Revolution #2

Saturday is winding down, and it's been an interesting, paradoxical few days. Since Karakol remains calm, I've mostly been out and about since Thursday at noon. As a precaution, I'm always with people from the school, and I return to my hotel before dark. Wednesday afternoon, there were peaceful protests in the Karakol main square to show support for the protesters in Bishkek, but other than that there has been no sign of unrest. This mirrors what happened in the “Tulip Revolution” of 2005 – in that case also Karakol was not a site of any violence. Eliza, the teacher hosting me, and several of the students I have talked to have characterized the people of Karakol as tending to mind their own business. The city is relatively more affluent than many parts of Kyrgyzstan, and thus did not suffer quite as much as the result of the political corruption and energy price increases that were the major causes for the protests to break out. It is also located in the far east of the country, closer to the border with China than to to the capital, Bishkek, furthering its sense of independence. So although I see pictures of violence and hear discussion of political upheaval on the news every night, it all seems a bit disconnected from what I have been up to each of the past few days. Although the 3 U.S. Peace Corps volunteers in Karakol have been ordered not to leave their homes since Wednesday, I have been able to continue with many parts of my itinerary. In many ways, I'm having quite a good experience.

My school was closed on Thursday, but reopened on Friday, although attendance was less than normal. Eliza and I taught lessons to 9^th and 10^th grade students, several of which were repeats of my Wednesday classes - a non-stop stream of questions from the students on a slew of topics. Classes at the school are on a sliding schedule, so not all classes meet every day, and not always at the same time of day. In each class someone asked what I thought of “the revolution,” and my response was to ask the students what they thought. Everyone who spoke up expressed satisfaction that Bakiyev had been de facto removed from office, although there were also expressions of uncertainty about what will happen next. The leader of the interim government worked at times for both of previous presidents, so it is not clear how much change she really represents. There seems to be near universal happiness that Bakiyev's removal means his family cronies go with him. His son is particularly loathed for forcefully taking over or selling off large pieces of the Kyrgyz economy. In Karakol, there is a small ski resort above the town, and he basically forced the owners to sell it to him. Refusing a buyout from him was apparently dangerous for one's health.

After school ended on Friday, Eliza and several of the students from Leadership restarted my walking tour of Karakol that had been cut short on Wednesday. The local museum was closed because of the political situation, but otherwise we were able visit the zoo (highlights: lynx and a griffin) the central market (anybody need a sheep?), and the Dungan mosque. The Dungan, one of a mind-boggling mix of ethno-religious groups in the region, are Muslims of Chinese descent (not to be confused with the local Uighurs, also Muslims who mostly live in modern China but are ethnically Turkic). The mosque is thus an interesting architectural mish-mash – with dragons in the eaves and other Chinese artistic flourishes, but also Arabic inscriptions on the interior and the standard patchwork of rugs one expects in a more typical mosque.

On Saturday, I went to school to do a teacher training session that is a required part of my TEA-IREX program. I was surprised to find the school full of kids; somehow, I had missed the fact that the school runs on Saturdays as well. I learned that in most cities in Kyrgyzstan, school is six days a week. Nonetheless, schedules had been rearranged so that twelve English teachers (10 from Karakol School #1, and 2 from a neighboring school) could attend the training session. We had a fun three hours together, as enough of my jokes managed to transcend cultural barriers, and (more importantly), the teachers enjoyed the opportunity for some professional development. Before I came here, I was aware at some level that teachers in Kyrgystan have a tough job, and being here has only emphasized that reality. A teaching salary here is so meager ( between 18-30$ a month) that becoming a teacher is not an economically rationale choice. All of the teachers live on the incomes of spouses and/or family, or their own side jobs. As a result of this fact, the demographics of the teaching profession are distorted in two ways. First, teachers are overwhelmingly women. In Karakol School #1, out of 102 teachers, 6 are males. Since there is still the expectation that the man should be the primary bread-winner for the family, why would one enter a profession that does not pay a survival wage? Age-wise, teachers are either quite old, or quite young. For the older teachers, there children are grown and they thus have less need to earn; they also learn slightly more because of their experience level (still below poverty level). Many of the older teachers live in extended-family units where they chip in a little with their salaries. For the younger teachers, they have not yet left their family homes; their families support them while they do what is essentially volunteer work. Teachers aged 30 to 50 are almost non-existent. Because of the collapse of wages, all throughout the 90s and 2000s, many former teachers left the country, or the profession for better paid work. Those who departed were often the most creative and skilled teachers. Just three weeks ago, two teachers left the school for Russia, where they'll make three times as much money in house-cleaning or other low-skilled jobs.

Given such a financial and human capital crisis in schools, teacher professional development is more-or-less non-existent. Schools cannot afford to pay for the costs of learning opportunities, and teachers rarely have the time to give to it since many try to supplement their incomes by teaching extra classes or helping with family agricultural work or businesses. As a result of all of this, the teachers were truly grateful for a chance to spend some time collaborating and learning.

In the afternoon, I was again escorted by an entourage of students, plus Eliza and her student teacher, for some touring about the area. We took a rickety bus – reminiscent of those I've ridden in Ecuador, the Philippines, and other corners of the globe – just out of town to a museum about Prezwalski, the Russian Lewis & Clark (rolled into one). He explored and surveyed throughout Central Asia in the second half of the 19^th century, before typhus did him in. He was buried near Karakol, at his request, and Karakol was actually renamed Preswalski from the 1940's until Kyrgyz independence. The museum was right up my alley, with oodles of old maps, photos, drawings, and navigation devices. And even though the museum was only opened up by an elderly lady when we arrived, a guide, perfectly fluent in English, appeared out of the ether to talk me through the entire place. Afterwards, we walked down to Lake Issyk-kul – still too cold for swimming – before heading back into town.