Summer Blockbusters

It's that time of year again, summer. It's the season when it's too hot (110 degrees in Baku last week), I am too busy, and I have too many things racing through my mind to ever sit down and write a real blog post.
Things are going great. I have just over 4 months of service left. I cannot believe that. I am, however, spending my time wisely. This week I have started two new clubs! I am now teaching a fitness course and a spanish class. So, now there are boys limping around Balaken sore from the previous days workout and students reciting the alphabet and counting to ten on the streets in Spanish! I couldn't be happier!

Camp was a huge success. We had 60+ kids attend this year and the camp was 100% locally funded! This camp has, by far and away, been the highlight of my service. Although I will not be there next year, the older kids are already making plans to run their own summer camp in my absence and have started asking newer volunteers to return to Balaken to help out!
We had different themes for each day: environment, leadership, Olympics, and move-making. Instead of writing about it, I'll just post the 3 short videos made during camp. The kids were divided into 3 teams, and each team had only 1 hour to produce an entire movie. The scripts are completely original and were created by the kids. Enjoy!

On the last day of camp, we held Balaken's first My Mic event, an open mic night meant to encourage originality, confidence, and creativity. Although all of the videos are not online yet, this one is. The last day of camp was also my sitemate Stephanie's last day in Balaken. Her and Matt sang Azerbaijan's Eurovision winner from last year, "Running Scared". Without telling them to, all of our students stormed the stage to sing it with her. Clearly, she'll be missed!

Opening Day Dramatics

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how I feel about the excitement that was the Azerbaijan Interregional Softball League’s 2012 season opening day. It was a complete and utter failure – one of epic proportions. The day was also an immense success – the kind that creates lifelong memories and leaves a smile on your face for weeks to come. Both the failure and success of this antithetical day will set the foundation for the future of softball in Balakan, as well as for the rest of the Dragon’s 2012 season. However, they were reciprocal occurrences, the failure and success; we could not have had one without the other. In that regard, I guess I really don’t have much to complain about. I guess that when I stop and reflect, this day is perfectly reconcilable and should only lead to greater success in the future. One can only hope!

I rose early this morning, soaked some laundry, replied to a couple of emails, and had a good breakfast, putting myself through a calming routine like I used to before lacrosse games, as if I were the one actually competing today. The team was supposed to meet in front of my house at 8:30 in order to catch a 9am bus to Zaqatala, where we would catch another bus to Jane’s village where the tournament was being held. The kids slowly started trickling in. Within 10 minutes, 5 of them had arrived, small gym bags with snacks and water in tow. I went out to meet them. They were anxious. Only 1 of the 5 played in a tournament last year, and although the other four had come a long way over the last month and were definitely ready for real competition, their nerves were starting to show. They kept asking simple, useless questions, somehow probing for a magical answer that would calm them down. Trey arrived with the hats and uniforms and we fitted the present 5. The excitement started to build. We then waited for everyone else to show up. They never came. That excitement quickly deflated to worry. The minutes passed in sets of 10, but still just 5 players remained. The kids looked at us, as if it were our fault no one else was showing up. Trey and I looked at each other, no answers or explanations. Everyone had been called last night; everyone should be here. I retreated to my house to call the missing players, the frustration setting in.

Each call came with the same response. Mothers and fathers were too worried about the earthquakes that had been “ravaging” the regions to allow their kids to go. Zaqatala, after all, was the epicenter of most of these small rumblings. I did my best to calm and dissuade them.

On a straight line, we’re only about 10km away from the epicenter, so there’s not too much of a difference in danger between here and there. That was dismissed.

We’ll be outside on a field all day, the safest place to be should another occur – much safer than in the apartment buildings where they were forcing our players to remain. Nope, not good enough.

You can’t predict earthquakes, there’s just no way of knowing. Didn’t stand a chance.

There was no shaking them (haha), no dissuading a mother or father’s protective instinct. We would be going to opening day with only 5 players.

Miraculously, one more showed up at the last second. Although this wouldn’t change anything in terms of not having enough players to field a team, it somehow brought life back to the team. Somehow, 6 would be enough; we’d make it work. So, trucker hats and spray painted t-shirts on, we set out for Danachi for opening day.

Danachi and Oguz both had full teams. We made arrangements to have a couple of Oguz’s extra players join our team for the day. At first, I felt embarrassed. Trey and I are both on the 4-person committee that runs the entire softball league. We spend much of our time working out the finances and schedule of the league and doing all we can to help other volunteers establish their teams. We do all of this, yet somehow we couldn’t manage to field a full team for opening day. It certainly wasn’t my proudest moment. That was until Danachi and Oguz started playing in their first game. I strayed away from my team to talk to some other volunteers and guests who made the trip to watch the tournament. For a second, I lost track of my kids. I looked back in their direction to check on them. Instead of seeing 6 boys sword fighting with bats and horsing around, I saw 6 boys sitting in a group watching the game, analyzing the mistakes being made, working out field positions and batting order, plotting and preparing for their own upcoming match. They weren’t phased by the fact that they were younger, smaller, or that there were only 6 of them. We were going to be just fine!

The rest if history.

We lost both games, by mere hairs. Last year we lost to Oguz 15-1 on a mercy rule in the second inning, I think. This year, 9-8 on a walk-off double in the bottom of the final inning.

We lost to Danachi 7-6, stranding the tying and go-ahead runs at second and third after a brilliant catch by the Danachi shortstop.

Our pitcher Sabuhi, one of our newest players, played like a veteran. He pitched both games and was an absolute defensive stalwart.

Muslim and Emil played like the veterans they are, captaining the team and providing some much needed leadership and composure.

Zaur, by far the youngest and smallest player from any of the teams, played like a giant. Despite struggling to catch and hit in practice, he played third base with such poise and came up with a big play in the Danachi game to keep the team’s hopes alive. He also failed to strike out once, making it on base in every single one of his at-bats.

Rashad was the late addition. He’d played in practices back in Balakan before, but had not played at all this season. Out of no where he became our best base runner.

We had a seventh player named Ruslan join our team at the last second. He was Muslim’s friend from ABLE camp and showed up just to watch. Just like Fulton Reed in D1, we gave the lanky 6-footer a t-shirt and hat and through him in the mix, never having played before. On his second at bat, EVER, he hit a double over the centerfielders head!

It’s hard to explain how excited Trey and I were, and still are. Last year, we got clobbered every single game. It was difficult to get our kids eager to play because they didn’t stand a chance. We couldn’t figure out why. What were we doing wrong? Today, Trey and I kept looking at each other from across the field (he’s coaches third base while I take first) with these dumbfounded looks of amazement, ear-to-ear grins on our faces. Where did this come from?! We weren’t just hanging in there, we were making it a game, and we were having fun! Our failure to produce a full team on the most anticipated day of the season quickly and seamlessly transformed into our greatest success. Our small group of boys had finally become a team, they had come together and were starting to believe. The whole bus ride home, all we could hear was, “If only we had a few more players.”, “If only I hadn’t dropped that ball.”, “If only I had tagged up.”. If only, if only, if only. They boys realized how close they were to winning both those games. Just one mistake, one little thing different and the games could have easily gone the other way! They were learning!

Before we even got home they had scheduled practices for Monday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday of the upcoming week and were on the phone with the players who had not come, telling them the news and explaining the importance of them showing up in the future.

There are no guarantees that we’ll get more players to come, and we’re still 0-2, but the future is brighter than ever and for the first time, the Balakan Dragons expect to win!

The Balakan Dragons

Trey and Rashad

Sabuhi sporting our uniforms

Emil with the first at-bat of the season

Simply Wonderful

Sometimes, things just go well. There’s no explanation, you just feel on top of the world, no matter what happens. This week’s been one of those weeks. Despite the crazy electrical storms every night and the constant earthquakes (5.6 on the Richter scale) every morning, I’ve got a constant smile on my face, right now.

There’s currently an essay contest being held by the American Embassy. It’s for students throughout the regions of Azerbaijan. Samira, a constant mention in this blog, submitted her essay. It is one of the more extraordinary essays I’ve ever read, not even considering the fact that she is only 15 and English is not her first OR second language. I just had to share it, but did not change it whatsoever! Enjoy!

My dream is…

First I want to meet you with some people.

Hatma – 15 years old. Lives in Turkey. She loves watching students going to school. But she can’t study. Because she has a wedding next month. But she doesn’t know who will be her husband. The only thing that she knows about him, that he is the friend of her father, 62 years old…

Cavid – 5 years old. Azberbaijanian. Lives in orphanage. His parents left him when he was 3 years old. From that day Cavid spends all his free time in front of the window. “Maybe my parents will come to take me, but they won’t see me and go back…”

Asad – 21 years old. Her mother had a big health problem. Her kidneys had to be changed or she could die. Asad asked many organizations for help. But nobody helped. Asad didn’t want to lose the only person in his life and stole money. He’s in the prison now. But he isn’t regret. Because he knows that his mother is alive. And that’s enough for him…

Aisha – 7 years old. Lives in Afganistan. Everyday she wakes up to the voice of guns. Everyday she feels fear, everyday she cries. And everyday she thinks, “how the people living in the peaceful country are happy!!!”

Bakir – 67 years old. He lived all his life for his children. His wife died when she was 41. Bakir was a worker. All day he carried heavy stones in his back. But he never left his children hungry. But now he is in a rest home. Because his children don’t want an old and weak man in their house…

Almaz – 6 years old. Everyday gets “2” from lessons. But the teachers don’t know the reason why she doesn’t study. Her drunk father everynight beats her mother. And Almaz is tired of pretending like she’s sleeping while her mom cries secretly all night. Because of this Almaz --- 6 years old girl has psychology problems…

Yes, maybe they are just my characters, but I’m sure that there’re many people like them. And my dream is just to see them happy. I don’t want any high buildings, worldwide song contests, big concert halls…I just wanna see smiles on their face. I want to be sure that there’s no helpless people when I’m happy. This is my dream!!!

Gender Training #2 (and #3): Completed!

Please click on this link to read the recap and see pictures of our second and surprising third gender trainings that occurred this past Saturday and Sunday, the 14th and 15th of April, in Ganja. This link will take you to the WID/GAD committee's own website. Enjoy!

http://widgadaz.com/

Also, please check out this new fantastic photo blog by a fellow PCV here in Azerbaijan. The photo journal, Serve for Peace, focuses on the diversity and beauty of Muslim countries where Peace Corps volunteers serve.

http://serveforpeace.tumblr.com/

Patience...

I feel like this blog has been doing somewhat of a disservice to my readers in explaining my time here in Azerbaijan as a Peace Corps volunteer.

Most of my posts are positive, and I try to make them humorous. I avoid sharing too many of my feelings and generally steer clear of problems and failures. Truthfully, that’s just not the way things work here. I claimed earlier in my blog that, during service, the highs are always higher and the lows are always lower. That remains true. But if I don’t spend some time explaining those lows, how can anyone get an accurate depiction of what the Pace Corps is like?

For me, the lows are usually work related. Location-wise, I am in one of the most beautiful spots in the entire country. My two sitemates are two of my closest friends, and my friends and family back home also do a wonderful job of keeping in touch with me, so I rarely feel alone and don’t miss home as much as some other volunteers. What ruins my day and puts me in a sour mood most of all almost always relates to my work.

I only have 7 months left before my service is completed. I am proud of the work I have done so far and have very few regrets. As I move forward and look to conclude my service, I have given my self a goal. Balaken is a new site for Peace Corps. Most of the work I have done, although rewarding, has been just that, MY work. I rarely work with local counterparts when organizing clubs and camps in Balaken. This is not out of a lack of effort, it’s just that the people Balaken have never had any experience with an American before, so they’d rather watch and learn than partake. Additionally, there are not many counterparts to speak of. Those that do exist have other work that keeps them busy, travel outside of insignificant Balaken to bigger cities looking for better work, and, of course, some are just unreliable and impossible to work with on a consistent basis.

I have been here long enough to feel like I belong. I no longer feel like I need to prove myself and crank out club after club in order to make people happy. So, my goal for my remaining 7 months is to not do any major projects (large clubs, softball, summer camps, etc…) without a local counterpart. I want my work to be sustainable to some degree, so I’m not going to break my back organizing local projects and events, only to see them disappear once I leave. All of the national projects I work on have fantastic counterparts, so I don’t think it is so much to ask for that a local helps in the planning and implementation of projects meant for the local population. This goals brings us to the point of this post – to explain the occasional failures and frustrations of my work.

This past weekend was one of the best in a long time. I spent last Thursday in Baku at a ceremony celebrating the 20^th anniversary of US/Azerbaijan diplomatic relations. I, along with 2 other volunteers and our country director, spent the evening mingling with the who’s who of Baku politics and entertained questions about our projects from journalists, foreign diplomats, Azerbaijani ministers, and an envoy of Chiefs of Staff for a number of US Senators. It was an exhausting, yet exhilarating evening. The next day was spent at the US Embassy discussing the country’s softball league, followed by lunch with our departing program manager Elmir (he’s moving to Vancouver) and trivia night with Martin. The nest day I awoke early to catch a bus to Sheki to celebrate Trey’s birthday with a surprise rock-climbing trip I organized for him. The next day, Easter, we had an unbelievable brunch at Steph’s consisting of banana/bacon pancakes, fruit salad, eggs Benedict on buttermilk biscuits, chocolate/banana bread, hash browns, Bloody Mary’s and Irish coffee. What more could a PCV ask for?

Here’s where the failures started appearing. I awoke Monday morning full of energy. My first task was to call Resim (the head of the Youth and Sport office) to see what progress had been made in getting permission to start painting our next mural. He lost all of the paintings. Nearly 15 paintings done by kids from throughout the region, and he lost them. What was worst, he wouldn’t take responsibility for it and claimed that he gave them back to me. He eventually relented and said he’d continue searching for them, but that doesn’t really make me feel any better.

I brushed that problem aside when Arzu, my potential counterpart for the open-mic night event, called me to say he wanted to meet to pick a date. I hurried to his office. As I got there, he said he’d be back in 2 minutes. He returned over 30 minutes later and very simply said, “I am busy, I don’t want to do this project anymore.” Did I really need to wait 30 minutes just for him to say that? I was so looking forward to starting this talent show in Balaken, after seeing how popular it had become in Ganja. Unfortunately, my only real potential counterpart wants nothing to do with it, and as I promised myself , I won’t start anymore major projects without a local counterpart. Fail #2. Just to add insult to injury, Sayyara, my original counterpart and Arzu’s mother, told me that I needed to move all of my stuff out of my office because she was starting some project and needed the space. First of all, what project?! I guess we’re no longer working together. I told her I would take care of it. She said she wanted it done that very instance. I declined and told her I had other things to do and didn’t have time now; I couldn’t deal with it just then. Truthfully, I had nothing immediately pressing. After all, in the span of 20 minutes, my two biggest summer projects at site were squashed. Fail #3.

So, no inspiring stories or funny jokes this time. Sometimes, things just don’t go your way. As support for any sort of youth development initiatives seems to be waning in Balaken, I can’t help but ask myself, “How can I help people who don’t want to help themselves?” But, I know that is the wrong perspective to take. Creating that rift of me versus them won’t accomplish anything and will only further frustrate and alienate me. I’m not quite sure of the right perspective; I’ll just keep my head up and continue to move forward, hoping that someone here will come along for the ride.

Gender Training #1: Completed!

Click this link to read the recap and see pictures of our first gender training that occurred this past Saturday, the 14th, in Yevlax. This link will take you to the WID/GAD committee's own website.

http://widgadaz.com/

The Dynamics of the Playground

It has taken me a while to come to this realization, but it’s worth it. Amidst all of the controversy surrounding the quality of education in America, one little facts seems to slip past our attention. School is not just a place of classrooms and teachers; it is where we learn to sink or swim. It’s where our personalities are cultivated, where our social skills are fine tuned. School isn’t just a center for education. Until we graduate, it is the center of our entire life. It’s shapes us not just as scholars, but as people. In America, as education reform takes shape, results seem to be the most important factor. Fewer teachers, shorter school hours, less “life skills” courses and more math; you name it and it is being cut. As long as test results improve, olsun (Azerbaijani for “let it be”). I can’t agree more with the need for higher standards. Our schools are getting weaker. Too many teachers are complacent, and too many students are falling behind. Every performance test strategy that has been presented so far has loopholes that allow just about every school to pass standards. If so many schools are passing state and national standards, why are so many students nearly illiterate still? Why are we falling behind in academic performance to countries we once towered over academically, to countries we still tower over economically?

I admit that may have been a little too much of a rant, but today opened my eyes to a problem here in Azerbaijan that might start poking it’s head up in America if we’re not careful.

Right from wrong, appropriate or inappropriate, how to talk to girls or boys, how to make friends, how to stand in lines and wait your turn. These lessons are not the objectives in a teacher’s work book, not the ultimate goal of the lesson plan. They are the indirect results of the sense of community and belonging that a good school fosters. I realize that school is supposed to be the breeding ground for future success. But what is that success derived from? I believe it does not come as much from the classrooms as it does from the entire school experience. I don’t believe that math or science results completely reveal the potential success of individuals in the future. It is the life skills learned, the life lessons taught, not solely the biology or algebra lessons, that prepare students to be cunning in the boardroom, creative in the studio, or courteous in everyday life as adults.

It is this sense of community that school is supposed to instill in children that is the very fabric of our society and our culture. It is slowly slipping away.

You may ask yourself what would happen if it did. The implications of this loss are standing right in front of me here in Azerbaijan, and they take the form of 25 school children in my English conversation club. 

I love teaching and I love interacting with children, but I do not enjoy teaching English. I am not trained to teach it, and kids truly don’t want to learn it. They want to come to my clubs after school to hang out with their friends and the American and socialize before going home for the evening. I’m okay with that. As I explained above, I think they need it. The weather is nice now and everyone wants to be outside. I’m not going to try and fight it. They have so much energy and can’t sit still for more than 2 seconds. Outside to the field we go; I was a kid once, I understand.

Today’s lesson: 4-Square. The ultimate game of recess! Simple to teach right? So I thought! Let’s ignore the fact that 98% of these kids have the hand-eye coordination and dexterity of a boiled lobster; it was impossible! See what happens without proper physical education courses!

Anyway, I am confident enough in my language skills after this much time in country that I know the directions were clearly explained. It’s not that complicated. However, sheer chaos ensued and two things in particular stood out. Mind you these kids are between the grades of 6 and 8. The should be able to comprehend this, even if it the first time they ever played the game. The two things that struck me most, in fact, had nothing to do with the rules. They had to do with social order.

First of all, the concept of a line. Whether it was Tetherball or 4-Square, the line was paramount when I was in school. Cuts, Chinese cuts, the ole “I’m just talking to my friend” – whatever it was, lines were understood and embraced and it took masterful prowess to avoid them. Despite all my efforts, the kids could not comprehend the idea of a line. One student would get out and then they would just stand in some random place and be surprised when I told them that they, in fact, were not next and had to wait for everyone else to play before they could go again. They’re not too young, and they’re certainly not dumb. They just could not grasp the idea of a line that they had to wait on if they wanted to play. I see it in everyday adult life as well. At the ATM on payday, in the post office, at the market, lines are not a thing and people don’t wait. Is it a lack of courtesy? In a whole society? I think not. I don’t know what it is, but I think I just found where it all starts.

My second observation was a lack of self-governance. The kids got the hang of the game alright, and some of them were pretty good. They understood the rules, knew what was allowed and knew what wasn’t. They knew how to get someone out. Problem was, without me pointing and telling them specifically, “YOU are out”, no one left. The remaining players recognized someone was out, but everyone refused to stop the game and say it. Every single round, I had to stop the game and say who was out. When I asked if they all knew that person was out, they said of course. When I asked why they didn’t stop the game themselves, they had no answer for me. Again, I don’t know how to explain. They knew the rules, but they refused to enforce them. When I was a kid on the playground, rules were usually unquestionable, and everyone in line stood, anticipating their turn, ready to point out with a piercing scream whenever someone who was currently playing was out. I see the same problem in everyday society. Azerbaijan is one of the most corrupt countries in the world. Everyone knows corruption happens, at all levels. There are those that refuse to partake, but it is a small minority. People know it is happening, but no one says, “Stop, that’s not allowed”. I don’t know if there is a connection or not, but it just seems eerily analogous to me.

So, as I try and foster this sense of community and belonging with the education system here in Azerbaijan, I’ll issue a warning to those back in America. School is so much more than we treat it as. Don’t give up on it.