Business English

The computer room in the English Department of the Institute has not been functioning for some time.  Long before I came, students downloaded things onto these computers, infecting them with viruses.  Fortunately, I have made a connection with someone from the Poly-Technical Institute near-by.  With his help, I believe we have been able to erase the virus-infected computers, re-install and update this time with anti-virus software.  According to our training from PC, it is most important to IRP—identify the right people—and I think I did!  It is also good to have made this connection, since I believe with some years of experience in business as well as education, I will be able to offer some group classes to help technical students and business people hone skills to make them more successful in business dealings with the West.  A command of business English for example  is essential to be competitive.  Azerbaijan is a young country, having won its independence from the Soviet Union in the early 1990’s.  Prior to that, English instruction in schools was very uncommon, and instruction in Western business practices and methods was unheard of.  The younger generation seeks to learn now that which an older generation cannot from their own experiences pass on to them.  Indeed, even the Azerbaijani alphabet, which is now in use, has only been taught the past few decades.  This means that many parents and the grandparents of today’s children learned to read and write with a totally different (Cyrillic) alphabet.  And having been for so long a part of the Soviet Union, a communist country, learning English and independent business practices are not nearly as firmly established as in the West.  Where most European students become quite fluent in conversing in English, Azerbaijani students (and their teachers) do not have the luxury of traveling to English speaking countries to practice their skills.  Azerbaijan’s exposure to the West may have been limited in the past, but a change is about to become quite dramatic.  Baku will be the site of next year’s Eurovision Song Contest, one of the most popular and widely followed shows, and which was already quite a phenomena when Bill and I lived in Munich.  The little country celebrated winning last year’s competition in the streets of Baku, as though it had just won the World Cup.  The pride this has engendered will surely carry forth in the coming months, as Baku prepares, as the winning country, to now host the rest Europe for the 2012 Eurovision Song Contest.  But as excited as Baku is about the influx of Westerners, and the potential prospects this might mean to the Baku economy, regions outside of the capital have much to offer to, if only the right tools are available—good business English skills being one of them—to draw attention to what they can offer.  Hence, making a connection with the Poly-Technical Institute here and its students will hopefully be significant, if even in a small way, to contribute towards broadening the learning experiences of its students in ways that can help the economy of the country as a whole.

I have written before about the cultural differences and hopefully in a way that shows respect and understanding for those differences, as we, too, would like to be perceived in a positive light.  But some things are just too funny:

 

A store banner advertising a new detergent might have a tough time selling this product, and its good cleaning qualities, at home with a brand name like—“Barf!”  But at least they are not foolish enough to try to sell it in America, unlike an American company some years ago, whose marketing department made the faux pas of trying to sell its product in Japan, but had not bothered to research the fact that its brand name was a nasty word in Japanese.

In the photo I am wearing the typical professional teacher’s outfit—dark skirt, black tights—but I realize now, I could go for a fancier coat.  So I think I may bring this one home in July, when I come for Robby’s wedding, and swap it out for the beige leather coat I have, which is also much warmer.  Looking at those tights reminds me of another funny faux pas that I barely escaped.  I am so not used to wearing a skirt, let alone tights, and with the cold classrooms, I would be more comfortable in slacks—but a skirt it must be.  So one day last week, I decided to wear a pair of leggings/long underwear underneath the tights.  By the time I put on some more long-underwear, a sweater, a vest, and a scarf, I felt pretty well-dressed, left my room for the breakfast table, leaving my skirt behind on the bed!  To me it felt like I had so many clothes on, I didn’t notice.  Fortunately, before I left the house for the university, I spotted my skirt next to my book-bag.  Good thing!

Ever try consuming soup with a fork?  Soup in the winter-time is a staple meal, and delicious, too—broth with herbs, especially cilantro, chicken, onions, and potatoes, and more broth—but no spoon.  Why?  The potato and chicken are eaten with the fork, and the broth sopped up with copious amounts of white bread.  Since the mom in my host family makes her own wonderful bread, it’s actually easy, and tasty, to have a bowl of soup with a fork, but I must admit the first time I thought there had been a mistake—forks instead of spoons.  Tea (chai) is the drink of choice everywhere here, and always served to guests.  But if it is too hot…well, it is common to pour some from the cup (or glass, as it is often served—sometimes in special pear-shaped glasses to allow for the tea to stay hot at the bottom) into the saucer and then just slurp it out of the saucer.  In fact slurping and smacking of lips is common, too—it shows that one thinks the meal is tasty.  Tea is often drunk with a sugar cube in the mouth to suck on while drinking the tea.  This might result in dental problems though, since a lot of adults are missing a few teeth or have sometimes quite a mouthful of shiny gold teeth.  Love the glistening smiles.

I have been working long hours and come home tired.  The mom in my host family tells me that when I am gone all afternoon, she and the children miss me—especially 7 year old Ibrahim.  How sweet.  They make me feel so welcome, and I really enjoy these family connections.  Ibrahim has become my teacher of sorts.  I am rapidly losing some of my language skills, since I speak English now all day in my job.  So in the evenings I review my Azerbaijani language book by reading to him.  He’s a good help, and I think he feels quite proud to be able to help me with my reading and my pronunciation.  I call him my teacher and he smiles broadly.

The Same, and yet Different....

The Same, and yet Different…

In some ways it seems like Christmas is around the corner—and in many ways, not.  In this predominately Muslim country, Christmas is not celebrated, but in the local bazaar you might think otherwise.  Plastic ‘Christmas Trees’ are for sale, tree decorations and lights, as wells as Santa costumes—albeit a bit scrawnier than the American counterparts.  Even before Azerbaijan was one of the republics of the Soviet Union, this region of the world was always under great influence from Russia.  Hence, many winter-time customs are partially borrowed from Russian Christmas customs.  My host family has a lovely little tree in the corner of the living room that the children decorated with typical Christmas ornaments last Sunday—plastic stars, santas, bells, gingerbread houses, globes, and tree lights—but as they explained to me, it is their ‘New Year’s Tree.’  The ‘santa’ here is referred to here as Şaxta Baba (Shakhta or Schachta Baba) and he is accompanied by Qar Qız or ‘snow girl.’  On New Year’s they arrive from the North Pole to bring presents to children, which are placed beneath the tree.  Students in school know the songs of jingle bells and other Christmas songs, but the holiday which they are actually celebrating is New Year’s, as they do not celebrate anything on the 24^th or 25^th, just the 31^st of Dec. and 1^st of January.  At the university I have been asked to help the students organize a presentation of New Year’s customs—songs, skits, etc.—for the English Department holiday celebration on the 22^nd, just before the end of term.  I’m racking my brain a bit, since I’m thinking of all kinds of Christmas presentations, but not so many New Year’s customs—unless, of course, we all play Yatzee, Apples to Apples, and Catch Phrase, which is our family’s way of celebrating New Years, which I certainly will be missing this year; and if anyone scores a Yatzee—well, are you going to give me a call to brag about it, as that is also a family tradition??!! ---- However, thanks to Christina, I might have hit upon a good idea for the school celebration—we’ll see!

The electricity went out today in the university, we lost lights, printer usage and—internet!  Guess it was wishful thinking that it might be different here than in Masazir.  My host family mother from Masazir called me today; that was the first thing I told her—even here in Mingechavir, we lose the electricity, too!  Oh, well, I resorted to the old-fashioned way of researching materials—I used the books in the small shelf-library in my room.  We hope to write a grant to expand and make it a fully useful resource room, complete with many varying media and materials.

Mingəçevir is a very pleasant town.  The main street, as in almost all Azerbaijani towns, is of course called Heydər Əliyev prospekti and the main park is the Heydər Əliyev Parkı. (Heydər Əliyev—Heder Aliyev--died on Dec. 12th 2003 and is revered as the founding father of the country—the George Washington of Azerbaijan).  On the 12th, in commemoration of his day of death, there was a large ceremony in the middle of town; I accompanied masses of students and others to the large statue of him in his park, where we all in solemn fashion placed red carnations below his statue.  The town is laid out with very broad boulevards, wide streets and very large traffic circles encircling big fountains—like Paris, Rome, and other European cities, albeit here with relatively little vehicular traffic—very pleasant, since pedestrians can cross safely in any direction, there is so little traffic!  The sidewalks are wide and parallel the streets with several paths and park-like strips of green, park benches, and trees between the sidewalk paths.  There are even paths for cars to park on or bicylces to ride, though few people ride them, unlike in Europe.  The housing consists mainly of large apartment blocks which often face each other with strips of open space between them for play areas or other activities, not unlike the housing area in which Bill and I lived in Perlacher Forst in Munich in the ‘60’s and the ‘70’s.  Much of the town was after all German-built--built by the Soviets and German POW’s after WWII.  The town is laid out in a fashion that reminds me of many neighborhoods of German towns—particularly from some decades ago.  Walking the streets and admiring the design of the town, and its near-by hydro-electric plant (also built in part by German POW’s after the War), I cannot help but think of my classmate Roswitha from Johanna-Sebus-Schule in the early ‘60’s.  Her father was one of those German POW’s who was not allowed by the Soviets to return after the war, and indeed, the last the family heard of him, he was being forced to work on rebuilding projects in the republics of the Soviet Union. He never returned home, and by the early ‘60’s the family assumed he had died in captivity, but they never received any official word to confirm that.   I have sometimes a very strange and ironic feeling, that perhaps my classmate’s father was one of those who built this town in which I now live.

Somethings have not changed since the apartment blocks were built in the late 40’s.  Often the stairwells are not lit, because they were never wired for electric lights, concrete walls and steps are crumbling, and many of the side-walks are uneven with pot-holes, tree trunks, even pipes and rebar, poking through.  Some apartments have been modernized since they were first built, and others obviously not, with toilets that are flushed with a water bucket, hot water that is available only when one lights the gas heater and waits about an hour for the water tank above the tub to heat up.  But the lay-out of the town and many of its public places are charming and attractive.  And it is a very clean town—with small German-style garbage baskets dotting the public walk-ways down the boulevard park-strips. Indeed, as a town, it prides itself in being the cleanest and most pleasant town in Azerbaijan.  Every morning there are the sweeping ladies out with their twig-brooms, sweeping up leaves and any other debris.  The town is very well kept.  Near the university are several bazars and in the morning hours it is interesting to see the cars piled with their fresh fruits and vegatables to sell, sometimes right out of the trunks and back-seats of their cars; everything sold is in season somewhere in this country with nine climate zones, but particularly common now are the cabbages, which are the largest I have ever seen—larger than a basketball.  This is a very friendly and hospitable town.

The first day at the university, I met the director of the institute, who gave a me brochure advertising the university, complete with reference to the American Peace Corps supplied computer room, which was funded by a grant written by a former volunteer.  And the dean of the department of languages graciously welcomed me, too—in German—since that is the language he teaches.  I felt right at home!!  The students and teachers are very friendly, warm, and embrasing.  I feel welcomed and happy to be here.

Mary Branom, Peace Corps Volunteer

Azerbaycan Müəllimlər İnstitutunun

Another adventure:  after rising early, and saying fond farewells to my Masazir family, Christine and Rachel—my new sitemates--and I piled into the not-all-that-large taxi, filled to the gills (and more strapped on the roof) with all our stuff—clothes and supplies for the next two years, plus the now obligatory stacks of books and manuals, water-filters, mosquito nets (parts of Azerbaijan are in malaria areas), Brown Monsters (Peace Corps-issued sleeping bags)—and we headed off to Mingeçəvir, our permanent service site. It was a trick for the driver and my host father to re-arrange all the luggage, etc. in the trunk and on the roof of the car in the dark—thank goodness my family was able to supply some twine to get some of the bags strapped onto the car.  On the way, we soon hit solid fog along the desolate stretch of plains which makes up part of central Azerbaijan—reminded me of central California in the winter months.  This did not stop the drivers, though, from pulling out to pass the ubiquitous slow-moving trucks and farm vehicles.  The fog was freezing and chunks of ice froze to my duffel bag and sleeping bag, which were strapped onto the roof.  Fortunately our driver did not take too many chances passing in the fog like so many of the other drivers were doing, which might have resulted in hitting the on-coming traffic head-on; instead our driver passed on the right, on the dirt and gravel shoulder.  This still brought many close calls, like almost hitting some people waiting in the fog by the side of the road for a marshrutka, or almost sliding into the ditch when the shoulder abruptly ended, because in the fog it was not easy to judge.  These were just a few excitements—the big one came when the taxi broke down in the town of Ucar!  The driver pulled into the rest-stop auto-repair shop near the bus station.  While we waited in the bus station, the car was worked on and eventually fixed.  An hour later, we were back on the road, but the driver missed the first entrance into Mingeçəvir.  No worries, he stopped to ask three different people, admitted he’d never been to Ming before, but he finally found the right way to Rachel and Christine’s waiting host families, where their bags and belongings were transferred into their respective waiting cars.  A little later, we were in the center of town by the bazaar, where we picked up Karim, who escorted us to my new host family, a couple in their thirties with two children, Farida, a studious little nine-year-old girl, and Ibrahim, a charming 7-year-old boy.  They have a very large, beautiful home, with a large garden full of many fruit trees (and chickens); the lower level has the living room and what could be a small apartment—a large bedroom, a small kitchen (but the gas is not hooked up) and a multipurpose room.  The large bedroom is mine; it has two beds and a couch, but no dresser or closet, so I decided to use one of the beds as a ward-robe of sorts, and now my clothes are spread out over it.  Tomorrow I will see about getting a table to hold all my books and other things.  The home is very comfortable, AND it has central heating—my room is warm and cozy.  The family is darling and very hospitable—it’s going to be great here!

Still basking over the thrill of the official Swearing-In Ceremony, which took place Thursday at the Europa Hotel in Baku.  What an elegant event, with comments by the U.S. Ambassador, government officials from the Ministries of Education, Business, and Youth and Sport, and a wonderful speech in both English and Azerbaijani by my friend Leah, one of the 5 others from my language class. Finally we all rose, raised our right hands, and with the Ambassador leading us we swore to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States, and protect it from all enemies, both foreign and domestic.  The last time I took the same oath (decades ago), I was embarking on my teaching career at Munich American High School, but this time it was so emotionally moving for me, that I could have teared up.  What a proud moment to have come so far after many months of applying for, planning for, training for, and now, more than a year later, finally becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer—what an honor! 

Monday I start at the University.  Some students already called and messaged me several weeks ago, welcoming me and letting me know how happy they are that I am coming.  It’s a good feeling to be so welcomed, knowing that one’s efforts are so greatly appreciated.  It makes everything that it took to get this far seem so worth-while.  I know what it is like to work long and hard and have the efforts unappreciated, even rejected, despised and betrayed, so this endeavor is for me personally just that much more rewarding.  But like the Kiwanis principals of giving primacy to spiritual and human values above material values, so it is that the best part of this undertaking is that it is greater than anything I could personally accomplish—being in the Peace Corps contributes to the betterment of so many things, to help others in a technical manner, to build bridges of understanding between the citizens of our nation and other nations, to contribute truly as the name implies—to peace.  Hopefully, inshallah—God willing, I will do this noble cause some justice. 

As a final farewell, my home in Masazir once again lost its electricity and heat during the last couple of days I was there, as well as water, too—again, no shower.  My Masazir host family sure knows how to roll with the punches, though, and kiddingly told me that only in Masazir would I have these ‘troubles’:  since one of the largest hydro-electric dams in this part of the world is in Ming, I should need not worry about running out of either water or electricity, they told me.  Actually, much can be learned about the important, and not-so-important, things in life from my Masazir host family.  Naturally it is unpleasant for them, too, when these conveniences, which we in America take so much for granted, are lost; but my Masazir host family has a method for coping with each of them—they are ready with the candles and kerosene lamps, so we can keep on studying; there’s the wood for the little stove for some warmth; there are neighbors, from whom you can borrow a bucket of water; there’s always food that can be eaten without cooking; and there are games to be played and songs to be sung and traditional dances to be practiced in the little hall-way, while waiting for these amenities to return.  Some of my favorite memories now are how I learned to do without, and came to admire and have fun with the family for whom this is just another minor fact of life.  People who are resilient like this are models for resourcefulness, skill, practicality, and most of all for being examples of how families stick together, help each other, for the betterment of all.  For a farewell meal, the mom in my host family asked to borrow my hand-held can-opener, which is part of the supplies Peace Corps recommends you bring from America; this reminded me, that absolutely everything we eat here is fresh; not a single canned or packaged food is in her house.  The only canned things we eat are the canned fruits, vegetables, and pickles, which she herself preserves.  Even her noodles are always home-made.  No foods loaded with preservatives here!  If you don’t grow it yourself, or buy it in the bazaar (market) fresh from the farmer, it just doesn’t show up on the average Azerbaijani table.  Even the chickens, like our Thanksgiving turkey, are often bought live, then slaughtered, plucked and cooked—can’t get much fresher!

Homework By Candle-light

Even with power outages, loss of gas, water, electricity--the show must go on!  And it does!  Or in this case, at least, the homework doesn't stop!  Learning to be super resourceful is one of the advantages of being in the Peace Corps!  I'm learning a lot.

Laundry Day...with and without electricity

Laundry Day…with and without electricity 

Moving soon to my permanent site and assignment; new address to follow.  For now, preparing for the swearing-in ceremony, an official celebration of the end of the jam-packed training sessions and the beginning of the new job, new responsibilities, new friends, new experiences,  Yay!

After all the snow, power outages, and cold weather, I thought I’d take advantage of a bright day to do some laundry.  Since clothes must be hung outdoors to dry, paying attention to the weather is necessary—and you do the laundry when you get a good chance, weather-wise, lest you run out of clothes to wear during bad weather/more power outages.

The mom in my host family is the proud owner of an electric agitator.  It sits in the corner of our bathroom, which is a multipurpose room, about 8’ by 10’ with plain concrete walls, a small window about 10’ above the floor.  The floor is the only part of the room that is tiled—in a pretty, bright orange.  In one corner sits the toilet, another corner the stainless-steel sink, attached to the concrete wall is a shower hose, and in the middle of the room in the tile floor is the floor drain, which functions as the drain for the shower and the clothes washing.  On one wall is an instant gas hot water heater, which is only turned on when clothes are going to be washed, or someone is going to take a shower.  It also only works when the electricity is on, because the water flow into the house is dependent upon an outside auxiliary electric pump.  The small agitator for washing clothes is also electric.  The process is to plug it into a wall socket outside of the bathroom door in the hallway of the house.  Then 3 buckets of hot water from the sink are filled and poured into the agitator together with some detergent and a fairly small amount of clothes.  Then the agitator is turned on, and it runs for 5 minutes.  Once it is stopped, you fish out the clothes by hand from the agitator, put them into a bucket, and take them to the sink to rinse by hand and wring dry.  When my host “mom” first showed me this process, she asked if I had an automatic washing machine in America. When I said, yes, I did, she sort of shrugged as if to say, “Well, this works, too,” and it does!

After the clothes are wrung out by hand, they are carried in the bucket to hang up on the clothes-lines outside in the garden.  Most Azerbaijanis, who have any yard space at all, have a garden in which they grow some of their own food.  We have a small garden with several small fruit trees, grape vines (for the leaves, used to make one of the national dishes—“dolma”—stuffed grape leaves), also different kinds of herbs, onions, tomatoes, and some other vegetables, which I don’t quite recognize.  There are some well-observed “rules” about how to hang up clothes, and I certainly showed what a fool I am for doing it all wrong.  First of all, all items hung up to dry have their proper place on the lines…towels go in one spot, shirts in another, pants still another, and so on.  I figured this out, after my host mom went outside and re-arranged everything I had hung up—and they must be pinned with the clothes-pins in a certain fashion as well.  But the most important thing to pay attention to is where women’s underclothing is hung—and how they are hung up to dry, too.  These items can only be hung over in the corner on lines that are behind and hidden by clothes hung on the larger lines.  This is so that any male (even male a family member) who might enter the garden will not immediately see them.  (This points out once again the importance of modesty which is exemplified in many facets of Azerbaijani life.)  There are even little hankies that are sometimes clothes-pinned over the underwear, to further disguise them from view.  All homes are behind brick/concrete block walls, so the only way anyone would see our laundry hanging up, would be if they were coming to visit and entered through the metal door leading into the garden behind the wall.  In the months I have been here, only neighbor women have come by to visit—no men.  So the only conceivable male who might possibly cast his eyes unintentionally upon this underwear hanging over in the corner, behind all the other clothes, would be the father of the family, consisting also of his wife and two daughters.  How to observe the proper way to hang up clothes is actually also covered in one of our manuals on culture, so it is important to take note of this, as I personally also experienced.

Masazir has been plagued with lots of power outages.  And when the electricity goes out, so does the heat in my home, which has several small electric space heaters.  When this happens—and it can last for several days at a time—about the only sensible thing to do is stay covered up inside the wonderful sleeping bag furnished to us by Peace Corps, and affectionately called the “Brown Monster.”  The power outages are so common that things just keep on running as usually though, too.  For example, school is still held, even if there is no electricity in the building.  The infrastructure in Masazir has not kept up with the influx of people.  Ten years ago Masazir didn’t really exist; it was just a bunch of empty fields.  Now there are a lot of homes here (this is not really a town or a village—it is considered a “settlement”).  Many of the homes are in the process of being built, which it seems most people do for themselves—they build them out of concrete blocks, and work on them as they have the time and the money.  So plenty of homes are in some stage of construction.  Masazir has one main road, several side roads, and plenty of mud roads/paths that lead to peoples’ homes.  There is no major bazaar or shopping place, just the main road, which is lined with small shops selling construction materials for building or remodeling; also some small supermarkets and butcher shops to serve the people who live here, many of whom work during the day in Baku.  There is a municipal-type office which issues the permits to build these homes, but it seems like the homes are built first, and any kind of infrastructure perhaps follows.  Hence, the roads flood all the time, the mud never gets a chance to drain and dry out, and it remains sloppy even after days of no rain.  Walking to school—indeed anywhere—is a mud-puddle challenge.  The power grid is often taxed too greatly, and without adequate construction inspection, homes are sometimes not properly wired.  Some people have generators, because of the frequent loss of electricity.  But I understand that this is primarily a problem of Masazir, because the rapid growth it has had—other towns and regions do not lose power quite so readily.  Only a few people on my road have cars, so maybe the muddy, flooded roads/dirt paths are not that big of any issue.  But everyone minds the loss of electricity:  in my family, moans and groans are expressed, when the lights and heat go out, and shouts of joy and applause, when the electricity comes back on.  I can’t help but think that Tim and his urban/environmental planning team from the county would have a field day here…and plenty of work cut out for them.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

Soon we will be celebrating, and since all of us Peace Corps Trainees will surely be homesick, my group is gathering for our own special Thanksgiving feast.  We will have turkey and as much of the traditional items we can manage.  I am going to bring a variation of a Waldorf salad; I can find the apples and walnuts in the bazar (market), but no celery—can’t find it here; so instead I will add pomegranates, of which there are plenty, since Azerbaijan is the pomegranate capital of this region.  We even plan on playing some games, and maybe watching an American movie on someone’s DVD player; it’ll almost be like home.

When I told my host mom about my plans to celebrate the American Holiday with other Peace Corps friends, she right away offered to make some Azerbaijani holiday specialty to send along to our gathering—she’s making “plov,” an Azerbaijani version of rice pilaf, which contains dried fruits, raisins, onions, and lots of oil; it’s delicious.

Tuesday I meet with my upcoming host-country national counterpart, someone from the university in Mingechavir.  We will all be gathering to meet our counterparts in a hotel in Xirdalan, and it not only should be a nice affair, but I am very anxious to get acquainted and find out more about the job expectations.  Some I have already heard, and my assignment may include a lot of traveling around the country, holding training seminars.  That should be lots of fun.  I am also excited to re-establish some connections I made some weeks ago in Mingechavir, including the university conversation club, the school and teachers I visited, the Peace Corps Volunteers already working there, and the new ones, along with myself.

Internet

Internet

Frequently I have had such limited internet access.  But for most Azerbaijanis, the use of the computer and the internet are just not practical things in life.  In my host family, the father wanted to try out my lap-top, and had great difficulty figuring out how to control the curser/mouse.  He had never tried nor seen a computer before in person. Many schools in Azerbaijan do not make use of computers or have internet connections.  And given that our training school in Masazir does not have reliable heat or indoor lavoratories, there are more basic school priorities.  Actually the school here does have some computers, but they are in a room locked away and not used.  In many regions outside of Baku, most people do not have computer access and are not taught to use them.

There are, however, the internet cafes/clubs.  Initially we could not understand why these were only places for young men and teenaged boys, but now we realize that these are places for them to hang out and play video games!!  These internet cafes are usually just small establishments, dark and uninviting, where doing research or searching the internet and/or checking email is not their primary purpose. Though many college-aged Azerbaijanis do have good computer and internet skills, with Facebook accounts, etc., most of the population does not.  So, it is assumed by the average family (especially in the regions, outside of Baku) that no respectable girl or young woman would go to a place where young men and boys just hang out to play violent video games.  It is not that women are not allowed in internet cafes per se, but for the most part it is considered culturally inappropriate.  However, our training group was able to make some connections with local internet café operators, explaining that we Americans (women included) need internet access to conduct business, check mail, and access information for our jobs.  We are now graciously welcomed, and they double-check frequently to make sure things are operating well.  Of course, with the frequent power outages, and with the fact that the closest such internet cafe is in the next town, we still have limited access and opportunity, especially since we have language classes and technical training sessions that last all day, and for safety and security reasons, we are not allowed to travel after dark. (Best chance to use internet is at the P.C office in Xirdalan, which we all try to make use of--see photos)

The use of internet cafes is yet another example of the importance of maintaining a good reputation here.  Women and girls never go to such establishments, because (except for us American Peace Corps volunteers) the internet cafes’ image is one of simply a place for video-game playing.  It would raise questions and cause unwanted gossip if an Azerbaijani girl (with no computer knowledge, skills, or interest) would go into this teen-aged male domain.  No family would want to dare ruin a girl’s reputation.  And no self-respecting girl would want to risk her reputation either, nor that of her family, by going to a place normally frequented only by men.  This attitude holds true also for the ubiquitous tea-houses (çayxana)—a woman does not go to them, for then she might be subjected to unwanted attention and harassment.  Those tea-houses that women can and do go to, often have small rooms or closed off alcoves, where women can comfortably sit without unwanted attention.  Unwanted harassment results because men and women alike know and expect to follow certain social rules—and stepping out of bounds is considered so unacceptable, that it basically invites and compounds additional rude and unacceptable behavior.  Once you understand the reasoning, it is easier to accept, adapt to, and figure out ways to manage around the social rules that are different from what we are used to at home.

There are definite gender role differences here.  It is a male-dominated society, and yet there are signs that things are changing—especially in cosmopolitan Baku, but these changes are not always welcomed out in the “regions” which is how the rest of Azerbaijan is referred to.  In my host family, the mother certainly manages and takes care of the house-hold, while the father works outside the home and earns the money for the family.  Nonetheless, I was surprised to see him vacuuming the house, and even washing the dishes.  This is not the norm, I expect.  Many of the local young women who work for the Peace Corps are single, and not interested in marrying a man their parents may chose for them—they readily admit this is not easy, since family bonds and loyalty to parents are very strong, yet they want to pursue careers, too.  Usually by the time a young woman has reached her mid-twenties, she is considered “old” for marriage, and there can be a lot of family pressure put on her to marry—and on men, too, though it is expected that the male be somewhat older.  One day, while showing my host family some of my things, I showed them my driver’s license:  “You know how to drive a car???!!!” they exclaimed.  Outside of Baku, I have yet to see any woman behind the wheel of a car—and perhaps this explains the wild and crazy driving here!!  Another male dominated aspect of this society!  When she rides in a car, the woman is always expected to sit in the back, and interestingly the word for “driver” is ‘shofer’—like chauffeur.  Perhaps the father in my host family is more docile than the drivers on the roads and a man with domestic instincts, because like many Azerbaijani families, my host family has no car.

An excellent insight into Azerbaijan and its culture is found in the book “Culture Smart! Azerbaijan” by Nikki Kazimova,  www.culturesmart.co.uk. 

Mr. Ambassador...a wedding...a birthday

Mr. Ambassador…a wedding…a birthday

What an honor it was to have the U.S. Ambassador to Azerbaijan (a Stanford man, no-less!) pay us all a visit on one of our group training days.  Very interesting discussions were held about the challenges and benefits of serving in this part of the world.  We are truly at the cross-roads of Europe and Asia, not only in a geographical sense, but also in mentality.  It is important to keep a focus on enhancing our mutual interests, for the betterment and benefit of all.  Understanding and learning to appreciate the cultural differences, including values that our different from our own, is important—and quite fascinating.

Tomorrow I have been invited to the wedding celebration of a niece of the father of my host family.  Weddings here are very lavish affairs.  Every town, indeed most villages, have very elaborate “wedding palaces,” beautifully and ornately decorated halls for fabulously catered events.  The wedding couple sits at the head table and is honored by hours of feasting and merry-making, singing and dancing.  Marriages here are still frequently arranged, or semi-arranged.  Protocol calls for the prospective groom’s family members to go calling on a prospective bride’s family for tea.  (The couple is not included).  If all goes well during this visit, it may be agreed upon that the couple in question may become engaged.  In many families dating between a young man and woman can takes place AFTER they have become engaged in this manner, meaning the families involved have agreed to the marriage.  Given that this is their custom, one can understand why family reputation, as well as individual reputation, is very important.  Families will go to great lengths to preserve the reputations of their members, especially of their daughters, so that they will remain marriageable.  Some of the mores imposed on young women in this society are therefore meant to preserve the family structure.  We Americans might ponder that out of love for our children, we will give them the freedom to develop their individuality; Azerbaijanis might ponder that for the very same reason--out of love for their children, they will protect and control the manner in which they are raised up to, including, and even after they are married.  In all societies, as here, parents want what is best for their children, but what is best in American society is not necessarily what will be viewed as what is best in this society.  Growing up in Azerbaijan, children here are very well aware that their behavior and outward appearance greatly influences their reputations and the reputations of their families.  As Americans, we might say, it doesn’t matter what others say or think about us, it is important that we have the freedom to do as we please.  To Azerbaijanis, it does matter what others think or say, because preserving a good reputation for oneself and for the sake of the family influences the success and future of all involved. These arranged marriages and the social restrictions on young people can be viewed as trying to protect that which will enhance a young person’s opportunity to marry and to eventually have a family of his or her own.  It is how they preserve their society and the social fabric of their culture that is of value to them.

Maintaining good a reputation is similar to the importance of outward appearances, which is also very important here on  many levels, and this is sometimes quite a challenge.  For example, in many regions of Azerbaijan, very professional attire is necessary for a classroom teacher—it shows respect for the profession, and means suits and ties for men, skirts and dress shoes for women.  The challenge is that the roads are dusty and dirty in dry weather, and very muddy during winter months (few if any side-walks).  Some take extra shoes along to change once at school, but there is also a small fountain on the playground, where teachers and students alike can wet a rag and wipe off the mud from their shoes or trousers before entering the school building.  And just to make sure, there are the “shoe patrol” ladies by the front entrance who will reprimand and send anyone back over to the fountain if their shoes are still muddy or dirty.  So far I have managed to always pass inspection, and have even been told several times I dress appropriately and professionally.  Good thing I brought along those black skirts and good shoes!

Lately we have had many power outages, indeed everyday at least!  The electrical infrastructure cannot handle the load, and with the weather getting colder, there are more demands.  My host family’s modest home is heated by several electric space heaters, so when the electricity goes out, we lose our source of heating.  The house is not insulated, and there are cracks around the door frame, so it is difficult to keep the home warm.  There is a small wood burning stove in the corridor, and that does help some, but it basically just warms the entry-way.  But the hearts of these people are so warm, it is easy to forget about the minor discomforts.

Today is son Mark’s birthday.  My host family wanted to help me celebrate it, so in honor of Mark, the father in the family brought home a nice birthday cake from the bakery, and we sang happy birthday to Mark.  What kind and thoughtful people!  They wanted to wish Mark, a Californian, a happy birthday all the way from Azerbaijan!  Our meal, too, was a special “birthday meal,” just for Mark; unbeknownst to me, the big chicken the mother in the family de-feathered and plucked the day before, was for the special stewed chicken dinner, which she prepared for “Mark’s birthday dinner.”  The fact that I thought de-feathering and plucking a chicken (toyuq) was worthy of photos and video-taping was a source of huge amusement here.

Schools...

Schools…

The Big Day arrived and site announcements were made, our permanent assignments; I am very proud and happy that my original Peace Corps nomination is being fulfilled at the University in Mingəçevir!!!!  Yay!

We had more practicums last week.  Some interesting differences exist for schools here.  For example, several weeks ago, when I was in Mingəçavir, the school assembly honoring Azerbaijan Independence Day was very impressive, and truly worthy of local news coverage.  However, the local TV station (interestingly enough known as “MTV”!—Mingəçavir TV) did not come.  Apparently there wasn’t enough in the school budget to get the local TV station to send a reporter and film crew to cover the story; the school usually pays the local station to get the TV news department to come to do a news story about the school.  Another difference is that most school teachers do not teach the entire school day; they receive various class assignments from the principal, and the more experienced ones usually get more classes to teach.  But the pay is not sufficient, so most teachers also work as private tutors after school, to supplement their incomes.  During the school day, many teachers do not have assigned classrooms, and in some schools the classrooms are also are not numbered.  So, when the bell rings between class periods, students and teachers alike scramble the halls, with the teachers looking for spare or empty classrooms in which to hold their classes, and students following, trying to find and keep up with their teachers.  For practicum, it was at first a bit of a challenge to figure out this system and find the rooms in which we were to teach (or if the classes had been cancelled, which can also happen). But everything is so well worth it—these are students very eager to learn, interested and excited to be able to participate in class.  It is a LOT of fun!

This week is a school holiday for Gurban Bayram, a holiday commemorating Abraham’s sacrifice of a sheep instead of his son.  On Sunday there were ritual slaughters of sheep in some families, with the meat being then shared with neighbors, especially the poor.  My host family was the recipient of such a gift of meat, which we then ground up and filled home-made raviolis, which were then steamed in a broth, making one of Azerbaijan’s national dishes, düşbərə.  What a treat.  And it was quite a family production to make it all, by candle light no less, since the electricity was out all day.  The hot plate in the kitchen, though, is gas, so we could still cook.  We warmed up after dinner in the kitchen by huddling around the small wood stove in the corridor, which the father in my host family set up for just such rather frequent occasions; the power grid here is frequently overtaxed, and we are often without electricity.  And since our heat is electric, we really do need it; it can get very cold.  It has already snowed once, and the schools also are not heated well and also frequently without electricity.  I am making good use of every bit of warm clothing I brought, and am coping well by following what everyone else does here to make the best of things, including doing my homework by candle-light or karosene lamp.  After dinner we even had a rousing game of dominoes around the hot wood stove:  America versus Azerbaijan...I did my best, and America won one round, but Azerbaijan won two.  What fun!  My language skills are slowly but surely improving, though I think I mainly amuse and bemuse rather than inform or converse every time I try to speak...oh, well.  For the holiday my host family gave me a gift, too—a ring to match a pair of earrings I frequently wear.  The family refers to me as a member of their family, or alternatively, as their “honored guest.”  They have shown me enormous hospitality.  These experiences and getting to know such wonderful people are the things I love most about being in the Peace Corps, which goes by the motto:  “the hardest/toughest job you’ll ever love.”

Last Saturday my training group was able to go into Baku, and what a fascinating and interesting place!  Hope to get back again soon, to explore more of the walled old town and other sites.

Trips...

Trips…

I spent week before last with a Peace Corps Volunteer who has already been 2 years in the field and is extending for another half a year at her site in the town of Mingechevir (Mingəçevir), a nice place, located on a lake (reservoir) near the foothills of the Caucusus Mountains.  I had a great time, taught a number of classes, including at the teachers’ university, and met wonderful people.  The PCV’s counterpart, an awesome Azerbaijani English teacher, invited us to her home to have meals with her family…what a treat, and what a great person she is. She is now exclusively an English teacher, but she started her career as a German teacher—right from the start we had something in common.  I helped her briefly with an online education course she is taking from the University of Oregon (and I showed her some of my photos of Oregon on my laptop), and since she had internet in her home, it allowed me to skype Mark, Jonny, Christina and Robby, the day before Dadd’s birthday—meant a lot to us! And I enjoyed so much being with her, her family, and the PCV I visited.

The trip in the marshrutka getting there reminded me of some old Indiana Jones’ movies—our driver, eager to make time, raced his well-worn vehicle over rough roads with our bags squished in and around us; but hanging on for dear life truly happened most every time he passed another car, truck or bus, in an attempt at playing chicken with the on-coming traffic.  Defensive driving here is unknown, since I think it would show that the driver was too faint-hearted.  In addition, most bus and marshrutka drivers here think nothing of lighting up their cigarettes and conversing on their cell phones, while driving!  Anyway, several close-calls, and 4 and ½ hours later we were in the town of Mingechevir (Mingəçevir), built by German POW’s after WWII.  The city is laid out like many of the residential areas of German towns rebuilt after the War, so it had a familiar feel to me.  We did our shopping at the local bazaar (market) for our food, and I got to practice my long-to-be proficient Azerbaijani skills, but I must admit, I am making some progress (I can make myself somewhat understood!).  One nice custom here is to show hospitality to guests and foreigners.  Every time I went to buy something, the seller or shop-keeper would lower the price, for me, the “honored guest.”  This has happened not just at the bazaar, but also souvenirs shops, and even a hard-ware store.  People are exceptionally gracious here.

The school in Mingechevir where my Peace Corps host does most of her teaching is interesting, since she established an English resource room for all of the English teachers to be able to use.  This room is located, however, on the second floor of the school, in a part of the building which is used to house IDP families (Internally Displaced People).  Since 1994 there has been a precarious cease-fire between Azerbaijan and Armenia for territory claimed by Azerbaijan, within its boundaries, but now occupied by Armenian forces, since most inhabitants are ethnically Armenian, having displaced the Azerbaijanis.  There are frequent skirmishes, and saber-rattling, and those Azerbaijanis who are basically now refugees inside their own country are known as IDP’s—the largest percentage of IDP’s anywhere in the world is here in Azerbaijan.  This school in Mingechevir has housed these families for more than 20 years, and they basically live in the hall-ways and curtained-off areas of the school building.  It’s strange to walk down the hall to the English resource room and to pass by these displaced people’s kitchens and living quarters—trying to make do, as best they can.  The dispute between Armenia and Azerbaijan is very sensitive and evokes strong passions.  The day I visited the school in Mingechevir was the day before Azerbaijani Independence Day.  We were treated to a very patriotic school assembly full of passionate speeches of nationalistic pride, patriotic and militaristic poems and songs, as well as national dances.  Everything was well-memorized and enthusiastically performed—it was indeed impressive.  The flag-waving and nationalistic pride could not help but reach overtones denouncing Armenia, something which is also graphically depicted and portrayed in school text books, including even the English text books.

Upon our return to Masazir, our training town outside of Baku (which is actually Baki in Azerbaijani—Baku is the Russian word for the capital city), we got ready for our day outing to Gobustan.  The Peace Corps arranged for all 44 trainees and many of the local staff to take a ‘cultural day’ to visit the petroglyphs of Gobustan, about 50 km south of Baki, a UNESCO world cultural heritage site.  These rock carvings of animals, some of which are now extinct, and ancient hunters, sailors, and women, are some of the oldest such rock carvings in the world.  Some archeologists believe that ancient Biblical regions can be traced to modern day Azerbaijan.  I’ve got plenty of photos of carvings inside caves surrounded by arid, rocky desert, but which eons ago was lush, verdant, and even at times below the sea.  Equally fascinating were the near-by mud volcanoes.  These small hills of cool, bubbling mud were pretty funny looking, as were all of us, slipping and sliding around on the slopes of these mud hills.  Indeed, I was the first of many, who slipped, got covered in mud, and even almost stuck! 

We have yet to make it into Baki, since it is off-limits to us for safety and security reasons until we finish training, which is now almost half-finished.  In several weeks, however, our trainers will take us on an escorted visit; can’t wait, because there are many historical and interesting sights to see there.  But first come many more days of technical training and hours and hours of language lessons and practice.  It is a lot of work, a lot of studying, and yet, very rewarding, too.

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Scenes from settling in

Settling In

Settling in and getting used to a number of things:  feel pretty confident about using the marshrutkas—the small busses/large vans which are a crowded but reliable mode of transportation here.  First day of school, we rode the bus/marshrutka to school; when I realized it was only three stops away, I decided from then on to spend the 15-20 minutes walking instead to and from school.  Besides, it’s difficult to tell where the marshrutka stops are (there are no marked stops), though I believe I could just flag him down most anywhere along the route.  To stop, you shout “saxla” and he let’s you off.  It costs about a quarter to ride.

The walk to school is interesting.  I walk along the highway that links Masazir, with the next town, and it is an exercise in diligence.  The roads are rough; the drivers are fast and by our standards, take many chances.  Pedestrians can expect to be honked at if in the way, but pedestrians do not seem to have right of way, even in marked cross walks.  The other day I spotted a local cow meandering across the road, and another day, a scrawny gray horse.  The drivers seemed little bemused and raced on by.  Interestingly, I found out about the garbage system—the highway is dotted with small green dumpsters.  People on their way to work in the morning stop by the side of the road, near such a dumpster, and throw in their trash from home.  There are no lids, however, on the dumpsters, so much gets blown around in the breeze.

Last week we observed English lessons in our training school.  It was interesting to note that most of the lessons are conducted in Azerbaijani!  They can’t be expecting that from me, and that is I guess part of the point—a native English speaker.  Moreover, most lessons are reading and translation, so some creativity may brighten things up a bit.  We’ll soon find out.  Soon I start teaching on my own, so I must spend nights planning lessons now, as well as practicing Azerbaijani. 

Home improvements have been made, and my host family is quite proud.  The father installed a water tank above the toilet bowl, and now we have a regular flush toilet—no more need to flush with a bucket of water from underneath the sink.  In fact, that bucket now too is gone.  He also hooked up a pipe leading from the sink drain to the sewer system, so we now also have running water leading to an outside drain.

We had training one day at a very nice, new, and modern school in Xirdalan.  It is too bad that our school in Masazir doesn’t even have running water inside the building.  To use the latrine outside on the playground must be quite a challenge come winter!

With luck I’ll post some photos of my house, my road, my school.

I’ve received some mail from home!  Thanks so much!  It makes my day!  My internet usage has briefly picked up recently, but is still very iffy…so a letter in the mail is a treat, and something I can keep re-reading.

We’ve had some cultural lessons, including even some dancing, so that when we get to go to family wedding (a big deal) we can participate in the festivities.  We talked some more about the roles of women, and how by our standards it may seem that they are very limited here.  But not all societies value personal independence in the same way we Americans do.  In fact, in some parts of the world, the American attitude of individualism and “everyone pulling for him/herself” is viewed as somewhat selfish and self-centered.  In this culture, for example, family bonds and loyalties are more important than individualism; and women in the family are highly respected and valued.  To allow female family members to get into an uncomfortable situation (like harassment) and do nothing about it would be a disgrace for a male family member.  Likewise a woman has the responsibility to uphold her own reputation, and thereby the reputation of the entire family.  Women in this society seem to appreciate the protection and respect afforded them, and it serves to uphold the family cohesiveness, which is more greatly valued than our American individualism.  It is important to recognize this in order to understand and appreciate the culture of this region and this society.  Some of our American ways are not necessarily what they want for themselves, nor are they representative of their value-system.  Understanding that we Americans have our values, which have advantages and inherent disadvantages, as well as understanding that this and other societies appreciate their own value-systems, with their own advantages as well as disadvantages, goes a long way in learning to live together in harmony across cultural divides.

Meals in the family often consist of bread and potatoes, with some pickled cabbage or cucumbers.  But last evening we had a feast:  stewed chicken with fruits (plums and apricots), rice pilaf with golden raisins, bowls of cut up tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and piles of green herbs—dill, cilantro, parsley, green onions—and of course copious piles of various breads, including flat flour tortilla.  Several of the neighbor children came to eat with us, friends of Ajtac and Aysel.  They are all most interested in helping me with my Azerbaijani lessons…but I feel like a pretty poor student—this is not an easy language to learn.  Besti cooks the meals in her kitchen which does have running water and a sink, but only a 2-burner gas cook-top; there is no oven, so bread comes from the baker and everything else is either raw or fried or boiled.  Oh, and lots and lots of chai—tea!  We also had cherry juice with our meal.  I have yet to see any alcohol consumed, though in some of the host families of other PC volunteers, this is common, and in one case, even to the point of problematic.  Below:  my house, road on which I live (behind the wall, green door # 33), mother in kitchen, father (an artist) painting portrait of former president, Ajtac and Aysel with neighbor children, in front of school, school-yard with latrines (boys and girls), highway I walk to school, view of Masazir, playing street games with the neighbor kids—no store-bought toys—ball made out of duct tape, ‘bowling pins’ out of plastic water balls…