Nuthin’ But A G Thang

The Turkmen government owns channels one through five. The channels rotate through Turkmen news, pictures of factories, dancers, and music videos (Any one who has spent a morning with me lounging knows I LOVE music videos but not these. They are boooooring). The “five channels” show the traditional culture of Turkmenistan. What is really interesting is the pop culture that is stirring beneath the surface. What is beneath the surface? Rap youth explosion. Youth rapping famous raps, rapping their own raps, and recording raps. Break dancers, tectonic dancers, melodist, producers. The work they produce is still raw impersonations of other people’s creations but it’s a beginning with the possibility of being something wonderful. 

            I didn’t realize that a rap culture existed here until recently. My friend Moral called up one afternoon and asked if I was busy on Friday. Being that I had no plans she invited me to come over and record a rap for Women’s day. I was thinking that we were going to be sitting around her living room raping into a phone or recorder. Boy was I wrong. As soon as I got to Moral’s apartment, Moral, Sofia, Niseba, and I hopped on a bus and drove across town. We got off the bus and headed into an old high rise apartment building 13 stories tall. I trust them so I was not really thinking as a followed them into the apartment of a Russian teenager. Inside he had a make shift recording station. Everyone had there own part of the rap to record which was “technoized”. We weren’t the only ones recording that day. Over the three hours we where at the “studio” people came in and out, all working on their own stuff.

            My second encounter with Turkmen rap was far more enjoyable because a) I didn’t have to rap and b) I didn’t have to rap. The same group of teens I meet at the Russian’s apartment had organized a showcase at the local cultural center. The group took turns raping and singing. The house was not packed, most of the time the performer was drowned out by the music, and random people walked randomly across stage but it was incredible. They had stage presence, charisma, and heart. You could tell that they really loved performing.  

            If you ever come to Turkmenistan you most likely will never encounter the experiences I have described here. It is not shown on the television or visible as you walk the streets but its here and for many Turkmen teens it is the only way accessible for them to express their individuality among the monotony of Turkmenistan. So to rap it all up…

Paka paka

Biz item bishirjek

Olar suji sababi

Sen biz soymally

One Day Three Stories

I had just gotten back from a week long conference in Ashgabat that left me exhausted but excited about work. As I settled in for a couple of hopefully productive hours of grant writing the room became flooded with doctors and nurses stopping in to say hi. In Turkmenistan work is a social environment. I might even dare to say that being social is more important than being productive. Since I had not seen any of my co-workers for over a week I was more than happy to tell them the “edited” version of my adventures in the capital. One of my favorite nurses, Natasha, made a note of inviting me to tea in her office. I should explain that Natasha does not speak Turkmen or English and I only speak Turkmen and English. When we get together there are always tons of laughs and even though I could not tell you what she is saying I get it. So after everyone cleared out I put away my books and headed down the hall towards her office. When I got there, there was no Natasha and no tea but there was a question for me. Jeren a nurse who shares Natasha’s office handed me a small tube of “lotion”. Her mother-in-law had given it to her and as far as she knew, it was under-the-eye cream. All the words were in English and from reading the logo I knew immediately that this tube was no beauty product. It said “Viagra: Long Lasting Gel” smack dap in the middle. How was I going to explain in Turkmen that the gel was not for under-the-eye but for under-the-pants? With a few words and some creative acting they soon realized what its real purpose was. Within an hour the whole health clinic was laughing over this little bottle of Viagra gel.

The background of my laptop is of me and Alex at a Mariners game just before I took off for the Peace Corps. I love this picture. It makes me happy to think back and to look forward. Between flipping back and forth between word documents one of the doctors who I work with, Maya, asked to see it and if I had any other pictures of my family. I quickly opened up a few pictures of my family and flipped through them, explaining who was who. Maya commented about how young my mom looked and how beautiful all the dresses were then she turned to me and said, “Stephanie in these pictures you have such beautiful clothes on. Why do you wear ugly clothes here?” If she was not 100% correct I might have taken a little offense to the comment. My clothes consist of a hodge-podge collection of free box finds and random pieces from home. This does not bother me one bit but in Turkmenistan what you look like is very important. People are quick to point out if you are skinny or fat, if you are tall or short, if you look better with your hair up or down. People who look good get things done because they are respected. So with a smirk on my face I took my self to the bazaar to get some dresses made. You don’t have to tell a girl twice to go shopping.

On most afternoons my health center is pretty slow. During this time I get the majority of my work done because my co-workers have usually exhausted all of their questions by lunch. I had had a fairly eventful day and still had a birthday party to attend later that night so I was taking a few minutes inside my head to reflect. (I have never thought so much in my life as I do here.) Maya turned to me and asked if I liked Mary. Usually I always answer yes and throw in a few complements about how the people are so friendly. This time I didn’t. I told her I liked the city but that many people are to busy to talk to me. This snowballed into one of the deepest conversations I have had with a Turkmen since coming to Turkmenistan. We talked about how America and Turkmenistan is different but how where ever you go you will always find rude people, nice people, and smart people. There are those you love and those you hate, people are just people.

What I learned this day…

1. If you apply Viagra gel under the eye, nothing bad will happen. In fact it had an uplifting effect for those who used it.
2. Even if you live in Turkmenistan dress to impress.
3. People are just people; we have more similarities than differences. The differences are just easier to see sometimes.

Home alone 5

In my opinion sometimes life is random and unexpected, and other times
it is completely intentional. I am still trying to figure out what
today was. It all started when my 12 year old host sister, Solun,
knocked on my door at 7:30 this morning to inform me that she was
leaving. Not fully awake I told her “Şutyda açar galya.” This roughly
translates to the key stays here. Apparently not one bit of this made
any sense because when I rolled out of bed and on to the carpet where
I eventually got to my knees and then my feet, I woke up to find that
Solun had taken the key with her. Let me clarify this a little before
moving on. My host family’s apartment has one key. This key is a
skeleton key. You need the key to lock and unlock the door. Solun took
the key because it was the only way to lock the door. In locking the
door she also locked me inside the house. At first this seemed like a
random mistake that could have easily happened as a result of good
intentions and being short on time. Then again today was also the day
that the President came to my city and the week before the police had
called my director needing a copy of my passport and home address. Oh
and there were the numerous comments by my host family that I was not
allowed to wait on the street and watch the President drive by.
Coincidental? I will let you decide. The funniest part of this whole
situation was that being locked in the house for 5 hours only slightly
changed my plans for the day. You might be asking yourself, “What
exactly are a Turkmenistan PCV’s plans for the day?” To shed more
light on my time in Turkmenistan I have provided my daily schedule by
the hours. Please note that half the week I work in the mornings. On
these days my day is flip flopped.

Key
* = things 80 year old ladies and I do for fun
çorek = traditional Turkmen holy bread
koynek = traditional Turkmen dress
work = drinking chi and reading health books

8am   Wake up
8:30am  Drink chi and eat çorek for breakfast*
9am   Watch music videos
10am   Exercise…endorphins make you happy!
11am  Change into my house koynek and read*
12pm  Make arts and crafts or sew*
1pm  Drink chi and eat lunch with my host mother
1:30pm  Dink more chi and listen to the latest gossip from the neighbors*
2pm  Work on a 1000 piece puzzle with my host sister*
3pm  Watch more music videos/Run errands
4-7pm  Work
7:30pm Drink chi and eat dinner
8pm  Knit mittens for my grandchildren*
9pm  Watch a movie and fall asleep during it*

Truth. This is my daily schedule but mixed into the week are meetings,
trips to the bazaar and post office, and sometimes toys. My life is
finally settling into normalcy. It’s like what Turkmen tell new
brides, “May you be like a stone and find your place.” Hopefully my
“place” does not included being locked into the house again.
Free at last,
Steph
P.S. I don’t knit mittens for my grandchildren every night at 8. I
only do that on Tuesdays.

Things I Learned in College

College life…sigh. Oh the fun and careless bliss of being a student. Looking back it is hard to remember the constant stress and worries associated with the midterm that I forgot to studied for or what major I was going to choose, and near the end what I was going to do after graduation. Life threw in some curve balls when it came to what I wanted to do and what I had to do in college, but when all was said and done, my college experiences have in many ways prepared me for life in Turkmenistan.

            Fall of my junior year I was busy at work checking off all the perquisite classes for my major. Anatomy and Physiology topped the list. My heart goes out to anyone who has every taken a college level A and P class, not because it was a horrible experience but because for 11 weeks you breath, eat, and sleep A and P. During this time there is no such thing as a social life that does not revolve around drunken discussions of how the body utilizes ATP. This class consisted of many hours spent in lecture, lab and study groups, which is equal to many hours spent sitting and listening for words to start making sense. Hey that’s what I do now! I sit, study, and listen. On good days things make sense and on bad days I look forward to when they will. Unfortunately this is not an 11 week class but all the same thank you Janice Lapanski for helping me to realize the endurance of my booty, mind, and social life.

            College was not all about work and studying. I learned a lot outside the classroom as well. I didn’t know it at the time but between rock concerts with my cousin and The Up and Up at Halloween, I gained all the knowledge I would ever need to successfully master the public transit system in Turkmenistan. Buses here are packed tighter than sardine cans and at times do not smell much better. I have found two strategies that work best when traveling on the bus. #1 Be like Jell-O. It works well to mold to your surroundings. Giving some leeway but not to much. While this is the more polite of the two strategies it is also most likely to fail because why you are being Jell-O everyone else is solid iron molds. Which brings me to #2 Be the mold. Hold your ground and force others to mold around you. At first this didn’t make much logical sense to me because if everyone where to work together I am sure we could all ride relatively comfortable. That was until I found myself as Jell-O, practically straddling the elderly women sitting down facing me while desperately wrapping my limbs around the closest pole so that I wouldn’t be propelled into her lap every time the bus jerked to a stop. No, not good in my book. I try to stick to being the mold nowadays. Being young and nimble I fair better than many of the dayzas (dayza: an older women who is highly respected due to her age and place within the family) who must do the same acrobatic act as I on the bus but with a body 50 years older. What they lack in youth they make up for in determination. This last week as I waited for my bus in front of the Bazaar there was a little old lady who was last to step on the #11 bus which was busting at the seems. All seemed to be fine until the driver proceeded to close the doors. The woman’s body was repeatedly crunched between the doors before another woman of equal age came and trusted the first woman into the bus by throwing her weight towards her booty. If you can imagine stuffing your suitcase to the point that you need both you and a helper to sit upon it and zip it up, that was the equivalent of this experience but with a bus and a human.    

            When first arriving to Ashgabat it is easy to forget that Turkmenistan is essentially a giant desert. Fountains are as numerous as Starbucks in Seattle. Despite the appearance of abundant water resources, conservation is a concern for the country. Nearly all homes and businesses have squat toilets, are assigned water days, and rely on stored water kept in plastic water bottles for when the water is randomly shut off. Many health clinics don’t even have reliable running water. Lucky for me in my senior year of college I lived with 5 girls…wonderful girls. With one water heater and 6 people you learn the need for speed. The faster you are the more hot water is left over or in my current situation the more water in general. Showering as one of my most loved hobbies (if you can call it a hobby, I just absolutely love being in water), I like to limit the time I spend in each individual shower and take more showers instead. So far no complaints with this arrangement, none I can understand at least.    

            These are not the only similarities I have found. The effects of Turkmen food on the G.I. track is similar to that of camp food, it is bound to give you a stomach ache four out of seven days a week. Shopping at the bazaar is like shopping at Christmas, only Christmas is every Sunday. And the most important similarity…Life goes on, so smile more.

From Turkmenistan with lots of sÖýgi,

Steph

Cultural Mishap of the Week

While watching Russian television I found out my hairspray, which I have been using for the last two months for toy’s and such, is actually deodorant. Great. 

The honeymoon is over and the ring is still on the finger.

I was told “You must sit and learn Turkmen.” Great! As if I hadn’t just spent the last 11 weeks in a chair learning Turkmen for hours everyday. Let me not be to pessimistic here. I am now at my permanent site so I have had a change of scenery for when I sit but…now I have no chair.

-Written in a moment of frustration

My awe at being in a country most people have no knowledge about yet alone have any intention of going to has slowly turned into countless questions of “Why” or as the Turkmen say “Name Ucin”. Very few of these questions are actually answered and if they are it usually includes the phrase “cultural differences”. I have develop a Charlie Brown syndrome, where when I hear this phrase it takes the form of “wha wha wha” and invokes the same emotions as “because I said so” did when I was 12. This is what I wanted though…right? To experience a culture from the inside out, to get passed the marble facade concocted to coax money from pocked to register. While I am not a tourist here, I am not a host country national and as long as that is true I will have to be content with “cultural differences”.  

            Let me not get too far ahead of myself. The angst that is currently my most dominant emotion was not always at the forefront. Turkmenistan and I went through the honeymoon phase for the first 11 weeks before being abruptly brought to what will be my reality for the next two years. These weeks were filled with cultural field trips, toys (parties), and countless hours studying Turkmen language (the last of these was more like the dark clouds that continually threaten to ruin a perfectly good day).

The Turkmen language in general is not difficult to learn. It has no irregularities or exceptions to the rules. Of course for me, someone with absolutely no natural talent for learning a second language, it is nothing but difficult. Lucky for me there is plenty of comical relief within the language. For example…

1. Biz dusdik (Biz dush-dick): We showered.
2. Bitc (Bitch): Cut the fabric.
3. Hor (Hoar): Thin
4. Yoredik (Your-a-dick): Let’s go.

Got to love this language.

While I was busy filling my head with Turkmen words I was busy filling my belly with traditional Turkmen nahar. If you were to recreate the food pyramid Turkmen style the base would be cookies and chi followed closely by corek: the top consisting of vegetables, meat, and fruit. In fact it is not so much a pyramid. With all this sugar and fat how is it possible to maintain a healthy weight? Two words…digestive perseverance. Everything that goes in must come out. Those who have traveled abroad already understand. For those who have not I am going to let your imagination fill in the blanks.

The people that I have met here have made this experience worth the wait. The host country nationals are warm and inviting. They have a hospitality that few people in America possess. Theses relationships are great but it is the relationships forming with the other volunteers that have sustained me thus far. There are 34 total Peace Corps Volunteers (PCV) in Turkmenistan, only about a third of what most countries have, and guess what? They all speak English! I have found that even the little time I spend with them refreshes my spirit and helps me to put my experiences into perspective. So while the honeymoon died weeks ago for Turkmenistan and I, its holding strong when it comes to my 34 new friends which you will hear tons more about very soon.  

From a land far far away,

Steph

P.S. To all my friends and family at home I miss you and am thankful for all the support and words of encouragement I have received. 

3 Tries

Some people are bad at good byes. They are the ones with uncontrollable tears, and the need to give pre, actual, and post hugs. As of today I am one of them.

Attempt #1: My family began to get their move on around 6 this morning when they took me and my 150 lbs of luggage to the airport to see me off to D.C.. After checking in my bags we had two hours to spare.

[Side Note: The Albuquerque Airport has only two terminals, A and B. It takes only 5ish minuets to walk briskly from one end to the other. If you ever find yourself flying out of Albuquerque, YOU DO NOT NEED TWO HOURS. One is plenty.]

So after eating breakfast we headed to security and inevitable what we thought were our final good byes. After lots of hugs, kisses, and a few jokes I headed for my gate. I didn’t make it 10 steps before tears began pouring down my face. I did the only thing that came natural. I went back to my Mum.

Attempt #2: Obviously I hadn’t said a proper good bye the first time. The solution, more hugs, and a few additional “I love you”s. This of course was followed by a giant group hug (if I would have been thinking strait it would have been a cinnamon roll hug!). “Okay that should do it…I can do this,” I repeated to myself with dry eyes and once again headed to my gate. This time I only made it 5 steps.

Attempt #3: What did I forget? A picture! and one more set of hugs.

It took me 3 tries to say good bye, to realize I am obsessed with hugs and that one picture really is worth more than a thousand words.

Love,

Steph

Funny Breakfast Quote: “You can’t try on bathing suits. It’s against public health policey!”