Got milk

The milk man got a megaphone. And every night between 10 and 10:30 he drive around on his truck with a megaphone with enough static to electrify the neighborhood yelling “Malako.” “Malako.” (This is the Russian word for milk). And I might have mentioned that though I live on the 5th floor, people below my window sound like they’re right outside. Even the nationals who have stayed with me have commented on it. In any case, for 30 minutes every night “Malako” is hollered by a rusty, old male voice into a rusty, old megaphone into our patir (apartment).

The sweetest icing on this cake is the sweet little song he plays as he drives around the neighborhood, in the nature of a US ice cream trucks of the ‘50s. And what would the song be that helps him sell milk? Yes people, I tell you the truth, every night I listen to the call for milk to the sound of “Happy Birthday.”

Welcome to westernization!

Speaking of circumcision...

So you may be familiar with the Jewish tradition of circumcision at 8 days. In the US it’s either done at birth, or not at all. However, for Kazakh boys and Doongans (see my earlier post) circumcision happens at 7 to 8 YEARS old! It’s considered the passage into manhood, though that seems like an early age to me. On the other hand, considering life here and the nomadic heritage, 7 or 8 is when a village boy becomes responsible for a lot of the work with the herds.

Anyway, a group of us from the office and some US guests headed out to a circumcision party on Monday June 30th for the son of a friend. The party started at 6:00 am, just after the 5:00 am morning call to prayer. For prayer, Muslims must be ritually clean and to save the need to clean again later for the ceremony, the celebration begins after morning prayers. Thankfully, women don’t need to come till 7:00am!

For us the ceremony consisted of meeting a very stoic faced young man, eating a lot of food including a LOT of meat and having a bit of a dance before getting back to the office in time for the start of the day at 9:00 am. The party went on after us and eventually the newly circumcised young man would…go RIDE A HORSE! No joke. We couldn’t stay to see it, but apparently it’s a very important (and likely painful) part of the ceremony. The thing that surprised me most was having older women throw walnuts (in their shells) at the young man and turn to fling them at the women (to bless us with many sons). I got wacked in the head twice and had them land all over the food!

…In other news, Sara went to a circumcision party at a local orphanage. She saw some of our youngest (5 years old) boys at their circumcision party along with, get this guys, a 14 and 16 YEAR OLD. They had never been through the ceremony and it was a big deal. Hard for the American mind to grasp, but they were proud, not embarrassed at all!

Celebrating the passage to manhood is one thing this culture does really well. I only wonder whether then include the precious knowledge that a boy needs to become a man along with the rituals. I hope so, but being a woman, I’m unlikely to find out any time soon!

A sad little funeral for three

These are my dead shoes. There are only two pictured here as the third pair is still in ICU. Those of you that know me will understand. I love shoes, shamelessly love shoes. I am embarrassed by the number that I have here at the office, at my apartment, and in America still. I can’t help it. And Kazakhstan has almost reduced me to tears over…shoes, yes, shoes.

I walk here, a lot! Walking is hard on shoes, especially on rocky, wet surfaces over long distances like I face here. Thankfully flats are finally popular here (I can here my chiropractor rejoicing! You’d be proud of me Dr.Lilkins!) and so I finally bought some shoes to replace the US versions I’d completely worn out. I saved and scrimped and went to the big city of Almaty where I bought three pairs for approximately $60. Not outrageous right, but enough to last me for the summer right? Yea, no. I bought three pairs of shoes that lasted…drumroll please...one week. One week. Yes, Buy a pair of shoes for $20 in the states and they’ll last you at least a year (allowing you to buy another fashionable shoe next year!). Buy a shoe for $20 here and they’ll last you a week. Not even a full seven days!

Solution: Beg friends from home to send you shoes!

Waterworks, playing with FIRE, and patriotism

So because of the delegation, some things are much delayed…like this post about fourth of July. The office was closed since we are an American company and we threw a huge party to invite our local friends. Following a meal of burgers, fries, and chocolate chip cookies, we had a full fledged water fight! I tried to remain a cool observer with my camera, but got a bucket of water nonetheless. I exacted my revenge and was left alone from further torment.

To help dry off we had a little fire which led into fire jumping, the guys version and the girls version (see video links). Followed by smores and fireworks. *sigh* It was a good day!

Youth Impact Delegation

Well our second summer delegation has come and gone with great success. And I was so sad to see them go, just as we were really getting to know each other and become good friends. You can read about all the things they did at the park here, here, on a picnic here, here, on a scavenger hunt here and with Youth Impact kids here and here.

The things that impressed me were their ability to make strong connections with the youth in just a few days, their flexibility, and the way that they blessed me personally with their friendship and gifts. It was also my family that hosted some of the delegation and I loved having time together with my family! Here are some of my favorite shots from their time here with some kids who are special to me...thanks guys for letting me use your photos!

This is my host family together in a shot. It's my Mom, Aitan, her son Sultan (next to me) and a cousin whose Mom just died last month. Our delegation guests took us out for an amazing dinner that night! Thank you Sara, Elizabeth, and Jeff!

Youth Delegation

Americans arrive today (July 8th). We're going to have a few days with the Youth Impact girls working on decision making, culminated by a picnic in the mountains. We'll then take time to show the delegation the orphanage work we do and take a "quick trip" down to Shymkent for a tour of the English Centre! It'll be a busy time so you may not here from me, but as the norm, I'll be sure to have dozens of pictures to share!

Apples are from Kazakhstan…so are tulips (sort of!)

And just to be clear, I stole that from a book! (In Search of Kazakhstan: The Land that Disappeared) No plagiarism here. Actually this book is going on my top recommendations (see to the right). I’ve not gotten even two chapters in but am already captured…perhaps I should finish it before I recommend it, but I think it’s more interesting to put it out there and then disclaim like crazy later if it turns out to be dodgy. Just don’t let the kids read it first, just in case!

Seriously though, the fact is that quite a bit of the scientific community believes that Kazakhstan is the birthplace of the apple. They began in the mountains and were exported. The sad thing is that now it’s fashionable to eat imported apples, allowing the apples growing naturally to fall by the wayside…in some places! I’m on the hunt for these wild apple groves in the mountains come September.

Tulips also grow wild here and a great majority of the varieties that grow world wide. They are also believed to have grown originally in Kazakhstan before exportation. Hmmm….the things you never knew!

The ugliest camel I’ve ever seen!

So we stopped on the way to Savva when we saw a mama camel and her baby. The baby was so sweet and fuzzy and cute…and then I got a close up of the mama! AGH! This is a face only a baby could love!

Beggars can’t be choosers…or can they?

One of the issues that came up at the teaching conference was the issue of begging. Some of the children come from situations so bad that they were reduced to begging on the street before coming to Savva. Unfortunately, begging appears to be a habit they are finding hard to break and the caretakers just don’t know what to do. The older children have some freedom to leave the property and some try to make the most profit they can, doing odd jobs or, in some cases, begging. I would never have imagined this problem and nor did I know how to respond to the caretakers’ questions. So I’m off to do some research on ways this issue has been dealt with in other countries. If you have any ideas, do let me know!