January 31, 2012

I stayed home all day working on my presentation for the NELTA conference, cleaning house and simply relaxing. Caroline came by to bring more of her stuff and to get away from the cleaning lady her landlady had forced them to hire to clean up the place before they move out. We chatted for a few hours and then Elbek came for his class.

Pariso called and, apparently, was trying to pull my leg by telling me I was expected at the institute to teach tomorrow. I informed her about the proposed change and after much repetition and rephrasing; she understood I was waiting for a meeting with the embassy personnel to finalize the change proposed by the dean. She said something about being aware I dislike going out in the snow and the ice, but not to forget about her and her family. I reiterated I hadn’t and planned on doing so as soon as spring sprung. Retired to my bedroom to continue reading “Kitchen Confidential”, a riveting account of the restaurant industry and the cast of misfits that usually work for it.

January 30, 2012

What had started out as plain rain had turned into slushy snow by the time I left my apartment complex. There seems to be an unwritten rule these days that stipulates we must have snow every Monday. On my way to the training center and while cutting across the lovers’ lane park, I ran into one of the teachers who seemed to be completely lost. I pointed her in the right direction, but was unable to talk to her, as she didn’t understand a word I was saying.

 Caroline had gone to the Kazakhstan’s embassy to retrieve both of our passports and so I got started by trying to elicit a definition for “idiom”. Even the few teachers who had brought a dictionary along could not provide a complete sentence to define the term. After giving them the definition and two examples to go along with it, I told them I was going to give out three sets of cards: one with an idiom, one with the definition and one with the illustration and they were to get into groups once they found all three of them.

Caroline called in the meantime to let me know the embassy had refused to hand her my passport and she was on her way to the Indian one to pay for her visa. I told her not to worry as I still have a few days to deal with that process. In the meantime, the teachers were making no progress in identifying the idioms and corresponding cards. Their matches were totally unrelated such as “barking up the wrong tree” and “getting your ducks in a row”. Realizing how futile this activity was, only two groups found their corresponding cards, I asked for the cards back and read all of them while passing them out for them to write them on their notebooks. I had them practice teaching idioms on a particular topic such as food and gave them a worksheet to select the meaning for several of them. Zhulejo acknowledged teachers are not instructed on this particular topic while at the teachers’ college and they have a difficult time presenting it to their students thereafter.

Caroline came in before the break and presented a session on writing poetry. She brought in a handout she had been given by her high school teacher 15 years ago and demonstrated writing an acrostic poem, using my name as an example, and subsequently a cinquain, something I had never done with my students and which I plan to add to my presentation on teaching poetry taking place in March. Teachers demonstrated that they have no knowledge about parts of speech and thus kept using verbs, nouns and adverbs when we called for adjectives only. When told the cinquain required a set number of words for each line, they violated the rule and tried to use whole phrases. Caroline quickly gave up and let them do whatever they wanted as she has pretty much come to the conclusion that English teachers in Tajikistan are hopeless anyway.

One of our teachers showing off the Pamiri socks and rubber shoes worn during the winter season.

When we left at 11:45am, the snow had accumulated significantly and continued to fall in thick drops that looked like cotton balls. I immediately made up my mind to cancel the class at Caritas and stay home for the rest of the day. Caroline suggested going to the usual bistro for her borscht soup, but quickly changed her mind when I reminded her I had leftovers from the meal I’d cooked on Sunday. I made a pot of tea and reheated the food after firing an email to Takhmina informing her of the cancellation. The food tasted just as delicious as the day before and after several cups of tea we settled down to deal with my upcoming presentation at the NELTA conference. Caroline convinced me to just do a straight lecture on the topic with a subsequent Q & A period. We don’t really know what to expect in terms of audience unsure as to how “international” this conference might be. We then discussed the impending changes at the institute and how to phrase my email to the respective parties at the embassy regarding the dean’s proposals.

When Caroline left, Elbek came in for his class. He’s a quick learner, but tends to rush through the material without paying attention to the details. I do love to see the enthusiasm in his face when he comes in.

When I had already gone to bed, the phone rang and thinking it might be Nigora, I got up to answer it. It was only Pariso following her typical M.O. of calling me, letting it ring once, and then hanging up so I have to call her back. I ignored her call. She is holding down two jobs and can’t afford to make a phone in the evening? Tough. 

January 29, 2012

Both Caroline and Aziz called to say they would be stopping by this morning; Caroline to bring along another suitcase and Aziz to finish the resume I has started for him. I went over the evaluations for the workshop on Saturday to find out what else these teachers would like to see us present. There complaints about the size of the room, inability to see what was written at the front and the time of the day workshops are being presented. On the positive side, they all claimed to have loved the presentation and want to see more games in the future.

Caroline lugged her heaviest suitcase all the way from her current apartment to my house despite the ice and snow on the streets. I can’t imagine attempting such a feat when I can barely walk as it is. She claimed it had not being hard when I asked why she didn’t just take a taxi. Aziz came by with his certificates so I could add that information and I printed a copy of the resume for him. When he asked me to also email a copy to his uncle, Caroline intervened and said he should do it himself, using my laptop, and he relented. As he was leaving, Caroline told him to bring me a “really” nice gift next time he visited for as payment for the work I had done for him. This made me feel very uncomfortable as he had brought me a box of biscuits the day before and I had taken them to the workshop for the attendees to enjoy.

I finally made the rice with corn for which I had purchased a large can of corn many weeks ago. Along with the beef chunks already cooked last week, and to which I added potatoes and carrots, I served shredded beets marinated in relatively spicy vinaigrette. I have to say that lunch was delicious and Caroline asked me how I had managed to make such a meal with the ingredients found here. Caroline had packed the pair of boots that Elisabeth had left behind to see if per chance Ruth could wear them now that snow is being forecast for Monday again. We proceeded to the Opera Ballet Theater to meet with Ruth and a new couple of Fulbrighters scheduled to be posted in Khujand. I almost fell on the ice when navigating one of the narrow alleyways behind the apartment building and Caroline had to come to my rescue.

As we approached the theater, Caroline changed her mind about joining us and gave me the boots to give to Ruth. I saw a couple outside the theater, he older with a long beard and cap and she stout and matronly, but I didn’t approach them as to me they looked Russian and not American. When I saw Ruth coming up the steps, they also moved in her direction and then I learned he was David and she was Nancy. He’s the Fulbrighter whereas she’s just the accompanying spouse. David paid for all of us, 10.00 somoni each, and then I learned I was in for an opera and not a ballet as I had initially thought. We sat through a performance; I believe all of it in Persian, about a philosopher, doctor and write who lived a long time ago. The music was pleasant, the costumes all right, but I was surprised to see that they included at least three dancing numbers. There was no heating in the almost empty theater and I noticed that David had his gloves. Ruth pulled the hood of her coat over her head and I draped the shawl over my knees to stay somewhat warm. There was a short intermission and then the show was over in under two hours. And none too soon before we had icicles forming on us. When we walked outside, the brilliant sunshine of the midday had disappeared and dense clouds had moved in presaging the coming snow.

I proposed we repair to a nearby coffee shop only to find it allowed smoking and offered hookah pipes. We sat indoors and had overpriced coffee drinks while Ruth tried on her boots and found that they fit perfectly. I learned that David is originally from Texas, but has been living in Ohio for the last 26 years, where he’s an ESL professor, and still doesn’t like the cold weather. Nancy is from Ohio and teaches writing and journalism. She’s taken a sabbatical to accompany her husband here, but will be teaching online, I believe. They have been in Dushanbe for two and a half week and no one at the embassy bothered to let the ELFs know so we could provide some sort of orientation for them. Nancy was flabbergasted when I told her the chicken she’s been eating everyday comes from the mountain of frozen carcasses sent from the U. S. and which she’s witnessed at the public market. She’s true Mid-Western and doesn’t like anything spicy and thus is satisfied with the bland Tajik food served everywhere. David, a true Texan, prefers the spicy food that’d make one sweat and clear your sinuses. A man after my own heart in spite of his dourness and apparent lack of a sense of humor.

Leaving the coffee shop, I directed them to the Paikar supermarket so Nancy could buy some peanut butter as they have been surviving on cheese sandwiches when not eating out. I don’t know how two college professors have been able to survive in the States without using any technology these days, but they claimed this was their first cell phone and they don’t have access to the Internet yet.

January 28, 2012

Despite my best intentions, I didn’t get to the American Corner until 9:50am. Bakhtyor was coming down the steps and helped me with my bag while I went across the street to buy juices and more plastic cups for the coffee/tea we’d offer during the break. There were already at least fifteen attendees at several tables and more kept streaming in as I struggled to get everything set up having no room to maneuver in the tight space. Neither Caroline nor Corrie was still at hand, but I managed to set up the groups according to the suit of cards I had given them and asked them to discuss the warm up question: “What is teaching similar to?”

                                  Presenting grammar games at the American Corner.

I was surprised to see the dean come and sit at the edge of the room. He had mentioned the day before that he’d try to make it, but since none of the teachers at the PedInst seems to have any interest in professional development, I had dismissed his comment as just being polite. The session on grammar games was a resounding success as we had 69 people sign in, a lot of fun was had with the games and they kept thanking me as the file out requesting a copy of my PowerPoint presentation and additional copies of the handouts, of which I had only printed 30. I wasn’t able to play all the games I had planned, but felt exhilarated by the response.

                                        It was a full house at the American Corner.

All three of us went to lunch to the Eurasia restaurant we had been meaning to try and which, of course, was completely devoid of customers during the peak hour. That should have been our signal to just walk out, but given the few choices we had, we had a seat and ordered. Caroline just a Greek salad, Corrie Caesar’s salad, misspelled in the menu, and tomato soup and I, forever the optimist, pork with vegetables and cheese. None of our dishes resembled what the menu read and my pork was full of gristle and fat, tough and tasteless while the potatoes weren’t fully cooked. I couldn’t eat it and Corrie offered to finish it. When we got the bill, we discovered the restaurant had charged us extra for the sugar and the lemon to add to the tea.

Corrie had been asked by embassy to help out with the arrival of a new Fulbright English teacher who’d been assigned to the Language Institute until June as both Sandy and Tahmina were on vacation. She arranged for us to meet with Ruth after lunch and I suggested going to the new Koko Café at the Vefa center as it was quiet, smoke-free and convenient. Ruth is 70 years old, I believe Jewish, from New York and a wonderful raconteur. She had us mesmerized for a good two hours telling us about her previous experiences in such places as Uzbekistan, Argentina and New York. I ordered a piece of cake and macchiato coffee, as I was still hungry, and was given a miniature coffee cup with perhaps two sips of coffee in it.  I’m definitely not ordering that again.

Ruth, who had only been in the country for two days, already had an invitation to attend a function at the Opera Ballet Theater at 2:00pm on Sunday and asked us to come along. I told her I’d consider it as the weather is supposed to be gorgeous and there’s another Fulbright teacher, who has been assigned to the Khujand region, who’d be present, too. As we were leaving the Vefa Center, we ran into Ryan who was putting in a few hours of work at the UN office. He was going to the Green Bazaar for a quick shopping trip and asked me to go with him. Instead of taking the mini-van, he decided to walk there and I had a hard time keeping up with him. It was surprising to see vendors offering grapes, pears, apples, oranges and other fruit in the middle of the winter.

As I was relaxing at home later on, I heard someone trying to open my door with a key. Alarmed at this prospect, I asked who was there and found it that Caroline, who’s definitely being evicted from her apartment, was coming in to leave some of her personal belongings here and had found my keys still attached to the door. Such oversight spoke to the tiredness I must have felt upon arriving home. It had been one long, hectic day. Caroline has decided to leave the program at the end of February and asked to be allowed to stay here when we return from the conference in Nepal. She will be in Dubai on vacation for about 12 days prior to that. I couldn’t possibly say no as I really enjoy her company and the living room could serve as her side of the apartment for those few days.

January 27, 2012

Another beautiful morning with crisp air and absolutely stunning views of the mountains. Caroline was already waiting for me at the American Corner and I remarked that it was the first time since we met that she had been the one doing the waiting. We proceeded to the Kazakhstan embassy and found one customer at the window. The sole employee in the office didn’t even acknowledge our presence even after he left as she continued to move papers from one side of her desk to another while knitting her eyebrows and looking intently at the computer screen. After half hour of this, I was about to scream my head off, but Caroline dissuaded me convinced the clerk that the power to simply deny our visas and have security escort us out of the building. In the meantime, two other people had arrived and started a conversation with the clerk, in Russian of course. The last one was a beautiful young woman who asked us, in English, who was the last one in line. We pleaded with her to please ask the clerk to give us the receipt necessary to then go to the bank and pay for the visa. She did so and after fifty minutes of standing around we had a hand written piece of paper to take to the Kazakh bank quite a distance away.

Off we went to the address on Aini Road, past a gate with security personnel and into a luxurious lobby where we waited another half hour for someone to take our $60.00 fee and stamp the receipt. Back to the embassy where we had to leave our passport and were told to come back on Monday to claim our visas. We then went to the Indian embassy hoping to be able to pay for our visa even though we didn’t have our passport so as to expedite the process. The waiting area was fully taken up with about fifteen people, all holding sheaths of papers ready for inspection. I sidled up to the receptionist to alert her to the fact that we are there just to pay for our visa, but she told me I have to wait nonetheless until the guy who questioned me last week came in. When he did come in we were told we couldn’t pay for our visas without our passports. So much for that.

Caroline and I parted as she needed to go to Multikids and I needed to go to the PedInst to meet with the dean. When I knocked on his office door, he wasn’t there and the guy offered to call him, but he didn’t pick up. I was about to leave, but my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to call him from my cell to see if he’d answer. He did and told me he was in a meeting and to please wait for him for a few minutes. The gist of the meeting came down to this: the first year students that I had taught last year had done so poorly in their exams that their parents had come in to complain(something I really doubt) that they weren’t ready to be taught by a native speaker of English and needed to go back to having a Tajik teacher for their lessons. As a result, the deans had met and decided I should be transferred to teach the fourth year students preparing to become interpreters. When I mentioned that the agreement the university had signed with the embassy stipulated I was to teach future teachers, he countered by offering that I take over his classes for the same year students. He couldn’t say when my new classes would start, but did ask me to buy yet another one of the Russian textbooks I so much detest. I need to consult the embassy next week regarding this change and seek their advice.

I took a long bath when I got home and got into my new comfy pajamas. Both Zoir and Aziz came by later on and they both denied that students in their groups had done poorly in their exams. Aziz went further and firmly stated the dean was not being honest and probably had another agenda for making this change.  They were both crestfallen to hear I’d no longer be their teacher. Aziz requested that I help him put together a resume so his uncle, who works at the U. S. embassy, can help him get a job there.

January 26, 2012

Went to the American Councils offices this morning to retrieve the package Rebecca had brought for me. I had really expected something much bigger than the single plastic bag she handed in based on her email indicating she had not been able to fit everything into her suitcase. I told her to have her family enjoy the Cuban coffee that had been left behind. I also extended an invitation to have lunch at my place whenever it was convenient for her.

Caroline met me in the waiting area and before we could leave a student stopped her begging for her to have a look at his SOP (Statement of Purpose) for the university he was applying to in the States. She offered him ten minutes of her time and Sergey promptly fired his laptop and brought up the document. Meantime, I rummaged through the plastic bag and was delighted to find a pair of downy fleece pajamas, a bag of coffee, cinnamon sticks, a pair of heavy-duty plastic purple gloves, and zip lock bags. I kept searching for the camera, expecting something bulky, but it was practically razor-thin and tucked in among other things. I was able to open it, pop the battery in and try it out by taking a photo of Carolyn and her student hard at work.

                                            First photo taken with my new camera

We proceeded to the soup place where Caroline ate while I kept her company. She was able to look at my cell phone which was acting up again and didn’t allow me to send text message. Apparently, I had activated the “automatic fill-in” key and it was trying to complete the message for me. On to the Caritas where we had another spirited session talking about the past and playing with simile cards. Proceeded to copy center to make handouts to give to the teachers after the presentation on Saturday and then back to the lamination center to pick the remaining sheets. While I was there, my phone rang and it was the dean at the PedInst asking me to come in for a meeting on Friday. I promised to come by after I was done with the visa paperwork. Despite my having asked Pariso to notify the dean about my going to Nepal in February, he told he me he didn’t know anything about it.

I was completely exhausted by the time I got home. It was a good thing I had leftovers to eat.

January 25, 2012

Caroline called in sick and I had to carry out the teacher training session by myself. I tried once again to get the teachers to do a little bit of reflecting by asking them to think about a lesson that had gone really bad and what they would have done differently. I gave them cards with half sections of popular similes so they could find a partner and discuss the question. Most of them had no idea what I was talking about when referring to literary devices used to make comparisons, figurative language such as similes and metaphors. At least one teacher indicated that metaphor was the same word in Russian, but the puzzled look on her colleagues’ faces told me they weren’t used to talking about it or using it in the classroom. I had to help many of them find their partners by matching such similes as “black as the night”, “tight as a drum”, and “sly as a fox”.

After much dead time where teachers just looked at each other, one of them told they didn’t have unsuccessful lessons because their lessons were conducted in Tajik and everything was explained in the L1 language. Only one teacher said she had assigned the comparative/superlative lesson for homework and her students hadn’t been able to use the language successfully in the practice. I told her I’d demonstrate an active way of doing so later on in the day. We had a matching activity using more similes and then the dictionaries came out en masse as teachers didn’t even know such words at “stubborn”. Zhulejo admitted that vocabulary was a prime area of concern with these teachers as they themselves had a pretty low level of word knowledge and it was one area of study not included in their curriculum at the Pedagogical Institute. I related to her that a teachers’ college purpose was not to teach English but the appropriate methodology to do so and that such college should only admit students who were already proficient in the language in question.

I did an activity to review prepositions of place along with the use of there is/ there are by drawing a diagram of my own living room and asking the teachers to describe the relationship of all the objects placed therein. As a way of having students show their proficiency in the use of these grammatical items, I had the teachers turned their chairs so they were sitting back-to-back, and asked them to draw a diagram of their own bedroom without showing their picture to their partner and to describe the finished picture so their partner could recreate the drawing. They couldn’t understand why they had to sit back-to-back, why they couldn’t show their drawing, why they shouldn’t just do it for them and so on.  It was palpable how uncomfortable they felt performing the activity themselves and I just can’t see them trying to carry it out in their own classrooms.

Sanifah, the one teacher with the highest level of fluency and whom I threatened to expel from the classroom for her insistence on providing answers out of turn, brought in sambusas and other goodies for Caroline and I. So very nice of her.

I demonstrated how to get students to play with adjectives in the comparative and superlative by writing a list of adjectives on the blackboard, or by providing pieces of paper with adjectives written on them, and have the teacher start out by making the following request:

“Sanifah, would you please come and stand next to me because you are younger than me.” The teacher goes back to her seat and the student then calls on somebody else using a different adjective and so on. Later on, the same is repeated, but using the adjectives in the superlative. How did this go? Well, many of the younger teachers do not know the rules for forming either comparatives or superlatives and just stammered repeatedly while trying to form a sentence. Pitiful to say the least.

I returned to the lamination place for more cards and then got a call from Takhmina asking me to postpone the class until 2:30pm. I declined as I’d have nothing to do in town for two hours and suggested making it the next day. She agreed and I let Rebecca know I’d pick my package tomorrow when Caroline would be at the American Councils and we could have lunch together. I need to find out how the negotiations are going with the landlady and whether she’ll be able to stay there for the remaining of January.

Elbek came for his lessons and seems to have quite a good grasp of basic vocabulary, but his spelling is strictly phonetic. 

January 24, 2012

I woke up with the worst headache ever and felt as if my throat had been scoured with a piece of sandpaper. Worst of all, I had nothing to drink in the house, and not even a lemon to make my favorite tea. I dawdled for a while, but finally bit the bullet, got dressed warmly and decided to go to the supermarket. I tried to make my way through the alleyway so as to dispose of my trash, but the kids had fashioned toboggans out of any discarded piece of cardboard and plastic and had turned the path into one slick surface. With nothing to hang on to, I quickly turned around hoping none of the kids would collide with me on the way down.

The main road had been sanded and it was no trouble getting to the store. I exchanged some money and stopped at the stationery store to buy some supplies for the presentation on Saturday. Jamila, my first floor neighbor, had finished the Pamiri socks I had ordered from her and asked me to please tutor her older son in English. Elbek is 17, but of course, looks about 12, and just came from Uzbekistan last year. He doesn’t speak Tajik, but Russian, and at least has a decent vocabulary although he can’t spell the words he knows. I told her I could only do this on my spare time and with lots of flexibility. I had an extra Headway textbook and CD and gave it to him as he does have a computer to listen to it.

Caroline emailed me to say her landlady had decided to evict all three of them from the apartment after Hillary, one of the Fulbrighters she’s sharing the apartment with, had an argument with the owner about repairing the toilet and the heating unit. Since Caroline doesn’t speak Russian, she doesn’t know the tenor of the conversation and only hopes she can hang around for a little while longer and not have to move a third time in four months. She’s asked me to allow her to crash in my living room until she can sort things out.

January 23, 2012

The snow had piled really high overnight, but remained fluffy and untouched thus making it easy to walk on it this morning. I even risked going through my favorite shortcut and ran into Yoomie on her way to work. I promised to break my ban on going out at night in this weather to attend the book club meeting at her new place next week.

I got to the training center ahead of Caroline and asked the teachers present to get into groups according to their color cards and recollect what had been their best lesson and what elements made it so. I could’ve asked them to detail how to build a rocket to get to the moon for most of them sat there with a blank look on their faces. I then wrote the steps to the basic lesson plan so they could indicate what they had done, but still no response. Firuz offered to relate his experience teaching a lesson on “sports”, but could not pinpoint what his objective for the lesson had been. It didn’t get any better after that and Zhulejo admitted they weren’t quite proficient with the three Ps method: presentation, practice and production or knew it by a different terminology.

I presented them with a timeline to practice the simple past whereby I wrote five different years on mine and asked them to guess what had happened to me then. Although I explicitly asked them to phrase the question beginning with “Did you…” or “Were you…”, they kept making affirmative statements: “You got married in 1992” or “You finished school in 1973.” When it was their turn to make a timeline about their own milestones, the teachers wrote the dates and the events and never bothered to follow the instructions to get their partners to guess. A total fiasco insofar as following instructions was concerned.

On the way to Caritas, I stopped at the printing company and brought a photocopy of my old business card for them to make me new ones. Although the price is a bit steep, 50 somoni or 25 cents per card, it’ll save me countless minutes having to write down my information for all the new people I meet. I also dropped the pages to be laminated, this time 59 of them, and asked the old guy to prepare a receipt for me so I can be reimbursed.

Walking through the snow began to feel like I was making my way through sand and it seemed to take me forever to reach the soup place. There was a young woman at the stove, as opposed to the older, stout one I’m used to seeing, and the soup was indeed different, oilier and lacking in the usual seasonings.

Nigina was back from vacation and we talked about work. I was told people in Tajikistan never work on an hourly basis as people either get a monthly salary, in cash mind you, or an agreed price is settled upon before any work begins.

I returned to pick up the laminated pages and made my way home at a very slow pace. Two blocks from my flat, I felt in need of help as I was carrying my school bag full of everything I could possibly need while out, another bag containing a huge disk of a flat bread Zhulejo had given each one of us, and the laminated pages. I had to pause for a moment before tackling the ascent to my fourth floor walk-up apartment. I took a nap while listening to RT documentary in the background. The soup had upset my stomach and I only had a glass of milk for dinner.

January 22, 2012

It started snowing early in the morning and it didn’t stop at all. Contrary to places like Seattle, where everything comes to a halt when the city gets snowed in, people here continue with their chores, visits and amusements. I could see two children trying to play soccer in the field across from the apartment building  even though the ball would hardly bounce in the softly accumulating  snow.

I spent the day working on the materials I’ll need for my next workshop at the American Corner which will consist of demonstrating grammar games to the teachers. I’m hoping I won’t get as many people as we got yesterday because I’d quickly run out of materials as well.

I cooked a delicious mung bean soup with chunks of beef, carrots and potatoes and a dollop of the hot sauce Corrie had brought me. The perfect meal on a cold, snowy day.

January 21, 2012

Somehow I misread the clock/watch in my house and went to the American Corner at 8:45am instead of 9:45. Alarmed at finding the place closed and no one around, I called Bakhtyor, who ignored my call, and then Caroline who set me straight. She invited me to her apartment, but I declined preferring to use the extra hour to get some materials laminated. The door was locked and when they finally open it and I asked for the service, the guy let out a stream of Russian of which I understood nothing. Was it that the machine was broken? The guy who does it wasn’t there yet? They no longer provide that service? Who knows, but it was clear no lamination was going to take place today.

On my way back, Shoira, from Operation Mercy, caught up with me and told me all the teachers from her NGO had signed up for the workshops. I was really glad to see her and we chatted along the way with my finding out that more snow was expected for Sunday and Monday. Upon entering the workshop space at the American Corner, we found it mobbed with people and all three tables already occupied with at least four people. I started to open folding chairs and asking the stream of people still arriving to just arrange themselves at best they could.

Corrie came in then and we realized that the few cookies/biscuits Caroline had brought, she had eaten some for breakfast, would not do, so she offered to go get more along with juices and more tea bags. I had brought my electric teakettle, tea and instant coffee. Caroline seemed unnerved by the amount of people as she could barely move around and declared it a fire hazard. The topic was how to work with pairs/groups in the classroom and a spirited discussion ensued which Caroline kept track of on a flip chart. She had planned to use a jigsaw puzzle to demonstrate how groups could share information after becoming experts on a particular subject, in this case the Chinese New Year, but didn’t have  enough copies for everyone and decided to end the workshop earlier. Attendees appeared to be truly disappointed.

We sat around kind of stunned and looked at each other for answers. Bakhtyor had no idea as to how all those teachers and students had heard about the workshop. We don’t know whether it could have been that Tahmina did a better job of disseminating the news or whether previous teachers had told others. We did know that not all of those presents were teachers, just students eager to improve their English. I’m presenting next week and don’t know how we can screen the attendees to make sure they are teachers and not students.

We went to lunch at a nearby government cafeteria to have the usual soup and bread as the rest of the dishes looked so unappetizing: steamed buckwheat, mashed potatoes, spaghetti with no sauce, and what looked like ground beef patties. Corrie ordered a pot of lemon tea and shared it with us. We must have spent at least two hours digesting the particulars of the workshops and gossiping about people at the embassy and other ex-pats in Dushanbe. Corrie suggested going to the Botanical Gardens, but Caroline and I declined as it was still very cold. We ordered another pot of tea while Corrie complained of getting cabin fever and looking for any opportunity to get out of her apartment. I’m so glad I feel so at home in mine where I don’t seem to lack for anything and can spend endless days cooking, reading, watching TV, surfing the Internet, preparing materials, sleeping and so on. 

January 20, 2012

As I was waiting to cross Rudaki Avenue on my way to the American Corner, I saw a young woman exit from a taxi wearing a mini-skirt, patterned-black hose, pumps with metal stiletto heels at least six inches long, a short leather coat and her waist-length hair flowing behind her. Beside her I felt like a bag lady with my pulled-down beret, scarf, thermal undershirt and pants, turtleneck sweater, heavy wool coat and hiking boots not to mention leather gloves. But then again, the temperature was a frigid 25F.

The embassy car was already waiting for Caroline and me to take us to the Kazakhstan embassy to obtain our transit visa for the trip to Nepal next month. We went up the steps of a staircase made up entirely of rebar, something I had never seen anywhere else. The reception area could barely accommodate all four of us and then three other people showed up. We had yet another form to complete and more photocopies to be made before being told to return in a week to see if that government felt we were entitled to set foot in their country. For the privilege of staying one night in Almity, we would need to pay $60.00.

Corrie, who had already initiated the process, joined us to claim her visa only to find out she had been granted a one-way visa and not the multiple entry one she had clearly marked on the form. The clerk indicated what had been done could not be undone and Corrie would need to apply for another visa upon arrival in Almity. We were then dropped off close to the Indian embassy to start yet another round of paperwork. Corrie recommended we get photocopies of all documents before entering the heavily guarded embassy as she had not seen a photocopy there. A little kiosk nearby provided copies and then we had to surrender our bags and even cell phones before proceeding inside. There was a short interview with some Indian guy who questioned me about being born in the Dominican Republic, what its capital was and exact geographical location. In a flippant manner, he was annoying me, I told him the island hadn’t moved as far as I knew and should still be part of the Caribbean Sea. We got the same response as the previous place: return in a week to see if we find you fit to set foot in India and be prepared to pay $52.00 for such precious opportunity.

Caroline went on to MultiKids and Corrie and I decided to search for the Uighur restaurant Ryan had sworn was located at the Vefa Center. After picking up my printer we stopped there and the doorman knew nothing about it and directed us to a very hip, modern-looking coffee shop offering snacks, desserts and coffee drinks. The young server told us the Uighur restaurant was located on the way to the airport and directed us to yet another Georgian restaurant nearby. It was the same story: a somewhat tasty pizza dough filled with cottage cheese and baked and a chunk of lamb swimming in a broth with something that looked like spinach. There was no seasoning, except for salt, to be tasted. I ordered what the server called “lemonade” and received something similar to a fizzy champagne cola. The bill came to 78.00 somoni and Corrie didn’t even have enough money to cover her share. And as usual, the food took forever to arrive although we were the only customers in the place.

I lay down for a nap once I reached my flat and was rudely awakened by some loud knocks on the door. A young guy handed me a letter from my girlfriend in Seattle that she had mailed prior to the Christmas season. I’m still holding out hope that her package, containing two bags of coffee beans, will arrive at my doorstep some day.

The phone rang and it was Pariso wanting to know if she could add my class schedule to the roster at the entrance to the English department. All I could say was that she better do it as she knew I was incapable of writing in Russian. She promised to call me back later on in the evening to discuss some other issues, but she never did. I notified her about my upcoming trip to Nepal.

The Kazakhstan embassy also called indicating they were having trouble with my documents. I had to call Corrie so she could call them back and verify my date of birth and spelling of my last name, something unbelievable since I had blown up a copy of my passport to make it even more legible.

January 19, 2012

I took the printer to the same shop that had refilled the cartridge in the hope they could figure out what was wrong with it. While waiting there for the clerk to take care of another customer, a young guy in line asked me where I was from and on finding out I spoke neither Tajik nor Russian wanted to know how was able to get around. This was the same question one of the teachers at the training center had posed two days ago when someone knocked on the door and started a stream of Russian talk aimed at me. I told both of them that sign language goes a long way along with a few words of Tajik, Russian and a smattering of English for good measure.

It was cold, but the abundant sunshine seemed to warm up the place. I walked to the American Corner, handed Bakhtyor my flashdrive and asked him to make sure the PowerPoint presentation, including the songs and the video portion of it would work from his computer. After a few minutes, he reassured everything looked good. Caroline came by and I helped her put together some materials for the portion of the presentation that related to Asian-Americans.

Of course, as luck would have it, when my presentation got to the point where I was supposed to have music, i.e., Ricky Martin, Shakira, Don Omar, Daddy Yankee, and the video clip from the musical “In the Heights”, there was no sound to be had. I was so mad I could spit nails and wanted to jump across the room and strangle Bakhtyor who instead of carrying out his duty as coordinator for this place seems to spend all his time romancing all the girls that come in. He made a pitiful attempt at playing with different cables and knobs, but no sound was produced and Caroline just wanted for me to move on.

                        Waiting, with Caroline, for our presentation to start at the American Corner

Caroline spoke about the history of Asian people in the United States and brought a cloze passage for them to complete, which was really a great idea and one I’d love to copy in the future as they had to listen carefully to complete the gaps in the text. We had soup and bread at the usual bistro; I bought a few staples at the supermarket next door and then made my way home.

January 18, 2012

A beautiful frosty morning greeted me when I stepped outside my building. Headed to the Teachers’ Training Center and carried out the second part of the session once Caroline left to go to MultiKids. I tried to show the teachers how to use the “Odd One Out” game to sharpen their students ability to detect patterns, similarities and difference among a group of words and to use logic to explain their choice. What should have taken 30 minutes took over an hour and they still could not see the logic behind some of the selections. I feel really sad when I see fully-grown human beings unable to free themselves from the long-ingrained patterns of learning that have taught them to simply memorize and recite facts and figures. An older teacher, who obviously had never used a computer, indicated that a mouse was out because it was an animal and not part of a machine. When I mentioned that this game was a good practice for those taking exams such as the TOEFL, no one knew what I was talking about.

On my way to Caritas International, ran into Ryan who acted surprised to see me and acknowledged he had been back for some time but was lying low for a while. We talked about perhaps having lunch on Sunday. The group at Caritas had a great time playing the games I had provided for the teachers last week and which many of them found way too advanced. We played “Concentration” using common collocations, “Giving Advice” to practice modals and “Have you Ever…” to practice the present perfect and simple past. Takhmina was laughing so hard she tears in her eyes. It was a great session.

On my way home, I stopped at the butcher and got some meat to cook on Sunday. I simply forgot that I was to meet with Caroline, Aziza and Gulnob at the Serena Hotel at 3:00 for tea as neither one of us had mentioned before her leaving. Instead, I walked all the way home grateful to have the warm sunshine on my face. Maryam and Nilufar were in front of the building as Nilufar was getting ready to take her baby out for a stroll. I followed Maryam and she indicated I should go with her to her friend’s flat on the first floor. Natasha knits the traditional Pamiri socks and wanted to know if I was interested in buying a pair. I was offered tea, bread, cookies, jam, and candy. The apartment is full of plants, some of which I had never seen. Her grandson, Firuz, was expected to talk to me in English, but of course he couldn’t even answer the most cursory of questions. 

January 17, 2012

Stayed home to tackle the mountain of dishes and piles of laundry that had accumulated due to the lack of water. It was sunny all day and I could see the clearly outlined mountains. Try as much as I did, I wasn’t able to get the printer to work once the cartridge had been replaced. Asked Caroline about it and she suspected the printer might have been so sensitive as to detect that the cartridge had been tampered with and not respond. I’d hate to go back to making trips to the copy center every time I need handouts.

This must be of those misguided efforts of some international NGOs to encourage Tajiks not to litter and to recycle. People continue to litter and those who use the receptacles place trash in both of them as apparently no public service campaign has been conducted to teach them the difference.

Zoir stopped by this time with one of his “pupils” in tow. As halting as his English is I guess some parents still consider him to be competent enough to teach their children. This student was 14 years old, but looked about ten. He wanted to ask me, once again, if I could introduce him to my other American contacts in the Dushanbe area so he’d have more chances to practice his English. He had no idea how draining it’s to spend time with him when we don’t understand half of what he’s saying. He indicated his brother is only willing to pay for two years of his education and after that, he’ll need to get a job.

January 16, 2012

I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day. The snow seemed to have stayed on the top of all the tree branches and hardly any of it stayed on the ground. The entire city looked like a Hollywood set ready for the cameras to start rolling as they filmed a Christmas movie. I had run out of batteries for my camera once again and thus was unable to take any photos. As unlikely as it might sound coming from me, I hope this kind of snowstorm is repeated so I can take lots of photos with the new camera my sister is sending me.

When I arrived at the Teachers’ Training Center and was getting ready to set out my materials, Zhulejo came in to tell us we were moving to Secondary School #1 where a bigger classroom was available. And it was a good thing she did for we had 28 teachers show up. I had prepared a group of cards with common collocations for them to set up in pairs, but it was obvious they had never been taught collocations and didn’t know how to find the other half. Since this was a new group, we did an introductory activity that took forever given the size of the group and their lack of practice with any activity that doesn’t require memorizing. I brought a reading activity based on Martin Luther king, Jr.’s life and concluded with a comprehension activity.

Caroline and I went to the F1 cafeteria where I ordered something with garbanzo beans, chunks of tripe (I was surprised) and almost no flavor. Corrie joined us along with her friend from Khujand who invited us to visit her whenever we make it into her city. After eating, Corrie and I went back to the post office where someone had mentioned a printing service was located where we could get business cards printed. No one spoke English there, so Corrie got me the information using her Russian. It’s customary here to print business cards on both sides, one in English and the other in Russian. I’m going against the current and having them printed on one side only.

                             This is how the PedInst keeps its banana trees alive during the winter.

We then stopped at a store that sells ink cartridges for printers and also refills them. I got a quote for 25 somoni to refill mine as opposed to buying a new one for 363.00 somoni. On to my class at Caritas International where Corrie discussed with Takmina the possibility of offering weekly English classes to a group of young people who had been raised in an orphanage and now occupy a half-way house as they didn’t feel the classes being offered at the American Corner met their needs. I couldn’t take on any more commitments. 

January 15, 2012

More rain greeted me this morning and I wondered how long it would last before it turned to snow. Jamshed showed up around ten to work on the pump only to discover that there wasn’t anything wrong with it as Dilya had led me to believe, but the problem was that the filter was completely clogged with so much silt that the water could not go through. Once he removed it and cleaned, and put it back in the water flowed unimpeded. He reminded me that my landlady’s driver would be picking me up at 11:00 and that I should just bring a change of clothes to her house to take a shower there. It seemed weird to arrive at this house for the first carrying a bundle of clothes, but I knew it was the logical thing to do since it would be a while before I had enough hot water in the tank to take shower at home.

It was snowing by the time the driver arrived and my landlady was sitting in the front seat holding a huge sheet cake covered with chocolate chips. She lives across from the busy Green Market, which despite the snow and previous rain, was a beehive of activity. We turned into a non-descript alleyway and pulled in front of building entrance. Somehow, I had thought she lived in a single family home and not just a regular Soviet-era apartment complex. I learned she shares her two-bedroom flat with her two grown sons, their wives and four grandchildren. In fact, she and her husband gave up their bedroom and sleep on cushions on what was the formal living room so that each son could have his own bedroom. She has two married daughters, one of which lives in Brooklyn, NY.

                                        Lunch at my landlady's apartment

When I stepped into the hallway and attempted to remove my boots, Maryam restrained me and told me that was the job of one of the daughters-in-law. I tried to free myself so I could bend over and finish the task, but the young woman quickly came over and removed my boots. I was so embarrassed I could not look at her in the eye for a while. I was directed to see on the cushions lining up the low table and the display of dishes started with bread, jam, butter, cookies, cake, yogurt, salads, mantu(a sort of dumpling filled with chopped beef and cabbage) and finally, of course, plov. In between, I was plied with coffee and tea. I had trouble finishing the slice of cake served at the end despite the fact that it was quite moist and not extremely sweet.

I did manage to take a shower between the appetizers and the main dish as one of the daughters-in-law brought a space heater into the bathroom and made sure there would be plenty of hot water for me to wash my hair. It felt so good to have abundant water to do so for once.

I was allowed into one of the bedrooms to look at the newest grandchild, a two-month old girl named Yazmeen, and the mother showed me her two albums covering her wedding. She was 19 and Alodin was 21. They’ve been married for two years. The oldest grandson, and who my landlady claimed could serve as an interpreter, could not even tell me what school he went to, probably an expensive private one, but was ready to sing three ditties he was taught at school when his grandmother prodded him probably without understanding a word of what he was saying.

I was dropped off at home with barely enough time to join Maryam for dinner at her friend Mauzama’s flat. We walked there under light snow and ended up at the building where I had been shown a vacant apartment and refused to take it because it was on the sixth floor and the elevator was a narrow, dark and slow thing that made me feel claustrophobic. The second apartment was dreary, dark and cold furnished with mismatched pieces of furniture and dim lighting. More salads, pickled vegetables, flat bread and of course, plov was served. I had come only for the companionship and had a couple glasses of red wine.

What I found most astonishing about whole gathering was how freely the women felt to discuss politics and blame the state of the nation on the people from the south of the country. According to Mauzama, during the Soviet domination era, people from the south only had the choice of becoming police/army personnel if males and agricultural workers in the cotton fields if female. There were very few schools and no universities in the southern region of the country and the people from the north looked down upon them considering them to be similar to the nomads of Afghanistan to whom many are ethnically related. Mauzama felt that the city of Dushanbe was no longer beautiful, safe or exciting because so many people from the south had migrated here in search of work. She felt that these people were coarse, uneducated, criminally-inclined, and prone to drug-addiction and so on. In her opinion, only people from the north, used to the Russian system of education, able to travel and get a decent education and surrounded by like-minded people should be able to live in Dushanbe. She predicts that when elections take place next spring, in the absence of any political opposition since the opposition has been muzzled, the president, who has been in power for 18 years  will win again and thus unleash another civil war. All three women wish to emigrate before that happens.

January 14, 2012

Stayed home waiting for the repair person to come and repair the pump, but he never showed up. I texted Dilya in the late afternoon and she claimed his mother had been ill and had to be taken to the hospital. Apparently, there is only repair person in all of Dushanbe. She promised he’d come early on Sunday morning.

I used the time to prepare my PowerPoint presentation on minorities in the U.S. I decided to concentrate on showing Hispanic/Latino people who have influenced the music, literature, film, and politics of the country and to include clips of music to go along with the entertainers. Corrie came by in the evening and brought me a chunk of Parmesan cheese she had found at the supermarket around the corner from my flat. She also brought me a jar of what she considers “hot” sauce. We’ll see how I rate it as the one I previously purchased seemed to taste just like ketchup.

Corrie thought my presentation looked really interesting especially since those attending are mostly young people who would be attuned to celebrities and the latest in music. She refreshed my memory on how to insert a sound clip into each slide.

I also spent a considerable amount of time reading an extremely disturbing book sent by an acquaintance in Ecuador titled “La Verdadera Historia del Club Bilderberg”, which outlines the theory that every war that has taken place since WWI has been orchestrated by a select group of heads of states, financiers and oil producing companies hell bent on keeping control over the natural resources available in the planet. To say that it’s scary is to put it mildly.

January 13, 2012

It seemed so unfair to wake to rain this morning when yesterday we had such clear skies. Taking into account that temperatures were expected to go up to the 40s, I dressed in a long sleeve t-shirt and blouse forgoing the usual thermal one and sweater I’ve been wearing lately. Bakhtyor and a group of volunteers were waiting for Corrie and me to arrive so we could depart for the city of Faizabad, about an hour away, where the U. S. Embassy was about to open a smaller version of the American Corner, the American Window, and where equipment needed to be transported there. Bakhtyor thought the occasion lent itself to an exchange with American teachers.

I begged to ride up front and shared the seat with Olim, a college student who dreams of becoming a scriptwriter and filmmaker and who has been volunteering at the American Corner to improve his English. It was great to have someone alongside who could answer my questions and who seemed fairly intelligent and well-informed. The driver was very courteous and drove slowly and cautiously, which I loved and proceeded to compliment him on it.

We went up the mountains and, of course, while it was only raining in Dushanbe, it was snowing in Faizabad. It was also very windy, something I had never encountered in the capital. We stopped at the building of the future American Window and there was no power there. Luckily, we didn’t need to stay long and only unloaded the equipment and proceeded to drive to another location where the teachers and students were waiting for us. It was another frigid room with only a lonesome space heater to warm up the place and so we all kept our coats on while listening to Bakhtyor explain what the American Corner was about while apparently never having to take a single breath.

Corrie and other attendees at Faizabad

Corrie and I realized we didn’t even have a blackboard to use here and just went for a talk after introducing ourselves, asking about their region, and their schools. She had brought one activity to do in pairs and we proceeded with that until it was time to go to lunch. The coordinator said he had taken care of that for us and drove to large restaurant, cavernous and cold, where they had reserved a room for us. It had no overhead lighting or any source of heating and the windows were covered with a light curtain, which I proceeded to tie together so we could at least see what we’d be eating. The table was already set with salads, flat bread, juices, tea and sodas. Shorbot was served shortly thereafter and I was preparing myself for the customary plate of plov when the server came in with mashed potatoes and a patty of ground lamb. It could have been a lot better if it had been hot, but it was quite tasty as it was. As usual, there was no dessert. Before departing, we promised the coordinator, who spoke little English, that we’d to try and arrange for a training session for the upcoming spring season.

Passing the American Window on the way out of town, some of the men exited the car and Corrie informed me there was a bathroom available if I wanted to use it. Of course I needed to after all that soup and tea. I went inside the building only to be told the bathroom was outside, and a bit suspicious, I went around the corner to find that the bathroom in question consisted of a hole in the ground surrounded by a sheet of plastic to provide privacy. I turned right around and went back to the car where Corrie and the other volunteers had a good laugh at my expense.

                                               Toilet in Faizabad

Daroush came by the apartment to chat for a while and to say he was serious about going to the States for a short course in English. He seems to have the resources and so I emailed my former colleague at FSCJ so she could provide him with the requirements to study there as an international student. Maryam came by while he was here to say that her friend Muazama had extended me an invitation for lunch on Sunday, the same day I’m already committed to have lunch with my landlady. I promised to go with her later on in the afternoon.

January 12, 2012

Attended my last presentation on Washington, D. C. at the Operation Mercy NGO, but found that the 35 or so students crammed into the small classroom were a lot more loquacious than their previous counterparts and knew a lot more about popular culture than I had anticipated. Like many teenagers, the girls were swooning over Justin Bieber and they thought he was American instead of Canadians. During the short break, they girls kept humming a song apparently titled “Never”. Johan told them that if they were good students, he’d play the video for them after lunch.

We were treated once again to salad, flat bread and plov with fruit for dessert. I asked Shoria, a graduate of the Institute for Languages, if Tajiks ever had proper dessert after their meals and she said no. I tried to see Linda, the English teacher for some of the PedInst, but she appeared to be busy with a report and I left right after lunch.

We had brilliant sunshine again and a dazzling display of the mountains all around us. I walked alongside Rudaki Avenue until I found the place to laminate some of the activities I’ll need for my upcoming workshops. While those were getting done, I went a few business south to print the photos I had taken of both Zoir and Pariso.

When I got home, I ran into Maryam coming down the stairs. She signaled to me that I should stop at her apartment and talk to Nilufar. The latter told today was her birthday and she wanted me to join them around 6:00pm. I felt bad I didn’t have a present to offer her and was in no way prepared to walk back to Rudaki Avenue to find something appropriate. I went up to my flat to take a nap, something I really needed since I had woken up before 4:00am that morning.

I waited until 6:20 to knock on Nilufar’s door and still, there was no one there but her immediate family. I learned that her father had slipped and fell right in front of the apartment building on January sixth and fractured his wrist. He had a cast on it and carried it on a sling while watching TV next to his son-in-law and grandson. I had brought her a bag of taffy candy I had leftover from when Nancy was here for a visit.

Maryam had the usual spread of salads, flat bread, juices, and candy that reminded me of the Little Eid celebration. Later on, she brought out a hot dish that tasted like rolled dough that had been steamed and then served with sour cream, I think she called it hanoman. It was another bland, barely edible dish I hope not to encounter again. We waited for her sister, nephew and best friend to arrive because the latter spoke English and could help us communicate. Muazama is an older woman who is the chairperson of another NGO, The Foundation to Support Civil Initiatives, and we talked for a while about all the questions I had about Maryam and her family but hadn’t been able to ask due to the language barrier. For instance, she told me the plot of land across from the apartment complex that I have been eyeing for a community garden, belongs to her husband. I didn’t dare ask how he came to own it, but did let her know I’d love to be able to sow a few seeds there next spring.

                                                Impressive cake baked by Nilufar.

                                                               
                                                                  Nilufar and her baby

                                                           
                                                           Another spread

                                         
                                                       Maryam giving me a tight hug.

                                              Nilufar showing off the makeup around her eyes.

Nilufar had baked her own cake and, without any ceremony or singing of any kind, proceeded to cut it into slices, huge ones at that, and passed it on. The men remained in the dining room watching TV the whole time. I was exhausted and begged to be allowed to leave after taking some photos that I could post on Facebook for Nilufar’s benefit.

January 11, 2012
Another cloudy day with little visibility of the mountains and their snowy peaks. Arrived early at Operation Mercy to speak to Linda as previously arranged, but she wasn’t in. Instead, I got to chat with Zach, from Oregon, who’s here doing horticultural work in the Pamir region trying to get a fruit drying process going so local farmers don’t continue to waste up to 70% of their apple crop for lack of transportation and markets. So far, he has three farmers drying apples using a solar-powered dryer and he hopes to start marketing the dried fruit in the near future.

When I got the classroom, the students were about to start a game of “Chutes and Ladders” and students were assigned to a group according to the type of fruit they drew: apples, bananas, oranges and pears. Each group had a teacher or English-speaker person assigned to it so we could provide instructions on playing the game. Shoria explained the rules and Jason wrote the vocabulary related to occupations on the board. As we any other group that I have tried games here, the most fluent students would not wait for the other ones to answer and shouted their answers first.

                            Playing "Chutes and Ladders" with the Access Program's students

The presentation went much better now that they had a caption for each photo that they could read instead of just listening to me. The Q & A period was almost as quiet with just two students making a comment about the Vietnam War Memorial and Obama. I turned down the invitation for lunch as I only had half hour to go to Caritas and felt it’d be better to just wolf down my usual bowl of soup and flat bread that to try and extricate myself from the dining room in a speedy fashion.

Johan offering water to a student to wash her hands before lunch

                                      Access student with a skin condition I'm not familiar with

We talked about dating in Tajikistan and I was surprised that both men and women seemed open to this topic and were quite frank in their opinions about likes and dislikes and expectations from their partners. It was a great session. Takmina gave me several posters from previous calendar years that her organization has published and which I wanted to laminate the photos for my students. Hurshev tweaked my Skype program until, I think, he got the sound to work. At least we tried it in the office and I could hear Furkat on the other end. We’ll see what happens when I call Florida early tomorrow morning.

January 10, 2012

Made my way to the Operation Mercy NGO under cloudy skies and the threat of more snow. I was led to a small, overheated classroom where 15 students sat on chairs lined against the wall. They looked to be about 8-years old, but Johan confirmed they were ninth graders from a remote village with no access to an English teacher and that’s why they were providing English classes under the Access Program. One of the Tajik instructors was leading them through a lesson on a birthday celebration. By glancing at the paper the girl next to me held, I could see that she wasn’t even able to match the vocabulary describing the different activities that might take place during that kind of celebration. At the end, a guy from Canada who’s also teaching there, showed a video of some munchkins singing “Happy Birthday” and encouraged them to do a sing along.

I had not brought a single warm up activity with me, so I decided to break them into groups of five, and then have them discuss what they knew about Washington, D. C. When asked to relate to the class at least one fact they knew, they were reluctant to speak even with the encouragement of their Tajik teachers. I was able to elicit something like: “It’s located on the East Coast.”, “It’s where the U. S. president lives.”, and “It’s where the White House is located.” I then moved on to the actual slide presentation asking questions along the way about the different historical events and monuments featured in then. There were no comments or questions at all except for those coming from the Canadian guy who appeared to be the only person in the room to know what was being talked about besides me.

When I opened up the session for Q & A, there was total silence. I asked the students to pose their questions to their Tajik instructors who could then translate them for me, but even then, no questions/comments were forthcoming. We proceeded to the lunch room where I was served just what I needed the most, another platter of plov, salad and flat bread, alongside the weak bowl of tea I’ve come to dislike for lacking in any flavor.

I was introduced to Linda, the English teacher for two of my PedInst students, and we agreed to meet tomorrow and talk about our respective classes for a bit. I also met two other women from South Africa, one of which directs the NGO. Johan, the one who extended the invitation, is from Sweden and moved here eight years ago with his wife and two children, after having spent a year doing development work in the country. He recommended that I simplify the PPT for the two remaining days to insure there was less text and more pictures clearly labeled for the students to follow.

I spent a good deal of the afternoon and evening doing exactly that and trying to stay warm for it seemed that in spite of having the wall unit and a space heater next to me, my hands were freezing thus causing me to be in a foul mood.

Zoir stopped by to check on the answers to the questions I had given him on his reading of “The Old Man and the Sea”. Contrary to my expectations, he had written lengthy responses on his notebook instead of just the concise, direct ones the handout required. I showed him how to scan the text for specific information, but he wanted reassurance every time he answered a question that it was correct. I can see why he wasn’t selected to participate in the English classes at Operation Mercy as he lacks the critical skills to read on his own. When I asked him about this, he lied and said he was told there wasn’t any room for more students in the class.

January 9, 2012

As I walked to the Teacher’s Training Center I thought there was one advantage to having the ground covered with snow: I didn’t have to look at the gobs of spit usually adorning the sidewalks and pavement. I could also admire the graceful way young Tajik women seemed to glide over the icy sidewalks in their stiletto boots without, apparently, ever falling. I, on the other hand, had to assess each surface first to determine where there would be some snow that had not been trampled into a reflective mirror waiting for my derriere to plunk into it.

Zhulejo didn’t have the key to the classroom once again and we were relegated to the library with no blackboard or even markers to use the flipchart. Playing games in the classroom must be such an alien concept that most teachers at the workshop seemed to have a very difficult time grasping the rules and the fact that they were expected to compete as teams against other teachers. They kept shouting the answers whenever they felt it like, especially to show off their knowledge. Even when being told to keep the answer to themselves, it was impossible for them to remain quiet.

Vocabulary constituted a major obstacle to almost any game we tried. Caroline was more pessimistic and wanted to do very low level vocabulary words while I, the optimistic one, wanted to challenge them into learning at least a few new ones. When the turn came for them to play “Have you ever…” using their imagination to concoct a story, they were unable to do it and complained that their students would not be capable of doing it either for as we know, they are only trained to memorize stuff and not to use their creativity. The power went out once again, but at least Zhulejo brought us some piroshkies and weak coffee to warm us up. I had to keep my coat on the whole time.

When the session was completed, I met Corrie in front of the post office so she could inquire on my behalf about the package my friend Stephanie sent me from Seattle. The clerk said if and when such package arrives, it’ll be delivered to my doorstep and left there if I’m not home. I couldn’t tell if there was note of sarcasm on her voice.As we approached the PedInst, we noticed that municipal workers were taking down the billboard encouraging teachers not to accept bribes. Did anyone complain so vociferously as to have it removed?  We had soup at my favorite cafeteria across from the PedInst and then I went on to my conversation class at Caritas International. The topic was money and I found that out of four members of the class, all professionals, only one had a bank account and a debit card. The rest were paid in cash once a month and one woman carried all her money in her purse at all times. She stated not being afraid of pickpockets or being robbed.

I stopped at the PedInst and spoke to the dean who immediately handed me my salary for the month of December. I practically felt bad accepting for I have certainly done very little teaching there this past month. He gave me the key to my new classroom, but suggested I find a better lock to secure the whiteboard and space heater once I buy those. He’ll help me find a used cabinet I can lock and leave my stuff there instead of ferrying everything I need on a daily basis. I’m to return to the institute on the first of February. He had received the email listing the upcoming workshops at the American Corner and was extremely solicitous and very accommodating.

I walked all the way home feeling the warm sunshine on my face after so many days of confinement to either the hotel or flat. It was practically balmy at 45F this afternoon. Still no water when I got to the apartment. I boiled some water and made myself a strong cup of tea.

I watched a sorrowful documentary on RTD, the Russian documentary channel, that dealt with the drug traffic taken place from Afghanistan through Tajikistan and then on to Russia. It stated that a kilo of heroin cost $4,000.00 in Afghanistan, $50,000.00 in Russia and 80,000.00 once it got to Europe. It focused most of the air time on the mules from Tajikistan carrying pellets of heroin in their stomach and the clever ways the drug dealers were using dried fruit to encapsulate the heroin inside. It was like seeing a rewind of the Colombian/Mexican drug trafficking into the United States. The commentator never alluded to the fact that in the absence of demand, and extreme poverty in Tajikistan, there’d not be any supply.

January 8, 2012

Nothing much to report. My brother-in-law tried again to reach me through Skype and this time we could see each other, but had to use the IM portion of the program to communicate. My sister joined him and showed a new pair of flannel pajamas she’s sending me soon. It was great to see both of them and almost ached to be there and hug them tight.

Started out on my plov/osh dish hoping this time the turn out will be just like my neighbor Maryam’s. It took much longer than anticipated as having to cook on an electric stove is always a pain in the neck when it comes to regulating the heat. How I wish I had gas to cook with. I didn’t have lunch until almost 3:00pm. Neither Caroline nor Corrie came over. I don’t blame them though as the streets are still icy. I’ll take some to Caroline tomorrow morning.

                            The Dominican version of plov/osh - delicious

I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing grammar games for tomorrow’s presentation and the upcoming workshop at the American Corner. I need to find a place to laminate these materials so I don’t have to replicate them. I also put the finishing touches on my presentation on Washington, D. C. for the Operation Mercy NGO.

I almost finish reading de Botton’s “The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work”, a most insightful look into several occupations and how people come to love or hate what they do. Fascinating read.

January 7, 2012

The tablet I took last night did the trick for I slept through the night without coughing at all. I was up at four and got up to get started on the many tasks still pending for next week. I found no water when I opened the faucet in the bathroom sink and when I tried the kitchen one, the same thing happened. It was 12F outside and the pipes must have frozen again even though I had left one of the faucets partially open to prevent it from happening again.

I heated water to be able to do the dishes, clean the bathroom and take a bath. I needed to make the apartment look exceedingly orderly and clean as the landlady was coming by to collect the rent. She hadn’t been around in three months. I started working on the presentation I’m going to be making about Washington, D.C., a city I definitely like for its walkability, diversity and cultural offerings, not to mention the best subway system in the nation. I’ll be talking to ninth graders, but have no idea whether they already know anything about it. I also worked on some grammar games for my presentation on Monday.

I tried to Skype with my brother-in-law in Florida, and although he could see and hear me, I couldn’t do either one. I texted Caroline to try and practice with her, but she hadn’t paid for her Internet service and was debating whether to go outside or not today. I could see a group of children improvising some sort of toboggan so they could slide down the icy hill leading to the street. I felt so fortunate not to have to go outside at all.

My landlady, Jamshev and another woman came in after lunch to look into every room and pepper me with questions, in Russian of course. I paid the rent and had to call Dilya to be told that the pump was damaged once again because I’m not supposed to leave it plugged in when I’m not using any water. This was news to me. The landlady seemed pleased with the look of the unit and wanted to verify how much longer I’d be staying here. She even invited me for lunch at her house next Sunday. That should be fun with two people who only share about five words in either English or Russian.

Zoir called to say he wanted to come by, but I dissuaded him from doing so alleging to be busy with my school work. It can be draining sometimes to be around him. Daroush came by to pick up his flashdrive now that I was able to do some online research on Afghani war rugs for his English class presentation.