I am home now, arriving several weeks ago. I completed my final debriefing with Paris, via phone, today and so I am really finished.
And it is good.
The two-legged and four-legged all-male-occupied home, decorated with dust and grime patiently awaiting my return, was good. What else does a time zone challenged woman do at 2 am as she re-adjusts to Mountain Standard Time, but tend to neglected dust bunnies, dog hairs, and strange unidentified smelly things? (With gratitude, I acknowledge the carpets were cleaned the day I arrived. I will never have to know what they were like the day before I arrived.)
I will finish the Abkhazian Adventures blog even though I have mixed feelings about doing so. There are many stories I have not yet told: Eno (hemiplegic stroke patient with a horrific leg wound) has returned home without a leg, but with a life. After the successful amputation we bought her a wheelchair. Her grandson who takes care of her is learning how to use it. The Health Access Program which was planned for closure will continue. I am proud of the work done and thankful for the chance to have done it.
The Abkhazian Adventure was a chance for me to explore many emotions that surfaced over the six months. It was like a good therapist, assisting me to know what I already know, to accept what is true while grappling with the demons and disconnects of life. Meanwhile I got to explore an external world equally confounding and rich.
The departure “goodbyes” with tender moments between me and my Abkhazian friends, with all of their kindness and curiosities, felt good. I did not get to say goodbye to all the patients that have challenged and changed me. I don’t regret that because we are left instead with the simple memories created during a normal days work, not exaggerated farewells of “it has been so wonderful to know you”, “you are so special.”
I have the best of what I could have hoped for from this experience. Love.
I like this quote from a book I am reading, Water Marked by Helen E.Lee,
“Love is the one thing you can multiply by dividing”.
We all know about wine reviews and restaurant reviews …..“rich, complex, blended with irresistible character”, “the long finish a pleasure of its own“ and “this place has the essence of a dusty Mediterranean villa”.
I suppose wine and restaurant reviews are attempts to describe something good, documented so others may enjoy. These Abkhazian “reviews” have been my attempt to share some brief moments of confounding, contradictory, extraordinary moments so you could enjoy. I am thankful for all of you and your interest in my journey.
On my final drive from Sukhumi to Tbilisi, as I drove passed the Black Sea, I was sad and happy. I watched horses rolling in green, green grass, children splashing in mountain streams, grapes vines metastasizing everywhere, ready for harvest soon. I enjoyed the familiar acne-pocked landscape that challenged me to see beyond the surface, to discover the real truth of the land and its strong, independent, beautiful people.
I am left with emotions simmering into a rich,delectable sauce.
I came home early to be with our family to focus on another journey as Ballard’s mom finishes out her long, lovely life. It is time to listen to her stories, and focus my energies on today.
I look forward to face-to-face smiles, chest-to-chest hugs with each of you, before I head out for another adventure. (We have plenty of time, no imminent departures, I will replenish the bank account with paid work for a while, then head out for another adventure.)
I will put pictures together and post them in a few weeks and when I do I will leave a final, final message on this blog……so bye for now and thanks for your support and love.
Genie
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Elaine
My MSF mission will conclude earlier than expected, but at the right time for me.
In my “backyard”, my home, my mother-in-law, the best in the West mother-in-law, is dying of cancer, and it is good, it is right that I depart a bit early and come to sit by her side, to tell her stories, to listen to her stories, of which she has no lack. This is a time of choice for me, and some choices are easy and good.
All of my inner voices say, “Go Home, Be With Your People.”
We have known Elaine’s life-end was out there, maybe a year or two. Now that end is closer , probably weeks, as cancer often surprises us it with its fits and starts then its finality. Cancer for Elaine has been one of those things that she had for several years, now the cancer has her. She and the cancer have traded places in the role of who will lead. Like other aspects of her long life, she has taken charge, and has given her willfulness and her unique “Elaineness” to this burden. She is pragmatic and reasonable. She is direct and resolute. She is an inspiration to many, many of the people that surround her.
I will miss her cranberry jelly, and so I must hurry home to make sure I have the recipe written down correctly. It is a family recipe. It is in her head and hands. There is a copy in my recipe file written by Dolly, Elaine’s mother-in-law, but it is no longer readable having been splattered with the boiling cranberries. The few times I have tried to make it “Like Lanie Does” I always have to repeat, “ how much sugar do I put, and how long should the rolling boil last, stirring all the while?” ( “I recall “stirring all the while” are the exact words on the recipe)
We have traditions to keep, Pritchett and Hillyer, Harper and Wilson legacies that carry onward only if we listen and learn and pass them down to Our People. There are many traditions that Elaine has carried on behalf of her ancestors, both from her family and from her husbands family. She collected precious “treasures“, stories and recipes and memories. Each of us will get to choose in these coming weeks which treasures we want to keep from Elaine. Which gifts I will choose to carry onward from the enormous pile of gifts? Which treasures that I have carried will my children carry onward?.
Some treasures will be kept by Elaine only, they are not ours, they are her special secrets and stories that will join her in eternity. But she will no doubt eagerly and generously give us treasures, if we choose.
I look forward to these days and weeks ahead, the good ones, the tough ones.
I will complete my writings about Abkhazia soon. My journal is full of more stories, more images, more emotions. I’ll share a few more before I close the Abkhazia Adventures.
While I prepare to say “Farewell” to the people who have opened their homes, their lives, to me over these past months, I will savor the best: The Black Sea, the constant that has brought daily nourishment, the little canal with the peach streetlight reflecting into its varying ripples and waves depending on the weather. The clang of the metal door closing as I enter the MSF compound. The oscillation of the fan cooling me at night, the morning birds that awaken me, the moaning water pump that is heard every time the sink faucet turns on, the squeaking pulley on the clothesline, the hustle-bustle at the market……the laughs and grumps of Inga, LaLa and Olga…..the smiles of Shamile and Zurab…and then there is Sveta, I will give her an apron that I had engraved, it says “CHEF SVETA” displayed right in the middle of the breast…..I hope she likes it…… and on and on……..
Thank for listening, for being a reason for me to write, even though you have only read a small portion of what has been written, it is enough, I’m sure.
Till later, genie
In my “backyard”, my home, my mother-in-law, the best in the West mother-in-law, is dying of cancer, and it is good, it is right that I depart a bit early and come to sit by her side, to tell her stories, to listen to her stories, of which she has no lack. This is a time of choice for me, and some choices are easy and good.
All of my inner voices say, “Go Home, Be With Your People.”
We have known Elaine’s life-end was out there, maybe a year or two. Now that end is closer , probably weeks, as cancer often surprises us it with its fits and starts then its finality. Cancer for Elaine has been one of those things that she had for several years, now the cancer has her. She and the cancer have traded places in the role of who will lead. Like other aspects of her long life, she has taken charge, and has given her willfulness and her unique “Elaineness” to this burden. She is pragmatic and reasonable. She is direct and resolute. She is an inspiration to many, many of the people that surround her.
I will miss her cranberry jelly, and so I must hurry home to make sure I have the recipe written down correctly. It is a family recipe. It is in her head and hands. There is a copy in my recipe file written by Dolly, Elaine’s mother-in-law, but it is no longer readable having been splattered with the boiling cranberries. The few times I have tried to make it “Like Lanie Does” I always have to repeat, “ how much sugar do I put, and how long should the rolling boil last, stirring all the while?” ( “I recall “stirring all the while” are the exact words on the recipe)
We have traditions to keep, Pritchett and Hillyer, Harper and Wilson legacies that carry onward only if we listen and learn and pass them down to Our People. There are many traditions that Elaine has carried on behalf of her ancestors, both from her family and from her husbands family. She collected precious “treasures“, stories and recipes and memories. Each of us will get to choose in these coming weeks which treasures we want to keep from Elaine. Which gifts I will choose to carry onward from the enormous pile of gifts? Which treasures that I have carried will my children carry onward?.
Some treasures will be kept by Elaine only, they are not ours, they are her special secrets and stories that will join her in eternity. But she will no doubt eagerly and generously give us treasures, if we choose.
I look forward to these days and weeks ahead, the good ones, the tough ones.
I will complete my writings about Abkhazia soon. My journal is full of more stories, more images, more emotions. I’ll share a few more before I close the Abkhazia Adventures.
While I prepare to say “Farewell” to the people who have opened their homes, their lives, to me over these past months, I will savor the best: The Black Sea, the constant that has brought daily nourishment, the little canal with the peach streetlight reflecting into its varying ripples and waves depending on the weather. The clang of the metal door closing as I enter the MSF compound. The oscillation of the fan cooling me at night, the morning birds that awaken me, the moaning water pump that is heard every time the sink faucet turns on, the squeaking pulley on the clothesline, the hustle-bustle at the market……the laughs and grumps of Inga, LaLa and Olga…..the smiles of Shamile and Zurab…and then there is Sveta, I will give her an apron that I had engraved, it says “CHEF SVETA” displayed right in the middle of the breast…..I hope she likes it…… and on and on……..
Thank for listening, for being a reason for me to write, even though you have only read a small portion of what has been written, it is enough, I’m sure.
Till later, genie
Sunday, August 2, 2009
JOE
Many of you may be thinking, I am going to talk about Joe, Joe Harper, dad. It’s another Joe, the one who has recently been in Tbilisi, Georgia, the Joe that responds to Mr. Vice President.
As you may recall, our Mission office is in Tbilisi, Georgia. It is where the Head of Mission and the team that “call the shots” live and work. The MSF Tbilisi office is in a shabby building two blocks off “the main street”. Rastavelli, the main street has shops and hotels and the Parliament building. As is often the case in many cities, the main street is fancy, and two blocks away the living is distasteful or downright disgusting. So it is with Tbilisi.
Joe was visiting not long ago and he happened to stay at the Marriott on Rastavelli,one block away from our office.
So there was security, meaning blocked streets and extraordinary traffic. No surprises with a visit from a dignitary.
Everyone anticipated some hub-bub, but I understand it was quite an event. Let’s defern the politics until another time.
While Joe and President Sakashvilli are discussing arms and peace with Russia (Ha!) and other such important things, humanitarian aid was in motion.
Weekly on Thursdays we have transfers from Tbilisi to Sukhumi and Sukhumi to Tbilisi. On those transfers we transfer expats, expat’s stuff (if they are coming to the mission or leaving the mission or just going on holiday). We also transfer mail from Tbilisi, because there is no postal service in Abkhazia, and we transfer items from Tbilisi that cannot be purchased in Sukhum. However, most importantly we transfer sputum and pus. Those disgusting body fluids that must be analyzed in order to determine whether and which type of Tuberculosis is alive and well in these particular specimens, as we know it to be alive in well in many, many human species in the Caucasus, some of whom are our patients.
Because we expats and national staff and drivers really don’t want to be infected with Tb while transporting the samples, (and that can happen), we have a rigorous process to protect the sputum and pus( and those that are involved in the transport). We have boxes, “cold boxes”. These are insulated, metallic-lined boxes in which we have placed those blue frozen thingies you put in the freezer then put in your cooler to keep the potato salad and beer cool on the 4th of July….. instead of potato salad and beer, we put sputum and pus in the cold boxes, which are really only cool, not cold.
Anyway, Joe and his entourage were causing quite a ruckus on Rastavelli and the area surrounding the Parliament building, and the humanitarian aid workers just wanted to get the cold box out of the car and into the next box along the “cold chain”. So, what’s a cold chain? It’s a process of moving items that must be kept cold from one place to the next. There are often a series of cold storage devices to make that happen such as freezers and metallic boxes with blue thingies. In our case the S&P had to get from the Tb hospital in Sukhumi to the MSF office and then to the Tbilisi laboratory where further analysis would be conducted to determine whether the sputum has regular Tb or multidrug resistant Tb (it had already been established that Tb was present).
Typically the transfer is quick, efficient, minimizing any mishap which would involve dropping the box and the S&P. As you can imagine there were multiple blocks with traffic and hoy-paloy interfering with an efficient transfer. So, on this otherwise uneventful day, the driver of the transfer vehicle and his passengers were obliged to carry all the transfer items, including the S&P, from the car, now parked many blocks away.
For entertainment value I would like to tell you that there was a grand mishap, that S&P were spilled all over the streets of Tbilisi, that Joe and his entourage are now undergoing testing in the US to determine if they have been exposed to Tb and that there is a wild, embarrassing Tb scandal, but the truth is everything happened as it should have, given the interruption of the traffic and the extra on-foot transport of S&P.
There is no big splash, or emotion, or “awakening” to share with you today. Just a simple recognition that while all of you were listening to news of the day, and perhaps heard that Joe, the VP, was traveling somewhere far away, and a few of you may have even thought, “I have heard of Georgia, it’s the place that’s close to Russia, that’s where Genie is, isn’t it?” The truth is I am not in Georgia, I am in Abkhazia, but the MSF mission headquarters is in Georgia.
But anyway, on Wednesday this week, as on every day there is “THE NEWS” the scandal, the big scoop, and then there is what is happening with the rest of us that never makes the news. Primarily because it isn’t news-worthy.
Sitting at the beach today, it was fun to think about potential events, the unlikely but possible events that turn into screenplays and blockbusters….like Caucasian terrorists who have staged a heist of a humanitarian aid’s transport vehicle, during the chaos of a dignitaries’ arrival, only to find deadly sputum and pus …..!!
Not to worry, I will not be writing it.
it’s bedtime…nighty night….
As you may recall, our Mission office is in Tbilisi, Georgia. It is where the Head of Mission and the team that “call the shots” live and work. The MSF Tbilisi office is in a shabby building two blocks off “the main street”. Rastavelli, the main street has shops and hotels and the Parliament building. As is often the case in many cities, the main street is fancy, and two blocks away the living is distasteful or downright disgusting. So it is with Tbilisi.
Joe was visiting not long ago and he happened to stay at the Marriott on Rastavelli,one block away from our office.
So there was security, meaning blocked streets and extraordinary traffic. No surprises with a visit from a dignitary.
Everyone anticipated some hub-bub, but I understand it was quite an event. Let’s defern the politics until another time.
While Joe and President Sakashvilli are discussing arms and peace with Russia (Ha!) and other such important things, humanitarian aid was in motion.
Weekly on Thursdays we have transfers from Tbilisi to Sukhumi and Sukhumi to Tbilisi. On those transfers we transfer expats, expat’s stuff (if they are coming to the mission or leaving the mission or just going on holiday). We also transfer mail from Tbilisi, because there is no postal service in Abkhazia, and we transfer items from Tbilisi that cannot be purchased in Sukhum. However, most importantly we transfer sputum and pus. Those disgusting body fluids that must be analyzed in order to determine whether and which type of Tuberculosis is alive and well in these particular specimens, as we know it to be alive in well in many, many human species in the Caucasus, some of whom are our patients.
Because we expats and national staff and drivers really don’t want to be infected with Tb while transporting the samples, (and that can happen), we have a rigorous process to protect the sputum and pus( and those that are involved in the transport). We have boxes, “cold boxes”. These are insulated, metallic-lined boxes in which we have placed those blue frozen thingies you put in the freezer then put in your cooler to keep the potato salad and beer cool on the 4th of July….. instead of potato salad and beer, we put sputum and pus in the cold boxes, which are really only cool, not cold.
Anyway, Joe and his entourage were causing quite a ruckus on Rastavelli and the area surrounding the Parliament building, and the humanitarian aid workers just wanted to get the cold box out of the car and into the next box along the “cold chain”. So, what’s a cold chain? It’s a process of moving items that must be kept cold from one place to the next. There are often a series of cold storage devices to make that happen such as freezers and metallic boxes with blue thingies. In our case the S&P had to get from the Tb hospital in Sukhumi to the MSF office and then to the Tbilisi laboratory where further analysis would be conducted to determine whether the sputum has regular Tb or multidrug resistant Tb (it had already been established that Tb was present).
Typically the transfer is quick, efficient, minimizing any mishap which would involve dropping the box and the S&P. As you can imagine there were multiple blocks with traffic and hoy-paloy interfering with an efficient transfer. So, on this otherwise uneventful day, the driver of the transfer vehicle and his passengers were obliged to carry all the transfer items, including the S&P, from the car, now parked many blocks away.
For entertainment value I would like to tell you that there was a grand mishap, that S&P were spilled all over the streets of Tbilisi, that Joe and his entourage are now undergoing testing in the US to determine if they have been exposed to Tb and that there is a wild, embarrassing Tb scandal, but the truth is everything happened as it should have, given the interruption of the traffic and the extra on-foot transport of S&P.
There is no big splash, or emotion, or “awakening” to share with you today. Just a simple recognition that while all of you were listening to news of the day, and perhaps heard that Joe, the VP, was traveling somewhere far away, and a few of you may have even thought, “I have heard of Georgia, it’s the place that’s close to Russia, that’s where Genie is, isn’t it?” The truth is I am not in Georgia, I am in Abkhazia, but the MSF mission headquarters is in Georgia.
But anyway, on Wednesday this week, as on every day there is “THE NEWS” the scandal, the big scoop, and then there is what is happening with the rest of us that never makes the news. Primarily because it isn’t news-worthy.
Sitting at the beach today, it was fun to think about potential events, the unlikely but possible events that turn into screenplays and blockbusters….like Caucasian terrorists who have staged a heist of a humanitarian aid’s transport vehicle, during the chaos of a dignitaries’ arrival, only to find deadly sputum and pus …..!!
Not to worry, I will not be writing it.
it’s bedtime…nighty night….
Saturday, July 25, 2009
War and Rain
War and Rain
Denver is High Plains. Sukhumi is sub-tropical. They are very different.
Right now I am experiencing the wonder of summer sub-tropics - but exactly what does “sub-tropics” mean here? Sub means below, so does it mean that Abkhazia is below the two great tropical cities St Petersburg and Moscow???? I wonder whether the writer of the article I read before coming here describing the climate in Abkhazia as “subtropical” has actually been here. If I were writing I would say the climate is cold and wet in the winter, hot and very wet in the summer. That’s it. Forget the subtropical stuff.
Oh, who cares. It rains. And when it rains here in the sub-tropics, it really rains. And what is nicer than awakening to a soft rain, that soon turns into a thunderous downpour, complete with lightening that of course shuts down the electrical supply for hours or days. And never mind that last night it was one of those scorching inferno nights, where, as we sat on the terrace celebrating Jasco’s (Japanese nurse) birthday we were all sweating and laughing and recalling the events of the day. And now, it’s morning and those who didn’t shower last night are eager to shower, but there is no water…..well except the roaring sea down the street or the gazillions of droplets coming from the sky. There is water, it’s just not coming from our showerhead.
Oh well. Another day. More Rain. No electricity. No shower. Floods in nearby villages.
Comments on change:
Our Field Coordinator (MSF “boss” for Sukhumi) decided to leave. In addition we have reduced two positions in the national team due to down-sizing. Change.
And when there is change here, there is increasing tension that more change is just around the corner. That is what happens when you live in a place where war has dominated the undercurrent of reality. Reality here is that “what has happened is likely to happen again”. A little bit of war or rain (change) often turns into a lot of war or rain ( more change). These “realities” are rooted in natural, understandable reactions to real events in the lives of the Abkhazians. Relentless war is real. Relentless rain is real. Change is real and causes real problems.
And so we live with our Abkhazian colleagues, their tensions and reactions to these staff changes, knowing that they are asking who is next to leave? When is the next power outage?
When will the next war break out?
And I who know little about war on my homeland, (except Gettysberg, Shiloh, Pearl Harbor) touching my life, wonder why I struggle to understand the reactions of those in the midst of cruel, unintelligible actions against innocents and those who want to protect the innocents, war.
As months go by I listen, see, feel, and begin to know more about fear, despair, hope, how it is rooted in human experience, a new kind of beauty.
Denver is High Plains. Sukhumi is sub-tropical. They are very different.
Right now I am experiencing the wonder of summer sub-tropics - but exactly what does “sub-tropics” mean here? Sub means below, so does it mean that Abkhazia is below the two great tropical cities St Petersburg and Moscow???? I wonder whether the writer of the article I read before coming here describing the climate in Abkhazia as “subtropical” has actually been here. If I were writing I would say the climate is cold and wet in the winter, hot and very wet in the summer. That’s it. Forget the subtropical stuff.
Oh, who cares. It rains. And when it rains here in the sub-tropics, it really rains. And what is nicer than awakening to a soft rain, that soon turns into a thunderous downpour, complete with lightening that of course shuts down the electrical supply for hours or days. And never mind that last night it was one of those scorching inferno nights, where, as we sat on the terrace celebrating Jasco’s (Japanese nurse) birthday we were all sweating and laughing and recalling the events of the day. And now, it’s morning and those who didn’t shower last night are eager to shower, but there is no water…..well except the roaring sea down the street or the gazillions of droplets coming from the sky. There is water, it’s just not coming from our showerhead.
Oh well. Another day. More Rain. No electricity. No shower. Floods in nearby villages.
Comments on change:
Our Field Coordinator (MSF “boss” for Sukhumi) decided to leave. In addition we have reduced two positions in the national team due to down-sizing. Change.
And when there is change here, there is increasing tension that more change is just around the corner. That is what happens when you live in a place where war has dominated the undercurrent of reality. Reality here is that “what has happened is likely to happen again”. A little bit of war or rain (change) often turns into a lot of war or rain ( more change). These “realities” are rooted in natural, understandable reactions to real events in the lives of the Abkhazians. Relentless war is real. Relentless rain is real. Change is real and causes real problems.
And so we live with our Abkhazian colleagues, their tensions and reactions to these staff changes, knowing that they are asking who is next to leave? When is the next power outage?
When will the next war break out?
And I who know little about war on my homeland, (except Gettysberg, Shiloh, Pearl Harbor) touching my life, wonder why I struggle to understand the reactions of those in the midst of cruel, unintelligible actions against innocents and those who want to protect the innocents, war.
As months go by I listen, see, feel, and begin to know more about fear, despair, hope, how it is rooted in human experience, a new kind of beauty.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Djugelia
Djugelia is dying. We know it. She knows it. She has end stage kidney disease and there is no dialysis here, no chance to beat the odds, no reason for hope for another fall harvest. The death-reality happens every day in every place on earth. And so it is here.
What is remarkable is the way the death-reality is expressed. We have choices about many eventualities. We also have choices about how we live the reality that death is eminent. Djugelia has made her choice. It is honorable. She has chosen to return to her very, very humble home, to be surrounded by neighbors who will visit her and will offer human kindness.
She can offer gratitude for what has been, then acceptance of what lies ahead. This is beauty.
And a gift for those able to witness it.
What is remarkable is the way the death-reality is expressed. We have choices about many eventualities. We also have choices about how we live the reality that death is eminent. Djugelia has made her choice. It is honorable. She has chosen to return to her very, very humble home, to be surrounded by neighbors who will visit her and will offer human kindness.
She can offer gratitude for what has been, then acceptance of what lies ahead. This is beauty.
And a gift for those able to witness it.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Happy Honking!!!
Language
It is a mystery. It is subtle. It is a link between thou and me, other and self. Of course sometimes with me “other” and “self” are the same person, conversing among themselves………
This has been a place and a time to let language express itself without my always requiring interpretation or understanding. In fact, here, most of the time language is happening with no interpretation.
Inga would be disappointed, I expect, if she heard me say this. Her full-time job is making sure I understand what is being said by others and making sure what I say is understood by others. She is brilliant interpreter, she is patient, she is executing her craft with skill and kindness. What she does is interpret Abkhaz and Russian words. There is this other thing, Language, that is happening also. The language of Russian is becoming increasingly familiar to me. PLEASE do not interpret that last statement as “Genie can understand Russian”. I CAN NOT. The language, not the words, are becoming familiar.
I see language patterns, I hear common language expressions and familiar phrases, I pick up the “gist” of a conversation, and even by the pitch of what is spoken, I surmise an underlying emotion, AND I understand how much of the Russian language, including 99% of the words, I do not know. It is fun.
I am not taking formal Russian lessons right now. My teacher’s father is ill and she is in Russia tending to him. Quite honestly the lessons have not been so useful. I spend more time learning what my teacher (God bless her and her patience) wants me to learn and not what I want to learn. I have several great tools I use regularly; Russian language-learning books and a dictionary that are serving me quite well. What I want to do is to talk. Not conjugate verbs.
The infinitive, “to want” works for me, and those to whom I am speaking. Instead of I want, he wants, she wants, you want, they want, I will want, you may want…….etc, I just say “Want yablaka” And an apple appears. Then I say “Skolka (how much)” and a number is spoken - and sometimes I give them 70 ruble instead of 80 ruble because “seym” and “voseym” sound similar when spoken quickly. Usually, I get change back. Occasionally, I have been ripped off for my stupidity. Such is life.
If I come again to a Russian speaking mission, I will dig into conjugation. For now, I want convivial repartee, laughter, and lots of smiles!!!!!! Beats the socks off of conjugation!!!!!!!
I wanted a hair cut today. It is Saturday, and I had time to go to the market, get a haircut, etc. I navigated a conversation with the lady in the beauty shop and got a hair cut, instead of hair color or hair perm or hair annihilation, although some may question the end-result calling it more towards annihilation than cut. But what the heck, the language of “paz shalsta, ya kha choo pas tree git yhea” got me a nice summer “do”. (As you can tell, I do not have a Cyrillic alphabet on this computer, so you get the English-sound-alike version of what I said and not the real Russian look-alike version). It is fun, this language stuff.
There is another language that I am also learning. It is automobile horn honking language. It is as foreign as the Cyrillic alphabet and the Russian language.
There are honks for many occasions such as “Hi There”, “Get out of the way you bastard”, “Excuse me, you are blocking the bleeping road”, or “You idiot, don’t you know I am louder, stronger, faster and stupider than you, and that means I can mow you down, unless of course, you mow me down first”, and “This intersection is blocked and so I am going to sit on my horn until everyone is so annoyed they will get the bleep out of here so I can get on my way”…….and on and on and on.
I wish there were books and dictionaries for the Abkhaz honks, so that I could begin to learn how to understand them too. I am afraid I will leave here completely incapable of interpreting a single honk, other than the familiar “I will kill you if you don’t move, lady” honk.
What I am really wondering is whether the driver has to conjugate the honk language just like one has to conjugate the spoken language???????
I think so.
I hope each of you will give your horn a good ‘ol American HONK for me today. The one that says “Hey there, I am honking my horn because my friend Genie asked me to honk and American honk, otherwise I really have no reason for honking!!!!!”
Happy Honking!!
It is a mystery. It is subtle. It is a link between thou and me, other and self. Of course sometimes with me “other” and “self” are the same person, conversing among themselves………
This has been a place and a time to let language express itself without my always requiring interpretation or understanding. In fact, here, most of the time language is happening with no interpretation.
Inga would be disappointed, I expect, if she heard me say this. Her full-time job is making sure I understand what is being said by others and making sure what I say is understood by others. She is brilliant interpreter, she is patient, she is executing her craft with skill and kindness. What she does is interpret Abkhaz and Russian words. There is this other thing, Language, that is happening also. The language of Russian is becoming increasingly familiar to me. PLEASE do not interpret that last statement as “Genie can understand Russian”. I CAN NOT. The language, not the words, are becoming familiar.
I see language patterns, I hear common language expressions and familiar phrases, I pick up the “gist” of a conversation, and even by the pitch of what is spoken, I surmise an underlying emotion, AND I understand how much of the Russian language, including 99% of the words, I do not know. It is fun.
I am not taking formal Russian lessons right now. My teacher’s father is ill and she is in Russia tending to him. Quite honestly the lessons have not been so useful. I spend more time learning what my teacher (God bless her and her patience) wants me to learn and not what I want to learn. I have several great tools I use regularly; Russian language-learning books and a dictionary that are serving me quite well. What I want to do is to talk. Not conjugate verbs.
The infinitive, “to want” works for me, and those to whom I am speaking. Instead of I want, he wants, she wants, you want, they want, I will want, you may want…….etc, I just say “Want yablaka” And an apple appears. Then I say “Skolka (how much)” and a number is spoken - and sometimes I give them 70 ruble instead of 80 ruble because “seym” and “voseym” sound similar when spoken quickly. Usually, I get change back. Occasionally, I have been ripped off for my stupidity. Such is life.
If I come again to a Russian speaking mission, I will dig into conjugation. For now, I want convivial repartee, laughter, and lots of smiles!!!!!! Beats the socks off of conjugation!!!!!!!
I wanted a hair cut today. It is Saturday, and I had time to go to the market, get a haircut, etc. I navigated a conversation with the lady in the beauty shop and got a hair cut, instead of hair color or hair perm or hair annihilation, although some may question the end-result calling it more towards annihilation than cut. But what the heck, the language of “paz shalsta, ya kha choo pas tree git yhea” got me a nice summer “do”. (As you can tell, I do not have a Cyrillic alphabet on this computer, so you get the English-sound-alike version of what I said and not the real Russian look-alike version). It is fun, this language stuff.
There is another language that I am also learning. It is automobile horn honking language. It is as foreign as the Cyrillic alphabet and the Russian language.
There are honks for many occasions such as “Hi There”, “Get out of the way you bastard”, “Excuse me, you are blocking the bleeping road”, or “You idiot, don’t you know I am louder, stronger, faster and stupider than you, and that means I can mow you down, unless of course, you mow me down first”, and “This intersection is blocked and so I am going to sit on my horn until everyone is so annoyed they will get the bleep out of here so I can get on my way”…….and on and on and on.
I wish there were books and dictionaries for the Abkhaz honks, so that I could begin to learn how to understand them too. I am afraid I will leave here completely incapable of interpreting a single honk, other than the familiar “I will kill you if you don’t move, lady” honk.
What I am really wondering is whether the driver has to conjugate the honk language just like one has to conjugate the spoken language???????
I think so.
I hope each of you will give your horn a good ‘ol American HONK for me today. The one that says “Hey there, I am honking my horn because my friend Genie asked me to honk and American honk, otherwise I really have no reason for honking!!!!!”
Happy Honking!!
Dolphins and Yogurt Pie
Whew, the dog days are upon Abkhazia, and I expect they are upon the good ol’ US of A as well.
But I have the sea two and a half blocks away, so how can I complain?
I have been walking-jogging every morning before work. The scale says I have lost 10 pounds, but I am doubting its veracity, 5 is more likely, or maybe I haven’t calculated kgs into lbs properly. Anyway, now that the sea is a perfect temperature in the morning, I will replace the sweaty walk-jog for a swim. This morning the dolphins were jumping.
I can’t wait to be at the right spot and the right time and swim with them. They jump high in lovely patterns….synchronized swimmers. I can almost hear them saying “Wheeeeeeeee”. It is beautiful. I have tried to capture them on film, (and swim fast enough to meet them) but every time I swim to shore and grab the camera, and ready the shutter to capture the moment, they are gone (and every time I try to swim with them I have never been able to swim fast enough or far enough to “capture” them either). It’s a game we play, the dolphins and I. This beauty is much less about the physical wonder and much more about the experience of wonder. The gracefulness, the silence, the sweet playfulness that I experience is “real” for me even though the dolphins are not likely to consider themselves sweet or playful or even graceful for that matter. They are swimming and eating breakfast. What I have absorbed from the moment, my experience of beauty is my own. Others might say, “Look at the dolphins swimming, nice huh?”
My camera is not suited to capture gracefulness or sweetness anyway.
Tonight our Burmese doctor will make dinner- Burmese-style. Yum.
It’s about time for me to make another apple pie, but it is so hot, I thought I might make a cold fruit pie - like a berry yogurt or berry custard pie. Great, except I can’t find any vanilla extract to make the custard. Any ideas? Any recipes? I guess I could use vodka (since there is plenty of it - and it’s cheap) to give the custard a bit of flavor - maybe cognac would be better. Of course a yummy graham cracker crust would be great too, but you can already guess there are no graham crackers, in fact there are no crackers of any kind here.
So I will make a regular flour, butter, salt and water crust, make a custard with some flavorful spirits and add fresh berries…..we’ll see, nothing like making do in the “wilderness”, roughing it.
I think we are going to go camping in a couple of weekends - to the mountains. I am already excited…..cool, beautiful, fun……
Well, off to the office to check the cold-chain - (drugs that require refrigeration). It’s my weekend to check 5 fridges twice a day to make sure they are the proper temperature. Then off to the market I go to see what I can find in the way of “custard spirits” and to get some shampoo - always a trick to make sure I can decipher whether I am buying shampoo, body wash, conditioner or body lotion. Last shampoo purchase ended up with my hair being washed by a lovely smelling body lotion……
It’s all about having a good time, right?
But I have the sea two and a half blocks away, so how can I complain?
I have been walking-jogging every morning before work. The scale says I have lost 10 pounds, but I am doubting its veracity, 5 is more likely, or maybe I haven’t calculated kgs into lbs properly. Anyway, now that the sea is a perfect temperature in the morning, I will replace the sweaty walk-jog for a swim. This morning the dolphins were jumping.
I can’t wait to be at the right spot and the right time and swim with them. They jump high in lovely patterns….synchronized swimmers. I can almost hear them saying “Wheeeeeeeee”. It is beautiful. I have tried to capture them on film, (and swim fast enough to meet them) but every time I swim to shore and grab the camera, and ready the shutter to capture the moment, they are gone (and every time I try to swim with them I have never been able to swim fast enough or far enough to “capture” them either). It’s a game we play, the dolphins and I. This beauty is much less about the physical wonder and much more about the experience of wonder. The gracefulness, the silence, the sweet playfulness that I experience is “real” for me even though the dolphins are not likely to consider themselves sweet or playful or even graceful for that matter. They are swimming and eating breakfast. What I have absorbed from the moment, my experience of beauty is my own. Others might say, “Look at the dolphins swimming, nice huh?”
My camera is not suited to capture gracefulness or sweetness anyway.
Tonight our Burmese doctor will make dinner- Burmese-style. Yum.
It’s about time for me to make another apple pie, but it is so hot, I thought I might make a cold fruit pie - like a berry yogurt or berry custard pie. Great, except I can’t find any vanilla extract to make the custard. Any ideas? Any recipes? I guess I could use vodka (since there is plenty of it - and it’s cheap) to give the custard a bit of flavor - maybe cognac would be better. Of course a yummy graham cracker crust would be great too, but you can already guess there are no graham crackers, in fact there are no crackers of any kind here.
So I will make a regular flour, butter, salt and water crust, make a custard with some flavorful spirits and add fresh berries…..we’ll see, nothing like making do in the “wilderness”, roughing it.
I think we are going to go camping in a couple of weekends - to the mountains. I am already excited…..cool, beautiful, fun……
Well, off to the office to check the cold-chain - (drugs that require refrigeration). It’s my weekend to check 5 fridges twice a day to make sure they are the proper temperature. Then off to the market I go to see what I can find in the way of “custard spirits” and to get some shampoo - always a trick to make sure I can decipher whether I am buying shampoo, body wash, conditioner or body lotion. Last shampoo purchase ended up with my hair being washed by a lovely smelling body lotion……
It’s all about having a good time, right?
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