A Full Week

I spent the week of June 10 – 15 trying to make English enjoyable for some secondary students. I'd planned to have mostly girls, but a teacher from another village sent 3 boys on Monday, so I couldn't very well tell them to go back home. That made for interesting dynamics between 5 giddy girls and 3 tough-talking boys. I started by having each student make a name card for their desk, and right away the oldest boy drew a heart with initials – and they were not the initials of any of the girls in the room. A subtle way for him to fend them off.

The boys were not only older but their English was much better than the girls from my school. It made me think more about the level of English teaching, and commitment to school. I found myself each evening trying to think of some challenging activities to fill 3 long hours. By Thursday, I broke down and pulled out a deck of Uno cards. Friday was our last day, and as we said good-bye I realized that I probably wouldn't see my girls again. I just couldn't tell them.

Late in the day Thursday, I found host mom and both boys outdoors furiously scrubbing a large carpet. Knowing that she was tired and would later prepare our supper, I offered to take a taxi to pick up some doner instead. She didn't resist too much, so I jumped in a taxi with the 2 boys for a ride to a take-out place, picked up 4 doner and returned. (Doner is a warm sandwich – a long bread roll filled with shaved gyro meat, chopped tomato, onion, cucumber and some greens – with a mayo/yogurt sauce.)

Friday night we were invited to supper at nana's. Here she is dishing up plov with chicken.What is it about sitting and eating outdoors? It was a very pleasant evening.

Saturday night Masalli hosted the 2nd annual International Folklore Festival and I did a lot of juggling to get to it. I had planned to visit my first host mother Konul that evening and walk with her and her daughter Aydan to the park where it would be held. But when I was at her house I got a text message from my young friend Capt. Amil saying that he would stop in Masalli about 7pm on his way from Baku to visit his parents for the weekend. Could we meet up?

In America, I could simply turn to Konul and ask her if it was all right for Capt. Amil to join us. But this is Masalli, Azerbaijan and she could not have a strange man in her home without her husband's permission. What to do? I talked with her about it and decided to go meet Capt. Amil for a little while, then return to her house when he continued on his way.

Thanks to the wonders of texting, it was easy to find Capt Amil at the new park where the festival was being held. Before it began, we had a chance to chat over tea thanks to his maneuvering a restaurateur into placing a table and chairs for us under a tree. But too much tea and I soon needed to use a restroom. Again he asked the proprietor to unlock a men's room for me and guard it while I was inside. Later, when we left our table there was no charge. I asked him how did he manage all that and he claimed it's all about how you approach someone – just like he learned to approach an IED. What an analogy! But I still chuckle about the men's room.

As I walked back with Capt Amil to catch another bus, we spotted Georgie and Igbal who had been at a wedding nearby. I was so glad that he met both of them and encouraged them to study and love their country. I got out my camera for a photo, then went to Konul's home for supper. Finally, after a meal with my first host family, we all walked together to the Folklore Festival set up on the concert stage of the recently renovated Heydar Aliyev Park. 

It was a beautiful event with performances by singers, dancers and musicians from Iran, Latvia, Ukraine, Georgia, Turkey, Russia, Kazakhstan, and Belarus. 

I'm guessing that there were at least a thousand in attendance, and the evening culminated in fireworks! My one regret: that I didn't seek out the Iranian performers and say Hello and Best Wishes to them from an American.