Кеннет Балла
А/Я № 2
Акколь, Акмол. обп.
Казахстан (Kazakhstan)
020100

That’s my address if anyone wants it. It’ll be that for the next few years so… My PO Box is number two. There are only 20 boxes in my town.

Anywho, here’s a new update because I know everyone is jonesing real hard for one. I don’t really get any reliable internet access here so I haven’t been able to post anything. I wrote something once. Then another thing after Thanksgiving, than another thing. Then deleted those and wrote something else. And then I ended up with nothing and was like meh whatever but then I heard complaints about me not updating so here it comes. This is all newly written for conciseness and I don’t include all of the nitty gritty details.

Things are good.

Okay here’s the real update: The biggest news in my life is that the Mets got rid of Aaron Heilman. That man has been a plight against the team for about 5 years now. Besides me commenting on the Mets, because I’m sure that is the thing you came to read on this site, I will now update things about my life in Kazakhstan. I took a different approach to writing this time, mostly due to an excess of free time that I entertain on Friday afternoons. I hope you like it.



I left off last time with a sense of uncertainty; a foreboding ending that mentioned a trip across the boundless Central Asian Steppe to a small village named Akkol in northern Kazakhstan. Situated in the heart of Akmola Oblast and located ninety minutes from the shining star of Kazakhstan, Astana, and only four hours from the oblast center of Kokshetau, this small village pleaded to their government for help. They needed a savior from America to assist their children with learning English, so they too could one day live the American dream. I, along with the Peace Corps, heeded their call and was on my merry way to this quaint village. Everything seemed to be going well as I anxiously awaited my stop along the rail line that stretches across the entire range of former Soviet latitudes. I sat there contemplating my final week of training….


That final week in Kaskelen finished with my Russian language exam; an awkward, VERY HOT EDIT-like banya experience between the boys of Kaskelen training group and a wonderfully appalling swearing-in ceremony. Just when everything seemed to climax to the point of unbridled ecstasy due to fun fornicating with chaos, we learned that one of our beloved friends, A.C., had some bad news for us. He was bound for his hometown in Georgia. Not exactly shocked (he informed us before hand it may come to this) and slightly sad, we said our goodbyes and he left us for probably forever. However, he deferred his entrance into Medical School for Peace Corps so he’ll be able to start that soon. I responded to my emotional upheaval like a woman. I went shopping. I bought a wonderful pair of fur-lined boots to keep my feet toasty in the winter and afterwards I trekked across the town to the Casa de Drew. Along the way I stopped at Sagar’s to see what was up. He responded with an invite to his banya and I indulged myself to his request. Others were there. We all piled into the small room and stripped off our clothes. It was hot. I sat in the antechamber staring into the inner room through slats in the wooden door. The heat radiated across my body and I started to sweat. I felt my skin melting and soon the lights broke due to the immense heat. We were sitting there in the wooden shack baking as in an oven. As I bore my burden of pain and heat which in turn cleansed me, I was able to listen to the inner room to hear the faint cries and moans of Drew as his body boiled beneath his fair skin and he cried out to us to open the door for the handle was too hot on his side to open. We left soon afterwards and Sagar’s mom forced food upon us. I had to politely refuse. After banya it’s too hard to eat. Я хотил толко спать. I only wanted to sleep.

I fought the exhaustion and trekked to Drew’s house. Upon reaching the front door his host mom bombarded me with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. She then started to prepare a feast for us. She was wishing us all farewell with an exquisite dinner of plov and vodka. Drew, Sagar, Tobin, A.C. and myself each made a toast, to health and peace and friendship, and drank a plethora of vodka. We didn’t want any more when Drew’s host mother called us and our party lame for not keeping up with her and drinking more. She stared us down with loving scorn and then proceeded to leave to visit a better, more exciting party. We couldn’t keep up with her so she had to pass us by; it was probably for the best. I may have been living in the land where vodka flows where the rivers do not but I cannot drink it like a fish. We celebrated the rest of the evening by cheering about Obama’s victory and playing poker while listening to rap music thinking we were in the USA. Late that night I attempted to get home but late in the evening there were no cabs so eventually I had to call for one. As the driver picked me up in his sketchy Lada from the Soviet era, I thought to myself that this may be our last time having an evening like that even though we have two years left. It was true, A.C. left two days later.

I came home to a locked gate and had to hop the fence and dodge the malevolent Russian wolfhound which is chained near the easiest part of the fence to climb over. It was great that my family noticed that I wasn’t at home and kept the gate unlocked, oh wait, they never noticed when I was there, why would they note the opposite? I spent my final full day packing and finishing my last Russian language class with Anya and going over in my head what I had experienced and accomplished throughout training. I didn’t feel like much. But apparently I can speak Russian now, introduce myself and name animals and vegetables in Kazakh, and am a qualified teacher, at least up to the standards of the Peace Corps mission which states that they would only send qualified workers overseas to help those countries in need. The next day I awoke before dawn to get a taxi to the pickup point. I joined the rest of my group with my luggage and awaited the bus to our ceremony. We eventually arrived there and were greeted by our Peace Corps superiors and sat through the speeches that were given to us. That is when there was a sound of thunder off in the distance and we knew something terrible was imminent. Our new US Ambassador came to the stage and started to speak about the US Government’s role in Kazakhstan. Point by point he would refute myths of the government’s role there to the host country diplomats and officials. His speech turned a corner that created the Peace Corps into a political entity and then attempted to reassure the diplomats and government officials of Kazakhstan that we are not spies and they should not watch us because our main motive is to teach English and is not to teach anti-Russian/Chinese sentiments while stealing all their precious oil, uranium and caviar. Now my confused mind can’t comprehend what I’m doing here, if only someone would tell the truth! (ASIDE - I’m just pointing this out so I don’t get owned by anyone; the dude’s speech was uncalled for and he exploited our ceremony for his own goals because he is insecure in his position due to the fact that he was recently appointed to it and has not been able to make a significant speech to many of the host country’s officials until this moment, we aren’t spies, there would be nothing for me to possibly spy on except children in school and how much better they are at walking on sheets of ice than I am). He ignored us in his speech and then fled directly after he finished. Half the volunteers refused to shake his hand when we received our pins and I’m surprised that no one stood up and walked out midway through his speech. Well after that, we had some delicious cake! And it was good. I said peace out to Shynar (not to the rest of that host family, they just kind of ignored me and didn’t even say goodbye) with a hug and a wave. I wished her good luck on her journey down the road of life. As soon as the reception was finished I got on that train….

…It took about 24 hours. Along the train line I saw a lot of nothing and the coming of snow. The mountains and warmth were gone for the last time. The next morning I woke up and looked out my compartment window again but this time I did not get lost in thought. I saw snow flurrying down across Karaganda. It was beautiful. It created a startling winter wonderland of snow covered land for as far as the eye could see. As I stared out across that sea of snow with its snow drifts roaring in the distance like waves on the ocean, I realized that this would be the next two years of my life. The train screeched to a halting stop. We were in a city – Karaganda. I helped Jessie with her bags and said goodbye; she was the first one of us to start her new life. Working my way back to the train I made a snowball, it woke Jenny up from her peaceful sleep. I warned her not to slap me awake while I slept on the train however she did not heed it. She wasn’t even upset with me, it was too good. Half a day later I helped the other Jessie off in Shortandy and told her I’d see her soon. She refers to me as her site mate even though we live an hour away from each other and there is no public transportation to each other’s village. I guess it’s because we’re the only two people near our little sector of the world that can speak English. I waited patiently for the next stop, mine, and was told by the conductor that the train was running late so I would only have one minute at my stop because the village isn’t significant enough for the usual two minutes that are allowed at my stop. I replied with “ok, let’s rock and roll” and placed my luggage near the door as she stared blankly at me wondering what I muttered in a foreign tongue. As the train pulled in I said goodbye to my last six friends that were still on their journey and threw my bags into the snow banks along the tracks and jumped off as the train started rumbling down the iron highway, out of my site for the last time. Standing there for a few moments as the snow accumulated around me, I came to the realization that I really didn’t have any idea of what I was supposed to do at this point. I made it through training and then I proceeded across the country and knew I was like 95% done so I stopped worrying. Now I needed to finish the last 5% – make it home. It was cold. Through the falling snow I saw a figure. Valentina. I should have known she would be there. In the recesses of my mind, though, I didn’t think she would come. She never answered my calls. She must’ve got the message from someone else. She had her son’s car and drove me to my new home. I reached my new home and carried in my luggage. Galina welcomed me inside with plenty of food, ranging from a variety of dried fruits to beshbarmak and a banya which was sahara-like in its heat output, or should I say it boils like the magmatic seas of Venus with its one hundred plus degrees of centigrade searing throughout the room. There’s no steam though, so it’s bearable. And feels great. With the -10 degree weather outside, I was able to run out from the banya into the snow to shock my system into life. Feeling alive, for maybe the first time in my life, I used the snow like a sponge to deftly scrub away the dirt from the train…and my past. Then I rested.

There was no school that first week until Thursday. I did my paperwork and met police chiefs and mayors and the head of the education board and got all of those small details worked out. When I was bored on my days off I spent time in the forest that borders my village on its northern and westernmost borders. I explored a park that has an abandoned playground with a Ferris wheel. The way the icicles hung from the carriages with the background of a frozen forest is stunning in the sunlight. The whole park twinkled like all the stars in heaven. Everything else was frozen and the streets were covered in ice which made it difficult to walk. One Sunday I was returning from the bus station after a trip outside the village. I fell really hard. As I lay on the ground looking up I saw all the stars in the sky. Here in the midst of nowhere, where two continents collide, the earth is serene and at peace. No pollution taints its splendid air. I can taste the freshness that surrounds me and with its energy I rise from my prone position to continue my hike home.


How was that? More or less entertaining than usual? leave feedback. I had more but it was seriously like almost twenty pages in word so I’m just gonna cut it there. heh
I teach about twenty classes every week. 5th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th and 11th grades. The 5th graders get class four times a week and their level of English is actually not that bad for their age. I have a 9th grader that may be doing the FLEX program for his 10th grade (America 11th grade – only 11 grades in KZ) so he could be in America next fall. He speaks English and the program is free but very hard to get accepted into but he passed the first three rounds and is in the final round now. Disciplinary problems are my major problems when I’m teaching a class by myself. I introduced giving poor grades to misbehaving and disrupting students which they don’t appreciate but it keeps them in line better than usual. Normally, they’ll spend the class fighting or yelling or doing something troublesome. I let them fight in the hallway between classes and don’t care if they do as long as they aren’t doing it in my classroom. Plus, I’m not very effective at yelling in Russian. It’s actually not a big deal, that’s just what kids do here. Most of the time they aren’t serious fights. Only once, recently, I had a student come in with a black eye and I was like, well I guess he got his ass kicked fo’ sho’. I just want to point out that teaching is an easy job but time consuming. Not knocking teachers though, they have the patience of angels to deal with this many rambunctious children six days a week. Most of my students are well behaved and are interesting; they all attempt to talk to me about various things that include American music, games, relationships, English, my likes and dislikes, Kazakhstan, America and traveling.

I read, study Russian, and play the piano at home in my free time. Sometimes I watch Russian television but it is still hard to understand. Most of the time, when I do watch TV, I will either watch sports or music videos (only 1 sports channel but up to 5 music video channels can be on at once). My Russian tutor quit so my host mom is attempting to teach me Russian grammar and syntax and those sorts of things. In general, my life is pretty quiet and laid back. I do my work and some extra and it takes up a lot of my time.

Thanksgiving was fun. I went to Zerenda with eighteen Peace Corps volunteers. We had an epic feast of turkeys and stuffing and pumpkin pies. We talked in English and partied and cooked and hung out and played football. It was great. We all did this big banya together in which I actually got injured – burns from boiling steam because too many of us were there and it was too hot for a Russian banya (it was like sunburn on my knees). I’m healed now though, so no harm no foul. I met the volunteers that have been around here for the past year which was good. (Here’s a clip of what was in the narrative account of this part of my month: I sat in the antechamber and listened to Dante. I looked at him with his cigarette sitting limply in his hand as the pungent smell of tobacco filled the air. The empty bottle of vodka was sitting on its side on the bench nearest the door. He was talking about nothing and everything all at once. As he was connecting his seemingly nonsensical topics together to form a thought provoking idea, Tim barged into the room bringing the conversation to a jarring halt. He wanted to make a toast. In Russian, of course. We accepted his request knowing what we were talking about was gone and in the past and in our semi-intoxicated state we would never be able to return to that moment and continue. We patiently listened deciphering his meaning behind the complicated tongue and realized it was a Thanksgiving toast. Dedicated to us, the volunteer…) I went to Kokshetau one weekend too with Sagar, Jessie, Jenny, Aaron and Andrew. We danced and stuff it was fun.

Two Sundays a month I spend in Astana at the Kazakh Medical Academy, which is run by the Ministries of Health and Education. I have an English club and give lectures with Jessie but she didn’t come to the latest meeting and I did them on my own. There are about fifty people in the club but at the last meeting only thirty were there due to it being a holiday weekend and it was me with twenty seven college girls which is good. The guy that runs it is very interesting. His name is Talgat, speaks almost perfect English and has never been to an English speaking country in his life. He drives a sweet Lexus, is on the board for the English Faculty at the university and is only twenty eight. He buys me lunch and things like that for going to help out. He wants me to join the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Club/MMA Club with him but it’s on Saturdays and I have work so I can’t. I’m pretty sure I would be a huge hit there too, like who wouldn’t want to wail on an American for fun. One visit in Astana involved me doing a little sightseeing. I went to the Baiterek – the big monument that is a golden egg atop the white stick thing. At the top inside is an impression of President Nazarbaev’s hand and you can put yours next to his to see the size of his. From that position you can look down across all of Kazakhstan from the center of the nation. Apparently, you are supposed to make a wish but I didn't know that until after I went there. The architecture in the city is pretty cool, it doesn’t make a lot of sense with a theme because the building designs are chosen from contests so the only plan to the city is what is going where and how it will be laid out but the actual designs of the buildings are all very eclectic with such influences from Kazakhstan, Russia, Samarkand, Islam, Christianity, Persian empires, Scythian empires, extraterrestrials, etc. The city itself feels empty though. It’s big and spread out and I was there on Sundays but it felt like there was no one there. But it is a relatively new city and being built into what it will become so in the future it should be bigger. But it can’t really be that big anyway. Kazakhstan is the size of four Texases and there are only fifteen million people there and two live directly around Almaty. The entire population of Mexico City is twice the size of Kazakhstan’s entire population.

There is a shed in my backyard, more of a garage, or now as I call it, the barn. Inside ten sheep and nine chickens live. I think in the spring we may slaughter one for food. I was hoping for this past week but we didn’t for Ait (a Muslim holiday that just occurred). Traditionally, there were supposed to but they did not. But then again they only head over to the mosque on holidays so I doubt they’ll take holidays so seriously as to butcher animals in their yards according to 1400 year old traditions. How I didn’t know about this until a few weeks ago amazes me. I guess it is because the door is locked unless someone is going in but when I found out I was like WHAT! It’s pretty cool.

I’ve met more of my extended host family. Galina’s husband – whose name I still don’t know even though I see him naked every week in the banya, comes home from Astana on weekends. It’s been a month so now I can’t awkwardly ask his name; I’ll just look around for a sheet of paper with it on it. Her grandson – my host nephew? was here for a week once. His name is Iskander and always wants to play. That never gets old. She has two daughters and one spent a weekend here and they are both in their thirties and live in work in Astana and Galina’s husband stays with one of them I think during the week when he’s at work, I think. They’re nice. They invited me to their apartment for Novy Goad (New Years – it’s like the biggest holiday here), I’ll probably go. Their brothers and sisters live in neighboring villages and they came by during the course of Ait so I met them all too.

I saw the movie “In Bruges” which is probably the best movie of the year that I’ve seen in. I recommend it to everyone. I also saw the new Bond movie on bootleg but the quality was awful so the fight scenes had a low frame rate if anyone can find a screener version… I think I put my mailing address up there at the top of this page. I’ve read a bunch of books since I last posted. “Pillars of the Earth””Franny and Zooey””Much Ado About Nothing””Guns, Germs, and Steel””800 Leagues on the Amazon” and now I’m reading “Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism” by Chongyam Trungpa. Oh, we got a copy of “Chinese Democracy” here too. I spent a day just listening to it on repeat. I didn’t think it was real and like because I’m in Kazakhstan like someone cold totally just pull this joke off on me and I wouldn’t know any better. Will and Dennis should listen to it. I’ve been getting into Russian pop music. I just want to inform the world that tATu is just the tip of the ice berg. First of all one is married and they aren’t lesbians. Second, there music is so catchy in Russian. (yes – I’m defending myself for listening to tATu) There are so many entertaining Russian music stars. I also watch one TV show with Galina which translates to “Stars on Ice.” It is “Dancing with the Stars” but turned into a figure skating show. It is so good. Every week is a different theme and stars from the Russian speaking world figure skate/ice dance with a professional skater. My favorite team is Maria Petrova and Kostye Tszyu, mostly because I actually knew who they were before I watched the show but they are actually good too. And I’m pretty sure Petrova has a gold medal which is why they’re good, plus Tszyu can just kick anyone’s ass that doesn’t like his routines.

Here is the part when I inform you to ask me questions or whatnot and feedback if you’d like to or for real Peace Corps information, not just the dramatized form of my life - just send an email my way at kenneth.balla@gmail.com. Oh and if there are things that may be offensive or whatnot tell me to cut them because I didn't really edit this post.