Saturday, February 28, 2009

The End of Winter


In Kazakhstan, seasons always begin on the first of the month—summer begins on the 1st of June, winter on the 1st of December, etc. So today is my last day of winter in Kazakhstan and I’ll recall some of the more memorable events of the season:

On January 19th, I celebrated my first Russian Orthodox holiday—Kreshenya. This holiday is the equivalent of Epiphany in Western Churches, which Wikipedia hazily describes as either the coming of the three Magi or the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan. In Russian Orthodoxy, it is a holiday during which priests bless the water. In the morning, I went to a classic Russian onion-domed church and took part in the two-hour ritual. An Orthodox service is very different from the Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant services I’ve been to. In a large room without pews, churchgoers crowd in and stand. The vast majority of the worshippers were elderly women and all were Russian (interestingly, it doesn’t seem there was an effort, or at least not a successful one, to convert Kazakhs). The entire service is ritual; there is no sermon, personal prayer, or even interaction amongst the worshipers. Priests and a hidden group of women chant while the priests swing incense globes, open and close the gates of the shrine, and carry the bible around the room. While the priests chant, the worshippers repeat certain phrases and cross themselves in sets of three. After this ceremony, the old women pass up glass jars or plastic bottles of water for the priest to bless en masse. Many of these babushkas came late to the ceremony and proceeded to pass up their open water containers to the front, getting most of the congregation wet in the process.

After the church ceremony, the priests lead the worshippers to the frozen lake for the final blessing. I was told that this half-kilometer walk was supposed to be a sacrifice. I laughed this off at first because the distance was so short, but after five minutes of walking at a snail’s pace in the freezing cold in a narrow column of pushy babushkas I discovered the sacrifice. But this procession was interesting. In front, the priests and a singing female trio carry tall crosses and icons and lead chanting, which the worshippers repeat. When we got to the lake, there were probably over a hundred worshippers present. There was a large cross carved into the ice exposing the water and a wooden ladder attached to one end. The main priest blessed the water for half an hour and afterwards, invited his congregation to jump in the water. Few of the actual worshippers did, but dozens of secular men and women jumped and they quickly turned this solemn event into a college party.

A few weeks after this event, I arrived at my classroom ready to teach and was greeted by my students playing with two AK-47s, the automatic gun of choice for rebels around the world. They were practicing disassembling and reassembling them and loading magazines. For safety, the students practicing with the bullets and cartridges were a good two meters away from the students playing with the real guns and empty magazines. Unfortunately, the teacher who was observing left at one point and one of my crazy students took a gun, attached a full magazine, and proceeded to point the now loaded gun at the students. Preferring not to be shot, I abdicated my role as only teacher and just watched the scene.

So why were students playing with AK-47s in my classroom? Interestingly enough, it was for the purpose of peace. On February 5th my school celebrated the 30th anniversary of the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan. It is odd that they choose to celebrate this event instead of just forgetting about it the way Americans forget Vietnam. Those who recall the war say that it is important to remember what happened in Afghanistan so that future generations will avoid war (cough, cough). To mark the occasion, my school held a military competition where students from different schools competed in a range of army related activities from marching and assembling an AK-47 to eating and getting dressed quickly. Although Kazakhstan is a country that shuns the idea of war, all of its students—boys and girls—are prepared to join the army in a moment’s notice.

The other notable event of winter was my host dad’s 50th year jubilee. Although this occasion is probably important in all cultures, Kazakhs treat it as an event as monumental as a wedding. In fact during the preparation, my host family would frequently and accidentally refer to as a wedding. So like a wedding, hundreds of guests are invited. I think around 250 attended this one. The event takes place in a banquet all. People are seated at tables piled high with food, which keeps getting replenished. Much vodka, of course, is served. There is an MC, professional dancers and singers, and a video guy. And like all Kazakh events, toasts! Yes, we have toasts in America, but Kazakhs push this tradition to the limit. Every person present (remember, 250) must give a lengthy toast. Groups of four to ten are brought to the front of the room where they each speak for a few minutes about the greatness of the honored person, who must remaining standing the whole time. When it was my time, I pulled out the classic triumvirate—a toast in English, Russian, and Kazakh. Although I know very little of the Kazakh language, Kazakhs go crazy with excitement when you say even the simplest of words. When I finished, everyone cheered and I was mauled by an overly affectionate Kazakh man.

In so many ways, American and Kazakhstani cultures are so similar that it is easy to be disappointed at the lack of culture shock initially. But in celebrations— religious, national, or family—the real differences emerge and they are a hell of a lot of fun!

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