Monday, August 23, 2010

God = mosquito?

Subject: God = mosquito?

Hi gang!

Well, you are in luck: since I have reading ennui, I've taking to writing a lot more.  I'm not especially happy about the lack of interest I have with books now, but I'm hoping that if I take a few days off, my concentration will return.  In the meantime, I've been napping, tidying up my room, cooking a lot, and, of course, writing.  There are a number of stories I could send your way today, but I'll be going to Ashgabat at the end of this week, so I'm going to save a few for this coming weekend.

What's going on in Ashgabat?  Well, we have our COS (Close of Service) conference the first week of September.  I got permission to go a few days early to do some desperately needed graduate school research.  During this conference we will all find out our exact dates of departure.  I'll keep you posted.

I know it will be hard to say good-bye, but as November draws nearer and nearer, I find myself becoming more excited about coming home.  I look forward to seeing all of you and sharing my experiences with you.

Lots of love,

Jessica
 
1. God = mosquito?

My host-sister, Bagul, and I were alone at dinner a few weeks ago.  The mosquitoes were in rare form – biting through my dress and even nibbling on the areas where I'd applied bug spray..  I told her that we have a saying in English – nowhere is safe – and explained that it meant that we couldn't hide anywhere from the mosquitoes.  Not inside.   Not out.  There was no safe haven anywhere.  This description reminded her of a Muslim parable which she proceeded to tell me and which I'll try to reproduce as true to her recitation as I can (granted with my own literary stylings):

There once was a group of Muslim pilgrims who were studying to be Imams.  The pilgrims had reached the end of their schooling, but their teachers had one more task for them before they were sent to all corners of the Earth to share the knowledge they had gained with willing listeners.  Each pilgrim was given a chicken with which to prepare a meal for the next morning. There was, however, a catch.  The chickens had to be slaughtered in total secrecy – there could be no witnesses to the fowl death.  The pilgrims scattered about and began the neck wringing.  And all but one were able to safely abscond and kill their hens unseen.  The lone pilgrim searched and searched but eventually gave up, unable to find a proper hiding space. 

The next morning the pilgrims arrived to meet the teachers, steaming chicken dishes in tow.  One pilgrim was missing.  The others waited and waited, yet still the pilgrim without the hiding space didn't appear.  Finally, just as the others exhausted their list of conjectures as to his whereabouts, he arrived with his chicken, still very much alive, in his hands. 

"But where is your meal?" the teachers asked.

"I couldn't kill the chicken," he replied.  The others looked on, baffled.

"Why ever not?"

"Well," he explained, "I couldn't find a good place to hide."

"But the others managed to kill their chickens in secret.  Why couldn't you?"

The pilgrim, truly a wise man, explained thus: "Everywhere I went, even if there was no one was around me, God could still see me.  I was never able to hide from the eyes of God and so I could not kill the chicken."

The teachers rejoiced that their pupil had displayed such keen powers of discernment and the pilgrim lived to become a very wise and respected teacher himself.

Bagul finished telling me this parable and remarked that it reminded her of what I had said about the mosquitoes.  For, just as we can never hide from the mosquitoes, the pilgrim was unable to conceal himself from the eyes of God.

 

(Since then, the mosquitoes have not abated.  It seems not an evening goes by that I escape un-sucked.  Indeed, the only refuge I have found is hidden under my mosquito net, and even then there are occasions when one lucky sucker will sneak in and bite me during the night.  The worst is when they bite the bottoms of my feet or the palms of my hands.  On the plus side, I think I'm beginning to develop a resistance to the itch.  At least there's no malaria in Turkmenistan.)

 2. A day in the life

I know I've spoken vaguely about what I've been doing this summer – certainly I've complained of boredom – but just what is it that occupies my time?  Well, I am pleased to present to you the most enthralling reading of 2010:  A day in the life of Jessica Hoover, August 20, 2010.

I woke up at 5:25 to use the bathroom and decided that it was a good a time as any to go for a run (rather than go back to sleep for another hour or so).  Ran for 45 minutes, did some crunches, and around 7:00 took a shower.

After my shower I made scones for breakfast.  Scones were ready at 8:30 and I sat down to a quick breakfast before rushing off late to school.  I got to school at 9:05 but of course none of my kids had arrived yet.  They sauntered in a few minutes later..  I taught for about an hour and then went home.

At home I talked to my host sister and host mom – got some very interesting insider insight into village politics and the double-talk nature of several women I know – almost until lunchtime.  I reheated the eggplant curry I made for dinner the night before.  My youngest sister, recently returned from her summer in Ashgabat, scrambled some eggs and tomato, and we all sat down to lunch together.  We ate and talked until after 1:00 at which point I got sleepy and went to my room to take a nap.  I didn't sleep right away but sat and typed a bit first.  Eventually I lay down and slept for about 40 minutes.

I woke up at 3:00, went outside, came back inside, read a chapter in the book I'm currently reading, and decided to watch a movie.  Watched the movie, went to the kitchen and got a bunch of grapes to eat, and at 6:00 started doing arm exercises with resistance bands.  I did that for about an hour and at 7:00 pm I began to copy several recipes I have floating around on loose leaf paper into my recipe notebook. I didn't last long though, because I was getting hungry.

I wandered into my host-sister's room and asked what they were going to cook.  Hearing that my host-mom planned to make eggplant again, I decided to make my own dinner and set about preparing.  At 8:30 my host mom sent my younger host sister and I to Akbike's (the fortune teller) house where we sat until 9:30.  After we managed to escape her yarns, we walked home and had dinner.  I reheated the peach cobbler I made the day before and we sat eating cobbler drinking tea until about 10:30.  Then, the mosquitoes got to be too thirsty and we all dispersed to relax before going to bed. 

Approaching 11:00 my host-sisters were watching TV and I was back at the recipes.  At 11:15 I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth and crawled into bed at 11:30. 

Truth be told, it was a pretty busy day for me and I felt duly exhausted.

 

 



--
Greg
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Sunday, August 8, 2010

Hocus Pocus


Friends!

I'm back from vacation and ready for action!!!  Which consists of me lying in my room and reading all day.  I do lead a stimulating life.  So, here we go for today:

Zohre and I went to (fortune teller) Akbike's last week so she could tell us what the deal is with my host sister Bagul and her boyfriend Nuryagdy.  Everything was going well, as far as phone based relationships can at any rate, but all of a sudden he accused her of having a boyfriend in Kerki and told her that he "didn't need her."  Despite the fact that she is not attracted to him and has only been in this "telationship" for 5 months, she's been pretty upset about the whole business – lying around in the mornings with the curtains drawn, crying, not eating, typical break up behavior.  I tried to be supportive but after a few days the whole, "I don't feel like eating anything" got old, especially since Bagul has had health issues in the past due to the fact that she doesn't eat enough.  I started going for the tough love route, "I don't care if you're not hungry, you've got to eat!!", and my host mom started going to see Akbike a few times a week.  And because I never had anything better to do, I went with her.


Akbike gave us daily updates according to the salt: first Nuryagdy was coming home, then there was no road, so he was either delayed or already home, then he wasn't going to come home.  Each time Zohre was like, "okay, okay" and I kept thinking, but that's not what you (Akbike, "fortune teller") said before!  My confidence in her abilities began to wane.  She did, however, predict that I would find my keys.  Couldn't locate them when I got back from vacation – thank goodness I keep a spare under the carpet square outside of my door.  Anyway, she told us I'd find them the following day and what do you know, my friend called me from Ashgabat to inform me that'd I'd left them in my box there.  Akbike predicted they'd be in my house.  When we told her the keys were located, she said she considered Peace Corps to be a sort of house.  I guess I can accept that.  I do sleep there on occasion.


Anyhow, during these salty sessions, I finally got the reading promised to me.  It was not, unfortunately, what I was expecting.  I had thought that this "reading" would mean Akbike would read what the salt said about me – what I would do in the next year, when I would find a boyfriend, you know, stuff she tells other people.  Well, there was confusion regarding this word, "read."  In Turkmen, the word for "to read" (as in books) is the same as the word for "to pray."  So what Akbike really did for me was pray.  Which, of course, was nice and well intentioned, but I still want to know what I'm going to do when I go home.


Of course, Akbike praying for me was unlike any prayer I've ever experienced, so it wasn't a total wash.  I sat in front of her on the floor.  She asked me to wish for something and that she would pray for it to come true.  I'm a pretty practical wisher; I don't ask for money or fame or whatever.  I usually stick with stuff that's more likely to come true, like happiness.  Hmm, maybe I shouldn't have told you – what if it doesn't come true now?  Just kidding.  I'm already happy!  Which, now that I think about it, makes me wonder if should have wished for something better. . .

Wish made, I concentrated on being happy and leading a fulfilling life while Akbike took a machete and with it tapped my head three times, my shoulders three times and then ran the knife from my shoulders to my hands three times.  Knife business finished, she blew air on my right hand (three times), my heart (three times), and my forehead (guess how many times?).  Then she spit on my right hand (I think it's a sort of warding off evil gesture).  She prayed and repeated the process a few more times (maybe three, I stopped counting).  After everything was finished, she told me she'd pray for me a few more times and if she did, I would be a government minister or some other equally important person.


We went the next day, but Akbike had gone to a wedding, so I haven't been able to ensure my future with back up prayers.  We need to go back soon though; we've eaten all the grapes that Akbike gave us.  Just kidding.  Well, okay, not really, the grapes are indeed gone, but I don't like going to her house only because she gives me fruit.  Although I do like that.  But no, no, I actually like Akbike.  She's interesting and talkative and I still have nothing better to do than go along with Zohre when she visits.  And also she gives me fruit.


Government minister – woo-hoo!!


Well, another woman – a relative of my host father – came over the other day to talk about guesting plans with my host mom.  It turns out that she, too, is a seer of sorts.  She can read cards.  My host mother, ever desirous to know what the future holds, whipped out a deck of Turkmen cards (different from our 52-card decks) and had her see what she could for my host brother in Turkey, my host sister, and myself.  She informed me that the cards show her what happened one week in the past and what will happen one week in the future.  This is what the cards said about us: My host brother was "thinking" about whether or not to come back to Turkmenistan.  My host sister was "thinking" about what to do about her boy troubles, and I was "thinking" about some boy I wanted to talk to.  She also told me that I would come into money this week (I got my salary on Monday) and that I was bored.


My host brother has been telling my host parents for at least the past 4 months that he'd come home soon and then always changes his mind and stays (or never really made up his mind in the first place).  That he is contemplating "to go home or not to go home" doesn't take a wild stretch of imagination to figure.  My host sister is obviously brooding over her troubles – what 22 year old wouldn't?  And me?  Well, I still have no idea what boy I wanted to talk to, but it doesn't matter because she said I wouldn't talk to him anyway.  She was right about the money situation, though, and about being bored.  But on the other hand, we're all bored.  We live in a village.  There's nothing to do but gossip and wedding crash.  I mean, come on.  Who isn't a little bit bored?  Bottom line, I was unimpressed. 



Love,

Jess



P.S. I've decided my official countdown will begin September 1.  We have a conference the first week of September during which we'll find out our leave dates.  Stay tuned!!!





--
Greg
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