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A teacher and friend in Kazakhstan
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From August 2006 to October 2008, I lived and worked in Kazakhstan as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Over those two years, I met quite a few incredible locals. This is the story of one such character.
It was an especially cold winter during my second year in the Peace Corps. I had recently moved into an apartment where I lived alone with a cat. As the temperature dropped, I found myself struggling to stay warm. I heated my bedroom with a space heater, quickly closing the door to keep the heat from dispersing about the spacious apartment. When the electricity worked, my room felt warm, perhaps even warm enough to only wear long underwear. When my power went out for a week straight, I found myself in dire straits.
Luckily, I had been working with a generous local teacher named Nilufar. She lived near my school, with her parents and older brother. I had been invited over frequently to dine on Uzbek plov, or plau, which is a rice and mutton dish traditionally served in the southern part of Kazakhstan. Her brother, who helped run the family’s small corner shop, always plied me with ice cream in the warm months and hot tea in the cold ones.
As soon as Nilufar heard about my plight, she invited me to spend the rest of the cold weeks at in house in her brother’s room. Although I greatly valued my independence, I felt that for survival’s sake I had to agree. I spent the next ten days hanging out with Nilufar’s family. Her brother loved to show off his hard rock collection. In Tashkent, he had purchased the complete anthologies of Metallica, Black Sabbath, Queen, and other iconic rock groups. I never met a single person in all of Central Asia who so thoroughly enjoyed rock music. Ten days later as the temperature began to rise, I found myself sad to leave.
In addition to her family’s unparalleled hospitality, Nilufar was an excellent teacher. As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I was supposed to help local teachers use more exciting and interactive methods with their students. Instead, I found myself trying to emulate Nilufar’s every pedagogical move. She was able to inspire her students with an excitement for learning English so much so that it pushed me harder to understand the nuances of my own native tongue.
When I first stepped into her classroom of sixth graders, I was amazed at the ability, their confidence, and their deep respect for their young teacher. Nilufar had taken this rambunctious group of twelve year olds and turned them into students thirsting for knowledge. Over the years that I spent with them, I helped Nilufar guide them through projects on English history, a fairy-tale inspired series of plays, and countless games and exercises.
As I watched Nilufar’s children progress into the seventh grade, I grew deeply attached to them. They often came by my office to say hello, popping their smiling faces into my door to see what I was doing. When the time came for me to leave, I struggled to say goodbye to Nilufar, so thankful that she had introduced me to her family and her talented students.
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