Internship at the Employment Center
So I mentioned that I have an internship. All of the trainees are in different sites, most at schools, but I am in an Employment Center. As would be befitting a formerly socialist government, they have some great social services. This agency is state (well-) funded and a lot more than a resource center. The agents actively strive to place individuals regardless of how motivated those individuals are to actually work. All registered companies (which is most, but I can’t figure out which are required) pay a percentage of ALL employee salaries as a tax which supports the work of this agency. My local office was a network and database of all jobs in the Kyiv region. My internship is supposed to focus on youth (with which the agency deals minimally), and computers (of which theirs far surpass my skills –the only place yet where this has been the case). So what I am doing here has been a bit ambiguous. However, trying to find an interpreter hasn’t been ambiguous at all.
Both the site and the trainee are supposed to search out a teacher, student or other in the community that can serve as a translator. Well my agencies first tactic was to call up one of the non-working English teachers in the database. Only I didn’t know this, so the first day after the hour we had previously agreed upon (with the help of a translator), I was about to leave to go to language class where we were having a test, when they communicated that I could not go! Finally I understood (remember this was my second week in the country), and they assured me she would be there in 5 minutes. I was a bit taken aback when she did come in – tall and pretty but rather overproduced she had a very forward demeanor, and she kind of massaged my hand when she shook it (or more specifically, held it). The little English she used to change the pre-set time of my meeting the next day, made it clear why she was out of work, but I had other things to worry about so away I went.
That afternoon our adopt-a- cluster PCV showed up. Teresa was great; she has been here for almost 2 years, Katia was her LCF and she had adopted our group to just come visit, support and offer any advice or answer any questions. And she offered to come with me the next day. I was quite please with the proposition. So the next morning we met, I briefed her about my so called translator and we went in to meet her. This morning the office was quite busy, my contact person, the assistant director, was trying to follow us around but she was getting behind with the people in the office (her and most of the other staff work kind of like guidance counselors and they have a certain number of people assigned to them that then may come to speak with them. My translator took center stage, spoke so everyone could hear her (and almost only her), kept calling me David, and conducting Teresa and me on a tour the director had already given me. When I tried to turn it back to something constructive, she translated it into a rather forward comment towards the assistant director.
This only went on for about 10-15 minutes, before I think she got bored and started asking me about my family, and telling us about her father who had been a Russian pilot. The director got quite fed up at this point; he had always been a very composed man, but now, on the edge of yelling, he told her to leave and asked Teresa and I to join him in his office. In a very agitated Ukrainian with all most of the English words he knew, he said that this was not working, and he asked me to come back tomorrow with our TCF (Technical Cultural Facilitator, Tetiana, a Ukrainian who sets up everyone’s internships and is fluent in English and Ukrainian). I said that would be no problem, and we left, but the Russian woman is now outside the door and telling us what a bad man this director is.
Teresa helped us get away, and I had been very glad to have her for the very quick and frantic morning. Tetiana helped me clear everything up the next day. We all agreed that the Russian woman was not someone that could translate objectively and since the internship (although I am still sometimes misdirected) has been very well.
Training Post Script – The Blue Bench
Yesterday, I noticed that the few planks that passed for a bench on the doorstep porch of my apartment building had been replaced with a bright blue bench. It is really nice and well loved, as I am sure the planks had been so loved and subsequently warn out. People, especially babusyas, sit often on the doorstep benches now that the weather is getting so nice. Everyone greets everyone. (My apartment building was built in Soviet times. My family was given it 16 years ago by the government and they claimed ownership during independence.) And the bench captures the sunnier, brighter mood that people have been in lately.
The English volunteers start their training in October. I am very glad that I was not in that group; it gets colder and darker every day for them. For us the weather continues to get better and better. We got the idea of what is to come next year, and we have 9 months to brace for it. If our language or nothing else is going well some day (or many) at least through no fault of our own, the weather will continue to get better.
The other major advantage of arriving in March is that winter takes the edge off the fishbowl effect. Everyone knows who we are and where we live, truly. My host mom is the vice principal of one of the three schools in town where she has worked for 12 years. Another host dad is the principle (and in Ukraine administrators also have a few classes to teach). And Kate’s internship is at the local community college (or similar equivalent), and one of her students called her home to invite her out; she hadn’t given anyone the number or name of her host family. But in winter at least people aren’t yet sitting on the apartment porch benches. The kids and babusyas are inside more and paying just a little bit less attention; so it is nice that as we see more people and are confronted by more questions, are language has made enough progress to allow us to answer.
Post Script to the Post Script.
PS. It seems that the English volunteers in country already have many summer camps planned and as new volunteers we are supposed to staff them, but I believe there may also be an opportunity for some of you to come work. They are volunteer positions for 1 or two weeks, so only your accommodations (and food) would be taken care of, but as you can see the exchange rate here is very good. Let me know if anyone is interested. Enthusiasm and you foreign cultural views are a much greater requirement than any prior experience.
Random thoughts
I am sorry if I repeat myself. Sometimes I am not sure if I have already mentioned something in my rambling thoughts, but if I have then you can be assured it must be pretty important. Also thank you so much for all your responses. I love knowing that you guys are reading along, and I love the comments. The following is just a collection of random thoughts:
One thing that I was not prepared for was just how “1984” things are here - the Soviet Ministries and the collective farms and the common apartments. You can really see the old Ukrainian way of life, and how it was overlaid with a conformist mentality for a period. It is really interesting, and historically (not just because of the Orange Revolution) I think this is a very interesting time to be here. A popular Ukrainian movie is about a guy that somehow ends up in another city (I haven’t actually seen it yet), and goes down “his” street to “his” apartment building and up to “his” apartment and opens it with his key and finds a woman living inside, with whom he then falls in love. Sometimes things are just so similar that you could believe it could happen.
“In private do what you want, in public do what you are told.” This very interesting Ukrainian proverb encapsulates much of the Soviet minutest. I do see people sweeping streets and taking care of things but generally public areas are in less well-kept condition than private areas. Ukrainians always remove their shoes when they enter a home, and will usually be offered slippers by the hosts. In fact, they have verbs that means “to take off your shoes” and “to put on your shoes.” I always find language differences very interesting and telling. As I mentioned, Ukrainians are very fond of fires for many uses, and they have words for “good fires” and “bad fires.” I also thought it was interesting that they had verbs for “to eat breakfast,” “to eat lunch,” and “to eat dinner,” because these meals don't really seem to follow a regular pattern, but now I think they have these words to differentiate between when they are eating, because what they are eating could be the same for all three. In fact, many times breakfast is what is left from dinner, to which many of my chicken and mashed potato breakfasts can attest.
They also are very fond of tea, and they use mugs for most beverages. They don’t drink many beverages besides tea and coffee (some of the few things that don’t grow in Ukraine), but wine and juice is often served in mugs. Ukrainian does not have a (non-archaic) word for “thirsty.”
In other major differences, all Ukrainians must get a passport when they turn 16. It seems very few use them for international travel, but they use them for other documentation (very few drive). How is that for a contrast with the States. Finally, we get a “walking around allowance” every two weeks. The daily value is the amount necessary for lunch, drinking water, and then a miscellaneous amount that is equal to the lunch value. Translated into dollars, this daily amount is just over $3. I usually don’t spend that much. So our two week payout is usually about 200 Hrivnya or 40 dollars. I don’t feel comfortable carrying this amount in my wallet. I leave most of it at home and usually carry about 40 Hrivnya, or about 8 bucks!
Training is great
I keep thinking how lucky I am. Peace Corps Ukraine is the largest post in the world, and I think it must be one of the best put together. The training is really incredible. They give us SO many resources and it is all very well structured. The plan is to push you to the limit where you can learn the most, where you have to learn, where you can’t get comfortable but where you won’t get overwhelmed. Today I realized just how overwhelming it could be. If I didn’t want to learn and study so much so that I can communicate then it would be really hard work. I have classes 6 days a week, morning to night. I then study on my own and try to talk to my host family; it can be very emotionally stressing. Not to mention, I have an internship at an employment center, and we are supposed to put together a community project in the 8 weeks we have left here in training. But I am so excited and high all the time and my language is coming along nicely (though I have been getting frustrated more often lately).
We have some days where the health officers come to talk to us. They are part of the Peace Corps staff in Kiev and they are really good. The first day they came we had go over a bunch of stuff but then they gave us these medical kits – UNBELIEVABLE!! It is a briefcase full of medication, tons of stuff, all generic, but some of are prescription antibiotics. I don’t know where the get all the stuff or how much it might cost, but I bet some congressman somewhere made a great deal with some pharmaceutical lobbyist. Then in our healt day yesterday, we had about an hour session on how to break elbows and knees, gouge eyes, rip fingers and free ourself from an attacker should we ever find ourselves in a life or death situation. They don't anticipate any such problems, but they do want us to be prepared. In Ukraine, only 2 volunteers have ever died - 1 was determined as a suicide during training and the other was an elderly man who gave a key to an much younger romatic interest and her friends came to burglar him and he came home unexpectedly – so don't worry, Mom.
The Black Earth of Ukraine
Sorry about the last entry, I was late to get to Grandma’s house. We have been working on clearing the garden. Apparently, last year Babusya’s mother died (my host great grandmother, she was in her 90’s) and no one got much work done on the farm. Yet they reaped enough to have cans and cans of tomatoes and pickles and jams and juices, all of which are very good. My family keeps them in the basement. We live in an apartment complex but there is a basement where everyone keeps their stuff. Ukrainians farm everything. The land around the apartment complexes is all subdivided into kitchen garden plots.
One of my favorites is the raspberry jam, and they also have a sweet raspberry wine. I told them that at the restaurant where I used to work, we sold a very similar one for a lot of money. I have a new love/hate relationship for these raspberries though, because they got a little out of hand last year, so I have spent a lot of time clearing them the last couple of weeks and raspberry bushes are a little bit prickly. The work only makes my conviction stronger - farming is 10% knowing what you are doing, and 90% yardwork. So if you only half-know what you are doing but you work hard, you are still doing a 95% job. The funniest part is that in the last few days there have been occasions where I have had to stop working because my mom, brother, and grandparents start yelling at each other about how something should be done, and most of the time I am sent back to do what I was doing. It is really interesting to see them all interact. I can see the exact same behaviors acted out between my mom and hers and my mom and her sons. I don’t really think she likes working on the garden, as her 16 year old certainly doesn’t, but she knows she has to do it. I am glad that spring is here though (the weather has really been very nice and all the ponds are unfrozen), because it means some fresh vegetables. They say that Ukrainians have four food groups: beets, potatoes, carrots and cabbage. It does feel that way a bit now.
When I worked on the captain’s farm, they had a tool that they don’t seem to have here. I don’t even know what it is called in any language, but it is like a shovel with the head turned more than 90 degrees from the handle. You can use it very effectively to clear land, and I could have used it with the raspberries, but my host mother didn’t know of one. Maybe I should try to introduce them as a secondary project (just kidding, but you never know). I also tried to have a very limited conversation with Grandpa about his wine. It is not very good, but it is very complex and so I think it shows a lot of potential. They seem to enjoy yelling at each other more though. It isn’t really yelling, but it really sounds that way.
Speaking of yelling, I got my second verbal lashing the other day. It was quite funny really. We were clearing tree limbs that had been cut down. We were all taking handfuls out to a pile in the middle of the park out in front on the street, where it would all be certainly be burned later (now that it is spring cleaning smoldering piles of leaves and limbs are everywhere). Well apparently this pile belonged to someone, and it just happened that I was the only one out there when she decided to notice. The rest of the family was back getting more. She started yelling at me from across the street, walking towards me, and I was pretty sure I could guess what it was about with her gesticulating, but I played dumb and said sorry I didn’t understand. Well that didn’t slow her a bit, so I said, “I am sorry, I don’t speak Ukrainian” (in Ukrainian as is the rest of this exchange) She says, “oh, what language do you understand (in a very loud angry voice),” and I say, “I speak English.” Then she says, “You understand Ukrainian fine” and then launches into another tirade that I assume means “now get your stuff out of here.” So I backed down. I was quite proud that I could recount the story (satisfactorily) to the family; they were quite amused.
You know what else is amusing, the fir hats that everyone really does have. They come in a variety of types, but some of them are HUGE! I swear, they must be 2 feet across. Grandpa is still wearing his while we are in the garden. Most people have gone to their spring clothes though. I never thought of the need for spring coats, but everyone has one. Most of them are still quite heavy. Ukrainians have a general phobia about cold drafts. I was dying in my winter coat though, so I had to go buy one at the market, but that is another story. I did have the work coat I was given for garden work off the other day, it must have been in the 50’s at least (though everything is in Celsius which for all my time in Europe, I have never quite mastered). Babusya was awfully nervous that I would get sick. I didn’t really expect it from her because she was a doctor. She is exactly what you would imagine a Ukrainian grandmother to look like, really quite beautiful, and I bet she was a great doctor. All the doctors in Ukraine are state educated and the health care is state financed, so being a doctor doesn’t translate to wealth here. Though, they seem to be doing fine. Grandpa was an engineer so both very educated people, but when they talk to me, they talk VERY loud. My host mom keeps telling them that I don’t speak the language, not that I am deaf. They are really sweet people and they life at the end of a little lane with a well (I think where my mom was raised) and it is quintessential Ukraine.
Oh, and PS. No indoor running water (I haven’t figured out where the bathroom is yet), but they have these sinks that have tanks and you fill them with water and then push up on a plug that lets the water run out (like the soap dispensers in schools). It is very clever. A lot of people still rely on well water.
