Some more random observations from C— in Qazaqstan

The dreaded 1 September First Bell holiday has come and gone without any visible fashion crisis on my part (though I did feel somewhat under-dressed, even with my suit jacket and tie). The first day of school is serious business here, with a very big, very formal (in terms of dress code) celebration in the school parking lot, at which we were introduced to the school and expected to speak a few sentences about ourselves in Qazaq (name, age, hometown, occupation and an observation about Qazaqstan or С— village – mine was that Qazaqstan was quite hospitable 'Қазақстан өте қонақжай'). Even with all the formality, though, it was still boisterous despite all the careful choreography with the procession of the flag, the singing of the National Anthem 'Менің Қазақстаным' (which is a very catchy march, by the way) and various presentations from each of the classes.

It is very true, by the way, that Qazaqstan has so far proved an incredibly hospitable place. Beyond the normal insistence on the feeding past satiety of shai and food to whatever guests or friends a family might happen to entertain here, people take care of each other here in С—, and they always seem to know when something is going on. Neighbours will help each other out on a regular basis, as we saw last Friday when the neighbours came to help Jon's family friends prepare shashlik for us last Sunday. It reminded me strongly of Alexis de Tocqueville's observations about early American culture in Democracy in America (though there are obvious intellectual and cultural dangers in drawing such direct parallels between the two). So you can imagine my surprise when Emiko and Robert (our Peace Corps Volunteer TAs) mentioned to me that there was very little by way of civil society either in С— or in the rest of Qazaqstan, beyond an informal organisation or two of local matrons. There is this serious aspect of hospitality to the culture, which has not yet translated itself into higher-order political and social structures; possibly this is because the functions of civil society had been co-opted from the top down, first by Tsarist Russia and afterward by the Soviet Union. Now, with independence, perhaps that will be something that will begin growing organically (with some help perhaps from the Peace Corps OCAP volunteers – since that is what they are here to do). It will be interesting to come back in thirty or forty years to see what has become of Qazaqstan's civil society.

I noted to my parents that riding in a car here was an experience, since the driving style here is not quite what I'm used to. Hopping into a van with Sergei (Peace Corps HQ's driver) last week, I was a bit surprised. The driving customs here are what my parents might consider 'aggressive', but it isn't really aggressive because there is a definite rhyme and reason to it. On a four-lane road, the left lane is for going (within reason) as fast as you would like, and if the driver in front of you is moving too slowly, you are not expected to slow down to match his speed; he is expected to move into the right lane and allow you to pass. Because of my accident a month and a half ago, perhaps I am more sensitive than others about this. Also, it is worth note that the attitude toward seatbelts here is a little more cavalier. I got some strange looks when I first put on my seatbelt in Quanysh's van; Quat (my host cousin, about the same age as me, who is currently working in Almaty) told me that it was unusual for people not in the driver's seat to wear seatbelts. I said it was just habit, and that I didn't mean to convey distrust of the driver; he just laughed.

Unfortunately I haven't been able to get many good shots of them given the cloudy days recently (and because I'm too lazy to remember to bring my camera), but the Tianshan Mountains (or Алатау Alatau as they call them here) are always snow-covered and often peaked by clouds; on sunny days they can be breathtaking. They're (almost) always visible outside my host family's kitchen window. The air out here is amazingly clean and fresh; quite a different story from Almaty itself.

On the prices of things – we were instructed today not to get cheated at the dükens or the bazar, and always ask – in Qazaq or in Russian – the prices of anything we buy before we hand them over to the clerk. We were sent out by Nagima (our wonderful Qazaq teacher) to buy half a kilo of potatoes (картоп), half a kilo of onions (пияз) and a single spicy pepper (ащті бұрыш) to gauge the prices. The potatoes were 70╤ (45¢) / kg; the onions also 70╤ / kg, and the peppers were 50╤ (30¢) / kg – prices we would consider really cheap in the United States. Similar prices were for tomatoes (қызанақ, 60╤ / kg), honeydew (қауын, 60╤ / kg) and other peppers of various sorts (100╤ / kg for red peppers and 60╤ / kg for green peppers). Garlic (чеснок) was about 250╤ / kg, and watermelon (қарбыз) was an outrageous 30╤ / kg – though that's almost certainly a seasonal price. By comparison, my shirts in Есік cost about 1750╤ apiece (about $12 each). (When we get to the Green Bazaar in Almaty on Saturday, we'll compare prices. Somehow I doubt we'll get prices as good there.) Actually, we didn't do it right the first time – we didn't ask the prices before handing them over. Thankfully the clerk was honest – we asked later what the standard prices were, and we were not overcharged.

Dogs and cats are common here, both on the roads and in families' yards, but not as pets. Most cats seem to be well-fed strays; same with the dogs, though many families keep dogs as their home security systems. Also, most families in С— keep at least one cow for fresh milk (mostly used in сүтпен шай sütpen shai and in hot cereal, from what I've seen) and several chickens. My host family was surprised that my family back in the United States didn't keep any cows at home, despite my grandfather running a dairy farm in Vermont.

Sadly, I feel like I'm a bit behind in my Qazaq lessons. I've been taking the best notes I can, but I haven't been making flashcards or anything the way my fellow Qazaq students have. My Qazaq is still amazingly slow – it takes me awhile to process anything I hear and then formulate the appropriate response in the appropriate language (my brain keeps jumping from English to Chinese before finally retrieving the appropriate Qazaq). This leads to some frustration, to say the least. I'm still enthusiastic about the language, but it's a struggle to remind myself that I've been exposed to it (let alone learning it) for no more than two weeks, and I have to be patient.

UPDATE for 4 September:

The school culture will take getting used to. I observed four lessons С— мектепте this week: mathematics (in Qazaq), Russian language, Russian literature and Qazaq language. They were varied among themselves, but there were some interesting disparities between the Qazaqstani system and the American one. Since this is a village school, resources are limited; not all the students had their own books, and many of the chalkboards had been painted over multiple times. In this school, the students stay in one place, leaving the classroom only for breaks between classes – the teachers are the ones who move between classrooms. The method of teaching was, expectedly, still heavily grammar-translation: the teacher asks questions and individual students answer. Drills are taken from the book and occasionally done on the board. Only the Russian language teacher used any kind of visual aids (simple pictures) for her class, which was a third-grade class (really little kids). Still, the kids are mostly very well-behaved; all of them stand when a teacher enters the room until they are told to sit. Some talk during class, but most of them raise their hands and stand when answering questions. (I noticed that the younger children tended to be better-behaved that way more than the older students.) The teachers themselves are very effective at what they do – some of them present a sterner demeanour than others, but they all speak in very clear, very well-projected voices, and they all gave positive reinforcement to their students, who readily volunteered answers and demonstrated what they had learned.

Nagima told us some about of the cultural differences between Qazaqs and their neighbours today, also. She told us that because of their history and their lifestyle differences, Qazaqs and Uzbeks don't often see eye-to-eye. Qazaqs tend to be far more open and honest about whether or not they like you, as she put it, since they had lived longer in the nomadic lifestyle when if you had a dispute with your neighbour you could just pick up and move. Uzbeks, having been far more sedentary for a lot longer, developed an expectation of diplomacy even between people who didn't like each other, so relationships like that tend to be glossed over a lot more. Also, among Qazaqs, there are of course the tribal divisions into 'hundreds' жүз, but also there are further divisions into clans. Nagima explained that at one point a person's clan had been important, and there had been stringent rules among Qazaqs against incest within these clans – in that, the Qazaqs historically seem to have followed a very similar system to the Navajos of the American Southwest. However, Nagima felt that nowadays this was only a method for dividing people from each other (there she probably has a point). She explained that there is still a lingering prejudice against 'returning' Qazaqs who fled the Soviet Union and who have come back to Qazaqstan after independence, but that there are no such prejudices in Qazaqstan against other ethnic groups.

Tonight was also a different cultural first for me – I had beshbarmak (the national dish of Qazaqstan: horse-meat served with potatoes, onions and peppers on broad, flat boiled noodles) when I went over to Gülbarzhan's house to visit with my host brother's grandmother and two of his great-aunts (though the three elderly ladies were called simply Апалар – 'grandmothers'). It was a very well-stocked дастархан (long-table): bread of all kinds, various salads, қаймақ (qaimaq, Qazaq-style sour cream), jellies, cookies and apples – and that was before the main dish made an appearance! When the beshbarmak was brought out, one of the old ladies (Satai Agha's mother, I think) said a brief prayer. (Usually the prayer is said after the meal – this was the first time I'd seen one happen during the middle of a meal, but perhaps having beshbarmak was a special occasion.) At any rate, that meal stuffed me to the gills – it tasted delicious, though horse-meat is quite distinct in flavour from any other kind of meat I've had.

I'm currently posting these back blog entries from the PCHQ in Almaty, and I've only got one hour max of Internet time right now, so I've got to wrap up. Further updates as time permits. For now, сау болыңыздар!