You will all love this one, sorry about the length.
Last weekend was Thanksgiving, and being an American Holiday and not a Kazakh Holiday, most of us had to work. In and of itself, it wasn't all that bad. There were some twenty people that came in for our little feast. (Soon I will have pictures up displaying it…Maybe.) Before all of the feast happened, there was a little celebration to commemorate the ending of a big project that some of the NGO volunteers put together. It was nothing big, it was really just a bunch of people going out and having fun.
The real fun for me began after our arrival at the fourth bar / club that we went to, only to discover that they, like all of the other places, don't sell water without gas (regular water instead of mineral water). This has been a reoccurring theme in my PC service. You would think that I would just learn to drink that other crap.
Finding myself thirsty, not in the mood for mineral water, beer, or vodka, which appears to be the only drinks one can find in this country, I went for a walk into the gathering evening to find a bottle of water. Now, winter has started in this country, soon I will add an entry about that too, and it was a bit on the cold side for almost everyone, save me. So when I left the club / bar, I left my with the coat check person, knowing that I had everything I needed for my little foray into the city…passport, kartoucka, and money. Little did I know the rules in Kazakhstan.
Almost every street in Uralsk has a store that stays open late into the night, and if you can't get into it, you can at least ask for what you want through a small window, they bring it to you, you pay, and go on your merry way. Every street save the one I was walking down. I walked a full city block without finding a single open store. Arriving at the corner of Euvrasia and Doestuck (pron, not word, the word means friendship), and still being in search of water, I decided that the next logical step to take would be to turn down Doestuck and continue my search for water. Someone else had a different plan.
As I was taking the corner, I heard a vehicle pull up behind me and give a little toot on the horn. Beings that I was the only soul for a few hundred feet, I figured it was for me, and it was. I turned around to discover that there was the Kazakhstan equivalent of a police cruiser and they wanted to "have a talk with me, would you please get in the car?" Being the kind and cooperating soul that I am, I gladly complied to their request. They were three police officers in a Lada Niva "Truck," the Kazakhstan equivalent of an SUV. The following conversation happened in Kazakh, and I will spare you the time and trouble of translating it.
Them: What are you doing?
Me: I am looking for a store.
T: Who are you?
M: My name is ********.
T: Who?
M: ***********.
T: Where are you from?
M: America, I live in the state of Illinois.
T: Are you cold?
M: No, I like cold weather.
T: Where are you coming from?
M: I am coming from Soho (the name of the club).
T: Why are you at Soho?
M: I am there with my friends.
T: Have you been drinking?
M: No, I do not drink.
Now, at this point, I will have to add a special detail about Kazakh culture. In this country it is legal to walk about the streets, at pretty much any age, drinking beer and or vodka from open and uncovered bottles, without any sort of fear of police interference, as long as you have identification.. This will come into play later. Now back to the conversation. (Note: there are no mistakes in their following sentences, as they have now switched to English, very poor English.)
T: Have you been drinking?
M: No. (I lay down my story that I had friends die from drunk and reckless driving and that I don't drink because of this. It is not entirely true, but it makes people leave me alone about the issue. And it works with them also.)
T: Where is you coat?
M: It is at Soho.
T: Where is your coat? It is cold.
M: It is at Soho. I am not cold.
T: Where is your coat?
M: Hmmm. I think it is at Soho, and I like the cold weather.
T: You should have a coat on. You will get sick.
M: Ok.
T: Who your father? (In English.)
M: Inner Dialogue: What does my father have to do with this? Response: His name is Michael.
T: Who is father? (Again, In English.)
M: My father is *********.
T: Who is father?
M: I don't understand why you are asking about my father.
T: (Realize they don't know what they are trying to ask in English and revert back to Kazakh) Where are you from?
M: I am from Illinois, in America.
T: You are American?
M: Yes.
T: Why are you in Kazakhstan?
M: I am teaching English at the Akzhaik Secondary school.
T: Where are you living?
M: Akzhaik.
T: Where are you staying?
M: (ID: Why do I have to repeat myself… I know they understand me, every time I say something they repeat it.) I am living in Akzhaik.
T: Where are you living in Uralsk?
M: I don't live in Uralsk. I live in Akzhaik.
T: Why are you in Uralsk?
M: I am with my friends.
T: Where are your friends?
M: They are at Soho.
T: Where are you going?
M: I am going to find a store that sells water without gas. I am thirsty.
T: Why do you need water?
M: I am thirsty.
T: Do they sell water at Soho?
M: Yes, water with gas. I need water without gas.
T: Do you have you documents?
M: Of course. Here they are.
T: (All of them examine my documents.) Ahh. You are from America. What is your name?
M: (ID Dear God are you serious?) My name is Tim.
T: Sim?
M: No, T, T, T, Tim. (No one can understand me when I say Tim.)
T: Ahh. You will come with us.
M: (ID: Do I have a choice?) Ok.
At this point they turn down Doestuck and start heading in the general direction of the police station. My reaction: Oh great. I am going to get arrested in Kazkahstan for not wearing a coat…Are you serious? But before going far, they turn onto another street. We travel about half a block and then turn in the general direction of the club. At first, I thought, "They are taking me to the club, waterless. Oh well." Then I realized that the street isn't a street.
It is an alley, and the stories of the police forcing people, especially foreigners, to pay bribes to be left alone, start running through my head. As I look ahead, there are no lights, no people, and no, well, no nothing. About half way into the jungle, the driver, the senior officer, pulls the Lada up, and shuts it off. "Oh God, I am dead. They are going to pull me out and beat me up for all the 300 tenge I have on me. (That is less than $3.) The driver then opens the door to have a conversation with a man who is stumbling, and not from the ice and mud, down the alley. This is an easy feat to manage sober in any place that isn't a main sidewalk in Uralsk, but this fellow was a little bit on the intoxicated side. The driver orders the other two to get out and they do.
The next thing I hear is the gentleman being placed ever so gently against the back of the Lada (sarcasm). He hit hard enough to shake the whole car. Then I am ordered out of the car. Ok, I am next. I get myself ready, walk around the back of the car, and…
What a hanger…
