The Hard Work of Everyday Life.

So for me, Bekahroo, what was everyday life like while I lived overseas? It was totally different from yours. Mine was more like what you call camping. But I did it 24/7, hence the “everyday”.

For the first 6 years of 10, I didn’t have a bed. I slept Kazakh style, on heavy mats stuffed with raw cotton, which doubled as blankets in the winter. To this day I still prefer a firm bed to a soft one, and I enjoy the floor. I hated the bed I had even after I got it. After three months the nasty piece of junk started stabbing me here and there with wires. Springs sprouted out at the foot of the bed, shredding the sheets. I was glad to leave that item behind.

Another thing that was hard work was my schoolwork. Once I hit high school, Mom could no longer teach me the math and sciences I needed, so she put me on a DVD program, which I really enjoyed. Everything was taught from a Christian view. I loved it. It was peachy keen. Cool. Hip. Until late fall fell. By then the water in the reservoirs up in the mountains were low or out of water. There wasn’t enough electricity to cover the entire city. So the different neighborhoods around the city were put on a strict schedule of two hours on, two hours off. I couldn’t run our DVD machine or TV. I was worried all throughout the autumn and most of the winter about falling behind in my work. This happened with the power every year. How could I keep up year after year?? Would I graduate a year late because of this? The solution ended up being twofold~ When the power was out, I would go up to Dad’s office and use the English center’s DVD machine and TV. That meant walking half a mile with all the books I needed. IF the office had power. The other half of the solution was to slave through the summer. No summer break. 6 months of baking and sweating, sticking to your chair. And trying to study. It’s like something out of a Dickens or Bronte novel. Yeah, Studying wasn’t easy.

Another part of everyday life was how I did my chores. We were OFTEN without our five stars: electricity, or running water, or phone, or internet, or propane with which to cook. A five star day could easily turn into a three star day because of something as simple as a rainstorm. We found out that guests are jinxed. They make you run out of propane when you’re making pizza. But, I have found that the two most valuable of the stars are running water and electricity. They work in tandem to run a washing machine. Without one or the other, it doesn’t work. Without water you flat out cant’ wash your clothing. Without electricity though, you become the washing machine. You’re a robot. Your task is to do the same thing all day long. If it’s summer, you’re outside in 110 or hotter weather. But at least the liquid coming out of the hose is coolish. I found that a pair of jeans feel heavier wet. They don’t ring out so well. They drip on you from the line above you as you’re scrubbing the rest of the clothing. The soap doesn’t dissolve and rubs your ringers raw. Most importantly though, you get used to wearing the same thing for several days.

Another everyday chore that was made difficult was something bazaar, not bizarre- it was “everyday” after all, in the realm of “hard chores”. It was shopping. Shopping here is a treat. Understand, that we had no neat and clean aisles to walk down. We had no air conditioning or heat. We had no anti-odorous meat racks (or whatever they’re called). We had no cars of our own to drive. We had a bazaar we got to visit. Crooked row after crooked row of booths. Each seller had his or her things neatly stacked in bins or tied down to keep them from . There were broken “sidewalks” to walkover as we carried our sacks of produce. Not too easy with 12-15 kilos of food in each arm. In either 110 or -20 degree weather. Buying meat was the worst thing on the list. There were two meat halls. The religiously proper one, and the religiously IMproper one. The first had all it’s meat slaughtered with the animal in question’s head pointed towards Mecca, and blah, blah, blah, it had no pork…. And it stank. Bad. Really bad. The other was essentially the same, but it sold pork, was in a basement, and Russians and Uzbeks instead of Kazakhs sold the meat. All the meat, guts, brains, hooves, and other various edibles are hung up on hooks in a big room. The sellers hack away at ribs and other bones. There’s blood on the floor. There are sheep heads staring eyelessly at you. The corner over there has a cow udder for sale. There are flies everywhere. At least the fish are sold outside. You, as the buyer, are supposed to go into this stinking, slippery-floored slum for your weekly meat. Yup. Everyday.

So yes, everyday was hard. It exhausted me. Did I enjoy it? Absolutely. Would I trade my childhood for one in another country? Absolutely not. It taught me so many things I couldn’t have learned anywhere else. Just today we came close to needing to hand wash our clothing, I wouldn’t have been able to do it if I hadn’t been taught. Being able to shop in a beautiful clean place is a joy. Never running out of propane is a relief! I can cook endlessly! The power only goes out occasionally. Life overseas taught me how to be a better troubleshooter. So much travelling with my family prepared me to travel alone so I could help my grandpa. The life God gave me has put me where I am now, He has given me the friends I have now, and I love them all. I wouldn’t wish myself in a different place in a million years.