It’s not even a full moon, I know. And some of you really want me to post everyday? Days like today are the reasons that I don’t. Then again, it sheds truer light on all the grit…before my hypoxic memory brings me to a fabricated nirvana, which this place is absolutely not...
It started with a night of rough sleeping on the few pads I call a bed and waking up with yet another sore throat. I reached into the fridge and there’s no milk for my coffee…because…oh yeah, last night I was at a neighborhood store and found that they charged .05 cents more than at the bazaar for a packet of milk. (I say “packet” because it comes in a soft bag.) So I didn’t buy any. I really am a stupid donkey. Then in the haze of another Uzbek morning, I cursed my frugal donkey all the way to a frigid office – gas yes, heat no. A few flickering flames and struggling space heaters does heat an entire office – not. My fingers grew numb as I typed away at yet another funding proposal, and all I want to write is, “Won’t somebody please hire me to a post somewhere within the Tropic of Cancer?!?”
Lunch was a miss because, yet again, my colleagues are only eating non (traditional Uzbek bread) with fruit jam or vegetables canned over last summer. Why? Because of the f’ed up regulations regarding NGO’s. More specifically, the freezing of NGOs’ bank accounts for project funds. One of our accounts has not only been frozen since April, but they have returned the money to our donors! Yes folks, you’ve missed all the gory details about the inane glitches in the system, but I don’t want to get political here because what is more of a reality for me is that my colleagues – smart, educated, inspiring women – have not been paid their monthly salaries since August. Thus, the .10 cent non and jam from home. No. I couldn’t do another day of it, face the pitiful sight of the lunch table. Nor was I up to facing the fact that I had just purchased a plane ticket to Turkey while other people don’t go anywhere, don’t get paid, and don’t eat as much as they should…I have a weak stomach for this kind of thing, as well as a weak conscience.
At least tonight I’m expecting a most welcome long-distance call scheduled via today’s email – the only bright spot in my day. I hurried expectantly home, after buying some milk, of course. I picked up the receiver to make sure the line was working, and………..nothing!!! Not a tone, not a beep, not a hope of human whisper will reach me tonight over that pathetic forsaken system. I immediately lose my relaxed, peaceful, yoga-instilled composure and contort into a tightly knit mass of clenched, controlled anger, steaming with curses. Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door – soft, not aggressive. I do the usual tip-toe to the peep hole, which I’ve covered with duck tape so that unwanted company won’t see the spot of light and then my obstruction when I come to the door to not let them in. The young girl knocks again. I decide to breath, unwind, and ask her who she is. She mumbles, “Me.” Little does she know I’m really not up for this tonight. I ask who she wants. She mumbles, “Just open the door.” Ooooooohhhhhhh!!!!!! Please don’t get me started….breath…..I ask why and if she speaks Uzbek. She tells me, “I also speak English.” Enough of this game. I open the door hoping, hoping, that she’s a nice neighbor and she’s here to offer a fresh pot of osh so that I don’t have to cook dinner. No. She's here to ask me if I have any friends in India who can help her get a visa so that she can travel there to see her boyfriend. Why me? Why does everybody and their long lost relative know where I live and either follows me home or waits until my lights go on to come over to see if I have a miracle pill for their citizenship ills? Oh yeah, because I’m a Peace Corps volunteer. I am all things America where everything is possible. Oh how I wish...
With no dinner in hand, I decide to cook myself a little baked pasta. Simple really. But not tonight. Tonight I find the rusty shelves of my gas oven all askew, off their rungs and tilting towards the rear. From what? My best guess is the cockroaches that live in there wanted to remodel. I don’t know! I wrestled the two shelves somewhat back in place, teetering and threatening to dump all my pasta onto the flames below. At least the high-risk project turned out a pretty good meal, but it doesn’t stop here. I go to wash the dishes and the taps are running scalding hot water! Remember I mentioned before that I was getting a nice, warm flow from both taps? Well, now its tea time all the time! I’m not so much worried about the dishes as I was looking forward to a soothing shower to calm my threadbare nerves. Now there’s no hope for that either! Sigh.
At least I have milk for tomorrow morning’s coffee...
You ever crawl into your bed at the end of a hard day and discover that a rodent has buit a nest and given birth in your covers? Now that is a good Peace Corps day.
Enjoy Turkey.
-G$2
Posted by: G$2 | 12/13/2004 at 06:59 PM