February 19, 2010
The Azerbaijan family daily diets include lot of breads, potatoes, cheeses, animal fats and butter. After each meal, the Azeri enjoys drinking tea (çay) with lot of “Sweets”. The typical sweet is nothing but the sugar cubes. Instead of putting the sugar cubes inside their tea, they put the cubes in their mouths and eat them like candies. If the family is weatlhy, the sugar cubes are replaced by chocolates.
The Azeri loves sweet and fat. I was shocked the first time when I saw how my host mother cook rice. She first fried the union with çox çox çoxlu (lots) of butter, (approx. 3 sticks of butter) then she added either fatty meats or pumpkin with rice. To finish the dish, she put in another 2 sticks of butter. After she added water inside the pot, I could literally see a thick layer of fat floating on top of the rice. When the rice was cooked, it was not floppy and dried like our “Chinese Rice” but so greasy, oily and mushy that they looked like porridge. I nearly threw up the first time I ate that rice. The smell and the taste of the butter made me hate eating rice for a long time.
As for vegetables, in Azerbaijan there seems to be only cabbage, carrot, green union and baby spinach in the winter. Cabbage is cheap, very cheap so each Azeri family will pickle the cabbage and eat them whole year round. Occasionally in the bazaar, if I am lucky, I can find some tiny and rotten broccoli or cauliflower, the kind that I would never buy in the States, and they are very expensive. My host family never bought any fresh fruits and vegetables from the market. Instead, my host father would purchase boxes and boxes of rotten ones from the venders for a cheap price. My host mother and sisters would then sort out the most rotten pieces to feed the chickens and the rest, we ate. I once saw my host sister cut out 90% of an apple and handed the remaining tiny piece to me. I ate it but I could still taste the rotten aroma for what was left from an apple.
For me, an edible apple should be juicy and crunchy, not saggy, mushy and dried. After that day, I bought my own fruits and avoided eating more those rotten fruits. As for vegetables, I insist on cooking my own carrot and cabbages with a spoonful of corn oil adding nothing but just a little salt and pepper. My host family laughed at my “tasteless” American cooking. I let them. I want to stay healthy and not gain a pound when I return to the States after two years. (According to Peace Corps, average female PCVs gain weight after two years service! and I already saw some of them showing it)
I still take my long walk after work and when I arrive home, I climb stairs and do some yoga. The weather is getting warmer each day, and I am looking forward to taking a even longer walk by the Caspian Sea in the summer.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Our Peace Corps Monthly Allowance
February 17. 2010
Yesterday on my way home, I passed by my favorite fruits Stand and noticed the green plum was out now. I wanted to have one and asked the shop keeper how much a kilo. The shop owner knows me well and I have been one of his best customers. He told me that it was very expensive (3 AZN per kilo) and not to but them. He is an honest man and his fruits usually very fresh and good. He treats me fairly and never over charged me. Unlike the other street vendor I encountered few days ago, he raised the price of the apple as soon as I approached him. Even the sign showing the price was 0.8 AZN per kilo, he insisted that I had to pay 1.0 AZN per kilo. He thought that he could charge me more just because I was the “rich foreigner” but he failed to realize that I am a Peace Corps worker, I am poor even according to the Azeri standard.
From the Peace Corps monthly living allowance I receive, I really cannot afford to buy imported fruits such as banana, orange and grape fruit. They are expensive and cost 2-3 AZN a kilo. Once in a while, I skipped lunch and bought myself a few bananas and I have to hide them in my room so I can save them to eat one a day or my host family will eat them all in an hour.
Right now, I live with a host family so most of my meals are being taken care of. Therefore, occasionally, I can still afford to treat myself with the imported fruits. Very soon, when I move out on my own, after deducting the rent payment, I only have about 100 AZN left to cover monthly foods, gas, electricity, transportation and daily personal and cleaning items. 100 AZN is not a lot of money when it costs 2.4 AZN for a small bottle of shampoo and 1.3 AZN to take a bus to Baku. How am I going to live on my own with only 3.3 AZN daily allowances?
The answer from Peace Corps is: continue to live with your host family for two years. For an independent person like myself, I would rather starve to death than share a roof with strangers for two years. Most Peace Corps Volunteers use their own money or ask their family from the US to subsidize their living expense. I dislike the idea, not because I am cheap. I just do not believe it is the right thing to do. After all, we are here to experience how the local lives. If we go on living the way we used to live in the US, it does not serve “the purpose” why we are here. I was poor once. I will manage.
Yesterday on my way home, I passed by my favorite fruits Stand and noticed the green plum was out now. I wanted to have one and asked the shop keeper how much a kilo. The shop owner knows me well and I have been one of his best customers. He told me that it was very expensive (3 AZN per kilo) and not to but them. He is an honest man and his fruits usually very fresh and good. He treats me fairly and never over charged me. Unlike the other street vendor I encountered few days ago, he raised the price of the apple as soon as I approached him. Even the sign showing the price was 0.8 AZN per kilo, he insisted that I had to pay 1.0 AZN per kilo. He thought that he could charge me more just because I was the “rich foreigner” but he failed to realize that I am a Peace Corps worker, I am poor even according to the Azeri standard.
From the Peace Corps monthly living allowance I receive, I really cannot afford to buy imported fruits such as banana, orange and grape fruit. They are expensive and cost 2-3 AZN a kilo. Once in a while, I skipped lunch and bought myself a few bananas and I have to hide them in my room so I can save them to eat one a day or my host family will eat them all in an hour.
Right now, I live with a host family so most of my meals are being taken care of. Therefore, occasionally, I can still afford to treat myself with the imported fruits. Very soon, when I move out on my own, after deducting the rent payment, I only have about 100 AZN left to cover monthly foods, gas, electricity, transportation and daily personal and cleaning items. 100 AZN is not a lot of money when it costs 2.4 AZN for a small bottle of shampoo and 1.3 AZN to take a bus to Baku. How am I going to live on my own with only 3.3 AZN daily allowances?
The answer from Peace Corps is: continue to live with your host family for two years. For an independent person like myself, I would rather starve to death than share a roof with strangers for two years. Most Peace Corps Volunteers use their own money or ask their family from the US to subsidize their living expense. I dislike the idea, not because I am cheap. I just do not believe it is the right thing to do. After all, we are here to experience how the local lives. If we go on living the way we used to live in the US, it does not serve “the purpose” why we are here. I was poor once. I will manage.
My LIfe in Azerbaijan - Nice Weather Finally
February 16, 2010
Last night just before dawn, the wind was blowing like hell. The wild dogs were barking; the garage door of my host family was banging so loud; my bedroom window was shuddering and I thought the wall next to my bed was going to crumble and gave way to the vicious storm. I looked out to the window and noted the sky was covered with thick dark clouds. Minutes later, all the power in the house was gone. It seemed that the whole universe was descending into a total darkness.
I heard my host mother was getting up, moving around downstairs in the dark to cook a family meal for the day. I hid myself under the cover, not willing to face another day with sub-zero temperature and tormenting wind chill. “I will skip a day to work” I was planning to sleep more (It is good thing being a Peace Corps Volunteer, we are never obligated to go to work)
An hour later, the wind stopped and the power was back on. I looked at my alarm clock and it was 8:00am. “I should go to work, the report is due to Baku” I changed my mind and started preparing to go to work. I went downstairs to take a shower and as soon as I opened the door, I was surprise by how warm the air was!
Within two hours, the weather took a 360 degree turned. Spring was in the air. The birds were singing, my host mother’s chickens were even out. Cocks were making the morning call even louder than normal, kept raising their “cookoo cookoo” sound begging for attention. The three family kitties were climbing the trees and chasing each other. I could not believe the picture in front of me. The snow from last week had not yet completely melted, and the water in the bucket was still frozen from last night cold temperature.
It must be the SOUTH WIND!
I learned from my Azerbaijan friend that there are two kinds of wind in Azerbaijan. The North and the South wind. The South wind is the wind arriving from the desert of Saudi Arabia and the North wind is the wind coming from the Caspian Sea. The violent storm blowing last night was the result of the shifting wind direction from the North to the South. The desert wind has arrived!
Wind from the South according to my friend is the worse wind in the summer. It dehydrates all the fruits, vegetables, and plants growing in the field. It is the most hated wind in the summer. However, today it was a welcoming wind for me. I have enough of the cold, welcome Summer!
Last night just before dawn, the wind was blowing like hell. The wild dogs were barking; the garage door of my host family was banging so loud; my bedroom window was shuddering and I thought the wall next to my bed was going to crumble and gave way to the vicious storm. I looked out to the window and noted the sky was covered with thick dark clouds. Minutes later, all the power in the house was gone. It seemed that the whole universe was descending into a total darkness.
I heard my host mother was getting up, moving around downstairs in the dark to cook a family meal for the day. I hid myself under the cover, not willing to face another day with sub-zero temperature and tormenting wind chill. “I will skip a day to work” I was planning to sleep more (It is good thing being a Peace Corps Volunteer, we are never obligated to go to work)
An hour later, the wind stopped and the power was back on. I looked at my alarm clock and it was 8:00am. “I should go to work, the report is due to Baku” I changed my mind and started preparing to go to work. I went downstairs to take a shower and as soon as I opened the door, I was surprise by how warm the air was!
Within two hours, the weather took a 360 degree turned. Spring was in the air. The birds were singing, my host mother’s chickens were even out. Cocks were making the morning call even louder than normal, kept raising their “cookoo cookoo” sound begging for attention. The three family kitties were climbing the trees and chasing each other. I could not believe the picture in front of me. The snow from last week had not yet completely melted, and the water in the bucket was still frozen from last night cold temperature.
It must be the SOUTH WIND!
I learned from my Azerbaijan friend that there are two kinds of wind in Azerbaijan. The North and the South wind. The South wind is the wind arriving from the desert of Saudi Arabia and the North wind is the wind coming from the Caspian Sea. The violent storm blowing last night was the result of the shifting wind direction from the North to the South. The desert wind has arrived!
Wind from the South according to my friend is the worse wind in the summer. It dehydrates all the fruits, vegetables, and plants growing in the field. It is the most hated wind in the summer. However, today it was a welcoming wind for me. I have enough of the cold, welcome Summer!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Azerbaijan Hospital
February 9, 2010
İ have read one of the Peace Corps important policies that if we, PCVs ever get sick, DON’T let any non-Peace Corps doctor minister us, DON’T take any medication from them and NEVER ever let them insert an needle in us. One of the reasons is because the corruption in the country. In Azerbaijan, anyone can obtain a medical doctor degree if he/she has the money to pay the bribe. Today, I uncovered another reason.
The little boy who lives across the street from us has been sick more than a week. He is not doing well and will have to remain in the hospital for at least another week. He is a cute little boy, only 10 months old. I hold him and play with him all the times and love him dearly. Yesterday, I went to see him in the hospital.
Standing in front of the hospital entrance, I was just astounded. The hospital buildings inside the gate looked more like some old Russian army dormatories. We entered into one of the old broken buildings throught the side entrance and found out all the doors were locked. We bang on the door for five minutes, and finally a woman wearing a dirty white gown came out and looked at us with a cold face. I was not sure she was a doctor or a nurse, but either case, I would dispel her from the hospital immediately. Her appearance was totally unacceptable by the American medical standard or any medical standard.
We climbed up to the 4th floor (yes, no elevator) with broken staircases here and there. Dim light passing through some high windows showed us the way. The hallway was dark, cold and ugly. The whole place did not look, feel, or even smell like a hospital. We passed some nurse stations and I was totally disgusted. The station looked more like the kitchen of Mr. Chow. I was further appalled when I walked into the little boy’s room. A moldy smell hit me as soon as I went in. By the corner was this poor little body lying on a bed full of filthy blankets. There were no white linens covering the mattress, pillows or blankets. There were no shades or curtains by the window. A big smutty blanket veiled a doorway and behind it revealed the dirtiest bathroom I ever saw in a hospital.
Inside the bathroom was a bathtub with yellow stains and broken pipes. There was no running water inside and the toilet was unusable, that was why the hospital using the blanket to block the entrance. Was I really in a hospital or this was merely a dream? With such a horrible condition, how the little boy was going to get better? I was angry first and later on, my anger turned into sadness.
These past few weeks, all the entries of my “blog” were nothing but bad thing about this country. I wanted to write something nice, positive or at least acceptable thing about this place. I tried and tried, but in vain…
The people of Azerbaijan suffer enough! How much can I really help? I ponder this question for a long long time. Maybe I am really just a drop of water in the ocean.
İ have read one of the Peace Corps important policies that if we, PCVs ever get sick, DON’T let any non-Peace Corps doctor minister us, DON’T take any medication from them and NEVER ever let them insert an needle in us. One of the reasons is because the corruption in the country. In Azerbaijan, anyone can obtain a medical doctor degree if he/she has the money to pay the bribe. Today, I uncovered another reason.
The little boy who lives across the street from us has been sick more than a week. He is not doing well and will have to remain in the hospital for at least another week. He is a cute little boy, only 10 months old. I hold him and play with him all the times and love him dearly. Yesterday, I went to see him in the hospital.
Standing in front of the hospital entrance, I was just astounded. The hospital buildings inside the gate looked more like some old Russian army dormatories. We entered into one of the old broken buildings throught the side entrance and found out all the doors were locked. We bang on the door for five minutes, and finally a woman wearing a dirty white gown came out and looked at us with a cold face. I was not sure she was a doctor or a nurse, but either case, I would dispel her from the hospital immediately. Her appearance was totally unacceptable by the American medical standard or any medical standard.
We climbed up to the 4th floor (yes, no elevator) with broken staircases here and there. Dim light passing through some high windows showed us the way. The hallway was dark, cold and ugly. The whole place did not look, feel, or even smell like a hospital. We passed some nurse stations and I was totally disgusted. The station looked more like the kitchen of Mr. Chow. I was further appalled when I walked into the little boy’s room. A moldy smell hit me as soon as I went in. By the corner was this poor little body lying on a bed full of filthy blankets. There were no white linens covering the mattress, pillows or blankets. There were no shades or curtains by the window. A big smutty blanket veiled a doorway and behind it revealed the dirtiest bathroom I ever saw in a hospital.
Inside the bathroom was a bathtub with yellow stains and broken pipes. There was no running water inside and the toilet was unusable, that was why the hospital using the blanket to block the entrance. Was I really in a hospital or this was merely a dream? With such a horrible condition, how the little boy was going to get better? I was angry first and later on, my anger turned into sadness.
These past few weeks, all the entries of my “blog” were nothing but bad thing about this country. I wanted to write something nice, positive or at least acceptable thing about this place. I tried and tried, but in vain…
The people of Azerbaijan suffer enough! How much can I really help? I ponder this question for a long long time. Maybe I am really just a drop of water in the ocean.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Shower at Last!
February 7, 2010
After three days without shower, I really could not stand it anymore. I told my host mother, I must take a shower today, no matter how cold it was.
Since the Friday snow storm, everything in the house seemed to stop working. The electricity was out whole day Friday and half of day Saturday. The bathroom had no running water for three days and it smelt horrible. Everyone went to the bathroom without flashing the toilet and it was grossed. I went down to the kitchen, filled up a bucket of water and cleaned up the mess. In the morning and evening, I brushed my teeth and washed my face with the ice water. It was coooold, so cooooold that my hands felt like being pinned by thousand needles. However, no one in the house seemed to care about the cleaning. They just hurdled around the heater, drank cay (tea) and did not want to do anything. When I mentioned taking a shower, they all said NO, NO. NO too cold Chi, you are going to get sick.
I asked my host mother to boil me 2 pots of hot water. When they were ready, I went to the hamam (outhouse), closed the door, took off my clothes, bit my lips and stepped into th
e cold bathtub and took a most needed shower. After I finished, I felt wonderful. In the States, I took shower every day, something even 2 times a day, but never once felt so clean , so incredible clean like today!
Moment like this really makes me miss my bathroom in New York. I have a nice bathroom back home with a bathtub that is spotless clean. My bathroom always smells good, with a big mirror, soft lighting, soap that has the amazing flower fragrant. I miss my bobble bath too, soft bobbles, warm water, unlimited amount of hot water…..
After three days without shower, I really could not stand it anymore. I told my host mother, I must take a shower today, no matter how cold it was.
Since the Friday snow storm, everything in the house seemed to stop working. The electricity was out whole day Friday and half of day Saturday. The bathroom had no running water for three days and it smelt horrible. Everyone went to the bathroom without flashing the toilet and it was grossed. I went down to the kitchen, filled up a bucket of water and cleaned up the mess. In the morning and evening, I brushed my teeth and washed my face with the ice water. It was coooold, so cooooold that my hands felt like being pinned by thousand needles. However, no one in the house seemed to care about the cleaning. They just hurdled around the heater, drank cay (tea) and did not want to do anything. When I mentioned taking a shower, they all said NO, NO. NO too cold Chi, you are going to get sick.
I asked my host mother to boil me 2 pots of hot water. When they were ready, I went to the hamam (outhouse), closed the door, took off my clothes, bit my lips and stepped into th
e cold bathtub and took a most needed shower. After I finished, I felt wonderful. In the States, I took shower every day, something even 2 times a day, but never once felt so clean , so incredible clean like today!Moment like this really makes me miss my bathroom in New York. I have a nice bathroom back home with a bathtub that is spotless clean. My bathroom always smells good, with a big mirror, soft lighting, soap that has the amazing flower fragrant. I miss my bobble bath too, soft bobbles, warm water, unlimited amount of hot water…..
My Life in Azerbaijan - The Storm!
February 5, 2010
I could hear the wind was blowing whole night long, but I did not realize it was this bad. This morning when I got up to go to work, I noted that lot of water coming through my bedroom windows. I could feel the icy wind creeping in through the cracks. Then, I discovered there was no electricity. When I opened the door to go outside, a gust of freezing wind hit my face. It was snowing heavily and the wind was mercilessly blowing and
blowing. It was a blizzard outside. My host family’s chicken shed and yard were completely covered with snow. I quickly went to the outhouse and found out that not only there was no hot water; there was also no running water. That meant no shower for me today. I ran back to the house and woke up my sister and told her everything. She looked at with the sleepy eyes and did not think it was a big deal.
“You do not have snow in New York?”
“We do, but no electricity, no running water and no hot water at the same time are rare!”
“It happens here all the time Chi, it will be ok in a few days”
Then, she went back to sleep.
The gusting wind combined with the heavy snow and sub-zero temperature made it unbearable to stand outside just for a few seconds. I knew I could not make it to work. Later, my sister told me that the road to the city was littered with stranded cars. Those who went to work in the morning could not make it home that night until late. I was glad I did not leave the house or I would never make it back alive.
For a day and an half, my host family’s house was out of power. We could not watch TV, and we did not know what was happening outside the house. None of us could take a shower because there was no hot water. We drank hot tea, ate bread and sat around the heater, hoping the power would be back soon. At night, my host mother lit up two candles and the entire family was sitting in the dark eating sunflower seeds whole night long. By 9:00pm, I could not take it anymore, so I went back to my icy cold room and sleep. Sleeping was the only way to keep me warm. Before I closed my eyes, I prayed to God that let this winter go by fast because I really hated the cold!
I could hear the wind was blowing whole night long, but I did not realize it was this bad. This morning when I got up to go to work, I noted that lot of water coming through my bedroom windows. I could feel the icy wind creeping in through the cracks. Then, I discovered there was no electricity. When I opened the door to go outside, a gust of freezing wind hit my face. It was snowing heavily and the wind was mercilessly blowing and
blowing. It was a blizzard outside. My host family’s chicken shed and yard were completely covered with snow. I quickly went to the outhouse and found out that not only there was no hot water; there was also no running water. That meant no shower for me today. I ran back to the house and woke up my sister and told her everything. She looked at with the sleepy eyes and did not think it was a big deal.“You do not have snow in New York?”
“We do, but no electricity, no running water and no hot water at the same time are rare!”
“It happens here all the time Chi, it will be ok in a few days”
Then, she went back to sleep.
The gusting wind combined with the heavy snow and sub-zero temperature made it unbearable to stand outside just for a few seconds. I knew I could not make it to work. Later, my sister told me that the road to the city was littered with stranded cars. Those who went to work in the morning could not make it home that night until late. I was glad I did not leave the house or I would never make it back alive.
For a day and an half, my host family’s house was out of power. We could not watch TV, and we did not know what was happening outside the house. None of us could take a shower because there was no hot water. We drank hot tea, ate bread and sat around the heater, hoping the power would be back soon. At night, my host mother lit up two candles and the entire family was sitting in the dark eating sunflower seeds whole night long. By 9:00pm, I could not take it anymore, so I went back to my icy cold room and sleep. Sleeping was the only way to keep me warm. Before I closed my eyes, I prayed to God that let this winter go by fast because I really hated the cold!
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
My Life in Azerbaijan - Hello Gene!
February 1, 2010
Today I received a surprise phone call from Gene Rose, the gentleman I met on the CMCNY Peru trip few years ago. I think I am the only person in CMCNY who still keep in touch with Gene. Gene read my blog and wanted to cheer me up with a phone call. You did, Gene, you really made my day today. Thank you very much!
Gene and I had a good time during the Peru Machu Picchu trip. We do have a lot thing in common. Gene traveled a lot and I admire his adventure spirit. He is another interesting individual I met in my life. Last year Gene went to Iraq with the Red Cross to help the American troop. Judging the frequency of his travel, I can guess Gene is quite well-to-do. Instead of enjoying his life with his wealth, Gene wants to give something back to the world. His service to Iraq really impresses me. Gene is a good man, I hope someday, I will see him again or maybe travel together.
Some people are not happy just being “survive”, they choose to live, live every second with the fullness. Gene is one of that special human being.
Today I received a surprise phone call from Gene Rose, the gentleman I met on the CMCNY Peru trip few years ago. I think I am the only person in CMCNY who still keep in touch with Gene. Gene read my blog and wanted to cheer me up with a phone call. You did, Gene, you really made my day today. Thank you very much!
Gene and I had a good time during the Peru Machu Picchu trip. We do have a lot thing in common. Gene traveled a lot and I admire his adventure spirit. He is another interesting individual I met in my life. Last year Gene went to Iraq with the Red Cross to help the American troop. Judging the frequency of his travel, I can guess Gene is quite well-to-do. Instead of enjoying his life with his wealth, Gene wants to give something back to the world. His service to Iraq really impresses me. Gene is a good man, I hope someday, I will see him again or maybe travel together.
Some people are not happy just being “survive”, they choose to live, live every second with the fullness. Gene is one of that special human being.
My Life in Azerbaijan - Our Dilemma as Peace Corps Volunteer
January 2, 2010
I read Vivian’s weekly newsletter this morning and this is what she wrote on January 31, 2010:
“This is the second time I have not been kind to my family....I realize that I was bitchy but I have to tell you how trying the whole situation is about 90% of the time”
I sense her frustruation and I am glad to find out that I am not the only one feeling this way about our host family. My part of the story is not so different. One of my host sisters always expects me to be around her. I have to entertain her relatives and her friends. It does not matter whether I like it or not. She just came to me and announced each time:
“Chi, we are going to my aunt’s house this weekend” ,
“Chi, my friends are coming this weekend, make sure you are home”,
“Chi, my cousin’s birthday is tomorrow, we will go to her party”.
Out of respect, I had honored all her requests. Each time, I suffered. It was always the same, they talked and talked among themselves in Azeri, said things about me, laughted at my mistakens, kept watching me. When they got tired of it, they just left me there to get bored. If I got up and left, it was an OMLAZ (it is forbidden!). My host sister and her mother would later critized me and demanded an explanation as why I behaved that way.
Last week, I finally got fed up with the whole situation, so I said “NO” to my host sister’s request for visiting her aunt in Baku. I explained to her I had language lesson that day.
“But what time will you be back?”.
“late, I will be late, please go without me”.
As soon as I said that, she put her head down on the table, and got very upset. She was nearly in tears. I ignored her and left the kitchen. Whole day, she stopped talking to me. Every time I walked by her, she would watch me with the corner of her eyes, with a sad and angry face. I continued to ignore her because I am really so SICK OF HER.
That night, out of the blue, ana (my host mother) asked me to go to her friend’s party with her. I knew right away it was not ana’s party it was my host sister’s. My host sister used her mother to make me to go to her party. I was mad, I gave ana the same answer, “Sorry, I am busy.” My host sister was there and they both talked in Azeri about my response. I hated it, but I pretended I did not understand. For two days, my host sister and I didnot communicate. I was glad for that!
Finally, the 3rd day during dinner time, my other host sister asked me in front of her entire family that why I stopped talking to her sister. I felt smoke coming out of my brain. I spoke up immediately
“Since I said no to your sister’s party, she stopped talking to me. She even used ana to make me go. You have to understand, I am here as a PCV to help others, I need to do my community service during the weekend, I cannot go party with your sister all the time!” then, I turned to my host sister and her mother, getting more irritated each second: “if there is problem with this, I will talk to Peace Corps, and I can move out tomorrow” As soon as I said that, my host sister got very scared. Peace Corps has a lot of power, they are afraid of Peace Corps getting involved.
“Please donot tell Peace Corps, if you donot want to go, I have no problem with that”
That was the end of our conversion. Later, ana said something about me moving out in April. They would still be my friend and they would come and visit me...... etc etc. Then, I felt guilty losing my temper.
To be fair, my host family are not bad people. It is the culture difference that causes the conflict between our host family and us. There is no easy way to deal with or solve the situation similar to what Vivian and I have encountered. It is the dilamma that we continue to face until the day we finally move out and live on our own.
However, I am glad that I did speak up for myself. Sometime it is hard to be nice. I totally understand how Vivian felt that day. Hang in there, my friend Vivian dear!
I read Vivian’s weekly newsletter this morning and this is what she wrote on January 31, 2010:
“This is the second time I have not been kind to my family....I realize that I was bitchy but I have to tell you how trying the whole situation is about 90% of the time”
I sense her frustruation and I am glad to find out that I am not the only one feeling this way about our host family. My part of the story is not so different. One of my host sisters always expects me to be around her. I have to entertain her relatives and her friends. It does not matter whether I like it or not. She just came to me and announced each time:
“Chi, we are going to my aunt’s house this weekend” ,
“Chi, my friends are coming this weekend, make sure you are home”,
“Chi, my cousin’s birthday is tomorrow, we will go to her party”.
Out of respect, I had honored all her requests. Each time, I suffered. It was always the same, they talked and talked among themselves in Azeri, said things about me, laughted at my mistakens, kept watching me. When they got tired of it, they just left me there to get bored. If I got up and left, it was an OMLAZ (it is forbidden!). My host sister and her mother would later critized me and demanded an explanation as why I behaved that way.
Last week, I finally got fed up with the whole situation, so I said “NO” to my host sister’s request for visiting her aunt in Baku. I explained to her I had language lesson that day.
“But what time will you be back?”.
“late, I will be late, please go without me”.
As soon as I said that, she put her head down on the table, and got very upset. She was nearly in tears. I ignored her and left the kitchen. Whole day, she stopped talking to me. Every time I walked by her, she would watch me with the corner of her eyes, with a sad and angry face. I continued to ignore her because I am really so SICK OF HER.
That night, out of the blue, ana (my host mother) asked me to go to her friend’s party with her. I knew right away it was not ana’s party it was my host sister’s. My host sister used her mother to make me to go to her party. I was mad, I gave ana the same answer, “Sorry, I am busy.” My host sister was there and they both talked in Azeri about my response. I hated it, but I pretended I did not understand. For two days, my host sister and I didnot communicate. I was glad for that!
Finally, the 3rd day during dinner time, my other host sister asked me in front of her entire family that why I stopped talking to her sister. I felt smoke coming out of my brain. I spoke up immediately
“Since I said no to your sister’s party, she stopped talking to me. She even used ana to make me go. You have to understand, I am here as a PCV to help others, I need to do my community service during the weekend, I cannot go party with your sister all the time!” then, I turned to my host sister and her mother, getting more irritated each second: “if there is problem with this, I will talk to Peace Corps, and I can move out tomorrow” As soon as I said that, my host sister got very scared. Peace Corps has a lot of power, they are afraid of Peace Corps getting involved.
“Please donot tell Peace Corps, if you donot want to go, I have no problem with that”
That was the end of our conversion. Later, ana said something about me moving out in April. They would still be my friend and they would come and visit me...... etc etc. Then, I felt guilty losing my temper.
To be fair, my host family are not bad people. It is the culture difference that causes the conflict between our host family and us. There is no easy way to deal with or solve the situation similar to what Vivian and I have encountered. It is the dilamma that we continue to face until the day we finally move out and live on our own.
However, I am glad that I did speak up for myself. Sometime it is hard to be nice. I totally understand how Vivian felt that day. Hang in there, my friend Vivian dear!
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