[Letter from Joan to her mother, letter 9, dated 8-21-97]
We have safely arrived in Kyzul Orda, with only minor difficulty. We
accidentally left one of our bags at the train station in Almaty,
which was some cause for worry since the majority of Richard's dress
shirts, his raincoat, fleece jacket, and a handful of teaching books
from the the Peace Corps were in it. Luckily, it was found and a
volunteer from K-O returning from Almaty in a few days will bring it
home with him.
We swore in last Friday as official volunteers - a rather
anti-climactic moment, if I do say myself. Training ended the day
before with not a bang but a whimper - we all just went home. We got
together that night for the last bash at Jim's, but we were all
pretty sedate. For most people, Friday was spent packing & trying to
get organized for the next day's trips. The ceremony was at 5 PM,
and I have to say again it was no particularly moving moment. The
best parts were when Vlodia was recognized for all his hard work this
summer, and R. and I cheered madly. And when the host families were
recognized we had to go out and give them certificates. Larissa was
there, much to our surprise & happiness as she had said earlier she
thought she would have to work. I ran up the aisle to where she sat
and gave her a huge hug, one that had been a long time in coming.
Then it was back to speeches by officials from our government and K's
- both equally full of nothing to say. They seem like nice people,
but they say little of merit. [Particularly our country director -
he's a nice guy, but clueless in terms of presentation of
information, public speaking, leading a seminar, working with large
groups of people, and in terms of speaking to the issue or topic at
hand.]
And then it was done. The Vice-Ambassador type guy, Jon Purnell, led
us in our oath and there we were, taking photos & getting kissed by
our language teachers. (I think I may still have some lipstick on my
cheeks.) We walked home one last time with Ben and Kelly, got our
last popsicles, & headed home. Larissa had bought a bottle of
champagne, a box of chocolates, sausage and cheese for us, plus a
beautiful stir-fry that she knew was our favorite. We toasted each
other's futures and successes, and thanked each other for the
friendship and fun. Ben came over and lingered with us over some tea
in the kitchen. We were meant to be heading off to a big party at the
school, but I think we wanted to sit and enjoy our time at home.
The party was good, and big, with loads of staff, current volunteers,
and us new kids. I met a guy from Madison who is actually not
stationed far from us, who has been here a year. So we reminisced
with him about varous spots at home that we missed, etc. We stayed
fairly late and walked Ben home as usual.
Then it was up early, bags on the sidewalk & off to school. It was so
hard to leave V. and L. - they really have become like family for us,
and we to them. V. may have to leave Kapchagai to find work in Almaty
now that the Peace Corps job is done. L. has still not been paid, and
part of me worries how long her job will continue. It feels sometimes
like this country's goal is to crush its own people mentally &
physically. V. got on all the buses, and there were tears in his
eyes. And I feel safe in saying that those tears were not only for us
and the other vounteers, but for the uncertianty of his future.
The goodbyes to all of our fellow volunteers were obviously painful
and sad. Tired as all of us were of each other, we have a bond and a
friendship unique from any other. And the chances of all us getting
together, or seeing each other more than three times over the next two
years, are slim at best. But there are always letters and telephones!
Our train ride here was pleasant enough, despite smelly bathrooms,
leering men, & the ever-present incessantly crying baby. Our
counterparts took good care of us & helped us become acquainted with
life on the train - bring your own cups, teapots, utensils, and food.
We spent some time talking with them, some time reading, writing, and
looking out the window.
After Almaty we watched how the mountains gradually sank away to
nothing, and how there were no rolling hills, only flat. The
vegatation is pale green to brown, with few trees, none of them tall.
It is different, but not without some saving grace. We saw camels -
four - loitering not far from the tracks, herds of grazing horses,
cows, sheep & goats; yurts, & men on horseback. When we could get out
of the train for air & to stretch our leegs, a mini-bazar sprang up of
more fruits, vegetables, breads, & assorted food productucts than you
could imagine. (you'll love this: people kept thinking I was German,
and kept trying out their Deutch on me!) And as we went along, we saw
fewer and fewer Russians and more Kazaks and Uzbecks. The women's
clothes became more colorful & patterned, and the language changed as
well. It also became steadily hotter, which made us very grateful for
the air-conditioned train.
We arrived at K-O around 3:15 PM, to be greeted by a large group of
people from my school and R.'s institute. They were all so kind and
helpful, & gave us such a warm welcome that we were greatly relieved.
Then it was off to our current home, even a truck to carry our
baggage. Our welcoming party was also in tow, and R., Paul & I
squashed into the back seat of a Lada & and were on our way.
Our apartment is on the fifth floor of an apartment building on the
far west side of town, with a view over the steppes to the Syr Daria
[a river, ed], and a very attractive former coal-smelting plant. It
has a huge balcony running the full length of the east end, with a
door from from the kitchen onto it, and window access from the living
room. We eat our watermelon here & spit the seeds out the the windows
to the kids below, hang our clothes, or read and write letters as I am
doing now. The bedrooms are not huge, but are fine. The doors to the
rooms also have large glass panels in them, which doesn't do much for
privacy. Both bedrooms face to the west, which means I haven't missed
a sunset yet. The living room is a huge rectangle with a couch, two
chairs, and a desk that R. and I share - all provided by the
institute. As well, the institute gave us dishes, but no silverware
or pots and pans for the kitchen. The kitchen is small, but pleasant.
We have plenty of water (cold only) & gas, which makes life easy.
And electricity is no problem, so far.
The only catch is that either Paul or the two of us will have to move
in the near future. We know we can't carry on like this for two
years. Hopefully, we will be still near each other, and hopefully, R.
and I will stay here. I like the neighborhood so far - the people
seem nice & they already know us in the bazaar. But we shall see.
My school is very old, but my fellow English teachers are all great.
They threw a small party for the three of us upon arrival with more
food than even you put on the table at holidays, Mom. Fried eggplant
with (----?) wrapped around green or red peppers or tomatoes.; b (or
k?)auersok - fried bread things, the national dish of the Kazaks;
salads; peppers stuffed w/meat & rice which I hate but dutifully ate;
cakes, cookies, fruit; tea; and soda. My mouth waters at the thought
of it all. And then, of course, toasts to us as a group,
individually, our institutions, and so on. Then we had to give
toasts, too, about Kazakstsan, etc. I managed to ramble on as they
like us to, and end with a few words in Kazak, to great aplause. Paul
had the "piece de resistance" by giving an entire toast in Kazak.
That pretty much brought the house down.
Monday we went to the institute to have a tour and meet the Rector. -
a very nice man, I might add. He asked each of us about our education
and work histories, & then gave us some information about the
institute. He has the kind of face that when he smiles his eyes
always don't. His office was huge, with a large desk at the far end
from the door , with a big portrait of President Nazerbayev behind it.
He also had a small television next to his desk that showed the
waiting room, which I thought interesting. The Rector presented the
three of us with watches commemorating the 20th anniversary of the
institute. Pretty neat-o, I think.
Tuesday we visited my school, got a tour, and I saw my classroom.
I'll be teaching 16 hours a week, forms 8 - 11. It all seems pretty
straightforward, and I'm very happy so far. My counterpart is very
nice, and really wants to help us out. I am slowly but surely
beginning to feel at home here.
We've visited the bazaars here, but always in the heat of the day, so
I have not much to report on those, except that they are big, and that
there are two - the old and the new bazaars. We've also been to
Hurricane Oil - the Canadian firm putting down roots & wells here - to
eat in their cafeteria & meet people.
K-O is a big city, but fairly easy to get around in. There are buses
(old & pretty decrepit but functional); microbuses that are a little
more expensive, faster, and quite reliable; and an official taxi
service. The people have so far been friendlier than expected, but
then we expected almost to be met with bayonets at the train, so of
course we are happy. The shops and bazaars seem good, albeit a bit
more expensive than Kapchagai. There are a few restaurants here, one
of which we know to be good.
It is also definitely flat, sandy, hot, dry, and poor here, too. We
sleep with the mosquito net over us because we have no screens, but I
would do that in Wisconsin if there were no screens. It is a
different kind of life here, and a different climate, but not bad. My
fears from before, at least as evidenced by this first week, were
unfounded. I do not know, of course, what caused such unhappiness on
the part of the Finns [previous PCV couple in K-O] - maybe we saw them
on a bad day.
Anyway, that will have to be all for now. I will write again soon.
Write when you can about home, the family, you, your work,
Claude/Cloudy, and so on. Karen has written and told some Fitz
stories that make me laugh, worry, and cry all at once. R. is coming
around now to the idea of landing first in Seattle to pick him up, and
then head home. Give my love to everyone - I promise to write them
soon. And ask Claudia about the photos - I'm sure she'll send them
along, but I just wanted to remind you.
All my love, Mom. Miss you, Joan
P.S. Tell Dad his letter was handed to me just before I got on the
train for K-O, so he was my first letter here, too. Also, we changed
time zones on the way, & are one hour behind Almaty & Kapchagai now
(for Wisconsin.)