Peace Corps Volunteer shares his experiences

In the second in a series of letters sent to his family, Ben Legow, Liberty native and Peace Corps volunteer, shares more of his life in northern Kyrgyzstan, located in Central Asia. Here are excerpts from his letter. To read the letter in its entirety, visit www.vindy.com/ben.

“So it seems I’m starting this whole process over again. I’ve unpacked, settled in and took a moment to let my new host brothers check out my computer.

“The last time you heard from me, I was living up north in Chui Oblast. But now, after two months of practice and adjustment, I’ve moved to my permanent work site in Naryn. I’m now an official Peace Corps Volunteer [PCV for short and the acronym-happy]. I’ve made the radical leap from clueless foreigner to clueless semi-official government representative. I am your tax dollars at work, ladies and gentlemen.

“Speaking of ladies and gentlemen, I suppose I should give a hello to all of the new readers I’ve suddenly acquired. The Vindicator, for reasons I’m not entirely certain [maybe Dad has incriminating photos of the editorial staff] has decided to run my letters for the general public. A supreme note of thanks for the opportunity, and I’ll do my best not to write anything wildly offensive. I suppose it’s also only fair to readers to point out that any views and opinions I throw at you do not reflect those of the Peace Corps, the U.S. Government, Barack Obama, The Vindicator or any other living and/or opinionated organism in the known universe.

“I have to apologize for taking a while to put this second letter together, but in all honesty, things have been pretty hectic around here.

“To begin, Kyrgyzstan is home to [I’m told] the world’s largest walnut forest. This delicious natural resource has allowed Kyrgyz families to enjoy a pretty healthy taste for nuts of all kinds, and folks who live near the forest will sometimes bring gift bags of walnuts to distant friends and relatives. Last Wednesday my host mother’s daughter came by for a visit, bearing grandchild and walnuts in tow. Needless to say Appa [Mom] was ecstatic, and when I returned from Bishkek [where I’d gone to find, amid other things, a hamburger] later that day, I found her happily crunching away on new nuts and gushing about her granddaughter.

“I’ve been keeping busy. There was a five-day bounce down to Naryn Oblast [county] to visit my village the first time, Language Placement Interviews to study for and complete, taking part in all manner of lectures on health, safety and security, and lots of Kyrgyz language study time.

“One of the cool selling points of the Peace Corps is the opportunity to learn a new language, but there are moments on a daily basis when you are looking at a Baike (older man) who is rattling off all manner of questions, and something inside you just wants to roll under a rock.

“That said, my Kyrgyz is actually getting better, and I can even run through some basic conversations with total strangers. Just the other day, as I was walking through Osh Bazaar, amid what must have been the highest concentration of meat and animal parts I have ever seen, I was able to withstand examination by a panel of curious meat sales ladies, whose most pressing concerns were whether I was married, why not and whether or not I would marry a Kyrgyz girl while I’m here.

“The panel, of course, concluded that it would be best that I do marry and suggested that we meet again for discussion of which of their daughters was best suited for me. While I’ll be avoiding Osh Bazaar for a while, it was pretty satisfying to go a full 20 minutes or so and feel fairly comfortable in the conversation.

“Also I can successfully appear annoyed in Kyrgyz when taxi and marshutka (little buses that are typically so packed you seriously wonder about their structural integrity) driver’s attempt to overcharge me. ‘Bishkekdan, Stansia Ivanovkaga juz som kalaiciz? Men akmak emess!’ which roughly translates to ‘You want 100 som for going from Bishkek to Stansia Ivonovka? Do I look like an idiot?’ This has so far resulted in hearty laughs from drivers, who seem pleased that I speak Kyrgyz instead of Russian, and will then drop the fare down to normal levels.

“It should be noted that 100 som converts to about $1.25 and that from Bishkek to S. Ivonovka takes around an hour drive, but when you only earn 40 som per day, you’ve got a right to be persnickety about costs.

“Also, while we’re on the subject of transportation, one major difference between taxis and buses here is that while in America the order of business follows the pay-and-immediately-go method, irregardless of passengers aboard. In Kyrgyzstan, once you find a taxi, or marshutka, you tell them where you want to go, and then you wait for the vehicle to fill. This can take some time depending on where you’re going. Should you want to go someplace far, with low refill potential for the return trip, your marshutka driver is going to take his merry old time waiting for each and every seat to load up before rolling out. Bring a book.

“One of the interesting things about Kyrgyzstan is that it is a nation caught between cultures. As a former chunk of the Soviet Union, the Kyrgyz Republic retains a fairly sizable Russian population, and the Russian language is still in common use as an administrative and mass media voice.

“For example, should one of your volunteer friends have studied opera and just happens to notice that Bizet’s “Carmen” is playing in Bishkek and you, having acquired a taste for the stuff at a young age when your mom did chorus work (and even if she didn’t, what’s wrong with a little opera, huh?) agree to go and check it out, you’ll find that what once was in French is now sung in Russian, resulting in odd attempts to fill language gaps with a little “la la la” and the occasional desperate attempt to fit too many Russian syllables into a French-intended musical gap.

“You will notice this, unless you only speak Kyrgyz, of course, which would mean that you’d have forsaken the opera altogether and gone to the philharmonic, which mixes traditional Kyrgyz tunes in with the Tchaikovsky. You find similar issues in radio and television, where you’ll find the news presented twice nightly, with exactly the same stories, in both Russian and Kyrgyz. There are also some new laws on the necessity of politicians knowing Kyrgyz in order to run for president, which have stirred up controversy. In the village where I work, there’s all kinds of bemoaning of the idea that young folks grow up, go the cities for education, start using Russian and never revert.

“Ok, I’m running out of time at the current internet caf , and I’ve got to catch a cab back to my village, but a couple of notes before I bolt.

“First, it is phenomenally weird to have marijuana grow in your yard. And not just in your yard, it’s everywhere in the North. The stuff grows like, well, a weed. But that’s pretty much how the local’s view it. ‘What’s that?’ I asked my host mother, pointing to the three-foot tall bush of Dr. Dre’s delight. ‘Chop,’ she said, which is the Kyrgyz word for grass. ‘We feed it to the sheep.’

“Less bizarre and actually really pretty are the acres and acres of poppy fields that grow wild in the hills. It’s as if the mountains were bleeding.

“Also interesting to think about are Kyrgyz concepts of health — meat and fat in particular. I have learned they are of absolute importance, and according to local sources, vegetarians are not only crazy but are liable to shrivel up and die. Of course, we tend to share that view at home, as well. Most intriguing of all is Kumis, fermented horse milk.

“Now, I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of this stuff. It’s wildly popular throughout Central Asia, all the way from the Caspian to Mongolia, and as a attempted student of said region, I’ve been reading about it for a while. But I’ve never had it before. One other volunteer described it as a combination of milk and pickle juice. However, regardless of initial impressions, I know I’m going to be swallowing a lot more Kumis in the upcoming years. Sometimes, when you’re a guest, you eat what you’re given. Swallow your Kumis, grin and bear it. Maybe someday I’ll even grow to like it.

“All right, that’ll do for now. Enjoy the photos.”

Ben