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20 November 2009 Part Two

I know what you’re thinking. “Part Two? But Jess, you wrote four pages this morning! What more could you possibly have to say?”

I just got back from guesting and figured I should write about it because it was quite an event. I went with both of my host parents and most of the teaching staff was there too. I’ve gone guesting with my Apa and my teachers and with my Apa and Ata to family parties, but never my Apa, Ata, and my teachers. My teaching staff knows me pretty well. They don’t pressure me to drink, or sing, or take part in anything that I don’t want to do. My Ata knows that I don’t drink, but he made me sing! He told me it was a Kyrgyz ritual and told me that it’d be ooyat (shameful) if I didn’t sing. So, I sang the first thing that popped into my mind. Unfortunately, I spent the intervening hours between writing my first blog and going guesting watching Rent… and the first thing to pop into my head was the opening number, seasons of love. I butchered it and forgot most of the words, but it did sing. And now, my teaching staff will probably never ask me to sing for the next year and a half. Thank goodness! Now they believe me when I say that I can’t sing. haha We had the traditional besh barmak dish, as always, my Ata wanted me to try a bit of horse meat, and I respectfully declined. It is funny to me; my teaching staff knows me so well! When they pass around the kidneys, chunks of fat, and intestine, they don’t even offer it to me. One teacher will put a piece on my plate with the noodles (or rice) and the huge chunk of meat that I won’t eat, and then pass the bowl to the teacher on the other side of me. I think that they just know that I don’t want to touch it. And then, as everyone is packing up their leftovers, someone will inevitably hand mine to Apa. Again, I think they know that touching the greasy meat is not something that I want to do. Tonight we also had bozo, or rather they had bozo. I respectfully oostied, or tasted it. It tastes like someone poured vodka on bread, and then liquefied it. That is the best description I can give.

It is no wonder to me that illnesses spread so quickly here. All the communal food sharing, and glass sharing has got to be a catalyst for the spread of disease. Although if I stick to my college adage that alcohol is a disinfectant, that could explain why some of my teachers don’t get sick.

As we were eating the besh barmak, the teachers played a singing game. There are two teams. One team will sing a verse and the other team has to sing another verse of a song starting with the letter that the last team finished on. One team finished a song with the letter X which sounds like H and there are few songs that being with that letter, so my counterpart struck up a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday. It was cute.

As we all left, one of the male teachers, who I have gotten to be friendly with helped me down the stairs, as it so happens, he is the only male teacher who is not married. One of the other teachers said “I love you” and teased him. It sparked a conversation in which he said that he was going to “take” me, because the Kyrgyz translation of “get married” for men is simple “take a woman.” Well, woman and wife are the same word in Kyrgyz. And all the other teachers remarked on what a good idea this is. Sigh. Something similar has happened at every single toi (party) that I’ve been to in Kyrgyzstan, and I’m not expecting it to stop, which means I guess that I’m getting used to it.

Well I guess that just about sums it up. I’m debating whether I want to go to the city tomorrow, or wait until next Wednesday. I guess we’ll see how I feel in the morning, and when I wake up.

Miss you still
Love from Kyrgyzstan!
Jess