Scary running feet

This week I met our family dogs, one a hulking beast with gray and white fur the size of a small couch and a second smaller red mutt that looks like a cross between a fox and a hyena. My initial hesitation (I won’t say terror) of the local dogs was partially influenced by the fact that until two days ago even the family pet guard dogs pulled at their chains barking and growling whenever I came near. Then during a recent bout of gastric insurrection (Colonial Pepto Bismol is on the case and the separatists should shortly be under control) I went out at night to our cement hole outhouse and the dogs were off their chains. I had a momentary surge of sympathy for deer in front of semi-trucks as I stood at the door regarding Garagol (the cough-sized one) with the moonlight reflecting off his impressive canines. He came forward slowly and my hand tightened on the door knob. The story about the guy who was medically separated due to dog mauling came into my mind (PC has lots of stories) and then Garagol began nuzzling my leg and we came to a quick understanding: so long as he acts like a big sweaty then I’ll perform my duties as the only human in miles who knows how to properly pat his head. We’re good friends now and when a strange dog came into the courtyard yesterday while I was in the outhouse, Garagol nearly killed it in his enthusiasm to protect me.

Yesterday was the first rain and it took us all by surprise. After nearly two weeks of high 80s and mid 90s, suddenly we awoke to 50s and a semi-downpour. Of course none of us dressed for it so we complained of cold and numb extremities the day after we complained of melting. Our poor Turkmen teacher threw up her hands at us never being satisfied, but, eh, if rain is the worst thing happening to us. . .

Next week is a challenging break from routine as we hold our own Extra Curricular Activity (not a “camp” due to Russian connotations, although it will last three days from 9:00am-1:00pm with the usual “camp”-like activities). I’m in charge of music – imagine a lot of “I’m A Little Teapot” and explaining the “hokey pokey” without the use of a shared language – and Linda’s doing English games and the fellas, Thomas and Dan, are handling sports and arts. With an hour of planning and almost no materials except for some balls and the school space, I expect barely controlled chaos held at bay with our toddler-quality Turkmen vocabulary. I don’t think the horror film genre has fully utilized yet the scariness of large groups of bored children you can’t talk to. Fun ahead.

End of Week #1

For my first impressions of Turkmenistan, I would like to begin with the dogs. Both owned and feral roam the streets, some as large as bikes and others as small as cats with teeth so big you think their heads should fall over. The way to avoid being ravished by these dogs is to, if approached, bend down and pretend to grab a rock. The dog will then growl a bit, but soon move away and let you pass whole. The reason for this is that all infant puppies have rocks thrown at their heads by children (and adults) and so have a just and understandable terror of rocks. Logical explanations for extreme situations seem to be around every corner in Turkmenistan. The extreme grandeur of the capital, Ashgabat, with its towering spires of marble and gold off the cover of a Ray Bradbury “Martian Chronicles” novel compared with my training site town of G— all have reasonable explanations. Free gas, electricity, and water in homes compared to a roll of toilet paper costing more than several liters of Coke.

Honestly, I really enjoy this place and the people. I have been blessed with an incredible host family who spends hours helping me with my Turkmen language skills (in a week I’m up the level I was with Swahili in 4 months and Spanish in 9 years) and friends who make the days pass so quick I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day. Every time I walk home along my tree-lined dusty street I feel blessed that I can happily anticipate returning to my family and seeing what adventure in cooking, vocabulary, grammar, cleaning, or conversation they have waiting for me. With a diet of melons (really really good melons), fried dough stuffed with meat, salads drenched in oil, pomegranates (bigger than fists), and average seven cups of tea a day, I think I will gain about 50 pounds during the next three months, but I’ll be happy with every bite.

As I was walking back from the bucket-shower room (also the furnace room and the tooth brushing room although I haven't quite figured out how the combination of buckets work and where the drain is), I saw my host Dad watching the ABC "Arabian Nights" mini-series on TV (the TV is on constantly, I've seen more TV in the last 78 hours than in the past five years combined) and it blew my mind a little that I am living an Arabian Nights story. Merv, an archeological site near the city of Mary, is mentioned in one of the tales and the characters have Central Asian names and looked like my host family, my teacher counterparts, and my students. The town looks significantly different, think small town Midwest combined with southern Californian mountains with lines of private courtyard compounds, but I'm actually here.

Staging

After two days of generic Peace Corps preparation (travel in pairs, boil the water, be ready to face your fears, recognize your own cultural perceptions, etc) and an even longer summer before that (I love you all, but a four month summer is excessive), I am so ready to jump on that plane tomorrow at noon for Frankfurt, and then Turkmenistan. Our DC country desk administrator, Ben, is rather amazing and I'm glad to have him in our corner on the US side of things. If our admin in Turkmenistan is half as good, the next two years should run like a happily purring machine. From what we hear, Turkmenistan is one of the more challenging PC posts in the world, but also one of the most rewarding with the clearest signs of growth. We are the only international aid organization there so our individual impacts are noticeable, memorable, and noteworthy after only two years, unlike some other posts where you're tripping over other Western aid workers and the impact of individual projects are lost in the shuffle. My fellow PC volunteers (about 40 total, a mix of English teachers and public health volunteers) are amazing people, outgoing and enthusiastic, and after two days of intense socializing, I haven't found anyone yet who I haven't enjoyed their company. Good times ahead.