I just passed a girl on the street who had a striped white and black shirt with a hot pink collar and the words written over her breasts, "NO TURNING BACK." I don't know how my eyes found their way looking at them (the words and breasts), but I find the breasts significant nevertheless.
There is no turning back for me. I will be on a plane in about seven hours heading first to Armenia, then London, then Chicago, then to a Geo.-Eliot-gone-wrong province of Northern California. I shaved my head this morning and bought a few Kyrgyz things at the bazaar that I will miss. I passed in all my paperwork to the bureaukrats, and I only owed the government $10.15 in the end. I thought, for whatever reason, that it would be more. I had my medical examination. I was deemed healthy, clean, and ready for reimmigration.
I talked to Ms Holly Pattenden on the telephone from her desk in London. Although she will be unable to visit me, she insists that I can still stay with her there when I am able and ready.
I have no sense of time. I have a flourescent, pulsating aether in my brain where only a few days ago I had a static resolve. Too many things have gone wrong/right to have brought me to this point. It's not a question of good or evil as much as letting life work itself out while I readjust and enjoy the things that I left behind when I came to Kyrgyzstan.
My time here ended before I thought it would. What continues is my inherent magnetism toward adventure, my curiosity in the world, and a naturally Epicurean propulsion. My strength is infinite, I have learned. I am not as insane as I once thought. I even might have something to say. I am convinced that I have something to do. To find out what happens, read the next blog which I will entitle in the air on the way back to America. I hereby retire this blog. Die young and stay pretty. -MJ
Monday, July 18, 2005
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Don't Worry About The Government
I see the clouds that move across the sky
I see the wind that moves the clouds away
It moves the clouds over by the building
I pick the building that I want to live in
I smell the pine trees and the peaches in the woods
I see the pinecones that fall by the highway
That's the highway that goes to the building
I pick the building that I want to live in
It's over there, it's over there
My building has every convenience
It's gonna make life easy for me
It's gonna be easy to get things done
I will relax alone with my loved ones
Loved ones, loved ones visit the building,
take the highway, park and come up and see me
I'll be working, working but if you come visit
I'll put down what I'm doing, my friends are important
Don't you worry 'bout me
I wouldn't worry about me
Don't you worry 'bout me
Don't you worry 'bout me
I see the states, across this big nation
I see the laws made in Washington, D.C.
I think of the ones I consider my favorites
I think of the people that are working for me
Some civil servants are just like my loved ones
They work so hard and they try to be strong
I'm a lucky guy to live in my building
They own the buildings to help them along
It's over there, it's over there
My building has every convenience
It's gonna make life easy for me
It's gonna be easy to get things done
I will relax along with my loved ones
Loved ones, loved ones visit the building
Take the highway, park and come up and see me
I'll be working, working but if you come visit
I'll put down what I'm doing, my friends are important
I wouldn't worry 'bout
I wouldn't worry about me
Don't you worry 'bout me
Don't you worry 'bout ME
I see the wind that moves the clouds away
It moves the clouds over by the building
I pick the building that I want to live in
I smell the pine trees and the peaches in the woods
I see the pinecones that fall by the highway
That's the highway that goes to the building
I pick the building that I want to live in
It's over there, it's over there
My building has every convenience
It's gonna make life easy for me
It's gonna be easy to get things done
I will relax alone with my loved ones
Loved ones, loved ones visit the building,
take the highway, park and come up and see me
I'll be working, working but if you come visit
I'll put down what I'm doing, my friends are important
Don't you worry 'bout me
I wouldn't worry about me
Don't you worry 'bout me
Don't you worry 'bout me
I see the states, across this big nation
I see the laws made in Washington, D.C.
I think of the ones I consider my favorites
I think of the people that are working for me
Some civil servants are just like my loved ones
They work so hard and they try to be strong
I'm a lucky guy to live in my building
They own the buildings to help them along
It's over there, it's over there
My building has every convenience
It's gonna make life easy for me
It's gonna be easy to get things done
I will relax along with my loved ones
Loved ones, loved ones visit the building
Take the highway, park and come up and see me
I'll be working, working but if you come visit
I'll put down what I'm doing, my friends are important
I wouldn't worry 'bout
I wouldn't worry about me
Don't you worry 'bout me
Don't you worry 'bout ME
Friday, July 15, 2005
Got a ticket for my destination
I resigned from my Peace Corps service today. This decision was motivated by personal as well as professional considerations. I will be back in California on Monday night late. If you are interested in contacting me there, call 916/723-3894. I will be extremely busy in the next two days preparing everything and saying my goodbyes. I will look at emails during the weekend but won't have much time to respond. I am sad but am eagerly looking forward to the next step. I will write more about the (thought) process and circumstances leading up to this sometime soon. My plan is to wait for my money in California for a month and recuperate. I will then move to New York, find and work a job, and prepare for law school applications. If you have any housing or work leads, feel free to contact me. Madonna used to work at Dunkin' Donuts. I am in Bishkek now and need to get back to my village. This decision in some ways is as shocking to you as it is to me. With love. -MJ
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Another method for contacting me
First of all, I would like to express how deeply saddened I was by the news of the bomb explosions in London. My heart goes out to the Londoners affected by this tragedy.
I wanted to give you all another way to get ahold of me. You can text me from the internet for free. I can't text you back, but it's a great way for you to get in touch with me quickly. Here's how you can do it:
1. Go to www.bitel.kg
2. Click on a button that says "SMS Gate"
3. Type 482663 into the smaller box
4. Type your message into the larger box
5. Click the button that says "ОТПРАВИТЬ"
6. You have just sent me a text.
It could be fun for you when you are drunk and near a computer. Random text messages at three in the morning always entertain me. Love. -MJ
I wanted to give you all another way to get ahold of me. You can text me from the internet for free. I can't text you back, but it's a great way for you to get in touch with me quickly. Here's how you can do it:
1. Go to www.bitel.kg
2. Click on a button that says "SMS Gate"
3. Type 482663 into the smaller box
4. Type your message into the larger box
5. Click the button that says "ОТПРАВИТЬ"
6. You have just sent me a text.
It could be fun for you when you are drunk and near a computer. Random text messages at three in the morning always entertain me. Love. -MJ
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
The CD player keeps causing my batteries to explode
Natasha returned to the camp two days after the ankle injury. She also made a friend. For some reason, our group kept attracting "uncommunicatives" (as Nicole characterized our girls). The uncommunicatives kept to themselves and avoided talking to the other girls. I was excited to see that Natasha had returned; the camp didn't feel the same without her.
My CD player keeps causing my batteries to explode. The inside battery compartment is coated with a thin layer of battery acid. I guess that one shouldn't expect much more from buying a knock-off CD player in a market in Bangkok. It worked for awhile. I think it might still work with the adaptor it came with when plugged into a wall.
Again, my director has screwed the pooch and given my monthly salary away to my previous host family. As you might remember, she gave it to my "cooperating" teacher last month. I only lived at the first house for two and a half months, and I am approaching five whole months at my new house. This decision is confusing on the director's part. My host family has decided to try to resolve the situation on their own, calling the school administration a "mafia." Yet again, I wonder how am I meant to work on a grant projecct with someone who can't even get $20 to the right place every month despite hours of conversation. I am beyond the point of thinking that this is just a cultural confusion/miscommunication. She's just manipulating her power. I told her that, if there were any more violations of the contracts, I would be leaving the school. I am not planning to leave the school. I am put in a difficult situation to follow through with my threat from before and still maintain some sembalance of credibility in the school's eyes. I have heard from other teachers that there is a coup d'etat being planned by the collektiv in response to the director's continual failure to perform her job professionally at the school.
I had an excellent birthday. I hung out on the lake. Then, some volunteers and I went to my host mother's sister's Uighur cafe and had dinner on the grass under a bending canopy of trees in the summer cool. The food was delicious. Everyone gave a toast. I recited some random lines of Greek and Latin that came to my mind at the time. They brought us out a boombox so that we could dance. Delightful.
For the Fourth, we put together a BBQ on the beach. Even though I cooked all day, I was so excited to host everyone in my village. My plans were to enjoy my birthday and keep it relaxed and bust ass to make everyone comfortable at my house for the Fourth. My host father was freaking out on the Fourth. He actually fired all of the workers, including the Tajik baker, Amiraka. He later rehired them. I couldn't figure out if he was pissed off at me or not, so I decided to avoid him and cook. Later Amiraka and the worker came down to the beach for dinner. We had a small fire on the beach and ate. It was a magical Fourth far away from home.
I feel like I have been running around a lot with the camp, my birthday and the Fourth, and now preparing for the upcoming UN seminar and working with the Center. I am meeting with the Bishkek Director of the Biosphere to talk about my idea for the public education seminars this afternoon. I'm starting to work with a Fulbright scholar who works on agriculture on the south shore of the lake to bounce my ideas off her and see what she thinks.
Right around the time of my birthday, I got some packages, letters, and calls which made me feel special. Now I have most of my former music library that I foolishly left at home when I came here last September.
I have been working for half of the day and relaxing on the beach in the sun for the other half. I need to get some rest in this summer after the long span of stress that extends as far back as I can remember. I have found that I sleep a lot better if I take in two or three hours of sun a day. I also get a tan. I can practice my Russian on the beach because the wealthy Kazakhs and Russians never think that I'm American perhaps on account of the revealing Lycra with which I cover my loins.
My patience with absurdly ignorant people with whom I have to interact here is waning. I find myself more likely to completely ignore people who shout at me, treat me like shit, or attempt to overcharge me. I held out for nine months of trying to be a nice guy. I feel harder (maybe meaner) than before. In some ways, the summer here couldn't be better, but now that the tourists are here I am treated like a tourist. It doesn't exactly have the home feel to it that it had before tourists came pouring in.
At home, we eat outside under a gazebo. Our kitchen has also moved outside. It feels more like something you would see in SE Asia. We eat on tushuks and eat off a short table. Our rose bushes erupt in the background and compliment our conversations over tea. I got some photos of the original Kegety clan that made me emotional. There was such a delay in getting the photos of Thanksgiving through the beginning of December developed. It reminded me of how positive and exciting things were when we were getting ready to go to site. The photos made me lament that most of the people with whom I trained are now gone. My mom sent me photos of my brother, who was Junior Prom king, in the crown and with a sceptre (maybe I'm making the sceptre part up). I got a great photo of me right after I had slaughtered the turkeys holding them up with my first host family. I really need to make it out there to see his new baby.
The elections are coming up on the 10th, Sunday. You should check out the news if you're interested in what's going on here. I am sure that there will be coverage. A Kyrgyz translator for elections observers will be staying at my house, which should be fascinating. I must move on to write some emails. All the best. -MJ
My CD player keeps causing my batteries to explode. The inside battery compartment is coated with a thin layer of battery acid. I guess that one shouldn't expect much more from buying a knock-off CD player in a market in Bangkok. It worked for awhile. I think it might still work with the adaptor it came with when plugged into a wall.
Again, my director has screwed the pooch and given my monthly salary away to my previous host family. As you might remember, she gave it to my "cooperating" teacher last month. I only lived at the first house for two and a half months, and I am approaching five whole months at my new house. This decision is confusing on the director's part. My host family has decided to try to resolve the situation on their own, calling the school administration a "mafia." Yet again, I wonder how am I meant to work on a grant projecct with someone who can't even get $20 to the right place every month despite hours of conversation. I am beyond the point of thinking that this is just a cultural confusion/miscommunication. She's just manipulating her power. I told her that, if there were any more violations of the contracts, I would be leaving the school. I am not planning to leave the school. I am put in a difficult situation to follow through with my threat from before and still maintain some sembalance of credibility in the school's eyes. I have heard from other teachers that there is a coup d'etat being planned by the collektiv in response to the director's continual failure to perform her job professionally at the school.
I had an excellent birthday. I hung out on the lake. Then, some volunteers and I went to my host mother's sister's Uighur cafe and had dinner on the grass under a bending canopy of trees in the summer cool. The food was delicious. Everyone gave a toast. I recited some random lines of Greek and Latin that came to my mind at the time. They brought us out a boombox so that we could dance. Delightful.
For the Fourth, we put together a BBQ on the beach. Even though I cooked all day, I was so excited to host everyone in my village. My plans were to enjoy my birthday and keep it relaxed and bust ass to make everyone comfortable at my house for the Fourth. My host father was freaking out on the Fourth. He actually fired all of the workers, including the Tajik baker, Amiraka. He later rehired them. I couldn't figure out if he was pissed off at me or not, so I decided to avoid him and cook. Later Amiraka and the worker came down to the beach for dinner. We had a small fire on the beach and ate. It was a magical Fourth far away from home.
I feel like I have been running around a lot with the camp, my birthday and the Fourth, and now preparing for the upcoming UN seminar and working with the Center. I am meeting with the Bishkek Director of the Biosphere to talk about my idea for the public education seminars this afternoon. I'm starting to work with a Fulbright scholar who works on agriculture on the south shore of the lake to bounce my ideas off her and see what she thinks.
Right around the time of my birthday, I got some packages, letters, and calls which made me feel special. Now I have most of my former music library that I foolishly left at home when I came here last September.
I have been working for half of the day and relaxing on the beach in the sun for the other half. I need to get some rest in this summer after the long span of stress that extends as far back as I can remember. I have found that I sleep a lot better if I take in two or three hours of sun a day. I also get a tan. I can practice my Russian on the beach because the wealthy Kazakhs and Russians never think that I'm American perhaps on account of the revealing Lycra with which I cover my loins.
My patience with absurdly ignorant people with whom I have to interact here is waning. I find myself more likely to completely ignore people who shout at me, treat me like shit, or attempt to overcharge me. I held out for nine months of trying to be a nice guy. I feel harder (maybe meaner) than before. In some ways, the summer here couldn't be better, but now that the tourists are here I am treated like a tourist. It doesn't exactly have the home feel to it that it had before tourists came pouring in.
At home, we eat outside under a gazebo. Our kitchen has also moved outside. It feels more like something you would see in SE Asia. We eat on tushuks and eat off a short table. Our rose bushes erupt in the background and compliment our conversations over tea. I got some photos of the original Kegety clan that made me emotional. There was such a delay in getting the photos of Thanksgiving through the beginning of December developed. It reminded me of how positive and exciting things were when we were getting ready to go to site. The photos made me lament that most of the people with whom I trained are now gone. My mom sent me photos of my brother, who was Junior Prom king, in the crown and with a sceptre (maybe I'm making the sceptre part up). I got a great photo of me right after I had slaughtered the turkeys holding them up with my first host family. I really need to make it out there to see his new baby.
The elections are coming up on the 10th, Sunday. You should check out the news if you're interested in what's going on here. I am sure that there will be coverage. A Kyrgyz translator for elections observers will be staying at my house, which should be fascinating. I must move on to write some emails. All the best. -MJ
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
In memoriam: Natasha
Today was the beginning of the Girls’ Development Camp in Karakol, on the side of the lake closer to China. This camp was organized by two of the volunteers with whom I trained (and now revere), Mahima and Amy. Their camp includes various discussions of topics that relate to being a woman in Kyrgyzstan and other activities like the arts, sport, and healthy cooking. I am working with a volunteer, Nicole, who has come all the way out from Talas, as a counselor; it takes nearly ten hours to get here with a quality marshrutka. I have rarely seen Nicole since training, and we had similar interests for using ecology in the classroom during training. Spending time with Nicole has been a nice opportunity to catch up.
We started the camp today with three of the alleged 11 girls with whom we were supposed to work. We also had a translator and her friend show up. The morning consisted of mostly getting to know each other and introducing the camp. We had a third girl show up, whom Amy found in the hall of the school where we are working this week. Her name is Natasha. Whereas the other two girls possess a remarkable command of English, are extroverted, and Kyrgyz, Natasha took pride in her “modesty” and consciously avoided making eye contact with me during the first few hours. Natasha was wearing a yellow t-shirt that features the two protagonists of the Brazilian import soap opera (that recently ended) but over which people continue to obsess, “Klon.” She seemed intimidated by the group from the start, but I tried to use some of my Russian to ease her social awkwardness to no avail.
We had a photo scavenger hunt. We walked around the city and tried to find unique ways to fulfill the objectives of the hunt. This lasted an hour. We took a couple of interesting shots, including one of Natasha making a forced, funny face and giving the yuppie pistol fingers to the camera. In another one, I was “Flashdance” kicking while holding one of my camper’s hands in order to represent Equality. I can’t attest to the artistic integrity of the photos, but I can to how much fun it was to walk around a Kyrgyz city with a digital camera and solicit strangers for weird favors.
After lunch, our group of three was assigned to play sports. Our group is the smallest. We even had more translators and counselors than campers, but we played mean kickball. That was until an unfortunate, though perhaps feigned, sports injury occurred. We were up on the other team by at least three points deep into the third inning. Natasha approached the plate with more resolve than I had noticed in her before. She seemed confident despite her platform heels, which she wore with red socks. I have never seen women in Kyrgyzstan without wearing socks with sandals and open shoes such as those Natasha was wearing. When her foot hit the ball, the left shoe shot up into the air at a height of at least seven meters. She waited for the shoe to return to the ground before, powered by adrenaline, she bolted for first. Having arrived at first, she indicated “modestly” that she had hurt her ankle. We quickly ushered her off the playing field. She was taken upstairs and examined before being put into a taxi and sent home for the day. There were, I must report, some doubts about the seriousness of the injury, but the injury was treated with all seriousness. Then we were two.
The rest of the day went as we had expected. We all made our way to the kitchen where two male volunteers, Andy and Nick, had taught some of the girls how to make salad and dessert. We all ate together and reflected on the day. We took a group photograph shortly after and made our way home.
Over the last couple of days, I have gone out with volunteers hiking. We went on a hike outside Karakol for about five hours on Saturday. Nicole remarked how similar Kyrgyzstan’s wilderness compares to Switzerland. Yesterday we went to Jeti Oguz. “Jeti Oguz” means seven bulls, which the red crags at one time must have resembled, a congruity long gone or best understood riding on a horse having drunk a bottle. After hiking in for about two hours, we made it to the Valley of the Flowers where yellow wildflowers were exploding from under the moist earth. We also saw a traditional Kyrgyz yurt with a Jeep parked in front of it. We spoke to the residences, and a few courageous volunteers with refined palates managed to imbibe “komyz,” fermented mare’s milk. We sat under the sun and ate a simple lunch. It was good.
Today I have a wicked, wicked sunburn. I foolishly forgot to wear sunscreen and exposed myself to the sun for most of the day. It feels really different seeing the volunteers for me this time. Being around fewer volunteers than during our recent training, I have had a better chance and more time to understand where people are coming from, their experiences, problems, and successes. I see parts of myself in the other volunteers. I am filled with a sense of comfort. Sometimes it becomes really clear that there aren’t many Lisa Frank unicorns and cupcakes in Kyrgyzstan. I notice a juxtaposition of a few good things in everyone’s lives against a trying, at times hostile, backdrop. Those few students, families, landscapes, conversations, and realizations continually feed our souls and keep us here.
For my upcoming birthday, we are going to have shashlik (kebab) on the beach for the Fourth and my birthday. My host family wants to spend this day with me. The Tajik baker wants to drink some wine and dance to European techno as we did on my little host sister’s birthday. We will probably swim and play games in our swimming suits while consuming, celebrating. I don’t really mind having my birthday abroad. Maybe when I come back, people will forget that I aged at all (not likely). In the last year, I had a potential long-term relationship disintegrate, wrote a 300-page thesis, took a degree, tried out some other not-so-long-term relationships, stopped using products, was evicted from a hippie community, stopped buying Diesel, lived through a revolution in a small, post-Soviet Central Asian republic, had scabies for three-quarters of the year, learned two new languages, and traveled around the world into the unknown to live for two years.
For the entire next year of my life, I will be living in Kyrgyzstan. Maybe last year was the year of transitions. I wish that I could call Ms Cleo to know what’s next. Love. -MJ
We started the camp today with three of the alleged 11 girls with whom we were supposed to work. We also had a translator and her friend show up. The morning consisted of mostly getting to know each other and introducing the camp. We had a third girl show up, whom Amy found in the hall of the school where we are working this week. Her name is Natasha. Whereas the other two girls possess a remarkable command of English, are extroverted, and Kyrgyz, Natasha took pride in her “modesty” and consciously avoided making eye contact with me during the first few hours. Natasha was wearing a yellow t-shirt that features the two protagonists of the Brazilian import soap opera (that recently ended) but over which people continue to obsess, “Klon.” She seemed intimidated by the group from the start, but I tried to use some of my Russian to ease her social awkwardness to no avail.
We had a photo scavenger hunt. We walked around the city and tried to find unique ways to fulfill the objectives of the hunt. This lasted an hour. We took a couple of interesting shots, including one of Natasha making a forced, funny face and giving the yuppie pistol fingers to the camera. In another one, I was “Flashdance” kicking while holding one of my camper’s hands in order to represent Equality. I can’t attest to the artistic integrity of the photos, but I can to how much fun it was to walk around a Kyrgyz city with a digital camera and solicit strangers for weird favors.
After lunch, our group of three was assigned to play sports. Our group is the smallest. We even had more translators and counselors than campers, but we played mean kickball. That was until an unfortunate, though perhaps feigned, sports injury occurred. We were up on the other team by at least three points deep into the third inning. Natasha approached the plate with more resolve than I had noticed in her before. She seemed confident despite her platform heels, which she wore with red socks. I have never seen women in Kyrgyzstan without wearing socks with sandals and open shoes such as those Natasha was wearing. When her foot hit the ball, the left shoe shot up into the air at a height of at least seven meters. She waited for the shoe to return to the ground before, powered by adrenaline, she bolted for first. Having arrived at first, she indicated “modestly” that she had hurt her ankle. We quickly ushered her off the playing field. She was taken upstairs and examined before being put into a taxi and sent home for the day. There were, I must report, some doubts about the seriousness of the injury, but the injury was treated with all seriousness. Then we were two.
The rest of the day went as we had expected. We all made our way to the kitchen where two male volunteers, Andy and Nick, had taught some of the girls how to make salad and dessert. We all ate together and reflected on the day. We took a group photograph shortly after and made our way home.
Over the last couple of days, I have gone out with volunteers hiking. We went on a hike outside Karakol for about five hours on Saturday. Nicole remarked how similar Kyrgyzstan’s wilderness compares to Switzerland. Yesterday we went to Jeti Oguz. “Jeti Oguz” means seven bulls, which the red crags at one time must have resembled, a congruity long gone or best understood riding on a horse having drunk a bottle. After hiking in for about two hours, we made it to the Valley of the Flowers where yellow wildflowers were exploding from under the moist earth. We also saw a traditional Kyrgyz yurt with a Jeep parked in front of it. We spoke to the residences, and a few courageous volunteers with refined palates managed to imbibe “komyz,” fermented mare’s milk. We sat under the sun and ate a simple lunch. It was good.
Today I have a wicked, wicked sunburn. I foolishly forgot to wear sunscreen and exposed myself to the sun for most of the day. It feels really different seeing the volunteers for me this time. Being around fewer volunteers than during our recent training, I have had a better chance and more time to understand where people are coming from, their experiences, problems, and successes. I see parts of myself in the other volunteers. I am filled with a sense of comfort. Sometimes it becomes really clear that there aren’t many Lisa Frank unicorns and cupcakes in Kyrgyzstan. I notice a juxtaposition of a few good things in everyone’s lives against a trying, at times hostile, backdrop. Those few students, families, landscapes, conversations, and realizations continually feed our souls and keep us here.
For my upcoming birthday, we are going to have shashlik (kebab) on the beach for the Fourth and my birthday. My host family wants to spend this day with me. The Tajik baker wants to drink some wine and dance to European techno as we did on my little host sister’s birthday. We will probably swim and play games in our swimming suits while consuming, celebrating. I don’t really mind having my birthday abroad. Maybe when I come back, people will forget that I aged at all (not likely). In the last year, I had a potential long-term relationship disintegrate, wrote a 300-page thesis, took a degree, tried out some other not-so-long-term relationships, stopped using products, was evicted from a hippie community, stopped buying Diesel, lived through a revolution in a small, post-Soviet Central Asian republic, had scabies for three-quarters of the year, learned two new languages, and traveled around the world into the unknown to live for two years.
For the entire next year of my life, I will be living in Kyrgyzstan. Maybe last year was the year of transitions. I wish that I could call Ms Cleo to know what’s next. Love. -MJ
Sunday, June 19, 2005
A Call to Arms
Friends, family, and readers:
I know that you are all extremely busy with the demands of the developed world. You all have many responsibilities to maintain your professional lives and everything it takes for you to live in your hectic, urban space. This is not patronizing as much as it is a preface. However, if any of you are interested in working with me on some small-scale projects, I would be more than open to your help. The following are simple projects that will have huge impacts for my community:
1. Reading Glasses Drive
This project would require you to place a box at the register at your local supermarket where people could place their used reading glasses. Many of my students as well as the general public here really need glasses, but they are unable to afford them. You can also place the receptacles in your church, temple, yoga studio, gym, &c. If you would like me to make a flyer that you could print out for the box, I would also be willing to work on this. I got this idea from a Peace Corps manual for community development. I could arrange to get money for postage to Kyrgyzstan once you get enough pairs together.
2. Oral History Project
The goal of this project is the preservation of a disappearing history by recording the life stories of the elderly member of my community. Many of the elderly have lived during a time before the Soviets, through the Soviet period and are now watching the transition toward democracy. The Kyrgyz take great pride in their history and culture. Often when you sit down with an elderly person, they will try to tell you their life story anyway so I might as well have a tape recorder. I want to work with my students to put the project together and donate it to our school’s “museum” or the Cholpon-Ata library. If anyone has background in oral history projects, please email me. I would probably just need some cassette tapes and to track down a tape player.
3. Postcard Scrapbook
I had mentioned this idea in a previous blog entry. You send me a postcard from where you live. Postcards generally feature fantastic photographs, which the kids really enjoy. I will put your postcard in a scrapbook so that the students can see where my friends live. It also works as a motivation for learning English to see places where people speak English. I will have my students write notes back to you, too. My students will feel more globally connected through your simple act of sending them a postcard. It’s significant but small.
4. Music Library
I will be writing a grant during this summer for a Technology Initiative for my school. I am hoping to get a television, one good computer for my classroom for work related to English, DVD player, some sound equipment, and a digital camera and, then, teach the teachers how to use these multimedia devices in their classrooms. I would love to develop a CD music library for the English classroom. I naturally am attracted to English-language music because I can use it in my class, but classical, opera, and world music should be included as well. I know that it doesn’t take that long to burn a couple of CDs and send them out (with a postcard, for example). Please include a playlist for the next volunteer who comes to my school or in case I do not recognize the music.
I am really busy with work now. I am helping with the United Nations Development Project on developing an ecological program. I will be away from my site from the end of July until sometime in the middle of August. I will work with UNDP volunteers and members of the community to show them techniques for living more ecologically aware and sustainable lifestyles. I will be showing them how to compost horse and/or cow manure in one of my lessons to enable them to use the fertilizer on nutrient-drained soil. I will be a camp counselor, starting next week for a week, with female youth at a Gender Development Camp for a week. In July, some of the volunteers who serve near me and I will be hosting a Healthy Lifestyles Camp twice each time for two days before I go to Bishkek for training for the UNDP project.
Outside of work, things are coming together as well. I have been in good health long enough to not be interrupted on concentrating on my work. In our garden, bouquets of vibrant red roses hang in clumps off the rose bush. The snow has melted off the mountains and brought green to the Central Asian steppe. We have started taking tea and our meals in an outdoor gazebo where we sit on Kyrgyz rugs for hours and converse in the dark, refreshing night. We have watermelon, strawberries, and cherries. My host father will take me to a waterfall tomorrow, and we will drink mare’s milk, komuz, in the mist of the waterfall. When my host father’s friend came from somewhere in the Middle East and saw the waterfall, he apparently fell into an ecstatic prayer session, quoting passages of the Koran impromptu. The sand on the beach is warm by eight in the morning and invites my pale, skinny being to lounge under the repressive strength of the Alpine sun. The water of Lake Issyk-Kul, though still slightly cold, is swimable. Some tourists from Europe, mostly Germany, have arrived. I’m excited for the summer and the upcoming projects and finally feel like my service has a direction. I have a clearer vision of where I am going with my work than before and the confidence and courage to make my mental image a reality. I feel strong and motivated.
I would like to remind everyone about my contact information:
Kyrgyzstan
Issyk-Kul Oblast
Issyk-Kul Rayon
722314 c. Kara-Oi
Sovietskaya 245
Michael Jacobs
Кыргызстан
Иссык-Кульская Обл.
Иссык-Кульский Рн.
722314 с. Кара-Ой
Советская 245
Майкл Джэйкобс
michaelljacobs@hotmail.com
tel. 996502482663 (cell) and 996394354068 (home)
If you are interested in helping me with those projects, I would really appreciate anything you would be able to do. With love. -MJ
I know that you are all extremely busy with the demands of the developed world. You all have many responsibilities to maintain your professional lives and everything it takes for you to live in your hectic, urban space. This is not patronizing as much as it is a preface. However, if any of you are interested in working with me on some small-scale projects, I would be more than open to your help. The following are simple projects that will have huge impacts for my community:
1. Reading Glasses Drive
This project would require you to place a box at the register at your local supermarket where people could place their used reading glasses. Many of my students as well as the general public here really need glasses, but they are unable to afford them. You can also place the receptacles in your church, temple, yoga studio, gym, &c. If you would like me to make a flyer that you could print out for the box, I would also be willing to work on this. I got this idea from a Peace Corps manual for community development. I could arrange to get money for postage to Kyrgyzstan once you get enough pairs together.
2. Oral History Project
The goal of this project is the preservation of a disappearing history by recording the life stories of the elderly member of my community. Many of the elderly have lived during a time before the Soviets, through the Soviet period and are now watching the transition toward democracy. The Kyrgyz take great pride in their history and culture. Often when you sit down with an elderly person, they will try to tell you their life story anyway so I might as well have a tape recorder. I want to work with my students to put the project together and donate it to our school’s “museum” or the Cholpon-Ata library. If anyone has background in oral history projects, please email me. I would probably just need some cassette tapes and to track down a tape player.
3. Postcard Scrapbook
I had mentioned this idea in a previous blog entry. You send me a postcard from where you live. Postcards generally feature fantastic photographs, which the kids really enjoy. I will put your postcard in a scrapbook so that the students can see where my friends live. It also works as a motivation for learning English to see places where people speak English. I will have my students write notes back to you, too. My students will feel more globally connected through your simple act of sending them a postcard. It’s significant but small.
4. Music Library
I will be writing a grant during this summer for a Technology Initiative for my school. I am hoping to get a television, one good computer for my classroom for work related to English, DVD player, some sound equipment, and a digital camera and, then, teach the teachers how to use these multimedia devices in their classrooms. I would love to develop a CD music library for the English classroom. I naturally am attracted to English-language music because I can use it in my class, but classical, opera, and world music should be included as well. I know that it doesn’t take that long to burn a couple of CDs and send them out (with a postcard, for example). Please include a playlist for the next volunteer who comes to my school or in case I do not recognize the music.
I am really busy with work now. I am helping with the United Nations Development Project on developing an ecological program. I will be away from my site from the end of July until sometime in the middle of August. I will work with UNDP volunteers and members of the community to show them techniques for living more ecologically aware and sustainable lifestyles. I will be showing them how to compost horse and/or cow manure in one of my lessons to enable them to use the fertilizer on nutrient-drained soil. I will be a camp counselor, starting next week for a week, with female youth at a Gender Development Camp for a week. In July, some of the volunteers who serve near me and I will be hosting a Healthy Lifestyles Camp twice each time for two days before I go to Bishkek for training for the UNDP project.
Outside of work, things are coming together as well. I have been in good health long enough to not be interrupted on concentrating on my work. In our garden, bouquets of vibrant red roses hang in clumps off the rose bush. The snow has melted off the mountains and brought green to the Central Asian steppe. We have started taking tea and our meals in an outdoor gazebo where we sit on Kyrgyz rugs for hours and converse in the dark, refreshing night. We have watermelon, strawberries, and cherries. My host father will take me to a waterfall tomorrow, and we will drink mare’s milk, komuz, in the mist of the waterfall. When my host father’s friend came from somewhere in the Middle East and saw the waterfall, he apparently fell into an ecstatic prayer session, quoting passages of the Koran impromptu. The sand on the beach is warm by eight in the morning and invites my pale, skinny being to lounge under the repressive strength of the Alpine sun. The water of Lake Issyk-Kul, though still slightly cold, is swimable. Some tourists from Europe, mostly Germany, have arrived. I’m excited for the summer and the upcoming projects and finally feel like my service has a direction. I have a clearer vision of where I am going with my work than before and the confidence and courage to make my mental image a reality. I feel strong and motivated.
I would like to remind everyone about my contact information:
Kyrgyzstan
Issyk-Kul Oblast
Issyk-Kul Rayon
722314 c. Kara-Oi
Sovietskaya 245
Michael Jacobs
Кыргызстан
Иссык-Кульская Обл.
Иссык-Кульский Рн.
722314 с. Кара-Ой
Советская 245
Майкл Джэйкобс
michaelljacobs@hotmail.com
tel. 996502482663 (cell) and 996394354068 (home)
If you are interested in helping me with those projects, I would really appreciate anything you would be able to do. With love. -MJ
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