October 30, 2008
Alpha Males
Every country has them. Some more than others. We were told during training that every man in Kyrgyzstan between the ages of 15 and 70 is an alpha male. That was an exaggeration, but this country certainly has its share. You can see it in the way they walk, the way they spit on the sidewalk (seemingly every ten feet) and especially in the way they drive. Part of their behavior is, I’m sure, cultural as this is a male dominated society. The other part, God only knows where or how it was developed. It’s amazing how they must take the lead in everything. Kyrgyz women have told me there is no such thing as holding a door for a lady. Guys just bust right through. (A view that was refuted by a few of my female students when I asked them about this. I was told there are polite men in Kyrgyzstan, but you have to train them.) They walk on the sidewalk in a line that never veers a centimeter. Everybody has to move for them. I’ve been in stores and at the bazaar trying to buy something when a Kyrgyz dude will walk up and start asking questions of the person to whom I’m talking. As for driving, I’ll be surprised if I don’t see someone hit (and most likely killed considering the speeds at which they drive) before I leave this country. Since I’ve been in my city—a little over a month—I’ve already come upon three dogs that never made it to the other side of the road. Not sure if the drivers have the right of way over here but it really doesn’t matter because they take it anyway. They drive through intersections without stopping, half the time without even slowing down. Forget about looking for pedestrians. In fact, pedestrians must look in all directions before crossing the street or take the risk of getting nailed. I imagine the big fun starts this winter when they see how fast they can drive on icy roads without losing control. Today I was already halfway across a street when this guy gives me a double honk on his horn. He was turning behind me and none too happy that I had the audacity to start my cross when he was a half block away. I stopped in the middle of the street just to look at him. This meant he actually had to stop his car—which is usually only a condition when the machine is parked and turned off—and he was sooo pissed. As he sped away, he gave me a look in his side view mirror and one last honk, just so I’d know who’s boss the next time we meet. I’ve decided that for safety reasons, I can’t spend a day over two years in this country even if the PC started paying me my NYC salary.
November 3, 2008
Note: I don't claim to be psychic, but I do have feelings about certain people or events from time to time. Some of my friends think I’m a little loony when I talk about being in harmony with the universe, but check this. The day I wrote the above post, my host mother traveled to Bishkek for her sister-in-law’s funeral, returning yesterday. Last night I asked her how old her sister-in-law was. Forty-six. Then I asked if she had heart problems or cancer. In her limited English vocabulary, she told me, “She died in a car catastrophe.” A driver in Bishkek blew through an intersection killing both the sister-in-law and her passenger. The sister-in-law left a husband and six children behind, five still at home.
Every country has them. Some more than others. We were told during training that every man in Kyrgyzstan between the ages of 15 and 70 is an alpha male. That was an exaggeration, but this country certainly has its share. You can see it in the way they walk, the way they spit on the sidewalk (seemingly every ten feet) and especially in the way they drive. Part of their behavior is, I’m sure, cultural as this is a male dominated society. The other part, God only knows where or how it was developed. It’s amazing how they must take the lead in everything. Kyrgyz women have told me there is no such thing as holding a door for a lady. Guys just bust right through. (A view that was refuted by a few of my female students when I asked them about this. I was told there are polite men in Kyrgyzstan, but you have to train them.) They walk on the sidewalk in a line that never veers a centimeter. Everybody has to move for them. I’ve been in stores and at the bazaar trying to buy something when a Kyrgyz dude will walk up and start asking questions of the person to whom I’m talking. As for driving, I’ll be surprised if I don’t see someone hit (and most likely killed considering the speeds at which they drive) before I leave this country. Since I’ve been in my city—a little over a month—I’ve already come upon three dogs that never made it to the other side of the road. Not sure if the drivers have the right of way over here but it really doesn’t matter because they take it anyway. They drive through intersections without stopping, half the time without even slowing down. Forget about looking for pedestrians. In fact, pedestrians must look in all directions before crossing the street or take the risk of getting nailed. I imagine the big fun starts this winter when they see how fast they can drive on icy roads without losing control. Today I was already halfway across a street when this guy gives me a double honk on his horn. He was turning behind me and none too happy that I had the audacity to start my cross when he was a half block away. I stopped in the middle of the street just to look at him. This meant he actually had to stop his car—which is usually only a condition when the machine is parked and turned off—and he was sooo pissed. As he sped away, he gave me a look in his side view mirror and one last honk, just so I’d know who’s boss the next time we meet. I’ve decided that for safety reasons, I can’t spend a day over two years in this country even if the PC started paying me my NYC salary.
November 3, 2008
Note: I don't claim to be psychic, but I do have feelings about certain people or events from time to time. Some of my friends think I’m a little loony when I talk about being in harmony with the universe, but check this. The day I wrote the above post, my host mother traveled to Bishkek for her sister-in-law’s funeral, returning yesterday. Last night I asked her how old her sister-in-law was. Forty-six. Then I asked if she had heart problems or cancer. In her limited English vocabulary, she told me, “She died in a car catastrophe.” A driver in Bishkek blew through an intersection killing both the sister-in-law and her passenger. The sister-in-law left a husband and six children behind, five still at home.
Emotions
were running high during the writing of this email because my desire to leave
Kyrgyzstan as soon as I could after my service vanished quickly. In fact, up
until the turmoil caused by the overthrow of the government, my plan was to
extend for a third year, live in Bishkek, and teach playwriting seminars at
universities and for international NGOs, UNICEF being the one of them. I’ll
reveal more later as to why the third year plan never materialized, but let’s
just say it’s difficult to move a mountain.
Learn more in the book about the episodes I wrote for a Domestic Violence project for the radio station a full year after I left Kyrgyzstan, and the two polite Kyrgyz men I met in Talas.
