Lerik, Azerbaijan.

While my friend Katie Browne was visiting Azerbaijan, a few of my friends joined us for a CBT stay in Lerik. Lerik, a southern region bordering Iran, is composed mainly of one of Azerbaijan's minority groups, the Talysh. The five of us headed down to Lankaren, stayed a night there, and then met up with CBT's regional director the next morning. He put us on the right taxi to get to Lerik--6 people in a Lada is spacious on PCV transportation standards. We enjoyed chicken levengi and tendir bread, staple foods of the southern regions of Azerbaijan from local vendors on our way.

Cooking tendir bread.

Eating levengi (roasted chicken with a onion, nut filling) and tendir.

The road between Lenkaran and Lerik.

Upon arrival, we met the family we'd be staying with. They were a husband, a wife and their daughter-in-law. We were immediately served tea, given a tour of their house, and then conversed with them about all the other Americans met through their association with Peace Corps and CBT. They were incredibly friendly with good senses of humor, and we learned that the man is a meyhanna (essentially, a freestyle Azeri wedding singer). We quickly took up his offer to take us through the mountains with his car. The following pictures chronicle our journey:

Our guy and our ride.

Katie and I.

And then there was a cave.

Donkeys.

Houses in the mountains.

Climbing a mountain.

View from the top.

Iran is behind me. 

Pointing to Iran. 

Top of the mountain victory dance.

Azer victory dance.

Andrew and I.

Our host waving to someone he knew at the bottom.

Our crew.

Clouds on the mountains coming down.

And then there was the time our car broke down.

Not feeling good about it.

Making decisions.

Not letting a broken Lada break our stride.

And we start going downhill...

And back uphill.

Can't hide fun from this girl.

We made it back to our home stay in one piece and enjoyed dinner with our gracious hosts. In the morning, we were only allowed to leave under the condition that we promised we'd come back in the summer.

Novruz means "New Day"

Novruz is celebrated on the Spring equinox, the first day of the new year according to the Iranian calendar. While March 21st/22nd mark the holiday's calendar date (depending on your geographic location--the day is perfectly split by daylight and nighttime), people also celebrate four pre-holidays occurring the four Tuesdays leading up to Novruz. Each pre-holiday is symbolic of an element: Water, Fire, Air and Land. Novruz has its roots in Zoroastrianism, one of the world's oldest religions that was founded in modern day Iran. Some say that the forefathers of Zoroastrianism were fire-worshippers. However, the more accurate portrayal of the role of fire in Zoroastrianism is that followers believe that the elements are pure and that fire represents God's light or wisdom. Novruz is celebrated in the Caucasus, Central Asia, Turkey and parts of Northwest China.

A poster one of my students made to explain to our American penpals the significance of Novruz pre-holidays.

Novruz is Azerbaijan's biggest holiday. People talk about Novruz and its associated traditions year round. On each of the pre-holidays leading up to Novruz, families make huge feasts and serve Azerbaijan's national meals: plov and dolma. They also serve a variety of mayonaise-based salads, bread, pickled vegetables, a variety of nuts, and sweets including paklava. Each household also plants wheat grass on a small plate (called samani), symbolic of the coming of Spring, and tie it with a red ribbon for decoration. People also build bonfires on the streets with their neighbors. They burn old clothes, shoes and broken down parts which represents the cleansing aspect of the coming of Spring. One major tradition includes making a wish and jumping over the bonfire three times to bring it to fruition in the new year. Children run to their neighbors houses, knock on the door, throw their hats on the stoop, run away and wait for their neighbors to fill their empty hats with candy or baked sweets. Many people hard boil eggs and dye them with bright colors. It's also said that people eavesdrop at their neighbor's doors and if they hear people saying good things, the eaves-dropper will have good luck in the new year. The opposite is true if they hear mean-spirited gossip.

It's very interesting for me to see these Novruz traditions in action. Of course, I think Halloween! when kids leave their hats at their neighbors doorsteps to be filled with candy. I think Easter! when I see the colorful eggs. I also think Christmas! when I see the sparkle in people's eyes and listen to the excitement in the tone of their voices rise as they speak about Novruz during other times of the year. Like many things I encounter in Azerbaijan, I can't fit Novruz into any preexisting framework. Unlike Novruz, many other observed holidays in Azerbaijan like Qurban Bayram and Ramadan have their roots in the Koran. Instead, Novruz seems to reflect an aspect of the great influence of non-Muslim Persian culture on modern Azerbaijan.

Perhaps what's most striking about Novruz is the uniting effect it has on Azerbaijan as a whole. It's something that everyone looks proudly upon. Everyone spends time with their families and relatives. People who normally hardly ever leave their house travel far and wide to spend Novruz with their families. School is officially on break for ten days, give or take a few "unofficial" days on either side. People cook the same food, they make bonfires out of the same material, prepare the same decorations (samani and xonchas), and repeatedly send each other the same well wishes for success, happiness and good health in the new year. Women from every household spend A LOT of time making time-consuming sweets like paklava and shakarbura--both of which require the shelling and chopping of nuts and rolling sweet dough into thin layers.

Katie with the xoncha. 

I celebrated the pre-holidays with friends in my village as well a visit to my sitemate, Danny's village for Fire Tuesday there. As March 21st rolled around this year, I was having a celebration of my own as I welcomed my very first American visitor! I met Katie in Tbilisi and after three days of an adventurous and debaucherous reunion, we emerged upon Azerbaijan on the 20th. Just in time for Novruz's biggest celebration, as I'd talked up to Katie for months before her arrival. As we walked through my village on her first day in Azerbaijan, the streets were as bare as could be. Only hard stares by a handful of males unknown to me and a short exchange with a small group of my male students greeted us before we got to my house. For as much as people in my village talk up Novruz year round, the scene sure seemed pretty bland.

That night, having accepted a guesting invitation at my secondary counterpart's house, Katie and I celebrated Novruz (for the first time that week) by making Azeri toasts with red wine I'd ironically promised Katie we would not be drinking in my village, eating course after course of national meals, drinking tea, and enjoying the variety of sweets on the table with my counterpart, her husband, and her in-laws. After dinner and a series of interesting conversations about Madagascar, we joined the neighbors outside for a big bonfire. There were at least 20 people there: grandpas, grandmas, moms, dads, children, and at least one baby. The real fun began when the token Lada (a small, rusty, 4-door Soviet compact Sedan) pulled up and started blaring music from its nearly blasted speakers. Everyone started dancing, and poor Katie experienced the incredibly awkward feeling of being forced to Azeri dance for the first time. I told her it was good practice for the wedding we'd be attending the next week... I realized then, as I was twirling my hands and shifting my feet back and forth beneath me to the rhythm of the music, I was actually enjoying myself. While I am all too familiar with it, I no longer felt that strange sting of social awkwardness--in Azerbaijan it comes from a combination of constantly trying not to offend while being on the defense of your position as a Western woman--that as a newcomer, Katie was probably suffering through. I danced with everyone who invited me to dance with him or her. The people who weren't dancing clapped along to the beat or exchanged neighborly conversation. My favorite part was watching a middle aged and a young 20-something woman effortlessly dance Lezginka together.

Starting the bonfire.

Baby!

Novruz dancing. 

Lezginka. They were so good and had everyone's attention. 

Me dancing.

Jumping over the bonfire,

Katie's jump.

The next evening, Katie and I enjoyed another guesting experience with another English teacher friend in my village. We ate the same foods, same deserts and partook in another evening bonfire. The next day, five of my 5th form students came over to my house with Novruz sweets, and we had a picnic in my room. While I had conducted conversation-club style holiday celebrations for Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas at school, my students wanted to share Novruz with "my American guest" and me. They brought over bags of fruit, nuts and baked sweets to my house. I served tea and we all played UNO.

The next bonfire.

Happy guests.

Street-view.

My fifth-graders.

I understood Novruz a little different this year. In some ways, it is perfectly reflective of Azeri culture in the sense that it is family-oriented, it takes place inside people's homes, and it is centered on food and tradition. On the other hand, there is a slight mysticism to Novruz illuminated by the fires. I couldn't spell out exactly why Katie and I were served wine with our Novruz feast or why I could dance with young unmarried men just as easily as I could with women.  My reasoning is all speculation. What I do know is that throughout the whole celebration, everyone was very happy. What I took away from Novruz this year is that while women spend hours and hours cooking national meals and desserts, they take the opportunity to do it with their neighbors and relatives. They know that if they walk over to their neighbor's house, women there will be doing the same thing, and they can catch up on the latest news (read: gossip) until it's time to set the table. It's unifying. As a foreigner without a true family unity to operate within in the village, I think it's difficult to see that side of things--especially coming from a culture that values individualism so greatly.

I'll don't think I'll ever understand how a whole population of people can walk the streets without smiling at strangers or how women consistently choose to be caretakers while men go out to work. How young girls pass on opportunities to study abroad for fear of a damaged reputation upon their return to their home communities. How parents dote on their children hand and foot until they're married. How young brides are expected to move into her husband's family's house and care for her in-laws into their old age. However, seeing Azerbaijan through the Novruz lens taught me that happiness exists within cultural frameworks. There is much more beneath the surface that even after 18 months of living here, I've only just begun to discover.

Two Brothers and a Clairvoyant

There once was a dentist who lived in my village. He was known as a very honest man with strong character. Even though he worked in a dentist office situated in his family's home, he was well known throughout the surrounding regions. His patients' love and respect for him was evident by their long commutes to come to see him rather than a local dentist in their own village. His wife worked as a teacher, and together they raised three children. They were able to live comfortably in the village, well above the means of other families because of the good business generated by the dentist's notoriety. In his free time, the dentist enjoyed building onto his house. He constructed and destructed new rooms until they suited his visions. Hand-painted wall murals, intricate wood carvings, and beautiful metal work over the front gate of his family's house were all products of this hobby.  

In his fifties, his health began to decline. Feeling too young to retire or put an early termination to remodeling his house, the poor dentist quietly suffered. He continued seeing patients, but as word spread about his condition, his number of patients also began to decline. In a short time, putting food on the table took precedence over remodeling the house. The dentist and his wife couldn't understand how quickly they went from having so much to having so little. The wife decided to take matters into her own hands. She felt there was a greater explanation to be discovered for their family's misfortune.  

She called upon the village clairvoyant. The clairvoyant explained that such misfortunes are usually the result of foul play by a vindictive relative. She came over to the house a few times to search for signs and probed the wife with questions about family feuds and neighborly quarrels. After several visits, the clairvoyant came to the conclusion that the dentist's brother's family (also neighbors to them) was casting ill will their way by burying evil charms in their backyard. The dentist's wife never had a particularly good relationship with the her husband's brother's mother (the dentist's stepmother). However, the dentist and his wife insisted it couldn't be so--surely they would have noticed such an intrusion. The clairvoyant offered proof. Shovel in hand, she set out to the backyard and dug a large, rusty brass key out of the ground. The dentist and his wife were shocked. Indeed, they'd never seen the old key before. The clairvoyant came back several times, each time uncovering a buried item from the dentist's backyard. It didn't take long for the mystified couple to come to believe these charms were indeed the source of their misfortune.  

Meanwhile, the rift between the dentist's and his brother's family grew deeper. Out of both spite and fear, the dentist's wife forbid her children from playing with their cousins. As the socioeconomic playing field between the two families began to even out, the stepmother and son interpreted their relatives' animosity as a sort of rivalry. They'd always known the dentist and his wife were wealthier than them..until the dentist's health began to fail. Miffed, she thought perhaps her son's brother and his wife were grieving the dentist's failing health and just trying to maintain their status through exclusivity. She pondered that idea until the accusation.  

For weeks, the clairvoyant had been coming and unearthing evil charms from the backyard. One day, full of conviction, the dentist's wife finally mustered up enough courage to demand her husband's brother's family put a stop to their curses. With the clairvoyant's words in the back of her head, she recalled years of family squabbles justifying why her brother in law's family would wish ill will upon hers. Defensive and angry, the dentist's brother's family denied the accusations. Knowing the power of the dentist's good reputation, they feared the slander that could result in the village with such an accusation. The dentist was loved by every one. Anyone who insulted him let alone pursue evil charms to cause he and his family harm would quickly become outcasts in the village.  

Seeing no result after their confrontation, the dentist and his wife decided to attempt to catch their relatives in action. They set up a night watch. One of them would stay up late, peering out a window overlooking the backyard, to catch one of their relatives and bring them to justice once and for all. The evil curse would be lifted, the dentist's patients would return, and peace would be restored. One night, the groggy dentist saw a shadow enter the backyard. Stealthily, he raced downstairs, out the back gate and into the garden. "Eh!" He shouted. The shadow got scared, turn to ran away, but was slowed down by his shovel and bag full of trinkets. The dentist chased him down, grabbed his arm before he got over their fence, but quickly realized this man was not his brother. Ashamed, the culprit identified himself as the clairvoyant's husband.  

By the cover of night, he'd been coming to bury old, useless pieces of metal in their backyard while by day, his wife was convincing them that their family's misfortune was the result of a vengeful vex by a disgruntled relative. The dentist dismissed the poor man, forbidding he and his wife from ever returning to their house again. Embarrassed that they'd been played by a clairvoyant, the dentist and his wife never rescinded their accusation of the dentist's brother's family. However, over time, the wives began to exchange nods on the street again and their children were able to play together once more. 

My counterpart told me this story about the two families and the clairvoyant in my village. It happened several years ago, but she was explaining that people still go to the clairvoyant. Despite knowing both of these families, that's what was most surprising to me. I couldn't understand how even though people know that what she's saying, or what she's said in the past is dishonest, why they still call on her. How does she have any credit amongst people if she's known to have outright scammed them and even turned families against each other? I felt hostile towards this woman who I've never met. That she had such a capacity to make people believe what she wanted them to in order to turn a small profit. Why would people put up with that? My counterpart responded, "Because people live in hope. When they can't explain something, what else do they have but hope that magic can give them the answer?"

Writing Club

One of the things I've decided to focus on with my students is writing. I started a writing course for a few of my stronger students. Many of my students struggle now writing an essay in Azerbaijani, let alone English. When given an assignment without a "right answer," many students have so much fear of writing the wrong thing, they plagiarize or copy off their neighbor. In general, creativity and critical thinking aren't strongly encouraged in any of their subjects. Thus, I began this writing club because I see strong potential in a handful of my students to be good writers. The club has many objectives, the loftiest objective being to teach students the skills to be able to write a 3-part thesis on a topic of their choice. Said "skills" include creativity, coming up with original ideas, and proper organization. I want my students to be able to express themselves comfortably in writing. My hope is that these skills will apply to both Azerbaijani and English writing assignments, and students won't be so mystified by the whole process.

So that all sounds a bit technical, but I love this course because I get a much better understanding of how my students think. The only way to teach the concept that there is no wrong answer is to get them to say something (plant the seed) and encourage the living daylights out of anything original, coming from their own minds--water it! For their first assignment, I had students pick out a picture from a magazine. Their task was to make up a short story that must include a beginning (introduction), middle (identify the problem) and end (solution) about the person or people in the picture. Here's what one of the students wrote:

Did you steal the eggs from the hen house?

While drinking tea with my host mom the other day, I got the hiccups. There I was, trying to hurry though a hot cup of tea, and my host mom looks at me very seriously, and asks, "Did you steal the egg from the hen house?"

"What?"

"Did you steal the egg from the hen house?"

"I don't understand."

"The hen house! The place where the chickens live over by your room."

"I understand 'hen house'. I don't understand why you're asking me!"

"I got up this morning and there were no eggs. There are always eggs. You must have stolen them."

"What? I don't understand. Why would I steal the eggs? We have eggs on the counter."

She stares at me for a few seconds and then smiles. "Are your hiccups gone?"

Yes, they were.

'Hazirliq' means preparation=Private Tutoring.

Hazirliq is why 10th and 11th grade classrooms are almost always empty at my school. With the impending university exams after the completion of 11th grade, students who intend to go to college must go to private tutoring lessons in all of their subjects in order to pass.

This explanation is spot on. From mainstream education not being available any longer without supplemental education, dependency on private tutoring, its direct impact on citizenship and resulting socioeconomic divide, to teachers losing authority and feeling the need to supplement their meager public school teaching salaries, to nostalgia of the "good old Soviet days" and perhaps most striking of all--most people not recognizing this as injustice. This is how it works.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8Vx48KtnWI