I Was Out There And You Found Me June 3, 2008

Dear T-17,

Salam and Hos(h) Geldin(g)iz. This has about a 40% chance of coming off normal and a 60% chance a bit creepy. I’m hoping for the former, but I’ve been here for 8 months. I’m socially awkward. Our country director said 10 of you have already accepted your invitations. Good on you!

It was at this time last year that I finally got my invitation; my breath was bating. When it came, I remember thinking “Turkmenistan, huh?” as my synapses struggled for any recollection, settling on post-Soviet, Central Asia, gas, and possibly bordering the Caspian. I was clearly not well informed. Then, I scrambled to find out all I could. I’m assuming that’s how you stumbled onto my blog. You probably want to know something personal, tangible, and meaningful about this place where you may be spending the next 27 months. All I can promise is honesty.

Food will be an adventure in “gastric calamities” and general confusion (wait…cow udders and goat heads are edible?!?!). Actually, Turkmen cuisine is pretty straightforward and some is even good. Special dishes include palow (rice, oil, meat, carrots, and onions), dograma (bits of bread in broth with onions sort of like stuffing), manty (steamed dumplings filled with meat, pumpkin, or spinach), gutap/somsa (fried or baked pies with the same manty fillings), and, of course, tamdor nan/corek (bread baked traditionally in an outdoor oven).

Food is seasonal for the most part. This means in the winter, there will be meat—in Turkmenistan meat means meat, chunks of fat, and bone—oil and whatever root vegetables can be scrounged up. There will also be jams and pickles. In the spring, summer, and fall there will be a cornucopia of delicious fruits and vegetables—cherries, apricots, melons, grapes, pomegranates, cucumbers, carrots, and tomatoes. Meals will be eaten communally on the floor with hands unless you live somewhere like Ashgabat or other Russified bastions. Peace Corps request that host families give volunteers their own plates and silverware. If you can handle it, I recommend dumping your plate into the communal bowl at the first meal. It’s a really easy step to integrating that can be done with no Turkmen words.

Hygiene can be a little bit spotty, so be prepared for some madcap dashes to outhouses. The Peace Corps Medical Kit comes equipped with plenty of pink pepto pills, and you will make use of them. And, as my parents told me, PVCs talk about 3 things: the foods they ate, the diseases they’ve had, and the number of times they’ve crapped their pants. It’s kind of true; it doesn’t take long to revert to the fecal stage of conversation.

Although this is not really a food, I thought I’d bring it up here anyway. Turkmenistan is ostensibly Muslim, but it did have 80 years as an atheist Soviet republic. Shots of vodka will make an appearance in your life, for better or worse, especially if you are boy. While vodka is a big deal, being drunk is frowned upon—great how that happens isn’t it? —So if you think you will be drinking with Turkmen socially, it might be a good idea to find out what your vodka limit is before you come. Although, you can usually say that you don’t drink; there are enough good Muslims that it won’t be too strange.

Turkmen people are hospitable almost to the point of rudeness. Strangers will ask you on the street, in taxis, and in the bazaars to come to their house to eat and drink tea. As a guest, you will be prized and fed like the fatted calf they are probably slaughtering in your honor. “Iy, Iy” (eat, eat) will become a constant refrain, and while it can rankle, it really comes from a place of incredible generosity and openness.

The Turkmen culture is a strange mix of soviet, Islamic, and Turkmen. As a people, they are still defining themselves in their own context, away from communism and the USSR. It is also fairly diverse. There are pockets of Uzbeks, Baluch, Russians, Azeris, and Iranians. Mary is my welyat and Nyyazow is my oba; it’s a pretty standard Teke Turkmen world. Gender relations particularly before marriage are sort of segregated. I do get some leeway for being American. Girls in the oba (village) don’t’ drink, smoke, or cut their hair. Weddings and marriages are the bedrocks. Be prepared to fend off marriage proposals (girls) and offers to arrange a marriage to a nice Turkmen girl (boys). Family is the cornerstone of Turkmen society. Everyone will be deeply curious about your family and proud of theirs. You will see endless photos of weddings, birthdays, schools, and New Years. I recommend that you put together a family album before you leave. Include extended family and special events in particular.

Work is different; the workplace is different; the work ethic is different. This can be frustrating, especially at the beginning when language is still rocky. A fifteen-minute presentation on hypertension maxes me out, and I’ve been here for 8 months. Also the pace of work is different and seasonal. Tea breaks and mysteriously vanishing for weddings, funerals, and guests is common. As a volunteer you will probably have to set your own schedule and define your own role. Your colleagues, unless you are really lucky, won’t know exactly what to do with you, or (equally bad) they will see you as the goose that lays golden eggs. But, once you hit your stride, its really indescribable.

As far as PCV life goes, it is fun like a barrel of monkeys. The friendships and support you will find within your group, within your training groups, and ultimately in your welyats are amazing. I see other volunteers once or twice a week. I am lucky in Mary because all the volunteers live less than one hour from Mary City. Other Welyats are a bit more scattered. I have gone camping in Merv, had a southern Barbeque with pork ribs, celebrated women’s day and Memorial Day, had a super bowl party, and hung out on tapjans. In July, there will be the All-Volunteer Conference, which is the first--and only time--all the volunteers will be in one place at one time.

So my advice to you, unsolicited and unwanted is to relax. The Lonely Planet guide to Central Asia that you are thumbing through won’t help that much; its outdated (you get a better exchange rate at the bank now). Buy some good slip on shoes. You will be toeing them on and off pretty frequently. Start writing letters and sending postcards so that people get used to this new method of communication. E-mail and phones are getting better, but it’s far from good. When you get the address, send it to people immediately and tell them to write even if you haven’t left yet. It is good to have mail waiting during training. Practice the language tapes that Peace Corps will send you. When you are starting from zero, being able to introduce yourself counts for a lot. Bring little gifts for host families. Key chains are nice, and don’t be conservative in your estimates of family size. Turkmen often live in extended families. (You should also bring enough for 2 families: training and host). Hang out with family and friends and gorge on American television. Take a vacation or do something to pamper yourself in the month before you leave. The first six months are hard, and you probably won’t go on vacation until June or July 2009. Burn favorite movies and television shows to take with you. Eat avocados because they’re not here.

If you have specific questions or concerns, I would be more than happy to answer them. I am online about once a week (Katheryne.kramer@gmail.com), so the reply won’t necessarily be speedy, but it will come.

BE EXCITED! I can’t wait to meet you.

KT

Pop It Like It’s Hot June 2, 2008

I have a point of contention with colloquial expressions in English. In particular, I don’t buy it when people say, “but at least it’s a dry heat” because at a certain point, probably the third straight week of temperatures above 105 F, it doesn’t seem to matter. Wet or dry, it is miserable, unbearable, and unfortunately enduring. It’s the beginning of June, and I’m being driven out of my mind. It’s a rather unfortunate state considering the worst is still to come.

My biggest annoyance at the moment is the difficulty sleeping. When it is this hot, I get restless. Although the nights are cooler than the days, there is a plethora of mosquitoes, and my window are unscreened. Every night I am forced to ask a lady and a tiger type question. Do I leave the windows open and wake up with vicious and itchy welts, or do I leave them closed and sweat? Sometimes, I leave them open and wear pants and a long sleeved shirt, but this defeats the purpose of the open windows. Condundrums…

I am thankful, though, that the Turkmen have a developed a sensible approach to the climate. Pretty much the entire village sleeps from about 12 until 3. Even at my clinic, everyone sort of stretches out on the patient beds and turns off the lights. Architecture is also geared for this. The high ceilings that drove me bonkers all winter are amazingly innovative now. Rooms are always cooler than the outside. Hopefully it will stay that way.