Showing posts with label kyrgyz planted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kyrgyz planted. Show all posts

Expectations are planted


After accepting your Peace Corps Assignment, Peace Corps requires Invitees to complete an aspiration statement and Resume to be viewed by the in-country staff. The Format for the Aspiration Statement is as follows:

Expectations

Strategies for adapting to a new culture

Personal and professional goals


(please note: PC prefers responses limited to one typed page)



The Following Aspiration Statement will be submitted tomorrow, June 26, 2004:



Expectations are planted, like seeds, deep into the furrows of every volunteer’s mind. Come harvest time, the expectations I have sown should be flexible enough to bend easily with the changing winds of community needs. I expect my Peace Corp service to be almost nothing like I pictured it. I expect to be challenged by language and Kyrgyzstani culture and mildly frustrated with the remnants of soviet bureaucracy. I expect pre-service training to provide me with a foundation of the policies, skills and resources that are necessary to equip a creative, patient, practical volunteer for two years of SEOD service. I expect to learn much about the operation, structure, and implementation of NGOs. Finally, I expect my PC service will yield more rewards than I ever could have imagined.



Strategies for adapting to a new culture are often subjective and dependent on the world-view of the individual adapting. For me, strategy begins at home: absorbing cultural information; familiarizing myself with the Cyrillic alphabet and basic Russian and Kyrgyz languages; reading PCV blogs, NGO development manuals and RPCV books (such as, This Is Not Civilization (2004) and The Great Adventure (1997)). Having studied two semesters abroad in Thailand (8/94-2/95) and Indonesia (12/95-6/96), I understand that almost nothing is what you expect it to be. Flexibility, patience, creativity, and a sense of humor are often called upon to endure those times when Reality and Expectations don’t quite meet eye-to-eye.



When thirty-years of flesh plop down in a foreign country, adaptation becomes a bridge between the old self and the amorphous, future You. In order to cross this bridge without falling, I plan on holding on to two fundamentals that run like handrails across the cultural divide. First, I will hold onto my desire to learn the language(s) as best I can. And second, I plan on remaining patient and refraining from fast judgments based on incomplete knowledge of a culture I am trying to understand. By holding onto these fundamentals, I hope to look back and see that I have crossed into a Kyrgyzstan that is a little less foreign than when my journey began.



Personal and professional goals can not be over-stated. My becoming a PCV was not spawned from a directionless decision to do something with my life after college. I am not wet behind the ears and dripping with naiveté. I am a licensed attorney, who is consumed more by a desire to contribute to the good of the world than the consumption of worldly-goods. I chose Peace Corps and happily Peace Corps chose me. That said, my personal goals remain quite simple: maintain patience and flexibility, learn the language and history of the Kyrgyz peoples, participate in cultural events and complete my service. Professionally, I hope my Peace Corps experience will assist me in further developing a skill-set that may be utilized throughout the remainder of my life. Whether I continue down an international path of NGO development work, pursue a career with the Foreign Service or choose to return to the practice of law, my goal as a PCV is to acquire the knowledge and experience necessary to assist regardless of where my life takes me.

Home Again.

On Friday the 13th of October 2006 I returned safely to the Twin Cities. I hope to post some last photos, a couple of audio tracks and to write a final entry or two wrapping up my Peace Corps experience in Kyrgyzstan. But for now, I am going to order a pizza and watch Sunday NFL football.

signing off,

Larry

Suleyman Mountain Sunrise



Young Man training atop Mount Suleyman before a rising sun. Osh, Kyrgyzstan: Aug.13th, 2006.

Battling the Sun: August 13th, 2006--Mount Suleyman: Osh, Kyrgyzstan

Dawn of Osh: (taken August 10, 2006) People always ask me why i get up so early in the morning. This is my answer. Note: the photo of the moon below was taken just a few minutes before this one.

As the rising August sun burns from the east, the evening's cooler counterpoint seeks shelter behind Mount Suleyman.

Mount Suleyman, Osh: this monolith sits prominently at the peak of Suleyman Too (Too means mountain). I climb up here a few times each week in the early morning and read. When the sun rises the heat kicks up to about 105 degrees fahrenheit...

The Weeping Man

The man was half-naked, his bronze chest streaked with drying mud, “Ayeeeeeeeeeeeee!” he screamed, throwing his arms in the air, “I don’t want this! I don’t want it.” He collapsed in a heap, folding awkwardly upon himself like some abandoned puppet.

I watched him from my balcony, as a theatre-goer might watch a thespian. Then, the reality of it—of him—needled its way into my emotional fabric. I looked east, down the long front side of my apartment building, and saw heads emerging from windows and other beings stepping onto terraces to stare at this man wrapped in terror and pain and sadness.

His crumpled form sat below me, perhaps ten feet away and I could see his back swell and deflate under his breath.

A stillness invaded the courtyard and a silence crept out of the madness of the world and appeared to be moving toward him, hunting for him. He wailed and the guttural, inchoate sounds that came out of him seemed dredged up from some darker, primordial day.

I shuddered but continued watching.

He breathed, sucking air over his teeth and again let out that aborted, primeval noise… he drew in another breath and again returned his torment to the world…

Slowly, out of this repetition a rhythm was born and these methodic sobs crashed forth like great waves tugged from the sea by the moon.

It seemed he cried for all of us and tethered his tears to our souls through the enchanting sound of that sad mantra.

I sighed deeply and withdrew, but I will never forget the weeping man.

Lessons Learned in Kyrgyzstan

“Come with me.” He said and put his arm around my shoulder. We walked outside onto the porch and into the fresh air, then down the stairs and into the flower garden. In the distance I saw a group of children playing soccer and others completing their yard work. The grounds of the orphanage included stables, a few acres of farmland, a pig pen and dozens of caged bunnies.

“You see,” he said, “I used to get drunk every night and chase women. I lived most of my life like that. One day I asked myself, Stephan, what have you done with your life—what do you have to show for yourself?—and the answer was nothing.”

He leaned over and stuck his nose in the white blossoms of a rose and inhaled.

He raised his head and we continued strolling, “At that point in my life I already had a fairly successful business, but I realized that didn’t matter. I looked around and saw all of these children on the streets, abandoned and begging. And I said, there’s something I can do.”

Several of the children spotted Stephan outside and began shouting, “Pappa! Pappa!” A little, sandy-haired girl with wide eyes glowing above her smile sprinted into Stephan’s arms. He lifted her up and looked at me, “now I have twenty-one children that all call me pappa and everything I do, I do for them.”

I took another look around the orphanage and felt as though I was in the center of big family. Stephan knelt and set the little girl back down and looked up into my eyes, “Life should be about love.”

Veteran Aksakal (respectful term for elderly Kyrgyz men). Photo taken in Osh by Larry Tweed Jr. (aka my father).

Petraglyph on Lake Issyk Kul, Kyrgyzstan.

Day trip to Kurshab in June. Dan and Vanessa showed us a great time!

Kids at the orphanage on Lake Issyk Kul. They were great!

These orphaned children had a blast!

Glenn & Linda Brown (AKA "The Buddhists") at Lake Issyk Kul.

Glenn Brown and kids work with puppets behind the scenes. Light cast from a lamp behind them creates the effects you see in the photo below.

Shadow Puppets at an orphanage on Lake Issyk Kul. The story is about a grandfather who grows a giant turnip but can't pull it from the ground. It takes his whole family to free the stubborn turnip and a dog, cat and mouse help out too.

Notice the cuts in the puppets which allows lights to shine through when they cast shadows on the sheet.

Dima loved helping out and asked me when I would be back. I told him I didn't know.

New Technology at our Center!

A couple of weeks ago we purchased our Television, Satellite dish, DVD player and few other odds and ends for the Center for American Studies. Now students have access to 3 english language news stations (BBC, EuroNews and CNNi) to improve their listening comprehension, pronunciation, vocabulary and knowledge of world events. The news channels are turned on (according to our posted schedule) 2 hours each day and we have two movie clubs as well.

I'll have to post some new photos of our center soon. Gotta run!

Larry

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