With the completion of Pre-Service Training ("PST"), and the swearing in of all 44 of us Peace Corps Trainees ("PCTs") as Peace Corps Volunteers ("PCVs"), my reflections on PST continue. (More coverage of swearing-in here and here.)
As Peace Corps Trainees ("PCTs"), our typical daily schedule comprises about four hours of Azərbaycani language lessons (including the all-important break for tea ("çay")) and three to four hours of technical training, six days a week. Sunday, the day of "rest," understandably varies from PCT to PCT. Mine are usually filled with some mix of language self-study, host-family plans, laundry, Skyping with family in the US, "guesting," completing any outstanding projects for technical training, and sometimes actual rest even.
Background: Peace Corps in Azərbaycan
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Peace Corps in Azərbaycan, our class of PCTs (AZ9, which signifies the ninth year of volunteers in Azərbaycan) comprises three programs: TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language), CED (Community Economic Development), and YD (Youth Development). Typically, about 50% of the volunteers are TEFL, with CED and YD at 25% each. PCTs in each program are further subdivided into Community-Based Training groups called "clusters" for day-to-day cultural and language lessons. Each cluster consists of about 5 or 6 PCTs and is led by a Language and Cultural Facilitator ("LCF").
Language Training
Mahirə, our incomparable LCF, deftly guides us through a seemingly endless forest of suffixes, vocabulary, and syntax with an impressive and delightful mix of skill, patience, humor, and warmth. As with any language acquisition, our studies involve a combination of pure memorization, repetition and practice, and countless comedic misunderstandings.
For example, once upon a time I attended a birthday party in my neighborhood. As a good PCT, I prepared to inform my host family where I was going and looked up the word for "party," which I was pleased to find translated as "partiya." Armed with one more word in my admittedly meager arsenal, I told my family where I was going.
Or so I thought.
Unfortunately, I had only skimmed the dictionary, and in my haste, didn't notice that "partiya" meant "party" only in the sense of a "political party."
It can be challenging in the wilderness of learning the Azərbaycani language, but we know we'll always find our way with Mahirə. We're so fond of her that we've taken to calling her "Mahirə can." From Azərbaycani, "can" literally translates as "soul" or "spirit," but it is also used as a term of affection or endearment. (NB: Before you go around calling someone a container of soda, remember that "c" is pronounced like a "j" in English.) Not only is she incredibly knowledgeable and skilled as a teacher of Azərbaycani, Russian, Turkish, French, English, and a little German, she is one of the most compassionate and devoted people I've met. Her work with other NGOs (e.g., helping to improve conditions for people who live in mental institutions) is inspiring. We, and Peace Corps, are lucky to have her.
Technical Training
For Community Economic Development ("CED") PCTs, technical training covers a range of topics to prepare us for service: presentations from current (mostly CED) PCVs regarding their projects, sites, host families, and service in general; special guest speakers on the government, economy, organizational development and capacity building, and the state of the NGO sector in Azərbaycan; methodology and tools for community development work; and our presentations and reflections on hands-on projects, which are generally known as TDLAs or Trainee-Directed Learning Activities.
Technical training is led by our Program Manager, Elmir, who is a highly (probably over-) qualified gentleman of great intelligence, wit, charm, skill, and fashion sense. That training has flowed so smoothly and been so engaging is a testament to his teaching, guidance, curriculum development and implementation, and collaborative style. His leadership facilitates the crafting of the best possible service for PCVs and host organizations while balancing multifarious and sometimes divergent needs, aspirations, and skills of all stakeholders.
On the first day, I remember Elmir emphasizing that he wanted us to communicate openly with him our thoughts and aspirations for service, which are given due consideration even if they're not dispositive (as with all preferences expressed to Peace Corps). A prior volunteer, who had a particular professional background and, in the absence of any expressed desires to the contrary, was assigned to a host organization accordingly - only for Elmir to learn one year into service that the PCV had wanted to take this opportunity to transition into a different type of work. Taking this to heart, I had an excellent, open dialogue with Elmir, which greatly influenced the direction of my service.
Big Planet, Small World moment: We ran into Elmir near the Içəri Şəhər (the Old City from the 1100s; literally "inner city") while we were on the first of our two permitted visits to Bakı during PST. Nothing noteworthy happened; it was just funny to me because it felt like I was nine year's old, running into my elementary school teacher in the grocery store for the first time and realizing that she was a regular person, too, having a life outside of her role as my teacher.
Routine
The morning call to prayer is typically around 6:30 am. I'm not really sure because I try to be asleep at that time. Usually ("adətən"), I wake up around 7:45 or 8:00, sometimes to the sound of roosters crowing, which as anyone who has spent time on farms or in Mexico knows, doesn't necessarily happen only at sunrise. After getting ready to go to the local school, which graciously hosts our classes, in Ceyranbatan (which means where the gazelle drowned, in reference to the nearby Ceyranbatan reservoir), I eat a breakfast of bread ("çörək"), a hard, white cheese called "brınza" that is kind of like feta, homemade jam ("mürəbbə"), and maybe a hard-boiled egg, all of which is all washed down by the ubiquitous glass of çay.
[Digression for etymology nerds: Both the Azərbaycani and Hindi words for "cheese," "pəndir" and "paneer," respectively, appear to derive from the Persian root "panir."]
There are three ways to school: (1) the (mostly) paved roads, which basically requires circumnavigating the town; (2) walking on some pipes that cut across the back edge of town; and (3) a muddy, sloped shortcut through a neighborhood alley and across a field.
Frankly, option number one takes too long compared to the short cuts, and my shoes and trouser cuffs are only marginally less muddy than going off the beaten path. But if you do go that way, you might catch a glimpse of a pile of trash on fire! (See left.) Three common ways to dispose of rubbish are to set it on fire, get it (near) to the dumpster, or, if available, toss it in a nearby body of water.
A word about trash. It would be understatement to say that Azərbaycan might benefit from an effective anti-littering campaign, a la "Don't Mess with Texas." Although there is regular trash pickup at the dumpster areas around town and perhaps even recycling (we saw some segregation of glass once), the collectors never seem to clear the whole thing out. Also, a lot of people utterly miss the dumpster, which is basically a rectangular cinder-block enclosure that's open on one side. It's as if you were to get near the dumpster area and suddenly become crippled by an existential crisis and, with a sigh of defeat, back of the wrist to the forehead, couldn't possibly be bothered to aim straight or walk the extra five steps to get your trash in the enclosure. Anyway, although I wouldn't say that I no longer notice the little explosions of litter dotting the landscape, I do take it more in stride and accept that it's just how things are. At the same time ("eyni zamanda"), I'm mindful of not falling into the habit of littering.
On the other hand, I'm thankful for this state of affairs in at least one respect. About a month ago, I lost my right glove and have been walking around somewhat awkwardly with one hand be-gloved and the other in my coat pocket. Just this week, however, I found the errant accessory along my usual path, peeking out from under some leaves and rubbish. If not for the general lack of attention to clean up, I would never have been reunited with my prodigal glove.
Path number two to school is an adventure, as you can see from the pic on the right. It's not as muddy since you're on a pipe for most of the way, but I wouldn't want to try it in the rain or snow. After I discovered option number 3 while I was out for a jog, we've only used it a couple of times - most recently for nostalgic reasons.
Usually, I return home for lunch ("nahar"), which might be chicken ("toyuq") and potato ("kartof") soup, dolma (from the verb "dolmaq," meaning "to fill with or stuff), or chicken and rice ("plov") with fresh cucumbers ("xiyar") and tomato ("pomidor"), but always includes çörək, most of which is homemade by my host mother and/or sister in the ever-present big, red "easy bake oven" or in the təndir (a/k/a tandoor) oven outside.
[Etymology break: Terms words for "tomato" appear to derive, on the one hand, from either the Aztec "xitomate" or Incan "tomalt," or on the other, through the Latinate pomo d'oro ("apple of gold"), in reference to color, or de Moro (for "of the Moors"), in reference to supposed origin. Russian uses "tomat," and Turkish uses "domates," but even though Azərbaycani is a Turkic language that has a lot of Russian words, it uses "pomidor," which is, incidentally, the same as the Polish.]
After lunch, it's off to technical, which is usually at the school across the highway in Yeni (new) Ceyranbatan, and is probably a 20 minute walk. "Yeni" is so new that it doesn't have as many paved roads and sometimes other infrastructure. (Incidentally, the schedule at the beginning of PST was technical in the morning followed by language in the afternoon. Around halfway through PST, the schedule flipped.)
I usually get home by 6 pm or earlier. Shortly thereafter, we eat dinner, which could be any of the dishes that might be eaten at lunch. Other common dishes are bozbash with kofta (meatball), fish (balıq), or, on special occasions, kəbab, which can be grilled chicken, lamb, or fish. If there's time before dinner, I try to get in some exercise (running, if the weather's good, or yoga).
A Crowd of People
If only the second part of my Beatles reference involved mere standing and staring... While we're on the road, whether it's traveling to school or just the post office (poçt), the air is overtaken by a cacophony of children in school uniforms and/or young men clad in various shade of black shouting: "HEH-lo! HEH-lo! HEH-lo!" and "What is your name!" (they're usually not actually asking a question), accompanied by incessant laughter, pointing, and what one might generously consider mirth. (And this is after at least three years of having had PCTs in the community that I'm aware of since my host family has had three PCTs before me.) And depending on whether you're African-American, Asian-American, and/or a woman you might also hear some of the following: "Hey, baby I love you!," "Chinese" noises, kung-fu noises, "JackieChan! JackieChan! (or "BruceLee!", for those who prefer to go old school)," or "negr."
I'll leave it up to you to guess what gets shouted at whom.
It bears explanation that although the word "negr" shouted at African-Americans here sounds an awful lot like the N-word, as used in Azərbaycan it does not mean what it means in the U.S. It is a borrowed term from Russian (negr (Cyrillic: негр)), which is a neutral indication of race and does not carry the hateful intent or pejorative connotation that it does in the United States and elsewhere. Nevertheless, this doesn't make it any less rude to shout at strangers, and the utterance still sounds offensive to American ears. Maybe that won't change, but PCVs of all races (who have the language skills) have sometimes taken it upon themselves to choose moments (there's not enough time in the day to do it every time it happens) to explain why it is offensive to Americans and why it would be respectful for Azərbaycanis to refrain from using the word. This approach comes from one of the many techniques with which Peace Corps equips PCVs to address any racial, sexual, and general harassment that may occur.
Depending on the size of your community, however, the shouting may improve with time as you get to know people in the neighborhood. Which brings us to...
"Guesting," and Immersion
The routine is broken up by random occasions of "guesting," which involves visiting a neighbor's and/or relative's home as a guest, drinking çay, eating some sweet things ("şirinşəylər") like cookies, chocolate, or candies, trying to converse, maybe watching some TV, and maybe staring at each other for a while. Sometimes it doesn't feel like much is going on, but I remind myself that this is what immersing yourself in the culture feels like. [/nod]
The people of Azərbaycan pride themselves on their hospitality ("qonaqpərvər"), and they are as warm and welcoming in their homes as they may be formal in public. (I may write about the public/private distinction in another post.) When guesting, it is customary to bring a gift of şirinşəylər. On a related note, if you borrow a dish from a neighbor, it is customary to return it with food on it.
What happens while guesting is a lot like what my (host) family does in the evenings when everyone's home from work and school: we eat, talk, joke around, study, and watch TV. Which isn't that different from what my family in America might do on certain evenings.
After supper, I do my homework or TDLA and maybe watch an episode of American TV before hitting the sack.
Rinse and repeat the next day. (Which is more than I can say for how often I actually rinse and repeat with shampoo in my hair...but that's another story.)
As Peace Corps Trainees ("PCTs"), our typical daily schedule comprises about four hours of Azərbaycani language lessons (including the all-important break for tea ("çay")) and three to four hours of technical training, six days a week. Sunday, the day of "rest," understandably varies from PCT to PCT. Mine are usually filled with some mix of language self-study, host-family plans, laundry, Skyping with family in the US, "guesting," completing any outstanding projects for technical training, and sometimes actual rest even.
Background: Peace Corps in Azərbaycan
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Peace Corps in Azərbaycan, our class of PCTs (AZ9, which signifies the ninth year of volunteers in Azərbaycan) comprises three programs: TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language), CED (Community Economic Development), and YD (Youth Development). Typically, about 50% of the volunteers are TEFL, with CED and YD at 25% each. PCTs in each program are further subdivided into Community-Based Training groups called "clusters" for day-to-day cultural and language lessons. Each cluster consists of about 5 or 6 PCTs and is led by a Language and Cultural Facilitator ("LCF").
Language Training
Mahirə, our incomparable LCF, deftly guides us through a seemingly endless forest of suffixes, vocabulary, and syntax with an impressive and delightful mix of skill, patience, humor, and warmth. As with any language acquisition, our studies involve a combination of pure memorization, repetition and practice, and countless comedic misunderstandings.
For example, once upon a time I attended a birthday party in my neighborhood. As a good PCT, I prepared to inform my host family where I was going and looked up the word for "party," which I was pleased to find translated as "partiya." Armed with one more word in my admittedly meager arsenal, I told my family where I was going.
Or so I thought.
Unfortunately, I had only skimmed the dictionary, and in my haste, didn't notice that "partiya" meant "party" only in the sense of a "political party."
It can be challenging in the wilderness of learning the Azərbaycani language, but we know we'll always find our way with Mahirə. We're so fond of her that we've taken to calling her "Mahirə can." From Azərbaycani, "can" literally translates as "soul" or "spirit," but it is also used as a term of affection or endearment. (NB: Before you go around calling someone a container of soda, remember that "c" is pronounced like a "j" in English.) Not only is she incredibly knowledgeable and skilled as a teacher of Azərbaycani, Russian, Turkish, French, English, and a little German, she is one of the most compassionate and devoted people I've met. Her work with other NGOs (e.g., helping to improve conditions for people who live in mental institutions) is inspiring. We, and Peace Corps, are lucky to have her.
Technical Training
For Community Economic Development ("CED") PCTs, technical training covers a range of topics to prepare us for service: presentations from current (mostly CED) PCVs regarding their projects, sites, host families, and service in general; special guest speakers on the government, economy, organizational development and capacity building, and the state of the NGO sector in Azərbaycan; methodology and tools for community development work; and our presentations and reflections on hands-on projects, which are generally known as TDLAs or Trainee-Directed Learning Activities.
Technical training is led by our Program Manager, Elmir, who is a highly (probably over-) qualified gentleman of great intelligence, wit, charm, skill, and fashion sense. That training has flowed so smoothly and been so engaging is a testament to his teaching, guidance, curriculum development and implementation, and collaborative style. His leadership facilitates the crafting of the best possible service for PCVs and host organizations while balancing multifarious and sometimes divergent needs, aspirations, and skills of all stakeholders.
On the first day, I remember Elmir emphasizing that he wanted us to communicate openly with him our thoughts and aspirations for service, which are given due consideration even if they're not dispositive (as with all preferences expressed to Peace Corps). A prior volunteer, who had a particular professional background and, in the absence of any expressed desires to the contrary, was assigned to a host organization accordingly - only for Elmir to learn one year into service that the PCV had wanted to take this opportunity to transition into a different type of work. Taking this to heart, I had an excellent, open dialogue with Elmir, which greatly influenced the direction of my service.
Big Planet, Small World moment: We ran into Elmir near the Içəri Şəhər (the Old City from the 1100s; literally "inner city") while we were on the first of our two permitted visits to Bakı during PST. Nothing noteworthy happened; it was just funny to me because it felt like I was nine year's old, running into my elementary school teacher in the grocery store for the first time and realizing that she was a regular person, too, having a life outside of her role as my teacher.
Routine
 |
| My street. |
[Digression for etymology nerds: Both the Azərbaycani and Hindi words for "cheese," "pəndir" and "paneer," respectively, appear to derive from the Persian root "panir."]
 |
| Gives new meaning to "Land of Fire" |
Frankly, option number one takes too long compared to the short cuts, and my shoes and trouser cuffs are only marginally less muddy than going off the beaten path. But if you do go that way, you might catch a glimpse of a pile of trash on fire! (See left.) Three common ways to dispose of rubbish are to set it on fire, get it (near) to the dumpster, or, if available, toss it in a nearby body of water.
 |
| Local dumpster area, after pick-up. |
 |
| (I wonder if this is somehow connected to the BTC pipeline (Baku-Tblisi-Ceyhan)...) |
Path number two to school is an adventure, as you can see from the pic on the right. It's not as muddy since you're on a pipe for most of the way, but I wouldn't want to try it in the rain or snow. After I discovered option number 3 while I was out for a jog, we've only used it a couple of times - most recently for nostalgic reasons.
Usually, I return home for lunch ("nahar"), which might be chicken ("toyuq") and potato ("kartof") soup, dolma (from the verb "dolmaq," meaning "to fill with or stuff), or chicken and rice ("plov") with fresh cucumbers ("xiyar") and tomato ("pomidor"), but always includes çörək, most of which is homemade by my host mother and/or sister in the ever-present big, red "easy bake oven" or in the təndir (a/k/a tandoor) oven outside.
 |
| Most families have one of these and often use it in lieu of their regular oven. |
After lunch, it's off to technical, which is usually at the school across the highway in Yeni (new) Ceyranbatan, and is probably a 20 minute walk. "Yeni" is so new that it doesn't have as many paved roads and sometimes other infrastructure. (Incidentally, the schedule at the beginning of PST was technical in the morning followed by language in the afternoon. Around halfway through PST, the schedule flipped.)
 |
| Tandoor oven in the backyard |
I usually get home by 6 pm or earlier. Shortly thereafter, we eat dinner, which could be any of the dishes that might be eaten at lunch. Other common dishes are bozbash with kofta (meatball), fish (balıq), or, on special occasions, kəbab, which can be grilled chicken, lamb, or fish. If there's time before dinner, I try to get in some exercise (running, if the weather's good, or yoga).
A Crowd of People
If only the second part of my Beatles reference involved mere standing and staring... While we're on the road, whether it's traveling to school or just the post office (poçt), the air is overtaken by a cacophony of children in school uniforms and/or young men clad in various shade of black shouting: "HEH-lo! HEH-lo! HEH-lo!" and "What is your name!" (they're usually not actually asking a question), accompanied by incessant laughter, pointing, and what one might generously consider mirth. (And this is after at least three years of having had PCTs in the community that I'm aware of since my host family has had three PCTs before me.) And depending on whether you're African-American, Asian-American, and/or a woman you might also hear some of the following: "Hey, baby I love you!," "Chinese" noises, kung-fu noises, "JackieChan! JackieChan! (or "BruceLee!", for those who prefer to go old school)," or "negr."
I'll leave it up to you to guess what gets shouted at whom.
It bears explanation that although the word "negr" shouted at African-Americans here sounds an awful lot like the N-word, as used in Azərbaycan it does not mean what it means in the U.S. It is a borrowed term from Russian (negr (Cyrillic: негр)), which is a neutral indication of race and does not carry the hateful intent or pejorative connotation that it does in the United States and elsewhere. Nevertheless, this doesn't make it any less rude to shout at strangers, and the utterance still sounds offensive to American ears. Maybe that won't change, but PCVs of all races (who have the language skills) have sometimes taken it upon themselves to choose moments (there's not enough time in the day to do it every time it happens) to explain why it is offensive to Americans and why it would be respectful for Azərbaycanis to refrain from using the word. This approach comes from one of the many techniques with which Peace Corps equips PCVs to address any racial, sexual, and general harassment that may occur.
Depending on the size of your community, however, the shouting may improve with time as you get to know people in the neighborhood. Which brings us to...
"Guesting," and Immersion
The routine is broken up by random occasions of "guesting," which involves visiting a neighbor's and/or relative's home as a guest, drinking çay, eating some sweet things ("şirinşəylər") like cookies, chocolate, or candies, trying to converse, maybe watching some TV, and maybe staring at each other for a while. Sometimes it doesn't feel like much is going on, but I remind myself that this is what immersing yourself in the culture feels like. [/nod]
The people of Azərbaycan pride themselves on their hospitality ("qonaqpərvər"), and they are as warm and welcoming in their homes as they may be formal in public. (I may write about the public/private distinction in another post.) When guesting, it is customary to bring a gift of şirinşəylər. On a related note, if you borrow a dish from a neighbor, it is customary to return it with food on it.
What happens while guesting is a lot like what my (host) family does in the evenings when everyone's home from work and school: we eat, talk, joke around, study, and watch TV. Which isn't that different from what my family in America might do on certain evenings.
After supper, I do my homework or TDLA and maybe watch an episode of American TV before hitting the sack.
Rinse and repeat the next day. (Which is more than I can say for how often I actually rinse and repeat with shampoo in my hair...but that's another story.)
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