Playing 20 Questions

Whenever we travel here in Azerbaijan, we tend to stand out. I know that may not come as a surprise to any of you, but there it is. A bunch of foreigners stick out like sore thumbs. Because of this, we’re often questioned about who we are, where we’re from, what we do, etc. Usually it’s friendly and comes from curiosity, and we’re more than happy to field these questions. Sometimes, though, it turns into some sort of difficult and complicated game of 20 Questions. I don’t mean to say that the questioning becomes confrontational. I mean that sometimes, when folks learn that we’re from the US, they decide to pump us for as much information as they can. I’m periodically asked about prices for goods, so they can compare with what they pay here. How much is a liter of petrol? A loaf of bread? A kilo of potatoes? Sometimes I know the answers, but a lot of the time, I have to guess. How many kilometers between Washington, DC and New York City? Wish I could tell you. How much for a batch of cilantro at the market? Well, in America we don’t really shop at markets…oh, you’ve lost interest, sorry. Generally, when I don’t know the food answers, it’s chalked up to the fact that I’m a man and therefore probably don’t do the shopping. Of course, this isn’t the case, but it’s what fits into many people’s perspective here. Or, they try to show off the knowledge they remember from their school days. Usually this means they ask about museums, holidays, or traditions they’ve heard about or read about. Other times it’s questions about history or random facts about the US or England (often it’s England since the textbooks here focus on England more than America). Occasionally I’ve been asked about the date of American independence or how many rooms are in the British Museum. Other times, I get asked about the differences between British and American English. I generally go for the lift/elevator, lorry/truck, color/colour explanations. These examples are always met with thoughtful nods. In a way, I feel like these questions are not just meant to help people here learn and compare with their own lives. Sometimes, though, I feel like I’m being tested to see if I am who I say I am. I’m proving I’m American (or English when the difference isn’t entirely understood). I recently visited an older student who lives in a village outside Ismayilli. He invited his neighbor over to meet me, and after dinner, he invited us to tea at his home, where he surprised his parents with me. I felt a bit awkward, as they were clearly not expecting guests, though I appreciated being treated like just another friend of their son’s. Their son explained this was because they didn’t believe I was really American or that there was really an American in their home.

Out Here in the Fields

Ismayilli was recently visited our (“our,” because both the volunteers here are from Youth Development) program manager. This will be her first visit to Ismayilli after taking the job earlier this year. All program managers in Peace Corps Azerbaijan visit the volunteers periodically. We’ve been visited once before as part of these periodic checks and once during a special camp my sitemate was leading with her organization. The first visit was about the same time last year, but still while we were in our mandatory host family time, so part of the visit was also to check in and see how we were getting along with our host families. We were also still in the process of getting situated with our host organizations. A lot has changed since then. I don’t know how it is in other PC countries. I don’t even know the details of other programs here, but more or less, we’re left alone to do the work of Peace Corps out here in Ismayilli. The only times I’m really contact or am contacted by PC and my program manager is when there’s trouble or sometime important is coming up (like a conference). And without commenting on whether or not that’s anyone falling down on the job, I gotta say that I like this independence. I’m sure it’s different for other people. People who want to talk more to their program managers for that extra support or inspiration, a push in the right direction, can and do talk more often. But I like being on my own here, setting my own schedule, judging my own work. There have been times when I’ve needed that kick in the rear, especially during the winter months, when it’s hard to get out of bed and go to work. But by and large, I am self-analytical and self-critical enough most days to judge when I’m doing enough, when I should be doing more (or less) and what I can do to do a better job. I’m definitely not always perfect, but mostly things have seemed to work out all right. One thing I know for sure is that readjusting to life in the US is going to take some time, and this is just one more area that will call for some adapting. Working with direct supervision, and really any kind of work with other people will be a shock to the system. Partly, I figure this is because most of my work experience has been pretty individualistic. Lifeguarding is by nature a solitary task as one sits above people playing and splashing, only communicating when necessary. Spending a summer outside by a lake in the woods was also pretty isolated. Maybe I should go be a fire lookout next? Spend the summer months alone in a tower looking out over acres of woods. Sounds better than sitting in a cubicle.