It’s that time again. That time of the year in K-stan where students and teachers alike are freaking out. Yep. That’s right.

It’s Olympiad.

I think I made mention of this last year. Perhaps, it was the time when I wrote about the students getting help from the teachers when they were taking the test. It’s the same this year, with a small difference. This year, my school has the “Multi-media” Room. Loaded with technology and computers, it is an excellent resource for all kinds of things, up to and including Academic Dishonesty.

I must say, as lazy as I was in school, I still never cheated, and certainly not without the help of the teacher. When I came into the multimedia room yesterday, there were six students working on the test, and seven teachers helping them get the correct answer. I reckon it’s worth it.

What I mean by this is that the teachers never have to worry about being found out as frauds in the classroom. I have no doubt that they have the knowledge that they need to teach the lessons. I do doubt that they have the ability to teach what they know to the students, or at least to the level that they should be doing.

As a student here, life is smooth. You never worry about not doing your homework. You never worry about being late to class. You can bully other children without facing punishment. (There is an entry in that somewhere.) And you do not have to learn… if you don’t want to that is. Even my host mom commented on this. “Why should students study when the teachers will give the answers?” (There was a note of sarcasm, as my host sister was in the process of getting in “trouble” for not doing her homework for my class.)

As a school, life is the same. You know that in a pinch, everyone will cover from anyone. There are no worries about being discovered as less than competent. I say this in a broad manner even though I know there are teachers that don’t fit this description.

There Are good teachers here. There Are good students here. There are good schools here, somewhat good.

But they all have to fight through so much crap that good is merely mediocre. Some of my students would absolutely be gifted in the subjects they like, if they were merely given the opportunity to study in a place where smart students are accepted and given a chance. But most of them struggle with attention problems. How can a student concentrate in a class where other students are allowed to talk about whatever, whenever, interrupting teacher and students alike? Some of my teachers would be excellent teachers, if they were given access to resources, money for education. But most of them have to pay out of their own pittance to doing anything special for classes. My school could be a great school, if they had money to make it so. Instead, money goes to things like exterior, rotted doors from the 10^th Century that get replaced with an interior door that does a worse job of keeping out the cold (not to mention warping when it gets wet because it’s neither treated nor protected from the weather.

If this country is to ever be a developed country, it MUST change its attitude towards education. The system sucks. It will never improve until the PsTB realize that it must change and give a damn about changing it. So many students flee to other countries to get a quality college or university education, but they are hamstrung from the start. They don’t know how to study properly. In a new system, they must take the lowest classes because that’s all they may be able to handle, not for the lack of language abilities.

AHHH! It’s freakin’ frustrating to sit and watch the same people make the same mistakes after repeated correction. They just can’t change. Every volunteer has stories about one or another teacher who, upon receiving corrections (gently or rudely), says “Oh that’s an American variant. In British….” They all learn British English. But it’s not the difference between AM and BR English. IT IS WRONG!

Is this a rant? I think it is. I should stop ranting. There’s not much point in ranting. I’m sure any local that reads this could be offended. Such is life. If it’s offending, find a way to change the problem. Then people won’t be able to write such rants! AH!

I’m doing well. I really am. And, I’m coming home in some 40 days, maybe less. As of Saturday, my contract will be at the 30 day mark. I will also be buying tickets for home on Saturday.

Grippe (pronounced like slip with a g and a rolled ‘r’) is the translation of influenza. This year, it shut my school down for five days. It should have been more, or it should have shut earlier. As it turns out, the five days were the result of 163 students coming to school (out of about 700). The rest were home with fevers and whatnot.

I myself was not afflicted with the illness, although I have been fighting something else. I actually still am fighting it. Grrrr!

This brings me to the idea of personal hygiene. I am not, and will never be, known as a clean freak. Most of my time here has been spent smelling myself, which one has to deal with when one can only truly shower to cleanness once a week, IF one is lucky. This really only applies to those of us in the villages. City volunteers have more luck…and more opportunities.

At my school, many students use the outhouse, which is little more than a shed with a pit under it and a platform for standing over the pit. I use this ONLY in emergencies, which thankfully haven’t been a problem. During the summer, flies make their homes there. During the winter it is covered in ice of the yellow variety. I’m not sure of the exact thickness of the ice as I didn’t bother with measurements, but in some places I would guess about 6 inches or so. There is more than yellow ice to compete with.

Anyway, as there is no running water in my school, they don’t wash their hands, ever. If one adds to the lack of opportunity to wash hands the fact that all the men and boys shake hands with each other sixty times a day, it’s not hard to imagine how fast the flu would spread in the school. I had classes where there were one and two students. What’s the point in teaching them? Sometimes, it was the students who really don’t even care. They are there because what else would they be doing? Their friends are all at home sick.

This was two weeks ago. Students are back and classes are back in session after the quarantine. But the missing of classes is far from over. There are holidays, concerts, and Olympiads to deal with. Each holiday means a day off of school. Each concert means students will miss class to practice. And Olympiads? Read the next entry to get more details, but students get out of class to take the tests. There is no time set up outside of the school day or week. They just miss class.

Anyway, I’ll get another vacation on the 7^th – 9^th. It’s Victory Day, otherwise known as the end of the Great Patriotic War, a.k.a. World War 2. The rest of the month will involve many classes canceled for various reasons, which means, I have about another week of actual classes, maybe two weeks.

C’est la vie, mon amie. C’est la vie!

Today, for the second time in my PC career, I got to meet and eat with the American Ambassador for K-stan. He came yesterday to open the Am. Corners Library, which has become part of a secondary project for me. (That's the disappointing part.) This morning, I got to have breakfast with him. It's a shame he had to leave so early. He has family from Carlinville, or rather his wife does. Talk about a small world.

The disappoinment wasn't the opening, it was the fact that I wasn't able to be at it. There was a lapse in communication, and the short version is I was told it was canceled and in fact it was rescheduled a day later for the same day. But no one called to tell me until they realized that I wasn't there. Which made it too late to do anything about the opening and cost me about 2000 tenge for a taxi ride instead of what should have been 150 for a bus ride. I had to take a late taxi to make it to the city for the breakfast this morning. Because it was late and there was no one else, I paid for the whole taxi (1000) twice because they know they won't have anyone on the way back to the village that late at night. ACK!! Which can all mean American Corners of K-stan...hehehe.

Anyway the library is officailly opened and it has always been doing well.

Me too...well except for the always been doing well. I am merely doing ok at the moment. I caught a bug of some sort from the other volunteers while I was at the conference and I am still, even with the help of pretty potent drugs, not cxompletely over that.

I am coming down the wire though. Less than 40 days from now I will be in Ireland, Dublin, if anyone feels like joining me there. That is unless I call it off to see my brother who may be leaving to go back to Iraq as I am arriving from two years of being gone.

That's me in a nut shell. Sort of.

The circus came to my small village of Akzhaik. I must say it was quite a letdown, and not just for me who has seen a circus or two in America. My host sister, and I am sure many other children, were quite let down by the circus, or lack thereof. I admit that I wasn’t expecting a whole lot, considering where it is that I am. After all, I have been living here for two years. But, even then, I figured that it would be more than it was.

The troupe, if one can call it that, was supposed to be from Russia. There were all of six people in the troupe, maybe one more that never appeared on the stage. The pre-show was most of the circus folks on the stage edge selling little toys and knickknacks to the children. This, of course, I figured out as the show began and I saw some familiar faces coming out.

The first familiar face was the MC, who at beast could be considered a washed up, wanna-be performer. The costume that she was wearing was meant for someone younger and in better shape. It was also meant for someone to wear a few years ago. She began with a song, which I am pretty sure she sang, because it would be easy to lip-synch to music (and it’s rather common here) but no one would lip-sync a song sung so poorly and out of tune.

On top of the ill notes, coming from her mouth, were the speakers that were barely avoiding being shattered into a million pieces all over the audience. They were not meant to play music as loud as they were being forced to do. Most everybody in the first eight rows or so were either wincing from pain or covering their ears (me, in the third row) to avoid losing hearing. The music every time it was played was played at deafening levels, often covering the singers voice, and distorting it so horribly that it made it difficult to understand.

The first act was a Yogi (is that the right way to spell a person who does yoga?) He was decent, and I say this mostly because I am unable myself to do most of what he did. However, I don’t think it would take long to get to the level at which he performed. I wasn’t even impressed enough by his act to take a single picture. Maybe if I had a digital, I might have. He came back later as the “sword swallower” (or for him, small razor blades).

He was followed by a acrobatic act.  They were impressive, the three of them.

There's more but it'll be another issue of when the K-stan turns...

While I was travelling around Kazakhstan, I also visited three other places of interest.  The first place was Sauran.  Sauran is in the south of Kazakhstan.  Some stolen information...

Sauran was a mighty fortress and one of the most famous cities in the Syr-Darya region.   It is first mentioned in the 10th century.  Thanks to its structures and food and water supply, the fortress was able to withstand a siege for several months. The city was famous for its unique water supply system.   Life in thefortress continued until the middle of the 18th century.  (http://kazinfotour.tora.ru/ingl/kazak/town_ing/sauran_ing.htm)

http://www.archaeological.org/webinfo.php?page=10037&entrynumber=735

If I can ever get good internet and some time that doesn't cost, I'll post my pictures that I took while I was there.

The remains are impressive.  The area covered is huge and there are a lot of massive mud walls standing that are still standing despite years and years of weather.  It took about 45 minutes to walk around the outside of the wall remnents.  The ground was not level, as a result of rain washing the walls to nothingness in some places.  Although there is an archilogical project in process there, there is nothing to stop a person from going in, digging up whatever, and taking it away.  There is very little evidence that there is any kind of archeological work going on at all.  In some places, there are pieces of pottery laying on the surface.

The most impressive part of the former fortress is the lack of anything in about every direction.  There are train tracks are about a quarter of a mile away.  and some houses of a village are visible with some trees nearby.  All of this is new.  Aside from that, a person can see for miles in every direction, and see nothing but nothing.  It's hard to imagine what a life would have been like in the fortress, but it wold have had to have been better than life outside the fortress. 

While we were there, a steppe wind blew up and gusted around 20-25 mph.  Most of us came away with wind burn.  Like I said, there is nothing there, which means nothing slows down the wind.  There was a little sign of life; we found two small turtles.  Nearby, a herder had some horses that were grazing on what little plant life there was to be found there.  There were about 20 or so horses.  There was, in another place, another horse that was dead.  I assume that it was either 1) from sickness, or 2) there are no scavengers of any kind to clean up the remains of the horse.  It was lying there with no sign of having been moved after its death.  Enough of that though...

Stop two was the famous Mausoleum of Turkestan.  This is also an impressive structure.  It is completely a tourist trap now, complete with a fake Mickey Mouse, of all things, that you can have your picture taken with.  I didn't.  The structure was never finished completely.  The majority of it is covered in small tiles that make desgins all over the surface.  Some of the designs spell out words in Arabic.  The doors into the mausoleum are huge.  I guess they are about 30-35 feet tall, made of wood.  Considering there isn't a whole lot of forests to take the wood from, it's impressive.  There is also a reproduction of the fortress walls from Sauran.  The website that I have below has more information about the mausoleum, but here is some basics I took from it...

"The complex of Hodja Ahmed Yasavi consists of a huge, rectangular building with portals and domes. In ground plan it measures 46,5 x 65,5 meters. The thickness of the outside walls is 1,8-2 meters; and the walls of the central chamber are-3 meters thick. The building has an enormous portal and a number of domes. Around its central chamber are more than 35 rooms for various purposes."  http://www.advantour.com/kazakhstan/attractions/hodja-ahmed-yasavi-mausoleum.htm

The last stop of historical significance that I made was at the pertoglyphs of Taraz.  Although it isn't the main site for petroglyphs either in Kazakhstan or near Taraz, we were still able to find hundreds of petroglyphs in the rocks of the hills and mountains.  Many of them were in good shape.  Again, although it is a recognized historical place, there hasn't been evidence of maintenence or protection.  The place, I'm sure, would look like a trainyard after a tagging spee if people could buy or afford spray paint.  Instead, there are hundreds of new pertoglyphs, none of which will outlast the original.

There are more stories, but I'm finished for today.  Take care.

I saw a random act of kindness today, here in K-stan.  And for once, for the first time in recent memory, it didn't involve a foreigner.

I often take note of all the times that people go out of their way to do something nice for other people.  Here, it is easy.  it rarely occurs.  The most often thing that happens is a young person giving up his/her seat for an older person.  And, even then (most of the time) they make it seem like a chore and that they will hold a grudge because they must now stand.

At any rate, as I was walking down the street, a few apples rolled off of the "table" of a street vendor.  Table is being used very liberally here because it was not very table like in any aspect aside from holding things on a flat surface.

I don't know if the apples were bumped off by another person or if they fell off as the babushka was rearranging them.  A young girl, maybe 16 or 17, stopped to help pick the apples up off of the ground and give them to the babushka.  This rare occasion usually happens when a person is responsible for creating the situation.  Even then, some people walk off like they were not the person responsible.  The girl placed the apples on the table and made sure they didn't fall off again before walking on.

She actually had nothing to do with the incident and she helped anyway and she had to walk off without so much as a thank you. 

Entirely thankless...a random act of kindness.  Amazing.

Take care.

The recent rash of warmness has put me in better spirits to say the least.  I know the mud is coming.  It's not far.  During morning and night I walk to and from work crunching ice and kicking into the clods the cows leave as traces of their passing.  During the afternoon, I slop through water and the not-so-solid-anymore-because-the-sun-is-working-on-melting-it-making-it-less-than-desirable-to-walk-through evidence of the cows and the melted snow and ice which forms incredible swamp like areas everywhere that I must walk.

I'll take it.

It's a welcome relief to walk in the weather after taking out the liner of my jacket that added some 10 lbs to it.  And, during the afternoon I can even walk with my jacket unzipped without being stared at like some kind of maniac.

School is looking up or down.  I'm not sure which.  I have decided to become less of a nice guy with my classes.  I got tired of them showing up to class without hometasks, tired of them talking with each other and ignoring me.  One of the students decided to write "Mr Time we love you" next to my door on the wall using permanent marker.  It was there for several days without any changes until I landed hard on one of the older classes.  I yelled at them myself, and kept them after the bell rang until I finished my lesson...they were about 10 minutes late for the next lesson, which in turn got them yelled at by that teacher.  The next day when I came to school, one of them, I suspect, added "DO you love us?" to the note.  I want to respond with a note saying, "Do I have a good reason to love you?" but I figure that will only encourage them to add to the wall in writing.

Last Thursday I did a task with one class where I took a small story apart and they had to put it together.  Two sentences that they had to put together read "I don't want you to worry.  I want you to go to sleep."  The sentence they put together put me into a laughing fit.  They couldn't figure out why, not realizing that they hadn't translated it yet.  I told them to translate it.  The sentences they came up with read, ("I want you to go to sleep."  don't worry."  I want you.)  (For the task, I had put punctuation and quotations to help guide them to the correct order.  In parentheses I have written it the way it appeared to them.)  When they finally translated it, they also had a good laugh.

Anywho...on with the show...

Take care.

I missed my 2:00 bus into the city today.  Actually my fault, this time.

As is my tradition, I began walking.  I would rather walk and get tired than stand and be cold.  I figured if I began walking eventually a taxi would come along and pick me up.  The next village toward the city from mine is about 4 miles.  I began walking at 2:30.  I hit that village at 3:45.  I was walking with my bag on, which was heavy with some books that I am asking another volunteer to cart back the states for me when he goes for a wedding.  We live close.  They are heavy, American lit 1 and 2 for Roy Graham, not small books.  I also had some stuff for cooking as I am going to bake a cake for my own and the birthday of another volunteer this weekend.

The bag wasn't light.

When someone finally stopped and picked me up, I had walked from 2:30 to 4:15.  Figuring that I hit Abai at 3:45, I guess I had walked about another mile.5, for the total of about 5.5 miles in less than two hours, in the cold, with a heavy back pack and 5-10 mph headwind.

I was tired when the bus stopped.  And I am going to pay for this jaunt with a few blisters.  Yea!  I am actually glad to get blisters.  That means I actually have done something worth raising blisters besides burning myself on something hot, which I haven't done, yet.

I hope y'all are doing great.

Happy birthday to me.  I'm the big 25.  If you read the last entry, you will know at 13 you give gifts to other people. After that, every 12 years  the same tradition applys, which means 25.  So I'm going to be buying gifts for a few people rather than getting.  I think this is a good tradition.  Sometimes.

Take care.

There has been two other times when racism has been blantantly shown in my presence.  One as a result of me, the other, just happend in my presence.

Now that I think of it, well remember it.  I was at a store buying my host sister a necklace for her birthday. (She turned 13.  On one's 13th birthday the tradition is to give other people a gift, rather than vice-versa.  She gave me a kid's pendant necklace, the kind you get from the little machines out front of K-mart, Wal-Mart, etc.  So I decided to update her collection with a nicer one.) 

At any rate, I was at a store that specializes in traditional Kazakh costumes and jewelry.  As I got there, the shop woman was helping a grandmother try on a new jacket, so I waited patiently until she was finished.  Then I asked to see some of the necklaces I was looking at through the glass.  As I was looking, a Russian man came into the store and asked to buy a clasp for a necklace or something similar.  The lady didn't have what the man wanted and he left.  As a Russian, he didn't speak any Kazakh, which is far from uncommon here.  The majority of Russian's don't speak Kazakh and have little desire to learn. 

After the man left, the lady began speaking to me in Russian, assuming that I was Russian. When I spoke back to her in Kazakh, as I had to begin with, she was shocked.  She asked me the typical questions of where I was from, et. al.  When she finished asking questions, she turned her attention to the man who had left.  She began to talk about how Russian people don't learn Kazakh and here I was, an American, speaking Kazakh, and I wouldn't even be here for more than two years.  She then began, repeatedly, calling the Russian man, and Russian in general, a pig.  And making sure that I completely understood what she was saying. 

What she didn't realize is how completely I understoon what she was saying.  There was nothing about her tone or words that suggested much short of hatred and loathing for Russian people.

Situation two.  I am in the city as I write this.  I went to a dombra (the Kazakh national instrument) contest that a friend of mine was playing in.  The traditional style of a contest like this is similar to a rap off where two people face each other and try their best to make the other guy look bad, through words and the ability to play the dombra.  During one of the sessions, one student had said something about being Russian or speaking Russian.  The reply from the other student was somehting along the lines of your not a Kazakh.  You make mistakes when you speak, when you sing, when you play.  You are Russian at heart and you can never be Kazakh.

Anyway, enough about racism.

Peace and Love for fellow humans. Yea!

Take care.  Stay tuned for more after our commercial break. ;)