Thursday, April 12, 2007

the journey past

***I actually got back from the trip last Monday so it's already a bit outdated***


The third quarter has ended which leaves my remaining time in Kazakhstan lingering at a little more than 2 months. It feels close. It feels good. I had a fulfilled thought the other day. Here is how it went; ½ a year ago as summer was moving into fall I was outside and noticed the chill setting in. I thought how this is the type of weather I’ll also feel when winter is moving into spring. Yesterday was that day. A sign of a new yet final season here in the K-country for myself.

In a week I’ll be taking a trip to Almaty to have a close of service conference with the other PCVs in my group. Once again I’ll be coming and going by train which is a patient 55 hour 1 way ride weaving through the barren steppe plains. It is an experience that draws you closer to the nature of time, where minutes contort themselves into hymns of eternity, and the hourglass slowly spills downward, and sometimes upward. At the final stop, you don’t get off the train, you emerge from the rabbit hole, clinging to the crowd, fighting the urge to go back, until your senses are hit with something that roots you into familiar reality. For me it’s usually a green tree. For others, cigarette smoke. And still others never escape the limbo.

I haul water from the pump down the street every other day. It’s the one household chore I consistently take part in. I was met with much resistance at first. My host mother, a 56 year old headstrong woman, insisted on doing it after coming home from her 8 hour workday. But I said,” Ms. Silk, it is to my shame if you carry that water while I sit in my room listening to your groans of pain.” So I took over the task. At first she was kind of sensitive about it,”You spill too much water! You think that waters free?!” -No, it ain’t free, but 3 pennies a bucket isn’t exactly sinking your ship now, is it? But now things are smooth and jolly between us.

Yesterday, 3/22 was a huge holiday that marks the old Kazakh new year. The event square in Chapaevo was alive with a concert, wrestling, a big climbing pole with prizes at the top, and a live camel. The climbing pole was actually a 25 foot long 1 foot diameter log stuck in the ground. There were no safety mats or nets, but the ground was kind of soft and muddy, so that’d probably help you out. After watching a lot of fellows attempt it and make it only about ½ way up, I decided it was time to show them how it was done. Poised and calm, I made my way up to the pole, removed my shoes and socks, rolled up my jeans to my knees, rolled back my shirt to my elbows, gave a glance at the gathered crowd, then hopped on. I got absolutely no grip and went nowhere. I tried throwing myself at it a few more times but it was to no avail. The glory I envisioned was drowned out by the laughter and scoffing of little children. But the humility was good for the soul.

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