Time in Vanovka

I am back in Taraz after an amazing time in the village of Vanovka. It was two weeks full of many contradictions. I will not say it was all easy and joyful, but even in the hard things there were great lessons learned and a time I will treasure for always. I hope to go back this fall or winter and spend another two weeks.


Out House.


Banya - Bathing area.


Kitchen - no refrigerator or running water in the house.


The bedroom I was given to use while there.

The family I stayed with is a wonderful family. The father, Kirat, is in Almati working, so I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but he his wife, Inash, was home with their 3 beautiful daughters: Izamal, Igerim, Mahabbat, and a handsome son, Kwanish. They all opened their home to me and made me feel loved, at home, and part of the family. Inash has a large extended family so there were many cousins around everyday, as well as both Kirat and Inash's mother.

Their home is simple and clean with a total of 6 rooms: living room, kitchen and 4 bedrooms. There is no running water in the house or refrigerator. Outside there is a well and around the back of the house is a little house called a "banya" where you bathe. In the banya there is a faucet that sometimes has running water. When the water does run, there are many buckets and tubs to be filled so when the water stops running there will still be water without having to draw from the well.

I have lived for short periods of time without running water and even without a refrigerator, but I can tell you I am very thankful that most of the time I have these luxuries. It is amazing what I take for granted in life. So many people around the world live without the most basic of things. I want to remember to keep these simple things on my "I'm grateful for" list each day instead of focusing on what I don't have or think I need.




While I was there I helped can pickles. The cucumbers, dill, garlic, and peppers used to make the pickles came out of the garden and we picked them that morning. It was fun. I loved living on a farm and having fresh veggies right from the garden.



It was fun helping the family as they made many traditional foods for me. Here is a fried bread that is kind of sweet and very tasty. The milk came from the cow down the street and sat out for a couple of days and was going - in my opinion - bad. However, instead of wasting the milk, it was used to make this sweet bread.





Doing laundry for a family of 6 would be a major undertaking, even with a washer and dryer. Think about doing that much laundry by hand. That is what so many people in the world still do. Basic daily chores can take so much longer here.

In order to do a washing, Izamal and I first had to draw water from the well. We then heated some of the water on an outside gas stove. Once we had the water boiling, we started the process by filling a tub with hot water and then adding enough cold water to just be able to put our hands in it. With a bar of lye soap, each article of clothing is hand washed, wrung out, and put into another tub. As the wash water becomes dirty, the tub is dumped and clean hot water is added along with cold. This process goes on until all the laundry is washed. Then comes rinsing. Smaller articles of clothing can be rinsed once and a couple items in one tub of water. Larger items like towels, adult slacks and sheets have to be rinsed twice, sometimes three times. After rinsing and wringing out an item, it is hung on the clothes line to dry. Drying doesn't take long in the hot, dry summer heat. After five hours of washing and rinsing, Izamal and I had the laundry washed and hung up to dry.

About the time we finished, Inash's sister showed up with her 4 children (3 girls and a boy). Within 30 minutes the girl cousins were running out of the house with Inash's daugthers' clean outfits on. I don't care where little girls live around the world, they love to try on other peoples' clothes. Now, remember I had just spent 5 hours washing laundry by hand. When I saw the cousins come out with a couple different changes of clothes belonging to Izamal, Igerim, and Mahabbat, I was ready to send them back into the house to put on their own outfits. Even if I didn't know all the words for this instruction, I was pretty sure I could convey my meaning in actions. Oh, I had to restrain myself. Neither of the mothers seemed to mind. I had to sit back, letting go of "my" desire to control things and instead delight in their enjoyment of each other. Why was I worried about having to do laundry again. I did help again, but this is what they do the whole year - not just for two weeks, as I did. The people in that home were choosing to enjoy themselves and not focus on the "hard" part of existing. How many times have I whined and complained about things when in actuality I could have enjoyed the moment I was in. The whining and complaining didn't do anything to change what was coming, but it did steal the joy out of the moment I was in.





Beth stopped by Sunday, 26 July on her way to Shikent. Inash fixed Shashlek, a traditional Kazakh meal. It was a great time of relaxing and enjoying each others' company.







Inash and her three older daughters work in a small "dukan" in the village. This is like a small convenience store open 24 hours 7 days a week. Inash is there from around 7 or 8 in the evening until 9 or so in the morning when the girls take over and are there until she comes back in the evening. The two younger children sometime go with Inash at night and sleep in a back room while their mother works. For all this effort they get paid 700 tenge a day total. That is for all three of them working 24 hours a day. That is less than 5 dollars a day. That doesn't go far at all. I struggled knowing how much I should help this family. I could feed them like I thought they should be feed for the two weeks I was there, but once I was gone what would they do? I did pay rent while I was there, which also covered my share of food. At some meals there would be only one chicken leg quarter for all of us. In a soup this goes pretty far, but then they wanted to give me the choice pieces of meat and the most. That is the way Kazakh's do it. They are very giving, sometimes to a fault. I couldn't eat meat with six and sometimes eight children sitting around the table.

I did buy food and even bought ice cream treats and soda one day. On several occasions I bought kabasa which, like salami, is already cooked and can stay outside a refrigerator more safely. On Saturday morning when I left for the orphanage down the street there were sticks of kabasa in the kitchen. When I got home that afternoon and we were getting tea ready, I went to get the kabasa. I couldn't find it any where. I asked the children, thinking they actually may have eaten it all which would have been fine. But I was told the local cat had snuck in the door (doors aren't kept closed here) and stolen the kabasa. Now, I imagine this kitty is hungry, but I bought that meat for the children not the cat. I did think he must have thought "What a find!!" and was a very happy kitty to have his belly full. I hope all that meat didn't make him sick. The lady at the small store around the corner was always happy to see me, since I increased her business while I was there.



Sights walking to the orphanage.







I had the great joy and pleasure of spending several days with the children of a small orphanage in Vanovka. It is actually more of a family. An amazing couple run this orphanage like a home. I've never had the opportunity in previous years to get to know these children very well even though I've stopped by a couple times. It was great to spend more time with them getting to know them better. The couple who run the orphanage are new and have implemented many good changes. As well behaved and as healthy as the children are compared to the larger orphanages, behavioral issues and delays in areas became more than evident as I worked with them. It was great to see their individual strengths and weakness. Sitting with them, my mind began turning on lessons and activities that could be done with these children to increase their capacity to learn, trust and grow into healthy adults. Several of the children are delayed in their reading abilities. One young girl, age 12, can't tell time and other basic skills are lacking. I look forward to going back with activities to strengthen some of these weak areas.



This young man is very bright, artistic, and eager to learn. I brought wooden models to build and paint. The plane that he was working on did not have the details he desired, so he carved the propeller into one resembling a real propeller instead of leaving it as the rectangle piece of wood that comes in the kit. He then cut two other pieces of wood to give better proportions to the wheel base. I loved watching him work hard to make these changes. I have sent some art supplies out to this young man to use and will go back to give him some one-on-one art lessons.



This has been a quick, basic overview of my time in the village. I will share more stories in the future. It was an amazing time of learning more about life here in Kazakhstan, learning the language and a time to step back from the normal routine of life. The village offers a slower pace. Many of the day-to-day activities we take for granted are more difficult and more time consuming. However, in slowing down to do these things there is also more time to think and even look around.

I missed the contact with my family and friends while in the village. So many times I wished I could share the new thing I was doing with you, dear friends. One day I had ice cream with poppy sesame seeds. The vanilla ice cream was full of poppy seeds and coated outside with chocolate with sesame seeds in it. After the initial surprise of poppy and sesame seeds in ice cream, I think it was a tasty treat, but certainly not one I'm use to. So many more fun things I wanted to share with those of you I miss, but I was making new friends in these experiences and treasured these, too.

In this chapter of my story I've said a lot of good-byes, but I've also said a lot of hellos. The good-byes are hard at time, but I wouldn't have these hellos without those good-byes. I treasure my old friends but also the new friends I'm making. Like that old camp song I learned long ago - "Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold. Make new friends." That is what I am getting to do. What a treasure trove of friends I have. I am thankful for each one of you.

May you enjoy the friends who are in your life today. Love them well. Build memories that you will treasure for the rest of your life. My two weeks in the village I will treasure for the rest of my life.
Love,
Vicki

Through Their Eyes

Make a Smilebox slideshow

I love Kristin Andreaseen's "Crayola Doesn't Make a Color to Draw My Love." She produced a great music video with a class of second graders at Conservatory Lab Charter School in Brighton, MA. It's on YouTube, if you'd like to listen (hopefully the link below works). You can also buy it on iTunes. Her song says there isn't a Crayola color that captures the true color of the eyes of those she loves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EELEjeYzfjM

As I listened to Kristin's song, I thought of the eyes of the children who captured my heart when I first came to KZ in 2000. Today these children still hold my heart captive. Without speaking a word, their eyes express volumes whether anyone notices or not. Their eyes ask such questions as "What will this person bring into my life?" "Where did they come from?" "What is life like there?" Some children push and shove to touch any new visitor, while others hold back watching what is happening. Either way these children are expressing a desperate need to know they are valued and that someone cares. That is what was shouted in 2000 when I first came and what is still being shouted today to anyone who has eyes to see and heart to hear.

How does a child face the world when she or he is all alone? How does a child learn to be a man or a woman when there is no one to teach him? What have these children seen through their eyes? I've heard some of their stories and they have broken my heart. Sometimes I wonder how I can hear one more story. Then, I wonder how can I not. If I do not listen, I leave them alone with their stories of heartache and pain. I leave them with no one to acknowledge the truth that their pain matters and is important. To know that someone cares, that they are valued, and that the pain they feel is cared about will move those who hurt beyond pain and offer hope to reach toward tomorrow. By holding onto hope, people survived the Holocaust and many other atrocities. There are so many stories from people who made it through great horrors because someone gave them the hope that they were valued, treasured and important. Hope enabled them to hold on and persevere.

This is not about condemning the staff at the orphanages here. Most of them do try to provide the children's basic needs. I have seen great care and compassion from the caregivers who see unimaginable needs. There just isn't enough money, supplies, food or staff to go around. These women and men, many of whom have families and children of their own, work long days for little pay. Their lives, as well, are full of brokenness and heartache. And there is little hope of circumstances improving for them. How do you give when you have nothing to give?

What more often happens in the orphanages is that whoever is bigger and stronger gets to kick around the smaller and weaker. That, of course, is what is passed on from the older to the younger kids. What do children do who grow up being bullied and picked on and who have to scrap for everything in life? The fact is they simply experience the survival of the fittest - at it's best or worse, depending on your point of view. I've seen eyes that manage to hold onto hope one year slip away and dim the next because of the harsh realities of day to day life. My heart breaks when I see the weariness, hopelessness, and despair replace the innocence of possibilities.

I cry out at night for these children and for the beauty that was created in each precious one. Not one is a mistake and each is uniquely and wonderfully made. How can their hope not be dashed to pieces? How can they learn that they truly are important and valued? How can they be encouraged to work diligently and persevere. How can they know that perseverance is a gift? I don't know the answers to all the questions, but I do know the questions won't stop my reaching out and doing what I can.

I cannot rescue or whisk these kids from their circumstances. Perhaps, however, I can provide some encouragement which will bring small, yet significant, changes. Perhaps my offer to be a friend who will walk alongside will make a difference. I have had those who have walked beside me when I had lost hope, when I despaired for what the future held. These people couldn't change the path that was mine to walk but they could - and did - make it less lonely. During times I walked alone, they encouraged and pointed me towards the Truth. Now, I can pass that great gift along.









Thank you, dear friends, for being with me in this part of the next chapter in my life. My heart is heavy for these children, but I am honored that I can be a small part of their lives.

There are almost 100 children who have "graduated" this spring. Each will have to leave their orphanage in August. The local orphanages and officials have told us there is alternative housing for only half of these children. That leaves some fifty children with no place to go. Imagine fifty 15 and 16 year-olds being put out on the street. Oh, how my heart breaks. Oh, how I wish I had the $50,000 to purchase a house to open for these children. The government would pay a small stipend for each child so the house would be self-supporting. Oh, dear friends, remember my heart and this situation. I'm asking Papa for a door or window to open and for a house to be provided if that is HIS will.

Thank you for your encouraging words, support and treasured friendships. May each of you enjoy the beauty around you. Take time to reach out to those who are along your path and in the pages of your life.

Love,
Vicki

Safflower - Flores Carthami - Carthamus Tinctorium L.

I have been wondering for weeks what this flower was and the answer came from someone right in the home where I'm living. Talgat frequently goes to the mountains to collect herbs and roots to make tea and such. Today I thought to show him my blog and ask him what the plant in the picture was. I also told him I see it on the way to Shimkent. Now, I want you to realize I am having this conversation in Kazakh or broken Kazakh to be more exact, but he understood me and was able to tell me it was Safflower. I confirmed this by looking it up on the internet and low and behold the picture matched what I was seeing in the fields. I was so excited.

I also learned a lot more about the plant. The website said it's origin is from the Mediterranean, but also talked about it's Turkish roots. Sometimes it is referred to the weaker or lesser saffron. According to the web it does not have value as a spice to add flavor but in countries like Azerbaijan it is used for it's ability to add color to the meal. The flowers are also used to dye textiles. We know it as an oil. Saffower oil contains triglycerides of the doubly unsaturated linoleic acid (70%) and triple unsaturated linolinic acid (10%) and high levels of Vitamin E and iodine making it highly desired by health conscious people.

Well, this may be far more than you ever wanted to know about Safflower, but I am delighted to know what it is. One of the reasons I didn't want to leave Virginia was I knew the plant, bug and wildlife around me. I knew what snakes I could pick up, what flowers and plant life I valued and what bugs to beware of. It is fun to learn new things here. Sometimes it is a challenge with the language barrier but that also gives me more motivation to learn the language.

Have a beautiful day, dear friends. Take a moment to enjoy the beauty around where ever you are at the moment. In essence take the time to smell the roses, to enjoy the quiet moments, to tell those people in your lives who you treasure just how much you do treasure them.
My love to you all,
Vicki

Someone PLEASE help me identify this flower!

I need someone's help please. This flower which looks like a thistle but is yellow and orange is grown here in southern Kazakhstan in large fields in rows. Many times there are large fields of lavender next to or near these fields. They seem to let this flower grow and dry before harvesting. I have no idea what it is used for or what it is. It grows to about 2 feet or so in hight.
Thank you in advance for all your help. I've tried looking it up on the internet but haven't found anything yet.





Thank you dear friends for your notes and encouraging words.
Love
Vicki

Celebrating Kazakh Style

Sunday, July 5th, I had the great pleasure and joy of going to the edge of Taraz for a picnic with friends. These friends opened their picnic and hearts to us who are foreigners. In many ways the time was similar to any neighborhood picnic or family BBQ and it felt familiar to me on so many levels. I relaxed and enjoyed myself fully.



The menu was slightly different but if you look at the basics of meat, veggies, bread and soda, it was the same. There was one big difference, however, and that was the meat. Now, in the States I ate a lot of meats many Americans don't typically eat - lamb, goat, deer, rabbit, wild turkey, for example. Here horse and sheep are the norm and this picnic had both. The large pot below held up by a circular tube which holds the fire inside. The large pot is filled with horse parts and then towards the end sheep is added. Evidently horse takes longer to cook. The fat, along with the meat, is included. That old riddle "Jack Sprat could eat no fat and his wife could eat no lean" takes on new meaning here. Fat is a valued part of the meal, not a part to be given to the dog or thrown away.



The women and men who are in charge of cooking stirred this mixture most of the morning - until a knife pierced each piece easily. Then all the meat and chunks of fat were laddled out and taken inside the Yurta (traditional Kazakh tent). There the meat was cut up into smaller pieces.



When I first walked out back to see what was going on, I wasn't sure if they would appreciate me intruding but I was warmly welcomed. They worked hard to explain what was going on even with the lack of much language understanding between us. You would be surprised what can be conveyed with hand motions and a few words!! One gentleman conveyed a story I've heard before. The wolf eats the most meat and Kazakh's eat the second most meat. That I can believe. I'm always amazed at the amount of meat Kazakh's eat. Not being a big meat eater myself, so this can be a struggle for me. On this day the women cutting up the meat insisted I taste some of the choice pieces. I have to say the meat was very tender and tasty. I ate both sheep and horse.



Once the meat is taken out, noodles are added. The fat in the water is not drained out before putting the noodles in because Kazakhs think the fat in the water is good for you. When the noodles are cooked, they are scooped onto large platers and thinly sliced onions and chunks of meat and fat are added. The platters are placed several to each table. Generally Kazakhs eat with their fingers from community platters. Americans, however, are given a plate or bowl. I've gotten fairly use to the community way and am comfortable with that - depending on who I'm sitting with.

Since I was in and out of the Yurt, the women kept wanting me to taste various things. By the time the meal was served at the table, I was stuffed. I did sit down for a short time and one sweet little girl decided my lap was the lap to sit on. Children go in and out of the tent as the food is being prepared getting handouts. When the meal is served children crawl onto laps - anyone's lap! Children don't stay with their parents and everyone feeds them. Children also run by the tables with their hands out and they are passed whatever they have asked for. I enjoyed having this sweet girl on my lap and passing food to various children that squeezed by me. Once the kids figured out I generously passed out candy, they knew where to come for more. When my lap companion had had enough and left, I decided I'd also rather be up moving around with the kids and the cooking crew.





The couple below was so sweet. He is the one who told me about wolves and Kazakhs. She was the one who patiently explained and explained till I understood what she was saying with my limited words. She also wanted me to taste everything. Horse, sheep, mares' milk, camels' milk, and the broth they drink that is left after all the meat and pasta is removed from the water. If it sits too long it will jell into a solid. I tasted it but couldn't get much down. I'm not sure if it was actually the taste or the knowledge of what it was and what my arteries were thinking.

While she was cutting the meat, her head scarf fell off. Her husband refolded it and tied it back around her head. It was so cute seeing these two together and his kindness to her.



These two women were also very sweet. They looked like little china dolls. People from all ages attended, laughing and enjoying each other. Children ran around playing and wrestling. One young man had a bow and an arrow with a suction cup at the end. I could make faces and say simples words, chasing and tickling just like I would do at home. The children didn't seem to notice I didn't speak their language. They also enjoyed posing for the camera and then seeing their picture on the back of the camera.









Chewing on the bones is acceptable, expected and desired. Most bones are cracked open giving access to the bone marrow that is suppose to be very good for you. I made a great sacrifice and gave my bone away. I love this picture of this little boy with this huge bone. Beth and I snuck one bone for a dog down the street because it seemed a shame not to let him have one, too.













When Marc and Sarah came to Kazakhstan in 2002, they returned home with the idea of how much alike the Kazakhs and we are. Marc and Sarah hadn't focused on what was different but saw what is the same. The love of family and friends, the desire of families to take care of each other and be with each other. Isn't there more that is the same between us than different? Seeing beauty in each person - each who has been uniquely and wonderfully made - sometimes takes more effort but brings so much more reward.

Sunday I definitely saw the things which cross borders, race, age, politics and such. I had the joy of being among people who were enjoying each other's company and who generously welcomed a stranger among them. I hope I will always generously open my heart and home to strangers who may come my way. I was blessed beyond measure that day with the opportunity to share in their meal.

I am blessed each day with the gift of friendships near and far. I cannot tell you each how much I value your sweet correspondence. It touches my heart and encourages me, especially during those moments I want to share what is on my heart but cannot because I don't yet have the words to express myself. Nonetheless, I still desire that my actions convey my heart and can be understood without words. May you each be enjoying those around you that you. Don't take for granted those you love and treasure. Thank you for joining me in this next chapter.
Vicki