Liz Paul (K12) in Kyrgyzstan - The ebb and flow of domestic events seems a sharp contrast to the impenetrable five hour block of classes I had today and will have every Friday
as Urmat and Karabai sleep on the floor. Last night when I came home late from a Peace Corps dinner, Jipar was still watching television while Axmat had left for the night. Sometimes he is gone for days at a time and Mirem recently told me that her mom once said that her husband may have another family near by.
The ebb and flow of domestic events seems a sharp contrast to the impenetrable five hour block of classes I had today and will have every Friday. It left no time for even the quickest snack and I’m good and ready for dinner and waiting for the moment when Jipar will yell for Merim to bring the food and dishes in from the kitchen.
I enjoy our family meals. A big plate of potatoes or rice is placed in the middle of a rose and orange floral-patterned table cloth on the floor. We each get a big spoon and work away at the mound of food from our respective angles, except Talgat who, being a picky eater, gets his own plate or bowl so that his mother and sister can make sure he actually eats something.
Round bread called “lipioshka” is torn and placed around the table cloth and we each tear smaller pieces from these and, with our fingers, scoop up bites of tomato or beet salad into our mouths. Karabai or Merim pours everyone a cup of tea and we stir sugar or fresh jam into them. Throughout the meal we silently pass our empty cups back to the tea pourer for refills. Axmat, especially, insists that I must drink two or four cups. Evidentally, if I drink an odd number of cups of tea I will never be married.
They are mystified when I turn down offers for refills and so important is tea that every meal is, in fact, simply referred to as tea. When it’s time for dinner they say, “Liza, chai pyome” which means, “We’ll drink tea.” I’m rarely home for other meals, of which there can be one to five throughout the day, but they too are simply referred to as “tea,” not breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
When we finish eating we raise our hands to our faces – a Muslim gesture - and Karabai, Urmat, and Mirem take everything back to the kitchen. The household work is fairly segregated by gender. Jipar and Mirem do all the cooking (though Karabai often peels potatoes and Urmat has been known to fry eggs). The women also clean the house every Sunday. Mirem always washes the dishes and Jipar always washes the family’s clothes. She also goes to the bazaar to buy the food.
On the other hand, Karabai, Urmat, and Talgat are sent to the store for bread and other sundry items. Karabai and Urmat make and tend the fires that fuel the banya once a week and what passes for the house’s heating system through the winter. They feed the dog and answer the gate after dark. In the last week, Karabai has accompanied Janara on a shopping trip to the bazaar after dark, painted a table, installed a new stove top, and repaired a wooden tressle. I’ve also seen him clean a sheep’s skin, chop wood, and watch the baby.
One cultural difference I’ve noticed is how comfortable young men like Urmat (14) and Karabai (20) are with younger children. There is none of the self-consciousness I’ve seen in American boys and young men. Karabai, Urmat, and even Talgat to some extent know how to hold the baby, how to entertain her and think nothing of kissing her or showing affection in other ways that would make an American boy squirm and blush.
Nevertheless, Merim takes the lead in caring for Aizirek, feeding her, changing her diapers, and rocking her to sleep. It’s obvious that she sincerely enjoys it. And it’s a good thing, because when the baby is here, she absorbs much of her time.
Like other Kyrgyz girls, Merim will become a part of her husband’s family when she marries and will be expected to take on the brunt of the household chores. Parents often pressure their sons to marry because they want the extra help of a daughter-in-law around the house. Because daughters eventually go to live with their husbands’ families, the birth of a girl does not traditionally have the same value as the birth of a son in Kyrgyz society.
Nevertheless, I don’t get the feeling that Merim is less loved. Her parents may be atypical in that they give her tennis lessons twice a week and encourage her to study and think about a career as well as marriage. Her own mother will be going up to
