The Story of ABLE

I recount the following experience with great pride and accomplishment, not just for me, but for the PCVs and Azerbaijanis who helped make this year’s ABLE camp possible.

As I’ve likely described to you before, ABLE camp is the Azerbaijan Boys Leadership Experience, a weeklong, sleep away summer camp for boys between the ages of 14 and 16. The camp focuses on the ideas of leadership, community, gender equality, teamwork, and volunteerism. Last year, I played a minor role in the planning process, helping to arrange the daily guest speakers. Once camp commenced, I played a rather large leadership role. I stayed the entire week of camp and helped lead the camp curriculum. I also worked on the evaluation committee to create a critical evaluation of the camp for our sponsors; that report wound up being about 50-60 pages long. The camp was such a wonderful experience, for both my student Muslim and me that I knew I wanted to play a larger role in the 2012 version.

I took on the role of project manager and have spent that past 12 months working alongside a select group of PCVs and Azerbaijani counterparts tirelessly trying to make ABLE 2012 the best edition yet! My job as project manager was to oversee the daily responsibilities. With a budget close to $20,000 USD and about 20 PCVs and Azerbaijanis helping to organize the camp in various capacities, from finance to curriculum, applications, location, supplies, marketing, evaluation, and such, I was tasked with making sure deadlines were met and everyone had the support and resources they needed. It was an incredibly time consuming job and I spent hours every week on the phone and by my computer. We came up with a new logo and slogan (Are you ABLE?), started securing local partners and even some Azerbaijani corporate sponsors. Things seemed to be going so well. There was just one problem.

Every year, for the past 6 years, we were given a rather large grant of about $15,000 USD from the same commission. Because of the success of the camp and our extensive evaluation report, made famous by volunteers from previous years, we could always count on the grant. This past year, we submitted the grant application by the deadline as per usual. No red flags were evident. Then, we started getting requests from the commission to adjust certain things. At first, we thought there were weaknesses in our grant. But after extensive reviews, we couldn’t find any weaknesses. We went ahead and adjusted the application and resubmitted it, anyway. We remained optimistic, but feared that our requested amount would be cut back significantly. It seemed as though the commission was looking to go in another direction.

So, we braced for the cutback and submitted numerous other grants to replace the potentially lost funds. To our great surprise and dismay, our grant request was completely denied. Our amount requested was not decreased, it was turned down. We went from an annual presumed budget of at least $15,000 USD to 0 overnight. You can imagine how disheartening this was. Everything was perfectly in place, save for the money – just a minor detail. Without it, however, no matter how strong the curriculum or guest speaker line up, the camp had no funding and would not go on.

There was nothing else we could do but wait. Without money, the camp was not going to happen, so we had to wait and see if any of the other grants came through. In the process of waiting, we found out that the commission we usually received funds from had been given a new directive, one that did not include finding summer camps for boys. It had nothing to do with our application. Unfortunately, the commission did not consider the fact that cutting off our funding completely, despite a new directive, would severely endanger the continuation of the camp.

Weeks and months past. Grant by grant, we were denied. No one was looking to fund our kind of project. Thankfully, the PCVs I work with are an incredibly persistent bunch and we did not give up easily.

To make a long story short, we wound up being able to scrape together enough money to fund the camp through small grants and donations from local businesses, as well as an increase in camper fees we had hoped to not have to implement.

So, here I am writing to you on the evening of July 16, in the middle of ABLE camp. Unfortunately, I am not at it. To reduce costs and keep the integrity of the camp intact, we made the selection process harder, chose fewer kids (50 to 35), and went to a smaller, cheaper camp site. By doing this, we had fewer spaces for PCVs to stay, unlike last year when the space and money was plentiful. I have been at the forefront of the planning process for the past year. I know what it took to persevere and make this camp possible, and I am so proud of all those PCVs for sticking with it. Most of that inspiration to keep on trying came from seeing the camp firsthand in 2011. I know that every PCV in my group who worked night and day to make ABLE 2012 happen did it because of what they saw in 2011, by seeing just how much it impacted the boys of Azerbaijan. I got to experience the magic of it last year, and that’s what prevented me from giving up this year. So I, along with a number of other PCVs in my group reluctantly gave up our spaces in this years camp so that newer volunteers could experience that same magic, so that they too will be inspired when it comes time to organize ABLE 2013, regardless of the roadblocks they may face along the way.

Our logo

My boys coaching softball at the orphanage in a neighboring region

Rasul: heart of gold (also my hat and sunglasses)

Loved this shot

The whole group after a great softball training

The coaches (plus Trey and I along for the ride). What an amazing group of boys!

Just A Couple of Complaints

I have not been writing consistently lately, but I wanted to share a few thoughts with you. Life has been pretty wonderful recently. It’s summer time, and I feel like a kid again. Maybe it’s because I wear shorts and flip flops all day in the sun and have been very active with clubs. Or, maybe it’s because I only ever hang out with kids anymore. Seriously, with the exception of Trey (and there can be a good case made for the child in him), I’m not spending any time with adults. Any adult friends that I have are either married, busy, MIA, or in Baku where most adults migrate to in search of real work. I understand and don’t blame anyone. At first, I thought it was bad that I had no real local, adult friends, somehow upsetting even. Actually, it’s so refreshing. I get to spend my days immaturely joking around with kids and discussing subjects completely uninteresting to most adults. During the days, I feel like I have so much energy. On the other hand, at night I’m terribly sore and exhausted. It’s not easy keeping up with them!

I’d like to spend the next two paragraphs picking a bone with Azerbaijan!

First off, dogs. As in many countries around the world, stray dogs litter the streets. These flea-infested, garbage-eating balls of clumpy hair are certainly not cuddling material. But, I’d like to ask: “How did they get this way?”

People are terrified of dogs here. They’ll cross the street just to avoid them and feel no remorse over throwing rocks at a dog getting a little too close. What saddens me most is that none of these dogs pose any threat. I know this because most of these dogs are not afraid of me and look forward to seeing me as I pass by, giving them a brief pat on the head and tummy rub before I rush home to pour bleach on my hand. All it took to befriend them was a few days of soft hellos and the occasional kneel, just letting them adjust and eventually come to me. The other night I got scolded by a neighbor because a pack of dogs of wonderful cute, playful orphans followed me home from Trey’s.

I voiced my lack of regard for his concerns and made my way inside, alone (I’m a dog lover, but I certainly won’t be letting any of those mutts in my house anytime soon!).

I don’t bring this up with adults, but I tell kids it everyday when we encounter dogs when walking around. Don’t be scared. Most dogs are more terrified of you. Especially since it’s pretty customary here to keep a puppy for about 2 months and then throw it out on the streets when it gets too big and ‘uncute’. No wonder they bark and are terrified of humans. They’ve been abandoned and treated worse than my childhood stuffed animals. How would you feel? I’d be a lot meaner to Azerbaijanis than they are if I were a dog.

So, here’s my message: If you’re afraid of dogs, get over it! They are such sweet animals. If you still can’t get over that fear, stop adopting puppies only to abandon them mere months later. And, I realize no one here had the good fortune of watching Bob Barker, but spend a little extra to neuter or spay your animals, PLEASE!

Lastly, the ‘24/24’ sign that litters almost EVERY convenient store in this country! What does that even mean? 24/7 is definitely a thing. 24/24? Not.

In this day and age when even people towards the bottom of the economic spectrum have cell phones and access to cheap internet, if you’re going to start a store, and put all of your hard earned money into it, do a little god dam research!!! 24 hours a days/24 days a year? The 24 days a year part may be pretty accurate in this country, but you’re definitely not open 24 hours a day! My late night journeys to find a store that is still open have proved that!

That’s all. I’m done complaining!

Picking cherries with my little buddy Davud

The second mural is finally finished!

Balaken Summer Camp 2012!

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.