Half Time Reflections

Two whistle blows at 45:00 means half time. I can almost hear it now; a long, sliding, drawn out first whistle, followed by a second short, abrupt tweet. Out of habit, I look at the scoreboard to confirm the noise. Half time already? I ease out of my competitive game zone and realize I'm aching for water and a few minutes to rest. I jog over to the sidelines, grab a water bottle and head to the shade. With a deep breath, I think about my performance in the first half.  The next 45 minutes will either make or break the game as it stands now. Am I happy with what I've done so far?

The arrival of the next group of PCVs to Azerbaijan, and the departure of the group that arrived the year before us makes halftime nearly tangible. "Peace Corps halftime" is a unique position to be in, full of dichotomies at tension with each other. On the one hand, I see the group of enthusiastic, go-getter Az10's full of fresh energy and optimism for their next 27 months. It reminds me of being in the same place one year ago. Unknowing of what lie ahead, but over-the-moon excited for the opportunity to be a part of it all...living in a village, teaching English classes, starting clubs, coaching sports, integrating into host families, working with counterparts. I didn't really know what any of that even meant at the time; I just knew I wanted to learn and share and grow. On the other hand, I see the Az8's who, one year ago, was the group holding my hand, walking me through my first steps in Azerbaijan, now packing their bags and saying goodbye. While some people have been ready to go for months, counting down the days (hours..minutes..) to their close of service, others have dreaded their tear-filled goodbyes. Either way it's spun, leaving is weird. Either way, your 27 months in Azerbaijan have finished and service is over.

I've felt quite reflective during this halftime. I feel both the reminder of that fresh zeal for service characteristic of PCVs early on as well as the formidable foreshadow that this experience has an expiration date. Like the Az8's, my time in Azerbaijan will also end. These seemingly interminable days will one day seem like seconds passed on a ticking clock. What have I done during the first half? I've thought about these things as I stand in front of my students during our lessons. I look at their faces and try to remember if they looked the same last year. Are their little wheels turning inside their minds as I prompt them with these questions, or are they still just looking at me, watching me, taking note of every little thing they can capture by me standing there except for what I'm trying to teach them? Will it be different at this time next year?

I have no idea what I'll be thinking about at my close of service. You can't know how the second half ends until you've played it out. What I do know now is that I've come to find myself quite at home in this village. I have an affection for my students I feel could never be reciprocated under any other circumstances. Their relationship with me is different than their relationships with the other teachers. As I round the corner to return to school for conversation club in the afternoons, the 3rd and 4th graders still shriek, "Annie Teacher is coming, Annie Teacher is coming!!" and run the other way as fast as they can to inform the other students of my impending arrival. My best friend in my village is my 55 year old counterpart. Despite the great distraction from my teaching point, she'll still interrupt class, as I'm scolding a student in Azerbaijani for not paying attention or not bringing her notebook to our lesson, to compliment the improvement of my Azerbaijani language skills. I still encounter people on the regular who beg an explanation of me being here. Usually this comes in the form of roundabout questions. Where does your family live? How much money do you make? Which is better, America or Azerbaijan? Are you looking for a husband? Why don't you have your own family yet? Even after saying, "I'm living in Azerbaijan for two years because I am a Peace Corps Volunteer," the immediate response is never: what is Peace Corps? It's almost always a blank stare. I have to follow it up with: I teach English classes at my village's school. Only then do some people nod in partial understanding. So when people ask upon meeting me for the first time if I can marry an Azerbaijani boy and stay here forever, I respond accordingly without missing a beat. Experiencing the village culture on a daily basis demystifies these questions. Things that struck me as so odd once seem to somehow just fit naturally into the ebb and flow of my Peace Corps experience.

As this second half begins, I'm more excited than ever to be immersed in my activities. While the fall frisbee season has finished, (holler at my village's frisbee team for taking first place at the championship tournament!!) I have 3 conversation clubs, over 30 students writing letters to their American pen pals, FLEX prep, 15 classes, GLOW camp, and Ganja's Independent Women project to be involved in. I've also got some ideas for an art club and new sports to start in the spring. In addition, Peace Corps is sending a huge number of Az10s to the regions surrounding mine. I'll have a new site mate as well as 15 new 'western finger' mates. This is good news considering I like people and more PCVs=more friends, more Peace Corps familiarity in this area and more sources of brilliant, accessible ideas.

I'm ready for the second half. I'm thankful I made it to halftime in one piece, and I'm ready to take it home from here. After all, I only have 12 months left.


Here are some pictures I've taken at different times over the past month or so.

Dancing with my counterpart at a wedding.

So I can brush up on my Azeri while I'm getting dressed.

My bed

Workspace in my room.

At my friend, Caroline's host sister's wedding. 

The Americans with the lovely couple. 

The beautiful bride and handsome groom dancing together. 

Frisbee captains explaining what's up.

Me explaining what's up. 

 Chris Jones, a representative from the US Embassy, presenting the first place trophy.  

Celebrating!