More difficulties in learning the language are words that look the same as non-Turkmen words but are not. For example, the Turkmen word “we” means “and;” “but” means “thigh;” and while “iҫi” is “here” in French, it’s “inside” in Turkmen. “El” is “the” in Spanish, but “arm” in Turkmen. If Turkmen call you “hor,” it means you’re thin.
Another difficulty is the grammar. Everything is reordered. A volunteer from a few years ago made a teaching aid for us TEFL volunteers that discusses the difference between English grammar and Turkmen grammar. For example, in English we would say, “I have a dog.” But the Turkmen construction would look like “At me there exists a dog.”
Nationalism
If you think Americans are nationalistic, come to Turkmenistan. The only Turkmen television channels are government run and are all propaganda. They’re mostly music videos of Turkmen artists singing songs with titles like “Turkmenistan” and “Watan (Motherland).” The videos all show Turkmen in traditional dress doing T-men things like having a T-men wedding or women sewing. (No wonder they all have satellite dishes to get Russian and Turkish TV) Today there was a montage of the President and lots of T-stan flags and other national symbols. It made me think about what T-men would think if they went to America. They might ask, don’t Americans love their country? Because that kind of programming would never fly in the U.S. And the answer would be ‘of course Americans love their country; one of the things they love about it is they can speak out against things they don’t like; they are allowed to hear dissenting opinions.” I frequently complain about American behavior or attitudes, but I always have a renewed affection for my country after going abroad.
Deeper Thoughts
I brought Pascal’s Pensees with me to read and have read a few snippets on the rare occasions when I have quiet. (Interestingly enough, one of my favorite Pascal quotes is: “All of man’s misery derives from not being able to sit quietly alone in a room.” I know I’ve been miserable from not being able to do this.) But one of the passages I marked in my copy today is “Little things comfort us because little things distress us.” I think it’s particularly apt for living in Peace Corps. It is usually the little things like having to eat bread all the time or not knowing the word for something you want to say that irk us. Similarly, it is little things like being given a flower by a little girl or seeing another volunteer throw two kids over his back and spin causing them to giggle with glee that remind us that things aren’t that bad. Today some of us went to the stadium to play Frisbee. There were about forty boys there who ended up playing with us. Some of them were from my school (and some probably from the school where the other Anew group works). They remembered the Highland dance I taught. We played and I had so much fun! When I got home, my host sister asked me to sit with her on the porch. She wanted to paint my fingernails. As I sat there on the porch of our little Soviet-era apartment, looking out at the kids playing in the stark playground, having my nails painted by a seventeen year old who never gets a day off, I was utterly humbled by the fact that she was serving me even though I came here to serve her. Despite language and cultural and geographic barriers, there are experiences we can share.
My Near Heart Attack
Host dad actually almost did something useful today. My host brother broke the car window and host dad tried to fix it. My host mom asked to use my flashlight, which I didn’t know she knew I had (she really is nosy), so he could see in the dark while working on it. He didn’t fix it, but at least he fiddled with it for ten minutes before he plunked his butt down in front of the TV.
I hope my permanent site family is a quiet, educated widow and her daughter. If I get another typical Turkmen dad, God help us all.
A Few Reasons I Might Commit Homicide Here
- For a big, fresh salad with ranch dressing
- If host dad mentions Kera one more time
- If my host mom asks to use something of mine I didn’t know she knew I had
The PC administration know where we’re placed now, but won’t tell us until next week. I don’t know what to think right now. I don’t know the site options to know what to wish for. I’m pretty sure Ashgabat is firmly out of the question now. And none of the sites are in an actual city, but in villages that might be close to a city. I know a little bit about the different velayats (regions). Doshuguz would be my last choice as it is the most remote. Balkan is more traditional and the sites are spread apart. Lebap is the most liberal. Mary is more modern and the site of Merv. Ahal is the most conservative, but could have placements pretty close to Ashgabat. There is also the consideration of other volunteers. Where I am placed could rise or lower in my esteem based on which other volunteers are placed either in my site or in sites within commuting distance. I do know this: because I have teaching experience and certification, I will be put in a school that has a lot of English teachers. Volunteers with less experience are being put in schools that only have one or two English teachers. It would be nice if I were to share a site with another volunteer, especially if we could work together on ECA’s.
Independence Day
Oct. 27 is Independence Day in Turkmenistan. Everyone has the day off, which means we as PCT’s have a free day. Sort of. We don’t have classes, but we’re not free to do whatever we want. Our group wanted to go to Ashgabat with our LCF to see the parade, but PC wouldn’t let us. We’re supposed to spend the day with our host families. We can go to Ashgabat if our families take us. I knew my family wasn’t going to go. I woke up and went for a run. When I got back, only my host sister was home. I did laundry and read some of Pensees. My mom came home and we had lunch. Then, thankfully, Andrea invited me over to her place where I hung out the rest of the afternoon until I came home for dinner. Again, the only person home was my host sister who put before me a bowl of cold fries and sardines. I ate a few fries and drank some tea then claimed I was full. Then we went for a walk, which was nice, but I think her real motive was that she was hoping to run into a particular boy. So, thanks, PC, for making T-men Independence Day worthless to me. I could have gotten something cultural out of it; instead all I got was clean underwear and a sore back.
In the States, I loved my days off. Here I dread them because I have to spend time with the host fam. PC’s theory is that it will help with language, but it doesn’t help me. One, for reasons I’ve already talked about in my blog and two, because I can’t see the word. I have to see it to learn it. And if you think the French are bad about pretending not to know what you’re saying, try this on for size: the other day when I went to play Frisbee with the guys, I told my mom I was going to the stadio. She kept giving me a confused look as I kept repeating it. Then she said, “Ah, stadion.” Really? You couldn’t figure out I meant the stadium by being off one phonic? It’s not like there’s a different word in T-men that actually is ‘stadio.’ Andrea had a similar experience with students, only she was just emphasizing the wrong syllable. If someone were to speak to you in English and made one of these kinds of mistakes, I’m certain that most, if not all, of you would not only know what the person meant, but acknowledge it. If someone said ‘ap-PLE’ instead of ‘AP-ple’ while pointing to a picture of an apple, you would know what they were talking about. That’s what happened to Andrea. And if someone said they were going to the ‘planetaria’ and pointed in the direction of the only planetarium in town, you would know what they meant. (Especially if it was Sunday and they went to the planetarium the two previous Sundays.)