I'm slowing down but anxious during my
final week in Azerbaijan. I've had enough of English classes and
activities at school as I prepare to finish my Peace Corps service. I
traveled with my host family to nana#1's house in Boradigah for a few
days and that is always very relaxing. A nice clean, breezy room with
a comfortable bed and western toilet. (Except for filling a
bucket of water to flush it.) I forgot to bring along a power adapter
so my iPod ran out of power, but I did manage to finish reading Team
of Rivals on my kindle.
I decided to “interview” nana to
find out what foods she remembers eating 50 years ago, and it turned
out to be pretty darned interesting. To her, they had more food when
she was young and had better electricity, gas, refrigeration etc,
under the soviet system. But the real surprise was her re-telling of
saving 5 people from drowning when she was a teenager and getting a medal for it. She was
working on a farm near a river and heard people crying for help.
She got a branch from a tree to pull them out – earning their
gratitude forever. She said they even came to her wedding when she
was 18, and one of them still lives in Boradigah today.
Several of nana's sons also came to
visit while I was there. The butcher from Baku gets a sheep regularly to sell in
his shop, and another son has a business in Astara, Iran – just
over the border and about 30 minutes away. He always brings wonderful
candy from Iran. His wife is a doctor and did some blood-letting from
nana's back, scoffing when Georgie wondered if we do this in
America. Unfortunately, the wife of the son from Baku suffered
appendicitis when she arrived in Boradigah, and had to have surgery at the Masalli
hospital. We stopped to visit her on our way home. Many mention how
beautiful Azeri women are, and even this bed-ridden woman was in discomfort but looked marvelous. Their daughter Limon is 17 so I'll guess that she is 35 years old.
Tea and treats arranged on a cloth on the floor.
One other notable event took place
while I was in Boradigah. Nana, host mother Valida, and I were
invited to visit some relatives in the village. Valida told me ahead
of time that she was taking some clothing to them because they were
poor. As soon as we got to the 2-story apartment building I knew it
would be a tough situation. It was one of those images forever
imprinted of a tacky apartment but filled with chattering women. Of
course they had laid out their best dishes and food on the floor for
all to enjoy. Someone pointed to seats at the end of the narrow room
for me and nana, but everyone else sat on the floor. I spent several
hours listening to 14 women of varying ages and shapes talk about
what women talk about the world over: recipes and health.
Returning to Masalli on Tuesday, I put
400 photos on a flash drive to be printed and put into albums as gifts. I traveled to Lankeran on
Thursday to give some craft materials to PCV Cherril. I also arranged for a
young man to come to Masalli school #3 Friday morning to speak about
studying in the USA to 10 students.
To top off the week, I went “guesting” Friday
evening at the home of an English teacher's family. I am still
emotional about it because Shalala's father
gave me his gold pen that he had used for 47 years. This is the man
who said I should consider him like a brother. He maintains that I
have helped his daughter and Digah school beyond measure. But it is
really difficult to think that he would give me something so valuable
to him as a remembrance of my time in Azerbaijan.
I added the photo of the cake because you never can tell how far a bundt cake pan can travel. I suspect there've been some Norwegians in Azerbaijan who imported this pan from either America or Norway. Afterall, Norway has a big presence here due to the oil fields. So I snapped this photo of an Azeri "circle" cake and chuckled to myself about whether it came from Nordic Ware in Minneapolis!
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