8 years ago
0

Want Some Oatmeal?

by Justin / Him

Well Peace Corps training (PST) is over, so it’s time to start writing. I would say it’s been awhile since my last post, but that would have required actual writing to have occurred. Now some of you might be wondering, “Justin, what have you been doing for there for three months?” Not important right now. I’m going to talk about my day today.

9:00AM- I wake up…and hit the snooze button.


9:10AM- I actually wake up this time, and I waste time reading on my phone, on the toilet, because I can do that now. No more squatting for Justin (fingers crossed). My new home has a nice toilet, and it’s all I ever wanted. A small part of me misses having a squat toilet, but I left that small part behind. Sweet sweet porcelain please don’t leave me again.


9:40AM- Rawan (kindly) reminds me that I don’t have work and asks me to make the oatmeal for breakfast. I don’t know the amount needed to boil, so she tells me we need three scoops of oatmeal and two scoops of water. I assumed that amount was for one person.


9:42AM- I put in six scoops of oatmeal and four scoops of water to boil.


9:43AM- I realize I put in way too much oatmeal, but I persevere, like a champ, and cook it all anyways. I’ll con Rawan into eating it.


9:47AM- I failed at convincing Rawan to eat the extra oatmeal, and a portion large enough to feed a slightly obese man will now go to waste. It’s also extra dry because the correct oatmeal to water ratio should have been three scoops of water to two cups of oatmeal not vice versa. Rawan says I should offer it to our host family.


9:55AM- Rawan leaves for work. The remaining oatmeal is still uneaten.


10:02AM- I dump the oatmeal without offering to anyone. Why? Our host family hates oatmeal; they don’t eat it. I know this because, when I first moved in, I asked them how to make the very oatmeal I’ve squandered today. They had no clue. The oatmeal is at least a year old. I wasn’t going to put them or myself through the hassle of them eating my crappy oatmeal. I don’t want them pretending to enjoy crappy oatmeal just to be nice. I ate it by choice, and I don’t even like it that much.


10:05AM-12:05PM- I play video games for 2 hours.


12:05PM-1:05PM I lied. I played video games for 3 hours.


1:06PM- Productivity strikes, and I get the contact information for potential Georgian tutors in my city, and learn how to get reimbursed for buying medicine (Maybe the $1.75 street food wasn’t a good idea).

8 years ago
0

My Introduction to the Roma Ethnic Minority

by Rawan / Her

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Our swearing-in ceremony was last Friday! Oh I was so excited to finally begin my service as I have been waiting for this moment since….well, forever. And yesterday, I finally went to work at my organization for the first time as an official Peace Corps Volunteer.

And in my first two days of official service, I learned something fascinating. Of course I’m in a constant state of learning in the Peace Corps, but this came unexpected. As you may be aware/unaware, Georgia actually has many minorities living in its borders, many of which come of neighboring states. However, yesterday I learned that there is an ethnic minority called the “Roma.” And no, it is has nothing to do with Rome, but it they may possibly come from Romania or Moldova many, many YEARS ago (to the point where they can’t really trace it back). Essentially, they have been living in Georgia for many generations. However, they are not very integrated into the Georgian society.

What makes them unique is that they are extremely marginalized in society and endure many negative stereotypes. Most of them do not have any documentation, passports, or typically receive aid from the government. Many of them work for scraps, some beg, and others read palms for a living. Due to their hardships, most of the children do not attend school (or at least regularly). They are also very private and generally do not like interference from the government or other organizations.

Fortunately, my organization works with them at a somewhat regular basis to try to improve their living situation and offer assistance. I felt very honored and humbled that I was able to join in on a site visit to their community. We went to the chief’s house (or the head of the tribe if you will). He was very warm and answered all the questions that my organization had with such openness.

The whole experience was very humbling. This man lived with his entire family- and no, I don’t mean just his wife and 2 kids. I mean, with his wife and 24 grandchildren and even more great-grandchildren! In total, I believe he said that 36 people live in a TINY 2 bedroom home that doesn’t really have a kitchen or bathroom. There was a bathtub in the front yard, but I believe they just used it for storing water. They could be taking bucket baths, I’m not really sure on that part. They had an outhouse. They cooked outside on with some gas and fire. All the children slept on the floor on very thin mattresses. Then they roll up the mattresses in the morning so that it does not clutter the floor during the day. The house barely had any furniture. You could tell that the home was super nice back in the day because it had wall-paper, but the wall-paper was barely in existence today. The floorboards were becoming undone. According to American standards, this home was beyond any standard of minimum living conditions.

So I stood there asking questions. I stood there impressed by their willingness and strength. I stood there humbled by a man who had life skills that I have never had to learn. I stood their with kindness and gratefulness that this man allowed me into his home.

But most importantly, it gave me another reality check (trust me, there are so many in the Peace Corps). The privilege we don’t even know we have is astonishing. We have all heard the stories, but seeing it is different. I have never been inside a home of someone who begs for a living. I have never been inside a home of someone who collects scraps. It provides an element to their story that we miss and do not get the opportunity to know. Some of us don’t want to know. But we should. Maybe if we did we would all be kinder, more patient, and more emphatic. The world is starving for that. And that is why I love today, it gave me an opportunity to learn and understand a bit more of the struggles that I have never had to face.

*For more information, feel free to read this article: Roma People. Please note that I did not receive any benefit linking this article nor did I obtain permission from the author. I’m simply adding this for reference as the author has more knowledge than I do.

8 years ago
0

Me in Georgian Language Class

by Rawan / Her

If you were curious how Peace Corps volunteers end up speaking another language in a short amount of time (at least conversationally), let me share the rewarding (but sometimes painful) process. We literally have classes 6 days a week for 11 weeks. The first 5 days is learning something new and each Saturday is dedicated to reviewing the new material. In the four hour language class everyday, I go through many emotions. And since today was the last day of language class, there is no better day to write this post. Of course, the best way to explain these emotions are through GIFs. Enjoy!

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Many times, you encounter very patient Georgians as you butcher their language into unrecognizable sentences. Other times, there is visible frustration from people on how come we aren’t learning fast enough. And sometimes, this is the feeling I’m assuming Host Country Nationals feel towards me, but that is projecting my own insecurities upon myself.

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And to reduce those insecurities, you can never give up! You have to show up to class everyday- rain or shine! And in Ruisi, it is rain most of the time. So it is by sheer force from God where I get dragged out of bed and walk 30 minutes uphill to only get injected with 50,000 new words a day!

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Most days, we are assigned something the Peace Corps likes to call “Community Tasks.” These are lovely verbal questions we are assigned to ask our host families to practice our Georgian. When I go to class the next day and put together a perfect sentence, I feel like nothing short of awesome.

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But that awesomeness is short lived. I sometimes get corrected that I use the wrong case or given a whole new meaning of what I thought I said. Life is confusing and I don’t like it.

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Then my teacher asks me how I feel about the new acquired information. This is how I feel.

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Still confused by my earlier interaction, we move on to learn 5 new verbs. Of course, half of them sound so much alike. And of course I’m supposed to memorize them within 30 seconds. And yes, I’m still confused.

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At this point of the day, I just want to whine like baby. Why is Georgian so hard?! Why do I add “s” to everything?! Ahhhhhh.

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Just as I’m about to check-out from information overload, my teacher announces it is break time! 15 minutes of internet! 15 minutes to just stare at a tree until I feel okay inside. wohoo!

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Around 11:00 a.m. is when I experience deep sleepiness. I think about taking a nap but I then I remember I still have two more hours. There is no caffeine in sight. Stay awake, Rawan! Stay awake!

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Then we learn a cognate! Oh wait, it is false cognate! But why?! Why can’t we just have the same word for the same meaning?! Why does my life need to be any harder???

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And speaking of harder, I sometimes make it harder for Georgians to know what I’m saying. For an entire week, I kept on saying “I like to eat People” instead of “I like to eat onions” because there is one letter apart! This is my face when I realize what I just said. Whoopsie! Do you still love me?!

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And saying the wrong thing can make my brain explode. Because now I can’t legit can’t tell the difference or hear the difference between the words. In the onion/people case, I started debating how important it was for me to get it right. My conclusion, very important. Thus, my brain proceeded to figuratively explode in front of my face.

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At 12:30 p.m. begins the most painful 30 minutes of all. Why you ask? Because at this point in the day, I’m STARVING. All I could think about is food, food, and oh, food.

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1:15 p.m…….ahh, the lovely time I reach the dining table in which food is served. Oh potatoes, cucumbers, and tomatoes how I have learned to love you so much since I eat you everyday. Mmmmm….Mmmm….