Happy Birthday Abeeka and Hopa!

Disclaimer: I am not writing about my birthday as a means to guilt trip those of you who forgot. Really, please don’t send me belated wishes. If you do, it will just make me feel guilty, because unless you are one of my immediate family members, there’s about a 99% change that I don’t even know what month your birthday is in, much less the date. If you do insist on sending greetings, please accept my advanced/belated sentiments for all your past or future birthdays.

It was my birthday last weekend, I turned 23. This is not a huge milestone for most, just a pause on the way to 25 and a source of pleasant memories when scary 30 comes around, but for me it marks something big. When I joined the Peace Corps I was 21, the second youngest in my training group by about a month, and I was pestered by comments like, “oh, man, you’re only going to be 23 when you get out!” as though Peace Corps were a jail sentence and the faster you get through it the better. And now that I am 23, I am very aware that my service in Kazakhstan will soon come to a close. Yesterday I received a form in the mail asking for my banking information so Peace Corps can send my Readjustment Allowance when I leave. That’s scary because it means that a) I’ll be leaving soon and b) I have to find my banking information again. Haven’t touched that in two years…

To celebrate the big two-three I took my younger friends out to dinner/dancing at a local café the night before. It is considered bad luck to wish someone a happy birthday before the actual day begins, so we called it a “Good-bye 22” evening instead of a birthday party. All ten of us had a good time, I think, toasts were made, presents given, and we finished off lots of mayonnaise based salads, steamed meat/potato dumplings, chicken pie, and sweets. I even got cake and ice cream with candles! I don’t think I’ve done that since high school. I can’t help but laugh as I look at the presents in my room from the weekend; they reflect how well (or not) people here know me, from a silver necklace, a shawl and roses to an oversized stuffed rabbit and fake designer wallet. My favorite is a pink t-shit/tank contraption with both “Team International Cheerleading Team Meeting Official” and “Redwood Ranger” printed on in among other less intelligible phrases.

At 1 am, I slipped into a still warm banya and washed away the make-up and stress of hosting locals on their own turf – I think I got through without too many gaffs.

On the actual day, my host mother invited extended family and neighbors over to celebrate. As always, her cooking was delicious and the table was packed with salads, potatoes, stuffed cabbage leaves, my favorite dish of duck-in-dough with a goose substitution, and more sides than I can remember. And then, the coup de grace, I got to blow out the candles (again!) on a cake with “С днем рождения Нора!” written in frosting.

For birthdays in Kazakhstan and Russia, the gathered guests are asked to give well-wishing toasts. It is embarrassing to be praised so publicly but always fun to hear what people think you need. “May you find your soul mate,” “May you complete your work well,” “Health to you and your parents,” and “Love,” were repeated multiple times in three languages (or four if you consider Abeeka’s creative mix of Kazakh, Russian and Tartar to be unique). One aunt said, “Through you America has come closer to us; we are glad to find Americans are just like us.” Two toasts later, a neighbor begged to differ, “I disagree. Nora can’t have brought America closer because she’s not really American any more. She’s ours!” Thank you, dear friends, for your acceptance, if not quite as I am, then at least as much as you can.

As we finished our tea, Abeeka (that’s Tartar for grandmother) had the last word, pronouncing that, “when you get married, I will come and sing a special song for you and you will dance.” We had a practice session right there and then, turned out pretty well, so now all we need is a groom and the deal is on.

Two nights later on Abeeka’s birthday, I referenced her promise in my toast, “Abeeka, even though I am new to this family, I am still very proud of you. You are a window on history for us. Thank you. I wish you health and long life. May you live to come to my wedding!” She nodded her head, saying she fully expected to keep her promise. “Abeeka,” said one of her daughters, “you do realize you’d have to fly 22 hours to get there?” “Ok,” Abeeka said, “no problem.” We all laughed, but I wonder if she’s ever even been in an airplane; if she has, it was probably many years ago in the USSR.

Abeeka was turning either 84 or 86, depending on which source you choose. Her documents say she was born in 1922, her family says 1924. If you ask her how old she is, she’ll wave her hand in the air and scoff. Really, who has the time or memory to keep track of such things? She tells stories of coming to Kazakhstan in 1937, her mother having just died and Tatars migrating east to avoid collectivization. Her trunk was full, jewelry and clothing and head dresses all lost in the years since. On her birthday, her oldest daughter, acting as toast master, asked Abeeka to relate how she first met her husband, the father of this brood of 11 children. Abeeka thought for a few minutes then took us right back to 1937: she was married in 1938 when she was 16. Curiously, the rest of the family seemed equally intrigued by the story; from their reactions, this was a part of their history that they hadn’t heard before. Eyebrows went up, and we looked at each other in surprise.

The gist of the tale is this: Abeeka had never seen her husband, never shaken his hand or even said hello before they were married. She didn’t even know it was her wedding day until it was over. It was a first degree arranged marriage, if not a complete bride-napping like that common among Kazakhs.

“We were in a packed house,” Abeeka remembered, “no room for everyone, so we were sleeping by the corrals.”

“What did you think of Dad?” one daughter asked, “Did you think he was handsome?”

“Well,” Abeeka replied, “after two days they put up a curtain and then I liked him alright.” She’s got sass, this lady who prays five times a day, even if she doesn’t realize it.

In the middle of Abeeka's dinner, a friend from Middlebury called.  It was the first time I've talked to non-family in almost 2 years. Letters and emails, yes, but what a strange moment to be talking to him! 
Guess I should get used to it... 

Love,
Nora