It's Official: Livin' the Dream.

I'm finally a full-fledged Peace Corps Volunteer. I know what you're thinking, "What?! Just NOW you're a volunteer? What the heck were you all this time that you've been over there?! Those are my tax dollars and you weren't even a volunteer yet?!"

Answer: No, no I wasn't. I was just a PCT-->Peace Corps Trainee.

On Friday, November 28th 2014, MAK 19 PCTs were sworn in as official volunteers...you may have read it on my Facebook.

Peace Corps director of Macedonia, Kathleen Corey (left),
Paul Wohlers (right)

       


My host brother Samed, host sister Azra, and future school principal were able to attend the event. Those people along with other volunteer's family members and counterparts from the village that I have gotten to know these past 3 months. The president of Macedonia came along with U.S. Ambassador Wohlers. My Albanian family was much more thrilled with the fact that the Ambassador was coming than they were about the president.  I was surprised they even knew the Ambassador's name! We all took pictures with him and our Peace Corps Director of Macedonia.

         We arrived and seeing everyone dressed up and excited, I cried a little bit. The speeches were wonderful and complimentary, and I cried. We got sworn in and took the oath that foreign diplomats and ambassadors take, and I cried so much.  I mean, what else is there to do except cry on giant, life-changing ceremonies?! I don't put a lot of stake in ceremonies, as it really is just a show and the real-work is done beforehand, and in this case will be done in the next 2 years.  It was just very symbolic and wonderful.

Such a wonderful group of people.

We couldn't have made it without the love, support, friendship, hard-work, and dedication of our amazing PST (Pre-Service Training) staff.  They really are an amazing group of individuals and I can't imagine any other post in the Peace Corps having staff that rocks like our staff rocks. Seriously. All 44 of us PCTs became PCVs due to their commitment to us. So I thank them for all they've done. Благодарам (blah-go-da-rahm) and Faleminderit!

And I suppose I need to thank you, reader. If you're reading this I hope it's because you care about me and you aren't just a weirdo or stalker or something. (I have yet to get any weird things mailed to me, so I think I'm in the clear.) Thank you for your support, be it big or small.  I feel loved from all you people back home.  Being able to follow your dream, doing something good for the world with an organization that you truly believe in...all while having the love, support, and companionship of friends and family? That's incredible, and I'm truly living the dream.

Dobroshte group--including our 2 LCFs (language and cultural facilitators), the PC director, and the US Ambassador.

The girls of my language classes during PST, they also lived in Albanian homes.

Nuse Shqiptarë

One night I went over to my cousin's house and we played "Dress up the American". I wore 3 different, traditional Albanian Nusë (bride) outfits, called Dimija.  PLUS another cousin was there who works as a professional hair and makeup artist for weddings, so I got the works done! Hair, makeup, clothes, shoes, and accessories. So much fun was had by all.  There was laughing. Some laughter. More laughing. Oh, and 2,752 pictures were taken of me. Here are a few for you to enjoy.

With hair done, awaiting makeup.

Copious amounts of makeup. 

I just stood there and they dressed me. So many parts, so much cloth.

Gold on gold on gold.

Traditional way to greet others, instead of just shaking their hand and kissing their cheeks. It's like an up-down, up-down hand motion.

We're dancing the Valle. It's the traditional dance, and typically the only dance done at weddings...for all 5-6 hours. It's about 8 counts and quite simple. 

I tried to be more traditional by not smiling, and also by folding my hands like that.

It's traditional for a bride to wear her dimija and wedding dresses for up to a year after her wedding, and it's common for her to be the one serving the guests.

Fleas vs. Cuddle time

My desire to love all the street dogs is constantly battling my equally strong desire to not get, and consequently give, my family fleas (among other diseases).

*Side note: I know it’s been a while since I posted...and I feel like this might be a regular thing, although I would like to try and stick to a “at-least-once-every-two-weeks schedule”. We’ll see if I’m able to stick to that; I also keep a hand-written diary/journal, and so when I’m behind on that, plus this, and then I write that, I find I have little interest in recounting the same things here.  I will try my best to keep this blog updated, as I know I have millions upon millions of readers interested in knowing what’s happening in my life here in Macedonia.*

Something I’ve wanted to share for a while has been about the dogs and puppies that roam the streets here. There are quite a few stray dogs roaming the streets, and my American heart is sensitive to seeing their plight.  I’m having a hard time with it as an animal lover.  The treatment of animals in general here is one of my self-identified cultural challenges I’m facing.

Some cultural background:

Owning dogs here isn’t that common, yet it’s becoming more common in the cities and mostly among ethnic Macedonians, and very rarely among ethnic Albanians.  In Islam, dogs are considered dirty, and animals aren’t seen as pets, but rather what they are: animals.  Animals don’t live inside, they live outside.  I found out recently that my current family “had” a cat for twelve years! It never came inside and they just fed it their extra food...for twelve years. Naturally (from an American perspective), my interest was piqued and I asked them, 

“Aww! What was its name?”  

“It didn’t have a name.”

“Ummm....what? What do you mean?! What did you call it?!”

“Cat.”

I met this cat in Glodji and named him 1.2 minutes later. His name is "Miku" which means "Friend" in Albanian. He's SO nice and just looking at him causes him to purr. His best assets are his cuddliness, cleanliness, and lack of fleas. I hope he is still at my future site when I move there in a couple weeks.

My wise father pointed out that giving animals names definitely humanizes them and that’s just not a common practice in my Muslim, Albanian village. It’s strange to me because every stray that I meet I’ve given a name. My family thinks I’m insane and worries for my safety constantly; they definitely believe that all the “wild” dogs here are very evil and will bite you. 

O contraire!

Scrappy. So happy, so hopeful, so friendly.

Bonnie (another PCV) and I are the major dog lovers in our group here and so we’ve pet, like, all the dogs. None of them are clean, most aren’t that dirty, and all of them are THE NICEST DOGS EVER. Our families really don’t believe us and they are terrified of the dogs here–irrationally terrified.  The main reason they don’t like us girls going out after dark is because the dogs are out and will bite us. We’ve tried telling them how nice they are, and after a little over two months here, I think they’re getting the message...not that their fears have lessened for themselves. It’s a start.

The highlight of the stray dogs here have been the adorable puppies that had moved in next to our school and stayed there for about three-four weeks.  We named them: Storm (he has mutant toes and Storm is a mutant from X-men), Lulëstrydhë (strawberry in Albanian, “Lule” for short, which means flower), Tia (the runt of the litter), Chunk (after Chunk from the Goonies, he’s the biggest), and Polo (he was always wandering, so his name came from Marco Polo).  The mom’s name is Lili and she’s very very sweet. I love them all and couldn’t get enough of them. Except I never held them close to me, always rolled up my sleeves, and vigorously scrubbed my hands and forearms afterwards (yes, I’m aware that fleas jump 20 ft. or so, but they also don’t leave their host very often...so, silver lining!). Someone in the community also likes them because they built this really cute little shelter next to the school so they could get out of the rain.

Please enjoy this video about some of the dogs (mainly puppies) in Dobroshte that I made.  It contains much better quality and content and waaayyyy more cuteness than my previous cow sacrifice video. Waayyyy cuter. At one point around the 0:40 mark, there's a horrifyingly cute moment where ALL the puppies start scratching themselves at once...so...many...insects all over them. 

It was hard sometimes when we were in our language classes, because children would get out of school and “play” with the puppies. We don’t always know what they did to them, but we would occasionally hear the puppies yelping and it would just break our hearts.  We yelled at them as best as we could in Albanian, and it always came out as “No! They are puppies. They are babies. Be careful! No *motion throwing rocks, point at sticks*. No. No.” The children got better with the pups and after watching them play and “yelling” at them, we came to see that their intentions were generally good but sometimes a little misguided. Through example we were able to model how to appropriately play with the dogs.

SAD NEWS ALERT! Don't read if you are happy and want to stay that way.















No seriously, it's sad.


















I did warn you. Just sayin'.

Unfortunately it breaks my heart to report that after we had our site visits to our future families for three days, we came back and there were only two puppies left: Polo and Lulë.  We talked to some local kids and one girl told us that one was hit by a car, one drowned in the ditch, and they don’t know about the other one...he “probably drowned too”.  This is why you should never love things. My roomie Anne Fox tried to explain this to me for many years, and I never listened. 

To end on a happy note: I've been flea- and insect-free the whole time here (knock on wood)! 

 Moral of the story: pet all the dogs and cats, just don't let them touch your clothes and wash your hands afterwards.

Contacting me: Address and emergencies

Wanna send me a package? Or better yet, a letter?

Here's what ya gotta do.

If you want to send me anything, please email me, contact me on Facebook, or ask my parents. I know, sorry for not writing my address. This is a public blog after all, and our Safety and Security manager, Goce, would criticize me for not being vigilant...but I'll give it out privately.

Packages

       It's very important that you don't claim a lot of value if you send a package (it's expensive,  to send, so just be warned), please DON'T put any more than $15-$20.  The customs fees for me are so expensive if it's more.  If you do send new items, just make sure to take the tags off of them and claim them as old items.  So there you have it. I don't know how people get mail in my tiny village of Pershevcë as there aren't street signs or house numbers.  I think the town is just small enough that the mailman knows where everyone lives, but I'm not quite sure.

Other ways to contact me include Facebook, iMessage, Whatsapp, Viber, and email. I'm pretty connected to the internet here--which is both good and bad. If you would like my phone numbers or email or anything, please find me on Facebook and private message me. My iMessage and Whatsapp are the same number as before, my Viber is my Macedonian number (this number can also be given out privately, if you so desire it).

Emergency

This next part is mainly for family, but in case of an emergency: 

Peace Corps headquarters toll-free number: 855-855-1961

Press 1 for <Counseling and Outreach Unit> 

(family emergencies; to get information to a volunteer overseas.) Available 24 hours

Extension number: 1470

(Direct phone number: 202-692-1470)

The people at this number will get any information you need to relay to me to the people who need to know, who will then be able to contact me/get me home if need be.  Even if you've contacted me through a different medium, this is still a good number to have.

Kurban Bajram

     Kurban Bajram or Eid al-adha can be translated as “Feast of the Sacrifice” is a major Muslim holiday.  It honors Abraham who promised to sacrifice his son Ishmael to God, before God intervened and gave him a lamb to sacrifice instead.  In honor of this sacrifice, many families here will sacrifice an animal.  In my village there are more cows sacrificed, yet some sheep were sacrificed. It fell on Saturday, October 4th this year. 

For Dobroshtë and my Albanian Muslim family leading up to that Saturday there was much anticipation and preparation. So much cleaning took place! My whole family and I pitched in to help with various chores in the few days leading up to the holiday, but most of it was done by my incredible and hard-working host sister, Amire.  She cleaned the house top to bottom--everything from windows to walls to carpets.  I figured out why the carpets here are just laid across the floors and not “installed” in a typical sense like we would think; the carpets are hand-washed, outside, with the hose.  Amire rolled up one of the main carpets and placed it outside, sprinkled it with laundry detergent, sprayed it with the hose, hand scrubbed it with a little broom-cleaner-thing, then washed it out with the hose, and hung it up to dry.  It was a very labor-intensive process and I respect her for doing all that hard work.  

She's fantastic.

Additionally all the floors were vacuumed--the kitchen-area carpet was maybe vacuumed 6 times, by just about every individual in the house in the day leading up to- and the day of Bajram.  We also scrubbed the kitchen chairs with a whole lotta dish soap and a sponge. The curtains were washed, the linens taken down from drying, and the Baklava was made. We were ready.

I went into it not knowing exactly what to expect except (say that ten times fast) lots of small misafiri (visits) and food. 

Breakfast of champions.

We started out at 8:00 am, after the men got back from something that happened at the mosque that started at 6:00 am, eating breakfast.  This breakfast is a large breakfast with warm, cooked food...and it’s the one of two days throughout the year that they don’t drink çaj rusi (russian tea), but rather Turkish kafe.  With barely enough time to finish our meal of soup, rice, chicken, potatoes, cabbage salad and vegetables, the misafirs started to come.  My family gave me the task of offering a bowl of candy to our guests--I wanted to help, plus everyone thought it was cute that “The American” was helping.  

Homemade--another blog post will be dedicated to just this delicious pastry.

The visits really did only last 5-15 minutes, and most were made by men, because the women stay at home preparing the drinks and serving the baklava; every house had baklava.  When we started going out and making our rounds to different homes, I was quickly eating my way to diabetes with all the sugary, syrupy baklava.  Don’t get me wrong, it was delicious, but oh dear lord the sugar.  Thank goodness I drink my tea without sugar.

A misafir--I spoke German to the man next to my host dad. I've been able to use my German a lot as a lot of people here can speak German, and sometimes assume, based on my appearance, that I am German.  He smokes, and even though there's no smoking in our home (he told me "Hier, rauchen ist verboten!"), he still lit up. I was perplexed by this behavior, but it seemed like what used to happen in the US when smoking was more widespread.

Albanian siblings! (Samed, Azra, Unë, Amire)

A cousin in traditional bridal clothes. 

Another new bride in a different, traditional Albanian style bridal gown.
New brides will wear their wedding dresses for up to a year after
getting married when they have visitors over.

This is the more traditional dress that we're used to in
the US that she would've worn for the actual ceremony. 

**Warning: "graphic" descriptions and a short video of sacrificed cows**

     The highlight of my day by far would be that I got to witness them sacrificing a cow.  We happened to arrive at their cousin’s home where there was already one small-looking cow that they had already killed and were skinning and starting to get it ready to get its meat.  A few things stood out: 

          –They cut the neck really deep to kill the animal, I assume for a faster death. Looking at the cow it was cut basically through everything and that just surprised me.

          –It is something they are definitely accustomed to here in the village and I don’t think they often kill their cows for meat, and they are more for producing milk.  However there were a few children helping, watching, or just being in the vicinity. 

          –The men seemed to be expertly skinning the animal.  It completely reminded me of when we skinned our cats in biology class--almost exactly.  I think because of my biology exposure to dead animals (even though they were way smaller) and having lived with a veterinarian roommate for 4 years, this didn’t gross me out.

          –The only part that did kinda give me the heebie-jeebies was when they started snapping off the legs at the knee joint.

     Then the “REAL” cultural experience took place as I was able to witness the entire process of a cow sacrifice.  If you don't want to watch the video (which took me a really long time to put together, so you better watch it), here’s what happened: 

1. Tie the cow’s head to a tractor, march it out onto the designated spot.
2. Tie more ropes around it and then get it to lie down on its side.
3. Keep the cow calm and on its side, hold your part of the rope fast if she kicks out or moves.
4. Talk in a lot of Albanian about things and then keep talking, making the American wonder what is going on and why this is taking so long.
5. Get the knife that was hiding and quickly cut the cow’s throat.
6. Scoop up the blood with a shovel into the nearby, 3 foot hole that was dug for to put things into.
7. Wait for the animal to die.
8. Be surprised when you think it’s over and then a final burst of energy happens, and then it’s really over.
9. It lasted about 15 minutes.

VIDEO

It is "graphic" but because I was filming from the posterior of the cow, and at a little bit of a distance, you don't actually see any of the actual slicing and dicing of the live animal.  There is a dead cow that you see being prepared, and it isn't much more than you would see in a butcher store...but the context is a little different. I really did work on it for a while, so I hope you enjoy it!

The Udder

A short essay

     It was surprisingly not that emotional for me to watch, and I think that was mainly due to the fact that I couldn’t exactly see the lifeblood draining from the cow.  It was all a very peaceful experience and I’m very grateful that the cow wasn’t crying out or struggling, which would’ve made it a lot more emotionally hard to handle.  The whole event was much more peaceful than I had anticipated, and was also a lot less formal than I thought it would be. It was also done as humanely as anything of that nature could be done, it was performed in the name of God, and it will feed many people with little waste--any extras get thrown into the “blood hole” in the ground.  

     The one thought I couldn't get out of my head the whole time was, "What are they going to do with the udder?" I couldn't get it out of my mind, and that was mostly because it was clearly full. Some milk even spilled out onto her leg and I couldn't stop thinking of it.  I couldn't stop thinking of the symbolism of the milk that brings life, and the sacrifice that I was witnessing.  Did they drink the milk? Did they discard it? How long does it take for milk to go bad in that kind of situation? What about the actual udder? 

     By the time we left and were walking home, I was just trying to process it all. I was thinking about why I wasn't upset, thinking maybe I was in shock, thinking of possible things they did with the udder, feeling exhausted from worrying about the cow, and mostly just wondering about the udder.  Once I actually thought of voicing my udder-related questions out loud, it seemed too weird to bring up, and I feared that I wouldn't like the answer.  So I still don't know what happened to that udder, and maybe some day I will.  I kinda like the fact that it's a little shrouded in mystery.

Familja Shqiptare

I am loving it here in Macedonia, and that’s in large part due to my amazing host family.  They are so kind, loving, and open.  I have been accepted in their home from day one as another member of their family.  Literally, one of the first things communicated between the parents and me was “Now you’re one of us!” Except there was a lot less English, more Shqip (Albanian, pronounced: sh-ch-eep), and lots of hand gestures and blank stares from me.  This is still how most of our communication is done, with a few personal pronouns, “dua” or “kam” (want, have), and various common nouns thrown into the mix.

Në shtepi/home

For my PST (Pre-Service Training) site, I’m in Dobroshtë/доброште (about 20 minutes from Tetovo where we had our orientation week) and I will be here until the day after Thanksgiving, when I’ll be moved to my permanent site for the next two years.  Dobroshtë is a mixed community of 97% Albanians, and 3% Macedonians, with a population of about 3.000 (their comma use is flipped with periods).  It’s definitely a small town and the two ethnic communities’ sides of the town are divided by a bridge--oh the symbolism.  The Macedonians are predominantly Christian Orthodox and the Albanians are predominantly Muslims.  I see some similarities in their tensions/divisions with each other and the ones we have in America between White and Black Americans and Americans and Latinos.  Not the same, and I don’t know enough about the conflict here, except that in 2001 Peace Corps had to be evacuated because fighting between the 2 groups broke out and a mini-“war” ensued; about 200 people died and about 35 of the deaths happened here...or so rumor has it.  I’m sure I will here more about this and when it comes to any sort of Macedonian political matters, PCVs are neutral and not allowed to express an opinion as we are literally here for peace and to help the locals.

Our ideal of the bridge, which we have named "The Friendship Bridge"

_______________________________

I live with a Muslim, Albanian family/Familija Shqiptare.  I have a mom and dad (Imerzatë and Qemal)--about my parents’ age--and three siblings: Amire (34), Samed (28), and Azra (22).  They have another 36 year old sister who’s married and living in Denmark.  My siblings all speak varying levels of English and we haven’t really had any problems communicating.  I’m definitely another motra/sister and I’m already really close with Amire and Azra.  Qemal (pronouned chay-mall) is probably the smiliest man I have ever met, and when he smiles his whole face becomes one giant wrinkle that make his eyes all but disappear.  Imerzatë is incredibly sweet and is constantly worried about how cold I am; she can’t believe I walk around in a t-shirt with no socks on, when she has 3 layers of sleeves on because she’s always cold.  She also loves salt and puts it on everything--Mom, sound familiar? The whole Maksuti family is incredible and I can’t wait to spend the next three months with them! 

Nëna/Mom 

Baba/Dad

Kjo quhet Azra. Ajo është motra shqiptare ime.

Kjo quhet Amire.  Ajo është motra shqiptare ime gjithashtu.

Funny moments me familija ime:

**This was literally my first moment in my new home.  Amire had come pick me up and brought me back home to meet the family.  I knew all about the kisses on the cheeks as a standard greeting between women; I’ve greeted people like this in Spain, Kuwait, France, and various other locations.  The only difference between those kisses and the ones here is the very simple fact that I’ve always gone right first...and here they go left.  So as I went in to greet my new host-mom (the very first person I greeted), we both went the same way, then awkwardly  and nervously tried to accommodate the other--all while in continuous motions towards one another.  You can imagine what happened: I kissed my host-mom. Full on. Right on the lips.  

Oh the embarrassment. 

Thankfully, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, my family has never brought it up, yet it garnered plenty of laughter in those first few awkward moments.

**Winter is coming. 

No one gets this reference, but we say it all the time now because we’re actually preparing for the coming winter.  Amire, Samed, and I chopped about 23 kilos of cucumbers and 23 kilos of carrots--it took us about 3.5 hours.  It was really fun because we all bonded and laughed the whole time about one thing or another.  Our humor translates really well, which is nice.  

Winter is coming.

Sister bonding. When you peel the carrots there is so much water that splashes on your face, so we decided instead of avoiding the splash back, that we'd get it on our faces because it's a natural juice and probably good for you.

So many carrots. So. Much. Chopping.

We got tired of all the cucumbers...after chopping one carrot, we missed the cucumbers.  They are so soft and sliceable, ya know?

So we’re busy chopping, peeling, and washing vegetables when Azra comes downstairs from studying (she has her final exams to graduate college with a major in Pharmaceuticals) and in English she exclaims: 

“Wow! Samed! You’re actually working. Stacie, he never works or does anything around here.” 

To which Samed rolls his eyes and tells me, “Azra is a liar.”

I respond, “Well, looks to me like he’s doing all the work and you’re doing nothing.” 

That was the time I received my first fist bump from Samed and high fives were to be had all around.  Tears from laughing ensued.  Sass translates very well.

Samed and I were chopping buddies. 

Winter is coming, but we are ready.

Ready for winter.

**Eating dinner with the family one night, there was raw pepper from the garden on the table (a common occurence...yum!), and Qemal took a piece of the spec and said something and made a gesture towards his face.  Azra told me he said:

“Here we say that if you eat a lot of peppers, it will make you beautiful.”

Without missing a beat I replied, “Oh, I don’t need peppers.”

Seriously, sass translates well.