Family life and good news!

Last week I realized that due to my current housing arrangement, I am experiencing something I hadn't before in my previous time in Azerbaijan: living in a family enclave with homebound women. Specifically sisters-in-law and their families plus their 85 year old, widowed mother-in-law. This woman had 4 sons, so by tradition the bride moves in with the groom's family. That makes 4 sisters-in-law and their children living in 4 houses near each other in Digah village. These women spend lots of time at each other's houses – daytime and night time. Almost a perpetual “hen party.”

Saturday night I was invited to dinner in the house of the youngest sister-in-law. I was told that the house was the oldest of the houses and had been built by the mother-in-law's husband who died 25 years ago. The four sons and their brides all lived in that house when they first married. In fact, Georgie was born in this house 13 years ago. Now the youngest son and his wife live in this house with their 3 young children.

The mother-in-law (also called nana or grandma) is the person who came to my house last year to inspect it before Georgie (her grandson) could take English lessons from me. She is quite sharp and often says she wants to come to America with me. Of course, the 4 daughters-in-law have become quite close because they are married to the 4 brothers and all have children. All marriages were arranged and it appears to me that the husbands are all about 10 years older than the wives.

The families seem to compete to have me come to their homes as a guest in the evening for tea. Twice this past week, I've walked with host mother Valentine and Georgie and his brother Igbal to visit, then we walk home together in the dark about 10 pm. Women generally do not go out after dark, so the 2 young boys escort us to and from the houses.

There are always children running around while the women talk, talk, talk, and we eat, eat, eat. Many foods laid out on the table for me, their guest. Candy, bakery (paklava, goygul, shakabura), popcorn, raisins, jams, fresh fruit (apples, pears, kiwi, bananas), and nuts (almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts, roasted chickpeas). They look at me and wonder why I am comparatively skinny.

It is almost a proscribed ritual – the sequence of eating. First we sit down to the table with all those foods on it and then tea is poured. Someone will put food on my small plate and encourage me to eat with my hands. If there will be dinner, the table is cleared after an hour or so of noshing, and re-set for dinner with forks and large spoons (no knives), glasses for juice, small plates of pickled tomatoes, etc. Then the hostess comes from the kitchen carrying plates laden with plov (basmati rice) covered with a golden rice crust, several cooked chicken parts on top of that, and perhaps raisins with a few dates.

Thankfully Georgie helps translate for me, but he tells me that his relatives don't think he speaks English very well. How do they know? Perhaps they are expecting to hear lyrics of American songs that so many Azeris sing as a way of learning English. 

I hope his relatives are convinced how good he is when they hear his recent good news. Georgie won first place (among 6th form students) in a creative writing competition conducted by the Peace Corps in March. He will go to Baku in August for an award ceremony, and his family is invited to attend it with him. His story will also be entered into the international Write On! competition.