Gurban

Gurban Bayram (Festival of Sacrifice) is one of the ancient religious holidays in Islam, celebrated in honor of the prophet Ibrahim's (Abraham) willingness to sacrifice his son as a proof of his loyalty to God (Allah). At the last moment, God provided a ram to be sacrificed. 

Gurban was observed October 15th & 16th.  Gurban is a public holiday so I had those days off.  My original plan was to meet  friend in Baku on Tuesday.  I had checked with host sister an she had indicated that it was OK to leave home that day. However, when I told my host mother I was leaving, I got the "look" which indicated that I needed to change my plans.  Instead, I got my camera out for the observance. 

In Azerbaijan, Gurban is observed with a sacrifice of an animal, usually a sheep.  Sheep are the primary animal sacrificed, but other animals can be used.  My family pitched in with three other related families and purchased a young ram.  The ram needed to be over one year old.  I was told that a truck from village comes into the neighborhood with sheep to be purchased for the holiday. Below is the sheep that appeared in our yard.



Extended family members

The sacrifice is Halal, in accordance with religious traditions.  The animal looks towards Mecca and a man performs the sacrifice. After the animal is dressed, the women takeover.  Part of Gurban involves sharing with the less fortunate.  Since not everyone can afford to purchase a sheep, the meat from the sheep is divided into seven portions. My family's and their relatives kept four shares and then gave the remaining three shares away to others.

Both lunch and dinner were shared with the extended family.  The first meal was a dish of organs, onions and potatoes.  I limited myself to liver, potatoes and onions.  Sort of reminded me on Twee's liver and onion dinners, however bacon was not included. The second was boiled lamb.  Lamb is not my favorite meat, but both meals were tasty. I however will not be including either of these meals in my cooking repertoire.

I am impressed at how respectful the sacrifices are and how nothing goes to waste.  I also like the gathering of the family and how the family works together to perform the necessary tasks.  All but the youngest help out.  I'm glad that I got to witness this event.

Pictures, Pictures, Pictures

Today' post is devoted to pictures from the last couple of months


Soviet era apartment living room

Building in Quba

My first baking experience - Twee's Apple Cake

Sydney in Baku

Nar from the garden

Cool fall day house clothes - Nunu thinks the long winter underwear with yoga pants has a sumo wrestler look

Annie (PCV who lived with host family), her relatives, my host family, relatives, neighbor boy and friend.  Dinner included Ash(plov), three sisters dolma, a mayonnaise salad, greens and the never ending corek(bread)

Outdoor shoes

My home's street. You should see it when its been raining.

Nene and my host mom

Kitchen in Soviet era apartment

Hot water for bath in Soviet era apartment- be careful when lighting and make sure you turn the gas off when done. In some homes these are wood burning or anything else that burns.

That is all for today.  Off to brave the cold bathroom but with insta-hot water. Sag Ol

Living in my head

I've been thinking about this topic pretty much since I got to Azerbaijan.  Perhaps not the first couple of weeks, I'm not sure I thought at all during the first two weeks.

I was laying in bed this morning, listening to the sounds outside and thought about how it sounds pretty much like Seattle.  The drone of cars in the distance, horns, birds and the wind.  The hum of conversations that you can't quite hear but provide comfort that you're not alone.  The sound of footsteps, kitchen noises, the running of the washing machine. There is a comfort in the familiar sounds and then you realize that normally you don't hear so many rooster, chicken, duck sounds or the occasional moo. Also if you try to hone in on a conversation, you realize that for the most part you have no idea what is being said and even if you did, you have no context or familiarity in which to truly understand the conversation.  It is then you realize that while you are part of landscape you are on the periphery in a slightly different world of your own making.  It is then when I realize how much I live in my head.

Please don't misunderstand, I am present in my life, it is just that my life has such a transitory quality to it. When I committed to this journey, I realized that it was for two years. Two years is such a short time and once you get into it, it becomes even shorter.  I am already three months in and I have so much to learn. I understand that my integration into the community will only be partial.  I can physically navigate and my Azerbaijan is good enough to get my needs met, but I communicate on such a basic level.  Complex thoughts are difficult if not impossible to express unless the person you are talking to has a command of English and with the cultural differences on top of the communication issues it can be mind boggling.  So I turn inside my head and hold the conversations with myself. 

I'm writing this in part to share and in part to remember.  I am truly blessed to be on this journey and am curious how it will unfold.

Two Short Stories

Bus Ride

 

 

I live in a suburb of Baku about 7km north. To get to Baku is a ten minute walk on dirt roads to the main road, a wait up to 20 minutes for the next bus, a 15 minute ride into Baku and then onto another bus as dictated by my final destination.  However, there has been construction on the main road for the last week and the transportation system has been both fluid and creative. 

 

Today's adventure home had the bus rerouting to a dirt road accessed by a 90 degree turn off the four lane highway.  The dirt roads in my neighborhood are really designed for one way traffic and not particularly even. Also, the rerouting is based on the driver's intuition and in this case guidance from others.  The hope is that you guess where on the reroute is closest to your normal stop.  At one point in today's reroute I'm pretty sure the bus hit a wall.  I was surprised when the bus rejoined the main road at my normal stop.  The bus was packed, the roads were bumpy, I had been standing for about 30 minutes and was holding on so tight to the overhead bar that my hand was numb. But I knew where I was - was safe and sound so all was well.

 

Example of neighborhood street



Big buses in the background example of city buses



Nana Comes for a Visit

 

Earlier this week, I got home from my organization and my host mother, her mother and sister were sitting around the kitchen table.  My host mother's brother was also wandering around the house.  Since one never knows who might be in the house, this was not an unusual circumstance. However this was the first time Nana had come to visit.  I said Salam,  headed to my room, changed, joined them for cay and conversation. More like cay and listening to conversation where I pickup words here and there but not enough to follow. I'm good for about 20 minutes and then head back to my room. Came out later and Nana was still with us but the rest of the gang was gone. Nana took over Nunu's room so Nunu joined me in mine. Good thing I have a extra bed.  We're heading into night four.   

One item I have grasped is that you need to expect anything and be very fluid.  Since I've gotten here the following has occurred.

• Woken up to the entire family gone
• Only person up, Neighbor/relative drops in wants to know where everyone is. Thank goodness I had washed dishes, but house not quite clean enough.
• Woke up with slight headache. Family going out for day. Home alone - not.  Cousins stop by to look for friends, watch TV

  

  , cook, etc.  Granted they played quietly. (Nana and Host Mom)
• Home from work, change and lets go to a 1 year olds birthday party. - four hours later of non-stop food and entertainment you call it quits. House Mom comes home with you at 11:30. 
• Remainder of party return home at 3:00

All I know is that I will come home one day and Nana will be gone and I will miss her.

A minor adventure

This past weekend I decided to visit friends out in a region.  Barda is located west of Baku in an agriculture region. On Friday I headed to the Baku Avtovagzel to catch a bus. As I got to the vagzel there was a bus pulling out but it was full so I waited for the next one.  When the bus pulled it I purchased my fare and got settled in my seat waiting for the bus to fill up and leave.  It appeared that it would be awhile until the bus left, so I went to the bathroom and decided to see if I could locate new earphones in the shopping area at the vagzel.  Both pairs of earphones I brought with me broke and I hate listening to music with only one earphone working.  I was successful in locating a new pair, in my favorite color blue.  So about ten minutes after leaving the bus, I returned.  Much to my horror the bus wasn't in the bay.  After a short initial panic, I asked someone where the bus went, or at least that was my intention.  He pointed to where some marshukas were.  My overnight bag was on the bus with two bottles of wine as hosting gifts.  I thought of where on the route out of the vagzel I could try to locate the bus and while moving towards that goal, I found that the bus had just moved bays. Needless to say I was mighty relieved and got on that bus and after 40 minutes we pulled out for our five hour ride.  I don't know if the bus was just in the wrong bay or they decided to mess with the American.  While in my initial panic I was able to determine what to do; 1) call my friend and have her get my bag off the bus at its destination, and 2) get on another bus, it was a very unpleasant moment. I texted a friend and found my fingers to be shaking.  It shows the power of a shot of adrenalin. Of course it makes a good story. While this story had a happy ending, I was pleased that I was able to determine that had it turned out differently, it wouldn't have been tragic.  I still had my money, passport, computer and phone.  The clothes were few and too big.  Toothbrushes are easy to find.  And, I can still think on the fly.
The visit was great and of course the adventures didn't end with the first leg bus trip.  When I got to Jesse's house half of her electricity was out.  The rest went out about a half hour in.  The gas also went out. So, instead of spaghetti with tomatoes, cheese and spinach, we had cheese, tomato and basil sandwiches followed by watermelon.  Her landlords came over to fix the problem that caused half of the electrical issue.  This involved pliers and electrical tape. Thank goodness that the power was out and her landlord turned off the electric at the box.  His wife decided to climb a ladder and pick grapes.  This involved a ladder with a lot of dry rot and her shooing any help away because she was in a dress.  Quite a show.
The next day we went to the bazaar and bought supplies for a summer camp, set up the room for the camp then on to lunch.  We went to a donar shop and had meat in what is basically a tortilla with parsley and lemon.  Pretty tasty.  Then back home around on so that we weren't out during the heat of the afternoon.  Barda is about 10-15 degrees hotter than Baku, so it was in the high 90's. After resting, two more friends came for dinner.  The pasta dish we weren't able to eat the night before and apple crisp.  So nice to catch up with friends.
Got up Sunday morning and headed out for my trip back home.  Of course, I had to make it another adventure.  I got on the local marshuka going the wrong way.  So instead of heading to the avtovagzel, I got a tour of Barda.  I missed my bus, but ended up in a shared taxi.  About double the cost but about two hours shorter.  It is amazing how different the landscape looks from a different height. I was in the front seat of a Mercedes (wish it had a seat belt). I made it home safe and sound.  
While the trip didn't flow the way I had planned, it was wonderful.  I got to see how I respond to travel mishaps (I can adjust), I got to see things I wouldn't have otherwise, I got to have new experiences.  I even was able to practice my Azerbaijan and while it isn't pretty, I can communicate.
As we say here in Azerbaijan - Yaxsi Yol!!

Jesse, my superb hostess and me

Four roosters have gone to heaven

I believe that I had previously commented that my host family had 80 chickens.  The chickens belonged to my host family and my host father's two brothers' families.

Before the move

A couple of weeks ago after the construction was complete on the brother's chicken house, half the chickens moved next door.  So we were down to 40.  Well, we are now down to 36. My host sister has been wanting fresh chicken so last night after dinner four roosters bit the dust.  It was quite a production, witnessed and participated my members of my extended family. I think at one point we had around ten people in the yard.

First there was the selecting of chickens.  Since my family hopes to get eggs from the females, roosters were the target.  This was accomplished by entering the chicken coop with flashlight, spotting a rooster and then shutting off the flashlight and grabbing the rooster.  According to Nunu, chickens can't see in the dark.  I did not participate in the chicken selection, but was sipping tea in the kitchen with my host mother. The chickens were brought up to the yard to meet their maker.  I did dishes while the first two were dispatched, but did pluck up enough courage to witness the demise of the final two.  An uncle was in charge of this aspect of the process.  He stood on the wings, while the chickens faced Mecca and cut off their heads.

Once the roosters were dead and stopped moving the women swooped in.  One-by-one boiling water was poured over the chickens to loosen up the feathers.  The primary plucking was done at one table, with the finer plucking at another.  I gathered my courage and assisted in the fine plucking.  Somewhere there is a picture of me.  I was doing fine and only jumped once when a headless neck swung my way.  I believe that my primary goal in this process was to provide comic relief.

After assisting with the finer plucking of two of the roosters, I sat down and watched for a while but headed to bed prior to the gutting.  To honor the roosters that would be providing my next day's diinner, I ate  package of Trader Joe's Meyer lemon cookies.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner

Patti's on a mission

So, I asked my sister to send me a care package of primarily food items that I missed.  Below is a listing of the items I requested:

• Trader Joe's
• meyer lemon cookies
• ginger cookies
• soft and juicy mango slices
• green tea mints
• chili peppers
• almond and cranberry KIND bars (thanks to Arielle who introduced them to me)
• Burt's Bees lip balm
• Starbuck's Cool Lime Refreshers
• Individual packs of almond butter
• scotch tape (the tape here is a little odd)
• yeast

She sent them in mid-July.  Based on the tracking information it arrived in Azerbaijan the next week and was identified as unclaimed as of the 29th of July.

In the meantime, I was checking every few days at my local post office.  My local post office is on the way to work and the woman who works there calls me when I have mail.  I would ask her about my package and she would let me know that it hadn't arrived yet.  All this is done in Azerbaijan.

Today was a slow day at work, so I decided to try to figure out where in Azerbaijan my package was.  First I decided to figure out if the postal code I had been given and had given out was correct.  Ended up it was not correct.  I have been getting letters so I thought perhaps packages have a different system. The postal code belonged to the closest city about 5km from my work.  Armed with this knowledge, I decided to leave work an hour early in an attempt to locate my package. I felt the need to tackle this task today since the next two days are holidays to mark the end of Ramadan and I wanted a treat going into my four day weekend.

So I headed out to catch a bus that would get me close to the post office in the city.  My first mistake, was not getting off the bus in time and/or indicating that I needed to get off at the beginning of the highway on-ramp.  I ended up heading toward Baku.  I got off at the next off-ramp and crossed over to catch the next bus back.  Unfortunately, I just missed a bus and ended up waiting about 30 minutes for the next one. At this point I had been on my quest for about an hour.  Caught the bus and got off for a six block walk to the post office.

Once I got to the post office, I was able to ask about my package, gave them the tracking number and it was determined that it was in the post office in my town.  Headed back six blocks and caught a bus to my post office.  Once there, no package. However, I was able to communicate what the clerk at the city post office told me.  Ends up there is another post office in my town. She called and of course my package was there.  By this time it was about 20 minutes before 5 and the post office closes at 5.  She explained where the post office was and wrote me directions.  At first I didn't understand. Once I took a deep breath I figured out where she wanted me to go.

Back to the bus. Got off at the stop indicated and asked two people for additional directions. The post office ended up around the back of buildings on the main street with no obvious signage.  Got there with five minutes to spare.  The clerk knew I was coming and welcomed me in English.  The computer wasn't cooperating so they got me a chair and ordered me to sit.  I saw pictures of her wedding and trip to the US.  Just before 5:30 I was send off with two packages and two letters.  They have my phone number, so I should know if other items arrive.

Back to the bus for a short ride to the stop for home.  Ends up I passed the post office my package was in three times in my quest today and who knows how many times since it arrived.  Two and a half hours after I started my journey I arrived home and got to see my memories of home. I shared some cookies with my host family.  The lemon cookies are a hit.

Next time the post office trip will take 45 minutes tops.  I learned a lot along the way and also discovered that my Azerbaijan is good enough to figure all this out.  Miracles do happen.

My treats are the best things ever to go into a long weekend with. 

Thanks go out to my wonderful sister for the package and to my friend Jo for the blood orange candy bar. 

Patti