certification

Friday 31 January: Day 204

We interviewed potential new teachers today.  They’re mostly American and mostly former Peace Corps volunteers.  A couple is finishing up their service in Malawi and are eager to start another integration-focused, high impact service.  Familiar sentiment.  A young kid living in Malta talks about his hunger for community development.  A teacher currently working in Thailand – Ethiopia RPCV, Masters from Harvard, 10+ years of teaching experience – wants too much money.  A librarian breaks down and levels with me; she’s had a difficult time readjusting to the wealth of the West, and starts tearing up as she recalls seeing the cereal aisle of a supermarket upon her return from Madagascar.  For me, it was the refrigerated dog food.

We’re planning on hiring two more teachers to join us in the summer.  I’m excited.  I wish all of them could join us.

خۆبەخش – kho bakhesh – volunteer

Saturday 1 February: Day 204

I’m teaching a special class, from 5-7 pm, of members of Akam’s family.  There are only 5 students and their English levels differ significantly.  Not ideal.  We’ve been meeting since early November and after our classes last week I decide to interview them, to gauge the progress they have made.

The first four interviews go off without a hitch.  Three men and a woman all come in to the empty classroom where we have the interview, one at a time, for our private conversation.  And they do well: I can see that they’re much more motivated than the average student, and much more committed to learning the material and correcting their mistakes.

The last interview is with a woman.  She refuses to sit in the same room with me, even if the door remains wide open.  The implication is that her honor would be damaged if she is alone with me – that either she or I would behave improperly and shame the other.  I can’t focus on our interview.  I’m frustrated.

It’s important for foreigners to respect a host country’s culture.  That’s why Mitsu has long ceased to be frustrated by the constant disrespect of men not addressing her or shaking her hand.  But for some reason, the woman’s anxiety about the privacy of our interview struck a nerve.  I feel alienated, accused of a crime I haven’t and wouldn’t commit.  To what degree should the host amend their behavior to accommodate the guest?

Bad feelings.

تۆمەت – to met – accusation

Sunday 2 February: Day 205

We moved sofas into the smallest upstairs room and converted it into a staff room.  The only light comes from the windows behind the heater, which is roaring.  I lie down for a moment and the comfort is overwhelming – I sleep, deeply, my back melting in to the sofa cushions.  The bliss is instant and sublime.  I need to sleep more.

سەرخەو – ser xhaw – nap

Monday 3 February: Day 206

All of the Kurdish news stations are showing the same picture: snow in Baghdad, for the first time in anyone’s lifetime.  The palm trees sway gently like hairs on the back of an old man’s arms.  All of the rubbish is concealed under the white.  Even the protests, constant since October, pause for a day, light Christmas on the frontline.

Later, an older student argues that climate change isn’t real and is shouted down by his younger peers, witnessing a profound change in the country’s ecology.  Truth can be kind and passive, working its way in to the mind over years – or truth can be arrogant, obvious, a slap in the face of forced ignorance.  Sometimes we need the latter more than we need the former.

بەفر – beqr – snow

Tuesday 4 February: Day 207

Two cats peek in the doorway of our office, searching for a calm place to stay out of the cold.  In Istanbul, they would’ve flocked by the dozens, hugging every warm body they could find, expecting love.  Here, they are skittish.  They expect abuse and anger, not the sing-song voice of Mitsu pining for their attention, and for a moment they’re confused – do we trust this strange human or run away?  Their front paws sit on the carpet, their tail hooks around the plastic door frame, their backs arch in nervous but maybe even hopeful anticipation – and as Mitsu rises to give them love, they turn and run, the peace offering too good to believe.

ترس – trs – fear

Wednesday 5 February: Day 208

It’s dark.  For the first time in three months, it is also warm enough to justify a stroll along the main streets after work.  The vendors have set up alongside the sides of the main roads criss-crossing through Kalar again and are shouting out their wares, next to tea stalls and soup stands, and even though the crowds are light the all-male assemblies of outdoor tea drinkers are huddling together.  The energy is vibrant.  We’re familiar faces in Kalar now.  Old farmers bless us as we walk by and strangers jab the ribs of their friends, who inform them that we are those two Americans that everyone has heard about, not some random tourists.  That feels good.  A few of our students stand to greet us as we walk past.  Some men cough back their cigarette smoke out of respect.

We’re integrating pretty well, I’d say. It feels as though everyone has at least heard of us.  We read the comments on that VOA video every now and then, and the people who claim we’re CIA operatives are comfortably outnumbered by people who appreciate what we do.  Life here is, for all intents and purposes, pretty excellent.  What more could we ask for?

شەقام – sheqam – street

Thursday 6 February: Day 209

The English Access Institute has a large room on the second floor, currently unused.  Our building was originally a house, long before the center of Kalar became dominated by commercial properties, and we think that this large room was supposed to be something like a master bedroom.  There’s a large bathroom/hallway next to the room that has never been touched.  So we sat down to figure out how to use this space, and we realized that it can become our largest classroom if we tore down that bathroom wall and opened up the room even more.

The problem is that the roof of this room is remarkably weak.  We need to reinforce the ceiling, and to do that, we’re sliding a large steel beam into the space where the bedroom and bathroom walls meet.  Workers have to cut holes into the walls, hoist the beam on to the second floor, and drop it on to the exact, correct spot.  Afterwards, the will weld the beam in place and then tear down that extra wall.

All of this is happening while we’re teaching classes.  A jackhammer is running constantly above our classrooms.  Not the most education-friendly environment.  In the meantime, our students are understandably frustrated and complaining about the noise, and we’re practicing our conversations by shouting and laughing at the Kurdish-ness of it all.  

But the result will be awesome.

دروست كردن – drestkrdn – construction