom invite people in. I want
my flat to be a place where I am not on display, where I am not a
representative of anything.
I also do not shop
with other people because I do not want to be pressured into purchases. I prefer to limit the number of people
involved in decisions.
·
Saturday, 15 July 2006
Salespeople at my door…
There is that
sinking feeling when you open the door and realize there is a salesperson
smiling back at you.
Usually when there
is a knock at the door, I callout, “Who
is it?” before I consider opening the
door. This time, I failed to follow my
own rules.
Dealing with
door-to-door salespeople is really a challenge when you have a language
disadvantage. I am just too polite to simply close the door. So I opened the door and there were two
young Ukrainians, a man and a woman in their twenties, eager to make a
sale. They began their spiel in Russian
and I slapped my forehead and let them know right away that I only speak a
little Russian. Of course they forged
valiantly ahead, thrusting a boxed set of cooking knives into my hands. The young man rattled on with his speech as I
tried to give back the box.
No salesperson
takes “no” for answer, but many of them are unprepared to deal with humor. Soooo, the crazy American woman elected to
be melodramatic. My improve skills came
to the rescue as I began chattering away in Russian about how I am just a poor
old Babushka (grandma) here with my Peace Corps Volunteer spouse. I told them I appreciated the wonderful gift
of knives they were sharing with us. I set the box on the floor and the woman
salesperson laughed a little nervously as I reached out and pinched the young
man’s cheeks and closed the door.
They did not make
a sale, but they have a foolish story to share with friends about the crazy American they ran into.
An opinion of learning language for the
short term….
Actually, the
whole incident made me feel better. I
had been feeling a little foolish after an earlier interaction at the grocery
store adjacent to the flat. The woman who
collects our rent and manages the store engaged me in a rather simple
conversation, but the words seemed to all fly out of my head. I stuttered and stammered and could not put
together a coherent sentence for the life of me.
The language
aspect of living in a foreign country adds a roller-coaster effect to emotional
life here. You stay humble, because just
when things go well, you find yourself at a total loss for what is going on
around you. Every transaction becomes
work, hard work.
You learn to live
from moment to moment, cherishing each small success and minimizing the blatant
errors you make.
Yes, speaking the
language with some fluency would make our experience so different. But, given the short term we are actually
here, is it a realistic expectation?
Probably not. (We are short term
volunteers – our skills should include some creativity about communicating and
using our resources effectively – this is not about being efficient, it is
about being effective….this is about really communicating, not just
talking… )
I also think the
whole language thing is a wonderful leveling tool. Many people arrive at their Peace Corps site
with strong opinions and ideas about how to resolve all the problems of their
community…it is part of the Yankee-ingenuity, positive attitude,
I-can-do-anything, optimism, enthusiasm and cockiness that is part of being a
born and bread US citizen. Coming here
with a language handicap, allows the local people an advantage – it slows the
American down.
If you cannot
really speak the language, you learn to be collaborative and less independent,
that is, if you hope to interact or have any success at all.
Greenie-Girl is Looking Great!
Zelyoney, my green
parakeet, is interacting and playful again…it is a joy to see her spirited way
of approaching things.
·
Friday, 14 July 2006
Tomatoes and Cats…
The neighborhood
cats have decimated my tomatoes and my iris plants - the mother cat nurses
Socks and Oscar under the shade of the Iris plants. As the greedy, gangly kittens nurse, she
edges back and now my iris plants are horizontal.
The young cat-kins
like to nibble on the fragrant and tasty fresh green shoots on the tomato
plants. The plastic rings we placed
around each plant to discourage slugs and snails, appeal to the playful
kittens. They have unearthed them and
rolled them around the small garden.
None of our
neighbors bother with tomato plants. They grow them at their dachas,
perhaps. At the market, tomatoes cost
about 60 cents for 2.2 pounds and they are absolutely wonderful - sweet,
plump, juicy and beautiful too. It is wise to can some of the summer
bounty. Midwinter, a taste of summer
vine-ripened produce is a fine accent to unrelenting meals of potatoes and
cabbage. During the summer, Ukrainian fruits
and vegetables are unbelievable.
I think most
Americans have forgotten what real tomatoes taste like.
“Digging to America” by Anne Tyler…
I finished Anne
Tyler's latest novel, "Digging to America". I always enjoy the interesting
characters she develops, and this book did not disappoint me. She has a
way of poking fun at her characters but still making them appealing. In
fact, some of the characters make me think of people I know. Many of the experiences dealt within the book
are things I have dealt with too.
The plot centers
on two couples who adopt young Korean babies. The two families begin an
unlikely relationship, given the differences in ages and backgrounds.
(One mother is older and kind of a frumpy, middle class,
granola-and-Birchenstocks woman who weaves and always worries about being
politically correct while the other woman is much younger and is immersed in
the heart of an Iranian family who immigrated to the USA.
The author works
with the theme of being an outsider. (Being a "stranger in a strange
land" myself, I am inclined to find this part of the book interesting and
insightful.) One of the vehicles she uses to carry the plot is the annual
"Arrival Party" the parents host. .
Summer life in Kerch…
It is common for
local people to rise early and head for the sea to bathe at the start of each
day. I watch from my window each morning as they come and go.
Each morning our
upstairs neighbors load up their stroller with snacks, towels and lots of
inflated beach toys. There is almost no
room for the toddler! They push the
stroller through the door as the older child skips along ahead of them and head
out each morning about 8AM. They come home between 9-10AM, before the day
really heats up.
…And the Band Played On
Since most people
do not have air conditioning, people kind of hole-up during the mid-day and
then come out again around 6PM to stroll by the sea and stop at the outdoor
cafes for tea. Last night I did just that with one of my English Club
members. There was a municipal band concert in Lenin Square; a brass band
playing lively Joplin and Goodman and some old Soviet-era marches too.
The drummer saw me
smiling (people here do not smile much in public - it seems to be an American trait)
and between songs scurried over to speak to me about music in his limited
English. After the concert, he tailed along with us like a puppy. After a while, he took his leave, and in a
very Russian style, kissed my hand.
My evening ended
at a teahouse where we sipped tea at a street side table and enjoyed the summer
evening.
Being a foreigner,
particularly an American, in this isolated community, sometimes makes for
unusual encounters. Even though I kind of blend in, there is an otherness
or outsider quality to our lives here. Usually I embrace this
opportunity, but sometimes I feel like an observer. I feel the joy and am grateful to be part of
the experience…but I know it is fleeting and fragile and perfect…
·
Thursday, 13 July 2006
The Usual Questions…
On the walk home
from English Club, I often feel as if I have an entourage. There are the usuals, who walk along with
us, allegedly on their way to the marshrutka stop, and there is almost always a
new face each week in the crowd.
It is generally a
companionable time, as we head down upscale Lenin Street and turn onto Theater
Street making our way to the seaside urban park. I am the queen at the center of the hub.
Then the newcomer begins
to pepper me with questions, often very personal questions. It is inevitable. It is predictable. It is Ukrainian.
“How many rooms
are in your flat?” I am asked.
I answer, “One
room and a kitchen.”
Before I can draw
a breath, I hear another probe, “Not much space. How much do you pay for this flat?”
I feign ignorance,
”Well, Peace Corps provides an allowance for it so we do not pay.” I am cagey.
I am American and am not accustomed to such direct and personal
questions, even though I know they are coming.
People here are curious and ask my age, my salary, what kind of car I
drive, how much my clothes cost, how much my home costs, and on and on. And when they hear the reply they are always
astounded and counsel me that I am being cheated, overcharged, taken advantage
of.
I am uncomfortable
in these situations, but I have learned to guide the conversation somewhat,
since I know it can go awry. It is easy
to become the ”stupid American who wastes her money…all Americans are stupid
and wasteful…”
“Yes, I am certain
our landlady does well.” I say, choosing my words carefully, “She is quite a business woman! Foreigners always seem to be charged more
don’t they?”
The conversation
veers off in another direction since I skillfully avoided a straightforward
answer that would have ultimately lead us down a deadend road.
Of course, these
questions may be just genuine curiosity or perhaps just a way to create
conversation or even maybe a legitimate interest n how Americans handle their
financial arrangements.
The trick is not
to feel defensive. I try to put aside my
reticence and speak candidly about whatever I am asked. I have also become adept at steering the
conversation into other areas. I
sometimes respond with a volley of questions of my own.
It seems to me
that Americans think of themselves as open and forthright, but we have some
unwritten rules. The taboos we accept as
“normal” are not universal.
Living day in and
day out in another culture makes you more conscious of your own culture.
“Digging to America” by Anne Tyler – Read
it!
I am half-way
through this delightful novel. My
dilemma now is whether to simply sit down and read it to the end or to ration
out the pleasure by limiting my reading to a few pages each day. Should I metaphorically wolf down the box of
chocolates in an orgy of delight or anticipate the pleasure of one perfect
chocolate consumed each evening in an elegant, candleit ceremony with a cup of
fine espresso …?
It is a good
read. The story follows two couples as
they welcome adopted (Korean) daughters into the respective families. One family is a “typical” American couple in
their 40s – the granola, birchenstock,
I-am-a-weaver, we-do-not-eat-white-sugar, kind of couple. The other couple are young
Iranian-Americans. The two families
celebrate an annual ”Arrival Day” which provides an excellent window for the
reader to watch and listen as the cultures face off. There is humor and confusion. The characters are well developed and when
other authors might slip into stereotypes, Anne Tyler is adept at painting word
pictures with only a few strokes to suggest the whole picture.
Living in another
culture as I currently am, I take particular delight in the gentle (maybe not so
gentle) humor the Iranian father pokes at Americans foibles. We are a puzzling people to those from other
parts of the world.
We are like bulls
in a china shop – out of place.
We Americans are
pretty ethnocentric. We are also
arrogant people, even the gentlest among us.
Go to the library
and borrow this book!
·
Wednesday, 12 July 2006
The Circus!
(From an E-mail I sent)
Good Morning!
I am sipping coffee and reading an old Newsweek Magazine. Later I will begin outlining some background information for English Club - tonight the topic has something to do with movies and films. My job is to stimulate conversation and keep it moving while prompting and probing less confident English speakers. I also try to introduce idioms and old sayings appropriate to the topic and, of course, I focus on vocabulary suitable to the topic. I list questions too - ones that require more than yes or no as an answer. I spend a few hours preparing.
Some weeks I rely heavily on my materials and other weeks we deviate from the topic and pursue something that the group seems to find interesting. The group ranges from a ten year old who is like those television children - quick-witted, sophisticated, opinionated, and confident. She can be a delight, Some weeks though she can be a normal ten year old. It is a challenge to keep her engaged, but her English skills are excellent. Other regulars include a shy artist (a painter of great skill, but not a linguist), a couple serious linguists, a couple wanna-be linguists, several University and Institute students, some fellows from the port, a couple English teachers, some secondary school students, etc.
Well, I set out to write about something I read in Newsweek (June 19,2006) and then got off on a tangent! I read a wonderful article about re-inventing the circus! The circus as art-form! ("Re-inventing a Classic")
Circus is huge in Europe and not like it is in America. Here in Kerch we will host several Russian circuses later this summer. Gifford's Circus, mentioned in the article, is quite sophisticated. The circus chef prepares gourmet dishes (confit of duck in plum sauce) using organic food and serves it under the stars. They skip the cotton candy!
The article contends that the traditional circus here in Europe is becoming increasingly avant-garde. They interviewed a man from Circus Space, a London training center, mentioned Cirque du Soleil, The article says the "new" circus is attracting an upscale crowd who would normally attend opera or theater.
In London "The Sultan's Elephant" made street appearances, dazzling crowds. The12-meter high mechanical elephant roamed the streets for several days before heading off on a show circuit around Europe. I saw it on TV - amazing creature! The circus strives, f course, to make us adults feel like children again, if only for a brief moment. Even on television this remarkable elephant had the ability to transform me into a 6 year old with moth agape and eyes wide open.
So, my trombone-playing sister Janeen, is on the cutting edge with her circus involvement it seems! .Perhaps she should plan a tour of European circuses , focusing of course on the music scene, and later she can dazzle the board of the Windjammers when she reports her findings!
(FYI: The owner of the amazing Gifford's Circus is a women! The article included some interesting info on her philosophy, etc)
Hmmmm...this maybe a topic for English Club...in any case, I hope to be doing some circus research of my own when the big show comes to town - whether it is avant-garde or traditional, I loooooooove the circus!
(Did I mention that in Ukraine, every city over 50,000 has a permanent circus? I read that in a guide book!)
Well, the coffee is cold, but my imagination is dancing and I can almost hear the circus band playing...seems like a good time to stop writing and start doing some housework. Ladies and gentlemen, in the center ring, performing barefoot in her blue and white striped cotton jammies, is the amazing Virginia! She will dazzle you with her ability to wash dishes and sweep floors while simultaneously singing Janis Joplin's "Mercedes Benz"....
Ukraine’s Parliament - Excerpt from the CNN
News…
(Life is pretty
crazy in the world of politics here…VJP)
KIEV, Ukraine (Reuters) -- Ukraine's parliament, all but
shut down during three months of
fruitless coalition talks, plunged into chaos on Tuesday with backers of the "Orange
Revolution" storming the rostrum
and sounding sirens to halt debate.
The chamber opened its sitting by
endorsing a coalition government headed
by Viktor Yanukovich, the man humiliated by pro-Western President Viktor Yushchenko in the "Orange
Revolution".
But speaker Oleksander Moroz's attempt
to continue debate collapsed when
members of "orange" groups surged forward to the rostrum, scuffling with rivals from the Regions Party.
"Specific people want to take power
at any price," Moroz shouted,
his voice barely audible above
the sirens. "This is an attempt to stop
parliament from work."
Yanukovich lost the 2004 presidential
race to Yushchenko after weeks of street protests. He quickly put together his
grouping, with Socialists and Communists, last week after a last-minute
defection wrecked a bid to build a
coalition of "orange" parties behind the revolution.
The new grouping has support from 238
deputies in the 450-seat chamber after
an inconclusive election in March.
It was the defection of Moroz, a
Socialist, which last week toppled the
initial attempt to form a government.
The two remaining "orange"
parties -- the bloc of former prime minister
Yulia Tymoshenko and the president's Our Ukraine Party -- now call for new elections.
Yushchenko says he will not rubber-stamp
any proposed prime minister without
guarantees that the Western values of the 2004 revolution will be safeguarded. He has also said he may
dissolve parliament if no government is formed within fixed deadlines.
During the long weeks of talks aimed at
forming an "orange" coalition,
some of Yushchenko's comrades had suggested teaming up with the
Regions Party in a "broad
coalition".
Such a grouping, it was argued, would
heal longstanding divisions between
Ukraine's nationalist west and its Russian-speaking industrial east, more sympathetic to Moscow.
But Our Ukraine decided on Monday it
wanted no part of the new grouping, in
which communists will sit alongside wealthy business magnates.
Tymoshenko told reporters on Monday:
"With such a coalition, Ukraine has no future and not even the hope for a
future."
Under new constitutional provisions, the
president's powers are reduced and parliament must choose the prime minister.
But the president is empowered to
dissolve parliament if it fails to form
a government within 60 days of its first session, which took place on May 25.
XXXX
·
Tuesday, 11 July 2006
I am watching a
special announcement from the Rada, Ukraine’s center of government. Something big is happening!
Of course an
intelligent discussion on politics is beyond my limited Russian conversational
skills, but I have learned that watching political activity on TV here can be quite a diversion. Many times I have watched dignified
businessmen and politicians grabbing one another and throwing some strong
punches in the hallowed halls of government.
These gentle Ukrainians can be tough and intimidating when
necessary. (At the bazaar or on the
Metro you get a feel for this – the crowds can get nasty.)
The current topic
is pretty serious – time is running out and the country has no government.
Decisions must be in place by the 24th or the current body will be
disbanded.
Today, the hall is
crowded with people attempting to communicate over the loud wailing screams of
some kind of security or fire alarm. This disturbing sound has been going on
for fifteen minutes. It is hard to know
if this is simply a problem with systems and they are simply ignoring it or
whether this urgent howling siren is part of a process to keep people motivated
regarding the urgency of the political situation. Maybe they plan to run the
siren until they reach a resolution or compromise.
OK, it is becoming
violent – people are on tabletops, papers are flying, men are grabbing one
another by their neckties while the camera pans around the room. People are yelling and shaking their
fists. Not an orderly group.
Outside are
hundreds (thousands?) of protesters and many tents set up so the protesters
intend to stay put.
Bird Update…
Zelyoney (my green
girl bird) is still showing signs of distress.
She tucks her head under her wing and naps frequently. She does respond to my whistling and bird
talk. Gulaboy (Blue Guy, the boy) fusses over her attentively. They sit beak to beak and make quiet
bird-talk to one another.
·
Monday, 10 July 2006 - The Twins’ Birthday!
Today is the day
my niece will give birth to her twin daughters. The doctor will induce
labor. I will be offline for a week, so
I will not hear the initial reports until the 18th
Today Mark leaves
for a week. He has language refresher training
and will also do some video editing for the training staff at PC. He has a draft proposal to review with the
business lead.
So, I am on my own
here – a week alone!
Puddles in the Hall…
We woke to a pool
of water under Ivan, our incontinent refrigerator. These puddles happen more and more frequently
lately. When the power is off for
extended periods or when the door is not completely closed water drips onto the
entryway floor. It is often Mark who
discovers these puddles when he unwittingly wades into the puddle, enroute to
the bathroom.
The gaskets
designed to seal the refrigerator have rotted away. It really is not a very
serviceable refrigerator. We could
splurge and either purchase a new one or find a used one to buy. We could simply let our landlady know that
this one is really unsatisfactory.
Or, we can simply
tolerate Ivan, our cantankerous refrigerator, knowing we will leave in 11
months.
Damage to our Circuits…
The dilemma with
Ivan and Mark’s departure are not the only challenges today.
We do not have
power in outlet under the desk and the one by the bed. The ceiling light above the couch also does
not work. This is inconvenient and
puzzling, but not entirely unexpected.
Sunday evening
about 11, the lights in our flat dimmed suddenly and stayed at a low glow for
quite a while. This was a new
experience. We have lost power
completely, but reduced power is something new.
We assumed it was
a neighborhood problem, but a quick trip out the door to investigate indicated
that the problem seems to be just in our flat and the one upstairs.
Later, the power
resumed full strength, but we had no
power on the north side of our flat.
We assumed the problem may be with the freezers in the store next door (-
we share circuits with them and that is not a good arrangement since we end up
paying a huge electric bill, but that is another story which I may tell at
another time).
If the circuit
next door burned up, the store manager will discover it and take steps to get
them repaired. By Monday afternoon, the
power will probably be back on. A fairly
reasonable assumption. So we went to
bed.
It is late Monday,
and the problem is unresolved. I am on
my own this week so I guess my Russian vocabulary will expand to include some
new technical terms.
In the meantime I
have a lamp perched by the couch so I can my language skills will get a real
workout.
Green Guy is Suffering…
While the
refrigerator and the power situation create some challenges, I am more
concerned with one of my parakeets.
Greenie (Zelyoney), the girl, has been ill for the past couple days.
The onset of her
symptoms was rapid. We returned from a
shopping trip to find here looking haggard, left eye sunken and dim. She seemed barely able to remain on the
perch. She had a variety of unpleasant
symptoms, including a disturbing, erratic head jerking motion. It was clear she was very uncomfortable.
She has improved
significantly so the worst is over, but it has been stressful for us both as we
waited it out.
I am grateful for
Christian Science
·
Sunday, 9 July 2006 – Neptune Festival
Peeing in the yard
This evening the
sound of little girls giggling wafted through our courtyard window as a bevy of
tiny nymphs fluttered around the garden chasing after kittens and collecting
ripe, red, berries from the vines. There
were about a half dozen 4-6 year old girls dressed in their party finery. Just outside the door, our upstairs neighbor
was assembling an improvised table and spreading out a typical festive
Ukrainian meal.
I peaked out my
window and watched the girls at play.
Just a few weeks ago, a funeral unfolded in this very spot. The funeral just outside my window made me
uncomfortable - I felt like a voyeur looking out the window at those
activities, but this children’s party is another matter.
The girls wear
pink ruffles and there are ribbons and bows everywhere. The
large taffeta poufs restraining their hair make me laugh whenever I see
them (except when worn by anyone over the age of 10 – we have observed these
ridiculous poufs on adult women wearing military
uniforms…incongruous…unbelievable.) The
children wear strappy shoes and lacey socks.
They dash around the dusty courtyard totally oblivious people around
them. They are intent on chasing one
another or grabbing a kitten.
One little girl,
decided to answer the call of nature, pulled down here fancy panties and
squatted near the water faucet in the center of the courtyard. I waited to see if the adults would intervene.
The little girl,
became distracted from her “mission” and was soon running across the courtyard,
panties flapping around her calves. She
joined a cluster of little girls who were huddled around the kittens. The child bent over and the moon came out.
She continued to
play, totally unconcerned about her bare bottom and the panties now hobbling
her ankles.
Eventually, the
dusty little ragamuffins in their finery wore themselves out.
·
Saturday, 8 July 2006
·
Wednesday, 5 July 2006
·
Tuesday, 4 July 2006 – Independence Day!
·
Monday, 3 July 2006
(E-Mail Rant from me to a newsgroup of potential Peace Corps Volunteers who want to “change the world”…)
Cole, and all…
Well, I am off to
share my opinions, theories and experiences on the questions you posted.
In fact, I am
using this posting as part of my daily journaling – it provides a great chance
for me to explore some thoughts and maybe sharing this will prompt some good
discussion among the rest of this group!
Since I am not
known for being brief, I suggest you get a beverage and settle in for a read -
I hope you will find my thoughts interesting or stimulating. Yes, I could use a good editor…but I am
merely presenting my impromptu thoughts on this matter…
I have numbered
Cole’s questions and included them so the narrative is easier to follow…
OK, got your
coffee? Let’s go!
1. I'd like to hear your stories of how you
were able to make sustainable
changes/differences within your communities/countries.
I know some great
success stories that I could share here, but I have some thoughts about the
actual question. It begs me to address
another issue: what is the role of a Peace Corps Volunteer? Where does this idea come from: the idea that
we must make a sustainable change or difference in our community or country?
I look at this question in light of the Peace Corps
Mission: to promote world peace and friendship through the service of American
volunteers abroad. Here are the three
goals we need to keep in mind as we serve or assess our “success or failure”:
--- To help the people of interested
countries in meeting their need for trained men and women
--- To help promote a better understanding
of Americans on the part of the peoples served; and
--- To help promote a better understanding
of other peoples on the part of Americans.
Note: The focus
is not on the particular project an individual works on, but on understanding
people. The whole issue of making
changes (sustainable or otherwise) is secondary…more on this later…
2. What do you think most
prepared you for making long-lasting changes in the community?
Focusing on the three goals of the
Peace Corps kept (keeps) my focus on a larger view than what happens in the
immediate workplace. It is kind of a
relief to know we are here only to help and promote understanding. I gain a better perspective: anything we do
above and beyond that is “cake”!
So the focus is on people not change.
I can be quite a
Type-A person (MA in Org Mgt!), so learning to focus on people (building trust, taking time to relax with people,
celebrate, share and get acquainted) rather than processes (strategic planning, organizing, training, business, etc)
is a skill I strive to cultivate. The PC
goals help me gain perspective when I am frustrated by how slowly things move
or when people are not receptive to ideas.
Often people come
to Peace Corps with the idea that they will introduce a big change – the “save
the world” kind of thinking! (Ever heard
of “White Knight Syndrome” – You know
what I am talking about: when the hero
comes in and slays the dragon and then leaves the big, dead, bloody, rotting
carcass for the locals to deal with while he/she is off to slay yet another
dragon in another location!)
Do we need to
change the world? Or do we need to
observe and share and help one another?
Maybe even bring home some of what we see and learn abroad and share it
there!
Keeping my eye on
the mission helps me make better choices and keeps my attitude in check.
3. What lessons were learned
about making long-lasting change?
-- That most (all?) change takes time to
incubate; a lot of time; a long, long time – we only plant seeds here, as PCVs we rarely get the joy of
nurturing or harvesting.
-- That real changes are based on trust
& observation –
people are influenced by our actions & the way we live our personal &
professional lives more than they are on the ideas we present or projects we
implement. Are our values consistent
with how we live? Are we honest, warm,
kind, generous, loyal, sincere, caring, enthusiastic, consistent, creative,
available…etc.
-- That changes come from the local people
& their choices & not ours – in the end, we are merely messengers.
-- That you cannot ever know how
profoundly you may have influenced someone’s choices – someone you meet will break the mold,
somehow, somewhere, someday and they may (or may not) remember you & may or
may not say a silent thank you for opening a window in their consciousness or
being a light at the end of a tunnel or even a pesky mosquito who made them get
up and move!.
-- That the biggest changes may be in me – how I choose to live and what I
value. I will never be the same as I was
before I had this experience.
4. For those RPCVs who don't feel they made a
sustainable difference/change: why not? What went wrong?
Hmmm, maybe
nothing went wrong! Maybe you are
looking at the wrong symptoms!
A PCVs main
responsibility is to work on the three goals.
The projects that you work on each day are simply vehicles - they are incidental to the three goals. So making a sustainable difference or change
is not part of the contract.
We do not always
measure the right things when we look at our impact. Our economic development project may turn out
to be a flop and that is too bad, but really what about those more significant
changes…the way people think and make choices and move forward?
Changes relate to
internalized attitudes and are expressed in behaviors. A PCV’s tangible project (in business,
agriculture, TEFL, whatever) is really only a vehicle which allows them to be
here and to participate in a community.
It provides an opportunity to drive a more fundamental change…a change
that involves motivating and coaching, inspiring and nurturing fellow humans to
try new things, to strive for a better life, to take risks. To look at their
situations. So the fish pond or the
coffee scheme fails to bring economic success to the village, you may still
have taught people that hope springs eternal and that you can move forward and
try again, that you can laugh about problems and that you can find alternate
ways to do do things, or any of dozens of other examples….
These changes are
in the individual and are far more long term than any co-op, business scheme or classroom
lesson. (NOTE: I sound dismissive about
the project, but I certainly would not advocate making poor choices or being
shortsighted when you do introduce projects which may impact the local
economy. I am a professional, but in the
context of this discussion, I want to emphasize what we should look at when we
consider our success and/or failure as a PCV)
(A true story: a
PCV I met finished his service feeling as if he had had little “real” impact on
his community, other than a great love for them. His actual project just did not take
off. He did foster great friendships and
relationships, enabled several students to go off to university, etc… When he returned to visit his old site many
years later, he saw that local people had adopted the technique he had used
when he moved there to build himself a personal outhouse…he had been appalled
at the sanitation issues back then, but this was not his “project”. Nonetheless, when he returned, he found the
village had hundreds of outhouses, and there were even signs on the local beach
encouraging people to use the outhouses rather than defecating or urinating on the
beach! So, the RPCV walked away from his
return visit smiling – an unexpected behavior change and certainly a
significant one!)
5. This is my greatest worry
for entering the Peace Corps. I don't want to devote two years to projects that
can't have a positive long-lasting effect on those left to operate them once
I've left.
Two years is such a short
time. Children barely learn to walk or
speak in two years. We give a small gift
when we volunteer to serve for only two years.
We will never see the children born during our tenure run or give
speeches, but they will learn the rudiments during our time of service. That is how it is with our impact on the
community. Who knows what people are
learning from us, about us in our short two years. Who knows what people will do with the knowledge’s
and skills, opinions and attitudes they adopt from you. Come back in 10-20 years!
As I said before,
you can only plant seeds and hope (have faith) they will be nurtured by someone
you leave behind. Of course you will spend your days on various projects that may make
you feel angry and frustrated at times, but remember, these projects in many
ways are only a means for you to get elbow-to-elbow with people; a way to earn
their trust; a way for them to come near you and learn some of the greater gifts
you can share with them: your joy in living, our sense of can-do, your
unflappable enthusiasm, your Yankee-ingenuity, your integrity and your
character and oh, so many other wonderful gifts we humans share with one
another.
The beauty of the
Peace Corps experience is that you have a tremendous opportunity to motivate
change, but of course, there is a sad part to this too. You will leave after only 27 short months and
you will probably not see the culmination of your dream.
Think of Johnny Appleseed (my hero!)…what a gift he gave, and the best part of
the gift (the shade, the apples, the honey, the treehouses, the heart carved
with “VJ loves MP”…) did not come until decades after he planted those
seeds… And, I imagine some people who
met him when he was trekking along planting those seeds, may have adapted some
of his life style and attitude traits…I am sure he made quite an impression on
the locals! He probably never thought of
those changes when he advocated and implemented his apple tree planting plans!
Cole, your two
years will likely find you more in tune with who you are, and what is important
to you. Your two years will not be a
waste. And as for your ‘”…biggest
worry…” I would say, put it to rest!
Thank you for an
opportunity to ramble on about some things that I feel very strongly
about. See Cole, you have already made
an impact…
Life is
good… 8-)
Ginn
From the Sunny
Shores of the Black Sea
ORIGINAL E-MAIL FOLLOWS:
___________________________________________________
--- In peacecorps2@yahoogroups.com,
"Cole" < wrote:
RPCVs--
I'd like to hear your stories of how
you were able to make sustainable
changes/differences
within your communities/countries.
What do you think most prepared you for
making long-lasting changes in the community?
What lessons were learned about making
long-lasting change?
For those RPCVs who don't feel they
made a sustainable difference/change: why not? What
went wrong?
This is my greatest worry for entering
the Peace Corps. I don't want to devote two years to
projects that can't have a positive
long-lasting effect on those left to operate them once I've
left.
Any feedback would be greatly
appreciated.
·
Saturday, 1 July 2006
An observation about language-learning
styles…
Language students
here in Ukraine, like language students in many parts of the world, are afraid
of making mistakes. This fear causes
them to freeze up. These are often
students who excel at reading and writing English. Yet their tongues seize-up if they must
speak.
I see this each
week at English Club where I encourage people to simply get across ideas,
follow the flow of the conversation and become familiar wth the way native
speakers talk. It is not about grammar,
it is about communication. This can be
challenging since several members of Englsih Club, are, in fact English
teachers. Their students sit quietly and
often, so do the teachers.
Everyone lives in
fear of making a mistake. Why? The language teachers I have observed or
worked with here this past 18 months, immediately correct the student who makes
an error, and I do mean immediately. The
correction is swift and humbling; it comes at once, mid-sentence, before the
soundwaves have stopped resonating.
And then of course
the student clams up. Who would risk such humiliation?
The errors people
made are often of no consequence.
It is hard to
imagine they will ever feel comfortable speaking English. Even in the absence of their teacher, an
imaginary axe man seems to lurk behind them, ready to cut off the offending
tongue that uses improper grammar.
The first word out
of a Ukrainian’s mouth when he or she attempts to speak English is invariably a
variation of, “I apologize for my English; I do not speak it well.”
Cat-Woman’s granddaughter knows some
English…
Cat-Woman’s granddaughter spends her summer
days here in our courtyard. She is about
nine, and absolutely perfect. This sweet
young girl is graceful, attractive, and mischievous. I have observed her from my window as she
plays and find her quite charming.
Of course, when
the spotlight falls on her, she looses much of her poise and confidence and
becomes a younger child in an instant. A
fairly typical nine-year-old girl in many ways.
Granddaughter was
off at the local store getting an ice cream bar, when Cat-Woman told me that
granddaughter has studied English for two years. She speaks to the cats in English it seems! “Goo-da moor-ning!” she says in that Russian
accented English that makes me smile. (I
am thinking of Boris and Natasha on the old Rocky and Bullwinkle Hour!)
When granddaughter
returns, I smile at her and say, “Good morning!”
Granddaughter
ducks her head, and concentrates on the ice cream bar. It is as if she does not hear me. Cat-Woman pushes the issue, but granddaughter
does not intend to practice her English skills on this native speaker.
We shall see what
happens as the summer unfolds…