Subject: doing the banya

Sent: 5/14/19 6:31 PM

Dear Mom,

As the banya is one of the best things here in Kazakhstan, I thought that I would write a little something about it, so that people have a better understanding. Also, yesterday's banya, after a night of drinking and dancing, was the best and the worst all wrapped up into one, and just about killed me.

 Banyas, I think, are actually from Russia. The nearest thing we might have to it in the States in a steam sauna at the Holiday Inn. I have been in five or six banyas in Kazakhstan, and they all follow the same pattern of construction and use, so I will confine my observations to the one here in Kyzylorda belonging to the Aminov family, a Jewish family that has befriended Paul, Joan and me. They are planning on immigrating to Seattle this summer, and we have been teaching them English and preparing them for the transition to America.

 Sunday is the traditional banya day in Kazakhstan. For the majority of the population, this is the only day that they bathe. In the winter, this is not so bad because most people wear so many clothes that you cannot tell. However, get into a close and warm situation with the locals and watch out!

 People trickle in and out of the house all day - relatives, friends, co-workers, all people without their own banya. It is the luck of the draw as to how long you will wait until it opens up. This means that much of time is spent lounging around the living room, drinking tea, playing chess, watching TV. When your time comes, your gather up your shampoo, soap and other sundries. You grab a large five gallon tub from the stack and head outside, crossing the yard to the small banya building. 

Sometimes you banya alone, sometime with a group of the same sex, or if you are lucky, with a member of the opposite. Since this is a family channel, I will contain my remarks to bandying with the guys. This usually consists of Isak, Marat (doctor friend from hospital where Isak works as an X-ray technician), Ephrai (Isak's son), Paul, and me. Sometimes it is crowded, sometimes not. 

There is a changing room with cardboard on the floor to absorb the water when you come out. It turns into a cold, soggy mass after a day of winter banya. A quilt hangs over the entranceway, keeping out the cold breeze. Just to the right of the entrance is the small metal door of the stove, heating the water and room inside. A bench and coat rack are on the left. 

Quickly shedding your clothes, you duck through the low door and into the steamy, hot room. The single room is about 10X15 feet, and on your right is a large metal tank of water with the wood stove beneath it. Directly over the hottest part of the stove is a cylindrical hole, a foot in diameter, horizontal and perpendicular to the tank, containing large, smooth rocks. Next to the tank is a bath tub full of cold water to be used for cooling down the boiling water that comes out of the tank. Direcetly ahead is a chest high wooden platform/bench for lounging and beating. I will explain the beating later. On the left is a wooden bench for collapsing with your head between your knees when the heat becomes to much. 

Isak and Marat wear stocking caps in the banya. I am not sure - maybe to keep the boiling hot drops of water falling from the ceiling from hitting them in the head. Is the ceiling dirty? They do wash their hair at the end anyway. They also wear little plastic shower flip flops and can't believe that we don't. 

At the beginning, there is a lot of jostling and bumping, filling of tubs with cold and then hot water, scratching, spitting, nose clearing, etc. The last two are the locals forte, not Paul's or mine. Isak likes to get things cooking with lots of scoops of water flung into the aforementioned hole in the tank. The rocks in there are very hot as well as the metal of the sides, and all this vaporizes the water,sending out clouds of steam. The steam billows up and rolls across the ceiling, a wave of heat that burns the tops of your ears and makes you duck. 

You jump up on to the platform, lying back and relaxing in the heat. Yet it is difficult to relax as tender parts of your anatomy are hit by boiling hot drops of water, falling from the ceiling. They have a bunch of leafy branches bound up into a broom/loofa kind of thing which is used in the beating. Isak commands you to lie on your stomach, and he stands on a bench next to the platform. He waves the branches over your back, directing the superheated steam down on to your back, making your toes curl and your forehead grind into the wood of the platform, trying to get away from the heat. Then, heedless of your cries of pain, he hits and scrapes you with the branches, removing dead skin (and flesh and bone, it feels). 

You then roll over and take the branches and lightly swat at your front and give the soles of your feet a couple of good hits. If you are a weak American like Paul and me, you quickly jump down and dump a basinof cold water over yourself and try to slow your thudding heart. Isak and Marat are an old banya team and have their own routine. Before the beating, they give each other a brutal back massage with honey. Then there is the old Indian rope burn technique on each other's arms to remove dead skin. The person's arm is placed on a shoulder and graspedwith both hands. The hands then tightly grip the bicep or forearm and twist, rubbing the skin. A similar technique is used on the back, with the fingers being used to vigorously rub the skin, removing dirt and the top layer. 

Paul and I just use a large loofa bought in the bazaar and give each other a serious back scrubbing with soap. Following that, you fill your tub and shampoo and wash everything, ending with a shave. By this point, you are so hot and water soaked that you don't really need shaving cream to remove the softened whiskers. 

As all this is going on, you talk. At the beginning, we spent a lot of time talking about America since we were interesting and they were going there. Now we just chat about life, women, school, and other details of life. Paul gets a lot of ribbing about his girlfriend. 

Again, as weak Americans, Paul and I usually leave first, gasping for breath and desperate for a drink of water. Overheated and streaming with sweat, we throw on minimal clothes and escape for the house, pinkand steaming like fresh cooked lobsters. Joan comes out red as a beet which just encourages the use of her 'tomato' nickname. 

When the locals come out, they are wrapped up from head to foot; I guess afraid of catching a chill. Now that the weather is nice, Paul and I dart out into the yard in just our shorts, trying to catch a coolingbreeze, much to the consternation of the locals. 

The traditional greeting to a freshly banyaed person is 's-lyoh-kum-pah-ruhm' which means 'with light steam' (as is 'with not heavy steam'). We have tried to figure what exactly it means as the locals seem to like their banya with the heaviest steam possible. 

And of course, after the banya, you must drink uncountable cups of hot tea with homemade fruit jam to sweeten it. Sometimes you get fed if you are lucky. 

I am really going to miss the banya. It has been one of the neatest things of Kazakhstan. Hopefully Isak is going to build one in Seattle. I also hope to convince Uncle Bob to use his carpentry skills to build one at the farm.

 With light steam,

 Rich