The Week of Being Careful What You Wish For (Part 1)

So I’m really starting to adjust better to living here. At first the lack of communication and the isolation were killing me, mainly I think because I wasn’t really expecting them. Now that I know what I’m working with, I’m beginning to figure out how to cope, and as a result, things aren’t so hard anymore. I would say I’m actually starting to enjoy being here.

Bagila came back on Monday and I was surprised at how happy I was to see her. Don’t get me wrong, I have always enjoyed Bagila’s company, but I didn’t realize how much I had bonded with her until she came back from her break and I felt like she’d been gone for years even though it was only a month.

This Tuesday started out very excitedly. I got to work and Shukerjan told me that I needed to grab my dental health lesson supplies because we were going to the school. I was so shocked, we were actually GOING? To the school? To teach? I was suddenly a little nervous. What if my lesson bombed after all of the waiting I’d been doing to teach it? I had little time for further pondering as Shukerjan dragged me out of the door and over to the school. We got there and the director told me that there currently weren’t any students to teach. Oh my, what a surprise. No students you say (again)? I couldn’t imagine… I was getting ready to accept defeat and as I was turning around, he asked me if I would be able to come back at 2pm, because there would be students then. I was shocked and elated, and walked out of his office thrilled with the prospect of my upcoming lesson.

Shukerjan took me on patronage to pass the time between then and two o’clock. I am fairly certain I’ve mentioned this term before, but just incase you’ve forgotten, patronage is how the Turkmen refer to a series of home visits by a doctor. In Turkmen medical culture, it’s far more common for a patient to have a doctor come to him or her, than to go to the doctors themselves. Shukerjan and I popped in on half a dozen Turkmen families and measured their babies, blood pressures, and other assorted odds and ends.

Another interesting aspect to “patronaja gitmek” (aka: going on patronage) is the food. I don’t know what it is, but Turkmen cannot stand to see someone not eating in their house, I think it makes them uncomfortable or something. When the doctors and nurses come on patronage, there is this frenzy of force-feeding that occurs. Tea and cookies is a given, and its considered rude if you don’t partake in those at the very least, but then they bring out the eggs, the soup, the cow parts, the bread, the fried food, the macaroni, and sometimes even a few rounds of vodka. Oh my goodness. I have a hard time going on patronage because after the first few houses you practically have to roll me out the door I’m so full.

So Shukerjan and I were in the middle of a medical-visit/meal combo in a home near to our clinic when one of the clinic’s doctors came running over and told Shukerjan that she needed to come to the clinic right away. When we got there, there was a big group of people from the overseeing hospital in the next city over and they were all waiting to do a shot audit. What is a shot audit, you ask? I can’t be sure if this is what they actually call it, but basically it’s the head hospital making sure our little clinic has been doing its job.

A few weeks ago, there was a big campaign to get everyone vaccinated with the MMR vaccine. It was countrywide, and a huge deal. The shot auditors had come to walk door to door with our doctors and make sure that everyone one in each of their respective territories had actually been administered the vaccine, like our records said they had. I sensed tedium coming on. Longer story shorter, I walked around with the shot auditors and Shukerjan while we spot-checked the houses in Shukerjan and Bagila’s territory. Even though everything went well, I couldn’t help that feeling like I was a little kid who had cheated on my history exam and was now hoping not to get caught. It wasn’t even me who was supposed to have given the shots, and I was practically sweating bullets. Ah, vicarious guilt.

The shot-auditing went on for a good two and a half hours before Shukerjan informed the hospital’s representatives that we would now be heading over to the local school to watch the American teach. I was quite pleased to be heading to the school until I realized that the entire auditing crew was accompanying us. It’s okay, right? No big deal if a bunch of important people from the overseeing hospital watch me teach my very first health lesson in Turkmen. I’m sure I will do wonderfully… I hope.

I got to the school and walked into my classroom of first graders. They all stared at me as if I was some alien being, freshly arrived, but at least they seemed quiet and well behaved. I began to dig around in my bag to set up my posters for my lesson, and realized as I stared into my bag with a sinking heart that I had left a pile of pictures and lesson vocabulary (including the words to the brush your teeth song) on my desk back at work. Oh crap. Ummm, time for plan B: improvisation.

I proceeded to fake my way through my healthy teeth lesson with a lot of “ums” and enthusiasm, hoping it would compensate for my lack of materials and correct word choice. I’m not sure if it worked. There was a point where I was pointing to the picture of molars, asking the first graders “what is that?” repeatedly, while all of them gave me blank stares and refused to answer. The sad thing is that I was asking them because I didn’t know the word for molar, not because I was testing their knowledge. In the end I just used the word “molar” and hoped they got the general point. It definitely could have gone better. All I know is that when the hour was up, I felt a bit like a performing circus monkey who was ready to go on coffee break. How do teachers do this every day for six hours?

The shot auditors gave me smiles on the way out, but they were less like “way to go” smiles, and more like the sympathetic smile you would give someone who just fell down the stairs. Headfirst. Sigh. I am so good at impressing people in positions of authority. I see a great career as a Turkmen teacher in my future.

Maybe I’ll do better next time? I hope there is a next time.