Photos
The River Irytish at sunset
First day of school activitiesReflections
--Practicing a two-chord punk song on guitar and appropriating time to smack the blood-thirsty mosquitoes--
My phone unsettles this activity and my innocuous apartment with a ring. On the other end is one of the top five coolest people in the world, Baurzahn Ablyavich. This 45-year old psychology professor and former roommate of mine calls on occasion to keep in touch—what a pal—and he has phoned to inform me of a documentary film about 9/11 playing on the television. Before he does this, he changes his voice and says, "Алло. Эта Секретиый агент 007," attempting to trick me (Translation: 'Hello. This is secret agent 007.'). He never fails to crack himself up with that one, and despite all sound reasoning, it's always funny to me too. Anyway, he then says that he wanted to call simply to say that he supports America and that he was thankful to know me and that we had become friends under such peculiar circumstances*. Agreeing, I thanked him and tried to forget the memory of my always-wisecracking friend Steve Reck’s silence as we watched the buildings come down during our 2nd block class six years ago.
And so the inevitable letters from government officials sent by their assistants will fill my e-mail inbox today, telling me that what I’m doing reflects the can-do, philanthropic and humanitarian spirit of America; that despite all the problems in our nation, our world, our humanity, we conscientiously decided to help. Hate can’t get us down, no sir, and as a matter of fact, the number of people wanting to do humanitarian service increased after 2001, reinforcing that notion of true progress. That’s the stuff of stand-straight postures and firm handshakes if I ever heard it.
But that doesn’t do much for me. I don’t want to think that this decision, this gentle effort of Peace Corps and other volunteers in various capacities is in anyway derivative of others’ acts of destruction. We are not the positively charged end of the magnet. I’m not here to balance the right and wrong in the world. I probably wouldn’t be considered in the right of the balance if there was one anyway. I’m here to figure something out for me and other people, and that’s to make both of our lives better in some small, unsexy way. We don't need bad people in order to have good people, or people to do bad things to force people to want to do good things. Good people just are, and there are more of them than not.
So instead of thinking about some grand scheme project to benefit the people of Kazakhstan or reflect on 9/11 by reading article upon article about the pains and horrors and the ramifications and the political fall-outs, my mind wanted something else. Yes, I did reflect on the events and what it means, but my mind wanted to go forward.
And so the inevitable letters from government officials sent by their assistants will fill my e-mail inbox today, telling me that what I’m doing reflects the can-do, philanthropic and humanitarian spirit of America; that despite all the problems in our nation, our world, our humanity, we conscientiously decided to help. Hate can’t get us down, no sir, and as a matter of fact, the number of people wanting to do humanitarian service increased after 2001, reinforcing that notion of true progress. That’s the stuff of stand-straight postures and firm handshakes if I ever heard it.
But that doesn’t do much for me. I don’t want to think that this decision, this gentle effort of Peace Corps and other volunteers in various capacities is in anyway derivative of others’ acts of destruction. We are not the positively charged end of the magnet. I’m not here to balance the right and wrong in the world. I probably wouldn’t be considered in the right of the balance if there was one anyway. I’m here to figure something out for me and other people, and that’s to make both of our lives better in some small, unsexy way. We don't need bad people in order to have good people, or people to do bad things to force people to want to do good things. Good people just are, and there are more of them than not.
So instead of thinking about some grand scheme project to benefit the people of Kazakhstan or reflect on 9/11 by reading article upon article about the pains and horrors and the ramifications and the political fall-outs, my mind wanted something else. Yes, I did reflect on the events and what it means, but my mind wanted to go forward.
Therefore, I went to 826 Valencia’s website and read some extremely silly posters about Pirates (826valencia.org).
That eased my tensions, shook the stale cobwebs off my brain and gave me a great idea: one that I hope you, the reader, will love and support and tell all of your friends about and chuckle over but realize its genius and maybe even continue it in your own town:
Organize a healthy living and HIV/AIDS awareness day for kids at a local bowling alley by raising funds through a sponsored mustache growing contest**.
Silly? Yes. Genius? Questionable. Helpful? Possibly. The best Peace Corps project ever? Not by a long shot. Will I shave the mustache before my girlfriend comes here? Yes, don’t worry.
And this idea made me happy—that at a time when I am one of only a handful of Americans in a faraway land, and on a day that has a tempestuous place in American history, my brain gave me some relief and told me to grow a mustache to make this world a better place.
In other weekly activity, I will soon be starting my computer training program (with focus on financial transparency), English Club attendance should increase, Film Club is steadily improving and English lessons are showing progress.
*Baurzahn and I became roommates after a two-week period where I did not have a host family. After a long search and a brief bout of being homeless, I moved into his home on Christmas Eve '06, and we shared a bottle of cognac to toast baby Jesus. We've been friends ever since.
**The actual project will be more formalized than me just growing a mustache. There will be other contestants, other organizations and actual information being disseminated for the event for the kids. It’s just a little hard finding funding for NGO projects, and creativity is a must.
Finally, check out this article on the 9/11 documentary about the famous photograph and lasting image, "The Falling Man." It was directed by Henry Singer, a very kind and accessible gentleman. I note this because my mom, Deborah "Mean Jean" Holets, is part of the film due to her diligence to setting a prime example of democracy and free speech via appropriate usage of the letter to the the editor newspaper section. Here is the link to a story in Allentown, Pennsylvania's local newspaper regarding the film:
http://www.mcall.com/entertainment/all-fallingman.6018174sep09,0,817643.story
And this is a little funny...
The Simpsons in Film in Russian
