Kazakhstan Reflections Part 5 - A Place of Refuge

The day was somewhere between hot and warm.  The sun beat down, but I was out of its reach as I sat on a bench in a makeshift courtyard outside of a university performance hall.  The wind was refreshing and tickled my face like soft, warm feathers.  We had been waiting outside of the performance hall, which was to be the venue of that day’s show, for the last hour.

Inside the hall, I could hear the voice of a man speaking over the sound system.  He was speaking either Russian or Kazakh, but I was unable to distinguish between the two languages.  He had been speaking for the last forty-five minutes to whoever was in there.

The wood of the bench creaked as Paul, the organizer of our tour and our gracious host, sat down next to me.  He smiled at me as I looked over at him.  I let an over exaggerated sigh escape from my lungs in emphasis of my boredom.  He chuckled and motioned back at the hall with his thumb.

“Islam.”  He proceeded to slap his fist into his hand, which indicated to me that the person speaking inside was an Imam who was giving a rather passionate sermon on something.  Then Paul continued on with his specially developed communication style that closely resembled a game of charades…

“Terrorism.”  He made a sound to mimic an explosion while using his hands to give me a visual representation of what an explosion would look like.

At that instant, everything I had heard in the news about terrorism was brought to the surface and my world went quiet.  The complacency that was ingrained in me by my western culture was shattered in that moment and I finally came to the realization that I was not in Canada anymore…

A Lesson in Fear

It is true!  Persecution against Christians exists more today than ever before in the world and has become, in many cases, the main obstacle to missions in particular nations.  It is something that affects the church holistically; from home churches in restricted access countries to mega churches in the west.  For some reason that makes no sense to us Christians, there are always people who hate Christ.

I have found that one of the main thoughts that people have when they think of the missions field is: Isn’t it dangerous?  At least that was my first thought when I was introduced to the concept of intercultural ministry way back in the day.  The answer is: yes, there is an inextricable connection between Christianity and persecution.  Christ knew of this what he said “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first… If they persecuted me, they will persecute you.” (John 15:18-20). 

The history of persecution is a long a grisly one that goes all the way back to the founding of Christianity in the first century AD.  Christians, at that time, were seen as a cultic movement within Judaism.  Soon Jews began hating Christians and killing them, but that wasn’t the end.  Emperor Domitan was a very egocentric emperor.  He viewed himself as a god and therefore required complete allegiance from all peoples in the Roman Empire.  Christians were unwilling to submit to another authority other than Christ, so they were arrested and put in gladiatorial games or burned alive.

The apostles and their disciples were the early missionaries during these times.  Almost every one of them was brutally killed for their faith.  It wasn’t until the legalization of Christianity within the Roman Empire in year 313 AD where history saw a significant decline in persecution.  Yet Christians continued to travel outside of Christendom and to this day, we still see Christians met by death for their faith.

Let’s face it, persecution is scary.  It quite honestly is probably one of the major deterrents for people becoming involved in missions.  Of course not every area in the world is equal in its rejection of Christ, but there are many places where Christianity is outlawed and punished by death.

North America is one of the places where Christians are relatively safe, although they do see persecution as well.  In many places (especially colleges and universities) divulging one’s faith is synonymous with being socially ostracized.  We face social persecution instead of physical persecution.  It is only in rare events where we see physical persecution in our world.

So what do we really know of the persecution that the Bible talks about?  How could we understand what Jesus meant when he said that we would be given up by our families and friends to our deaths? (Matt 10:21)

What I found myself considering on that wooden bench in southern Kazakhstan was how far removed the west is from terrorism and persecution.  We see it…in news programs and pictures.  We hear about it from missionaries and humanitarian organizations.  But we live with it.  Aside from the rare act of terror that slips through government intelligence, we do not experience it.  We don’t know it.  It is not an intimate part of the western world’s experience.

When you remove yourself from the safety of your country’s laws, it doesn’t take long to realize the reality that sits over the majority of the world like a dark cloud.  That reality is much more grim than the fantasy land we have made for ourselves in North America.  Governments, in many parts of the world, are oppressive and antagonistic towards their people.  Societies in other areas are barely hanging on to their independence or peace.  Some are ravaged by civil wars or relentless epidemics.  Amidst these factors of chaos people still find the common ground to hate and kill Christians.

Yet, amongst all that is detestable, unjust and cruel there are pinpricks of light that shine.  In many cases, these lights shine so brightly that those in the darkness can not help but notice them and be attracted to them.

Seeing the believers in Kazakhstan showed me how flimsy my faith is in comparison to people who have endured persecution.  That is not to say that Christians in Kazakhstan and other parts of the world are immune to fear or are in some way better than us, but we need to understand that their faith has been forged in the fires that we cannot fully relate to.

For me, their faith is something to admire.  It is something that I wish to saw more of in my life.  In the case of this “Imam” preaching terrorism, I was completely mistaken.  Paul was trying to tell me that the person inside was a leader at the university speaking out against religious extremism.  Even so, my realization was extremely relevant and taught me something about myself…

I fear the unknown.  I like being prepared for anything.  I will read books, articles and papers about various subjects just so that I can be ready in case I end up in a certain situation.  The knowledge I gain does not guarantee that I will react well or correctly.  I have acknowledged the fact, as was the case with this trip, that sometimes things will happen that you cannot anticipate or prepare for.  All knowledge becomes useless and all that matters is that you have faith in the only one place that is safe.

The Place of Refuge

In ancient Israel, there were six cities constructed that were known as “places of refuge”.  Three were on the east side of the Jordan and three were on the west of the Jordan.  These cities were inhabited by the Levites and it was well known in the land’s culture that people who had committed capital sin could seek refuge from those wanting to kill him out of vengeance.  These were not cities where murderers ran to escape judgement, but where people who had sinned would receive judgement that was just under the Law that God had established with His people.

These were places that people felt safe and secure from the injustice of the world.  King David spent many nights in Hebron, one of these cities, and wrote about a concept that blew people’s minds.  He wrote about how the ultimate “place of refuge” was not in a particular city or geographical area, like everyone understood it to be, but that it was in God (Yahweh)!

We are all broken and insecure.  We naturally want to find something to put our security in, such as financial stability or relationship.  Even drugs are sought out because they dull the dark, menacing realities of life.  Some people look to themselves for security.  They look to themselves to bring in enough money by working as hard as they can.  They conform the way they look to the culturally determined body image in order to find security in various relationships.

We are all fearful creatures, looking for freedom and rest.  We all fear injustice.  We are all insecure, in need of a place of refuge.

Where do we find these things?

I believe that we were created to be free from fear and insecurity and that the only way we can be completely and undeniably free these things, is to approach the One who created us.

So may you relinquish your fears of death, sickness, poverty, failure, and rejection to the One who made you…so that you may experience a place of refuge that no man can destroy or bring to ruins.

Kazakhstan Reflections Part 4 - A Father for the Fatherless

 
I stared out of our car’s window as we sped along the country road; in the foreground was the country road that passed by as a grey and brown blur.  Further out, fields stretched into the distance; small plants appeared as specks of green mingled amongst the brown of the earth.  In the distance dark mountains loomed, their white tops hidden within clouds that gave evidence to rising air. It was early in the day and the sun had become increasingly hot.  Our western white skin which was more accustomed to humidity rather than potency.  We were on our way to the first destination of the trip: an orphanage in a nearby city.  I had never seen an orphanage before, so right from the get-go I knew that this was going to be a very unique opportunity and experience.  At that time, I wasn’t aware of how orphanages operated in other countries let alone in Kazakhstan.  I had no clue what to expect other than children. 

As we entered the grounds of the orphanage, my heart rate quickened.  It stood behind a small group of trees, but as the building came into view it revealed several floors of windows.  The first thing I noted was how it didn’t look like what I thought an orphanage looked like (why I thought it would look like Oliver Twist’s orphanage, I have no idea).

We began to set up our instruments on a section of pavement wedged between the side of the building and a fence.  The wind was of moderate strength (blowing a fine dust around us) and the trees provided shade, both of these things gave us relief from the heat of the powerful sun.  I found myself thinking, I have come thousands of kilometres, over several seas and countries, to this place, to meet these people and serve them, to love them…wow.
 
I quickly found out what an orphanage is supposed to look like.  Our band was setup and ready to play, but we were told to wait.  Minutes later, bells rang and dozens upon dozens of children came outside and stood before us.  I was shocked, amazed, terrified.  Everything happened so quickly.  We were given the signal to play and before long, the show finished with our team’s drama.

That day I realized that an orphanage is represented by the faces of the children that live in it.  These children are unquestionably valuable and precious to God, but to the world they are not viewed as such.

In the modern era, the world has changed and still changes with great speed.  Families don’t have the same type of pressures upon them as they did in the pre-industrial age, but all families still have some form of pressure (some more than others).  Kazakhstan is not as wealthy a country as Canada or the United States.  A result of this is that some parents cannot afford to keep their children, so instead they give them to orphanages.  These children are raised and schooled by the orphanages and occasionally, their parents will come by to meet with them.  Other children are abandoned completely.

Adoption is not necessarily viewed as a positive thing either.  Many do not want to adopt because they would rather have a child of their own.  This could be said to be a western mindset as well and, I would suggest, a mindset that permeates every country at some level or another.


The concert ended and everyone began initiating conversations or packing up.  As I was wrapping up a bundle of cords a small group of boys came up to me, one of them holding a soccer ball. They spoke to me in Russian (which I did not understand beyond pleasantries) and luckily there was a translator nearby.  
  
“Can you play soccer with us?” they asked.    

My heart sank as I knew our time there was very limited.  I just smiled and responded, “Maybe after we are done putting these things away.”

Of the things I regret from my trip to Kazakhstan, those words I regret the most for those faces were the faces of orphans who wanted acceptance and love and in my blindness I passed them by, favouring my own agenda.  I am reminded of the illustrative list Christ gives in Matt 25 (v35,36) of the needs that require filling in the world.  In some way I feel that by passing up an opportunity to love these children, I passed an opportunity to love Christ.

The truth is that the very aspect of western culture that I despised, the elevation of time and success’ value over the value of human relationships, was a part of me as well.  All of the anger that I felt towards my own culture, my own society, my own Church…it rested upon my shoulders and I became humbled by the realization of my own blindness and hypocrisy.  That realization changed the way I perceived myself.

I understand that people reading this will most likely never be changed by my words. That is because the reflection of my experiences can only appeal to the experiences that individual people have had in their lives.  If you have never experienced the emptiness that is caused by abandonment, then you cannot full grasp what is it like to be an orphan; however, I believe that all of us who know Christ know what it is like to be spiritual orphans and what it is like to find an adopted parent in our Father who has taken us as His children!

I hope that my words make you realize the emptiness that exists in this world, because when we understand our incompleteness and imperfection, we can then move beyond it to the Completion and the Perfection…

Kazakhstan Reflections Part 3 - The Long Voyage There…

One of the last views of the Canadian skyline

I do not consider our travel time on this trip to be horrible, but these days travelling were some of the most mentally exhausting days I've been through (including college exam week).  It was an experience which I hold many fond memories of, but which also hold experiences that I could do without.  Overall, I am grateful that we made it there safely and in good health!

I woke up on Friday May 4th groggy and tired.  I had a few hours to collect all of my stuff, eat, hit the bank and arrive at the Fellowship offices.  Food…I was hungry, and there was so much bacon and eggs in the fridge that would go bad over the course of the trip.  Logical decision: cook them all and feed myself and two of my friends.

Fellowship offices

The bacon was glorious, the eggs were creamy, and soon we were out the door with our bags.  We made the necessary stops to grab last minute items.  After another half hour, we arrived in the parking lot of the Fellowship. 

The rest of the team met there, we had food, talked and prayed with other members of the Fellowship who commissioned us, and began rehearsing the drama.  We ended that night with an attempted Fawlty Towers marathon, which turned into a six episode marathon before we all fell asleep.

Five hours later, we woke up and got ready for next day which was focused on last minute preparations.  There was a band practice, a meeting with someone who had previously gone to Kazakhstan, and one last meeting with our Fellowship contact discussing our expectations and the things that may hold us back.

As we drove away on the airbus, it finally hit me that the trip was beginning and that in a couple dozen hours I would be on the other side of the world.  The sun was setting when we arrived at the Toronto airport and it was completely dark when we got to the gate of our flight.  Little did we know, things would start getting interesting very soon…

Where are our guitars?

When we got the checking desk, we asked if it was possible to claim then as second carry-ons.  The pilot of the flight (who was there at the time) told us that normally he would allow it, but that due to the high traffic on this particular flight there would be limited room to store them.  So he advised us to take the guitars with us to the gate where our guitars could be put on the plane with the baby strollers.  As we boarded the plane, we left them on the ramp hoping that we would see them again.

Toronto Airport

To say that the flight from Toronto to Istanbul, Turkey was long would be an understatement.  We were all tired by then because of our five hour sleep the previous night and the fact that it was midnight when we left Toronto.  The flight was 9 ½ hours, during which I did not get a single ounce of sleep.  It was hot, humid and a baby was constantly crying three rows behind us.  Someone’s alarm even went off continuously for half an hour.  Luckily, this flight had individual movie screens which accessed a database of hundred of titles.  So that helped a bit…

By the end of the flight I was sweaty, stiff and sore from the constant sitting in uncomfortable seats for almost ten hours.  But when we saw the sun rise, we knew it was nearly time to land.  As we were landing, the plane was forced to weave around strong convective currents taking the forms of thunderstorms.  It was a glorious sight as we passed these monstrous, white pillars that looked the sized of a small mountain.  Then we landed…

When we got off the plane, we immediately went to look for our guitars.  I remember the feeling I had clearly when they said, “Not here, got to travel services.”

Great!

So we arrived at one desk of travel services and inquired about our guitars, to which they told us that we need to go to another desk in order to locate them.  With little choice in the matter, we went to the next desk.  It was there that we successfully determined that our luggage was in Istanbul, but that it wasn’t being transferred onto the next flight.  So we got the man to transfer our precious cargo to our next flight and walked away from the desk knowing that in theory, our guitars should make in onboard just fine…

New Friends and the Longest Flight I Have Ever Been On

It was at this airport that we met two more team members; One of the two dancers and the leader of an organization based in Turkey that focuses on using the creative arts to convey a message of love, grace and freedom.

We landed at around 4pm Istanbul time and left at around 8pm.  Everything was great as we were boarding.  Our guitars were (supposedly) on the plane, we had met up successfully with two team members.  It was only a 5 ½ hour flight, no prob!

Then as one of our team members, who was sitting at the window seat beside me, was glancing out the window he saw a luggage handler take a bag from the plane and toss it onto the luggage cart.  He chuckled as he thought, “Man, sucks for that person”.  Then, as he was about to close his eyes for a nap, he noticed a familiar red and white tag on the bag.

I was sitting next to him blissfully unaware and enjoying pre-flight music when I received a gentle nudge on my elbow.  “Dude, that guy out there just tossed my bag onto the luggage cart!  He took it off the plane and tossed it in the cart!  This can’t be happening!”

Istanbul lights

I was sceptical, but he was adamant that the bag in the cart was his.  Unfortunately, at that point, there was nothing we could do.  Our plane was backing up and heading down the tarmac.

I remember looking at the lights of Istanbul amidst the blackness that was the result of the absent sun.  It was very different from the grid like lines of street lights that made up Toronto.  Istanbul looked more like a snake in a spider’s web.  Then, in a moment’s time, the city was gone and darkness was all that was left.

This flight, though shorter than the first flight by a few hours, seemed twice as long as the previous one.  That was in part due to the fact that there was no interactive media device on the seat in front of me, and because I keep dozing for two minute naps and waking up feeling as though half an hour had passed by.  By then I was 15 hours into travelling and 31 hours with no sleep…

On top of that, it turned hot and muggy halfway through the flight and I found myself with a coat of sweat covering my body once again.  Ugh!  But eventually we saw the glimpse of sunlight that brought my heart hope, and then the mountain peaks of the Tian-Shan mountain range.  Almaty was our destination; it was our relief from the flight, but also our next challenge…

The Layover…

The first thing we did when we got through Kazakhstani Customs was to wait hopefully by the luggage conveyor for our bags (one of which we presumed to be in Istanbul) and instruments (which we hoped were not in Istanbul…or North Africa).  People’s luggage came through (some bags were mere cardboard boxes that had been shrink wrapped) one at a time.  Then my guitar case came through with the other instruments close behind!  Yay!

But soon after, the line shut down and my heart sank.  Out of our team, three members did not have their checked luggage, including my friend who had claimed he witnessed his bag’s removal from the plane.  Sigh!

First meeting of the full team!

After spending half an hour at the luggage recovery desk and locating our luggage (our bags were indeed still in Istanbul and would make the next flight to Almaty), we entered the main airport and met our leader, Jon, and the rest of our team.  These were the people we would spend the next 14 hours with during our layover…

In those 14 hours, many things happened:

-we saw the beautiful Tian-Shan mountains before the clouds obscured them later in the day.

-four of us tossed a Rugby ball around in the parking lot, which then hit my leg causing my pen to explode in my pocket.  As I removed it from my jeans, the ink spread everywhere on my hand, pants and shirt…Great!

-six of us went to a restaurant in the airport for lunch.  The waiter then proceeded to take an 80% tip for himself and gave us two pieces of gum…

-I tried mushroom flavoured Lays…not so good

-An elderly man approached us to practice his english.  Good times!

-We walked around the block next to the airport, soaking in the sunshine and cityscape.

-Two of us got offered rock candy from someone who was under the influence of something…

-I found out that the washrooms in the Almaty International Airport did not contain functional soap dispensers, but had western style toilets!

Those fourteen hours just blended into one another.  Time seemed to pass rapidly and agonizingly slow at the same time.  Jon, our leader, described it best by calling it a state of delirium.  Sleep seemed so close, yet I was unable to attain it.  My mind would not stop operating, but I was too tired to read or do anything else that would help pass the time.

Then the moment of truth came…our flight appeared on the board!  Those of us who were asleep were awakened and we all dragged our tired feet to the gate.  We had arrived when the sun was rising and leaving as the sun was setting.  We boarded the plane from the tarmac and I must say that the view of the mountains with rain clouds obscuring their peaks in the light of the setting sun was absolutely glorious.  I soaked that image in and then ducked my head inside the next plane.

This plane was newer and had very comfortable seats.  The flight was only 1 ½ hours and included an in flight movie.  Anything to help pass the time!

We arrived in Shymkent at night and met up with our host and his friends.  Our stuff was loaded into two vans and off we went to our home for the next 12 days.  All I remember about that ride was how fast we were going, how bumpy the road was, and how painful my neck felt after a particularly large pothole gave me slight whiplash as we passed over it at 90km/h.

Finally, we arrive at our host’s house and after a quick meal of bread and tea, we all crashed hard…

A long voyage there: 35 hours of travel time, 52 hours without sleep...and the journey had only just begun…

Kazakhstan Reflections Part 2.5 - More on Kazakhstan...

Geography and Climate

Most of Kazakhstan is Semi-arid rolling plains that are desolate in the late summer, frozen in the winter, and lush meadows in the spring.  There are also a great many areas of mountains in the southern and eastern parts of the country.

When we arrived, it was the perfect temperature (at least it was for me).  There is not much humidity there, as opposed to here in southern Ontario during the spring/summer seasons.  Therefore, the heat was mostly off of the sun…which was deadly hot!  Sure, it is humid here and that makes finding shelter from the heat a hard task as it will follow you into the shade.  But the sun there was so powerful.  Unlike here, you could feel it on your skin like you were standing a bit too close to a campfire.  Luckily, that heat disappeared as soon as you went into the shade.

It was interesting to notice how they construct their houses to compensate for that.  Even the richest of people there don’t just the insulation we do here.  They don’t have drywall.  Instead, they use plaster walls and open windows in their house designs that dramatically reduce the temperature when you go inside.  I remember one day that must have been 34 degrees Celsius (that’s 93 Fahrenheit for you Amer’cans) and inside it was a comfortable 24C (75F)

Rain occurred a few of the days, including the one in which we entered the mountains.  Precipitation there occurs in a different way that where I live.  Here, we have fast moving systems that are generally large.  There, the clouds move slowly and are incredibly potent.  At one of our shows, it began raining during our setup/soundcheck and then again during the opening band’s performance.  It was sunny out, except for isolated clouds that here in Ontario would not produce rain, only shade.  But then there was a massive downburst of wind and rain that nearly destroyed Gino’s guitar! (More on that later)

So overall, the countryside was beautiful and the weather pleasant.

Kazakhstani Culture

The culture of Kazakhstan is much different than the culture here in North America.  To explain the culture, I will refer to a book we were asked to read titled “Foreign to Familiar” and that served as a preparatory guide to understanding cultures around the world.  The book separated cultures in the world into “hot climate” cultures and “cold climate” cultures.  It was not literally connecting physical climate with the cultures that exist in them around the world, but instead referring to hot cultures as “relationship-based” and cold cultures as “task-oriented”.

Whereas our culture is colder with some small warmer spots (not a reference to someone peeing in a pool), Kazakhstan’s culture is hot.  Here are the main differences:

-Kazakhstan is relationship-based, North America is task-oriented.  They will tend to put people before tasks.

-North America is an individualist culture, Kazakhstan favours group identity.  The actions and words of one person will reflect the group as opposed to here where they reflect the individual.

-Kazakstanis are rather inclusive whereas North Americans prefer privacy.  We tend to enjoy having time and space to ourselves, whereas they are group-oriented and do not desire to be left alone.

-Hospitality in Kazakhstan is usually spontaneous as opposed to North America where people tend to plan dinners and nights to go out.

-Kazakhstan is an old culture than has picked up many traditions and “rules” for interacting with one another, whereas America and Canada are young cultures that have not added on as many traditions.

-North Americas value time more than Kazakhstanis.  Where we find that using time efficiently is of value, they consider saving time as unimportant and value experiencing the moment.

Etiquette

So while we were there, we learned Kazakhstani etiquette, tradition and superstition.  Here are some:

-When entering homes, it is customary to ALWAYS take off your shoes.  They view the wearing of shoes inside the house as very disrespectful.  Each house will usually have a small foyer with a bench or stool where you take your shoes off.

-Crossing your legs is risky, because showing someone the bottom of your foot is very rude.

-People will always squat instead of sitting on the ground because they believe you can get diseases from sitting on the ground, and that women can become infertile.

-When coming to or staying at someone’s house, it is customary to bring a gift for the host/hostess.

-The traditional table to eat at is about a foot off of the floor and everyone sits around it on a mat.  Walking on the mat is considered rude at restaurants so you have to shuffle, crawl or crab-walk off of the mats.  Also, stepping on tables is not great manners either.

-It is not imperative to arrive on time, but you don’t want to be more than half an hour late.

Hospitality

People in Kazakhstan are brought up learning hospitality from a young age.  It is part of their culture as efficiency and scheduling has become part of ours.  To be a good host in Kazakhstan generally means that you have brought honour to yourself and your family’s name.

Paul accepting our gifts

While we were in Kazakhstan, we stayed at the house of a man named Paul*.  He, his wife and several volunteers from their church took care of our every need during this trip.  Over the period of two weeks, we learned to respond to their hospitality in an appropriate manner according to their customs.  Things like:

-Tea is served several times a day.  It is generally filled halfway and continually refilled until you turn your cup over.  If someone fills your cup to the top, it signifies that you will no longer receive tea and that they wish for you to leave.

-When you get full, you always leave food on your plate to show that you cannot eat anymore.  If you clean your plate, expect another full portion.  They take hospitality seriously over there!

Near the end of the trip, we went into the mountains of Kazakhstan.  I came back rather muddy (there is a story that will be told for that).  I put my cloths in the washing machine, but it didn’t really work.  The next day, I put my clothes up to dry so the mud would (for the most part) flake off.  When I took them down, Paul’s wife came to me and through hand signals offered to wash them for me.  I declined because we were heading home the next day and I was just going to put them in my bag.  Everything was going to get a wash when I got back anyways

I declined and she walked away rather annoyed.  I later realized that I had taken away from her a chance to serve as a hostess.  She wanted to wash my clothes because it would fulfill her position as hostess, and me denying her that was denying her a chance to fulfill her social duty as a hostess.  I made notes to apologize if we go back there again.

Service

Our drivers and roadies.  So thankful for them!

To end off this extended post, I want to mention the volunteers that helped us all the way through the tour.  There were at least five men who were at every show, unloading gear, loading gear, driving gear from venue to venue.  I didn’t catch their names, but I knew their faces and appreciated their hard work.  Without them, the tour wouldn’t have happened.

Also, our translators were at each show of their own accord.  Without them, we would not have been understood.  They too were part of the team.

I remember thinking, “Wow, if only we were so eager to serve and host at these people are, imagine what would result".  That was the power of their hospitality and service.

Their servant hearts were eager to help out.  God used that not only to ensure that the tour ran smoothly, but also I believe He used that to teach some of us westerners a lesson in humility and service. 

But we must move on…for the story of the journey has yet to be told…

*name has been substituted

Kazakhstan Reflections Part 2 - Destination: Kazakhstan

Many times in my life, I have daydreamt about visiting other countries as a tourist.  Japan, the Caribbean, Switzerland, Italy…but I never thought that the first country outside of North America that I would travel to would be Kazakhstan.  You don’t really hear about Kazakhstan much unless it is in reference to the movie Borat.  Many people don’t realize that it is the 9^th largest country in the world (four times the size of Texas) and is the world’s largest landlocked country.  Or that it became an independent country in 1991 when the remnants of the USSR dissolved.  They don’t know that just over 70% of the population are Muslim and that just over 26% are Christian.

But can you really reduce a description of a country to mere statistics and still maintain an authentic picture of the country and its people?  No, you cannot.  So I will share with you a bit of the culture.

The People

Demographically speaking, the largest ethnic majority groups in Kazakhstan are the Kazak and Russians.  You can generally distinguish between either of these groups, but sometimes it is very hard to tell what someone’s ethnicity might be.

Photo taken as one of our school shows

Russians are fairly easy to identify as they mostly have lighter skin and eyes.  Their occupation in Kazakhstan goes as far back as the 1700s when they came down from the north and settled in the land of the Kazak people.  It is only recently (since the dissolution of the Soviet Union) that Kazakhstan has returned again to the Kazak as the rightful people of the nation.  Even so, many Russians live in Kazakhstan though their presence is in slow decline.

The Kazak people can usually be distinguished by their darker skin.  Their ethnic origin is complex, but it is usually said that they are the descendants of ancient tribes from the Central Asian grasslands, including Huns, Turks, Mongols and various Chinese tribes.  By the 15^th Century, they became an official ethnic group under the Kazak regime.  As a result of this, some of them look more like Turks, others like Mongols, and some more like Chinese.

The name Kazak is taken from an ancient myth of a chieftain named Kalaqiahader who was wounded in war.  A white swan then came to him in his wounded state and rescued him from the battle.  The white swan then turned into a beautiful maiden and married the man.  They gave birth to a boy, who was named Kazak, which means “white swan” or “freeman”.  Even today, they hold the swan in high regard as the symbol and origin of beauty and love.

The Language

The official language of Kazakhstan is Kazak, but Russian is also spoken most everywhere.  When we were staying there, we had translators who were able to translate both of these languages, but for the most part we were translating to Russian.

In fact, the first couple of days we didn’t have any translators, so we were forced to play Charades as our host, named Pavel, made mad gestures and sound effects in an attempt to explain something to us.  We were lucky to have Graham with us for he spoke some Russian and understood words which in many cases helped us understand the meaning behind Pavel’s waving arms and amusing noises.

The Food

When I came to Kazakhstan, I had absolutely no clue as to what they ate.  Then, when I found out what they ate, I was like “This makes sense”.

The Kazak diet is rich in meat and wheat flour, and I suspect that this diet has rubbed off on the Russian population as well.  Also, because of the Kazak’s Islamic faith, there are no pigs there (at least I didn’t see one) for pork is an unclean meat.  So instead, we were forced to eat lamb, beef, most likely goat, chicken, possibly donkey, and most definitely horse.  The meats were amazing and cooked in a way that they were always moist and flavourful…but I digress.

Shashlik

Meats and vegetables are usually contained in a broth or sauce of some sort, and then served over rice or as a stew.  Na’an bread is served at every meal, as is tea (which they call “chai”) of the black and green variety.  The black tea helps break down fats and grease from the food, while the green tea is more for settling your stomach and putting you to sleep.

Breakfasts were one of my favourite meals because they served na’an and a variety of cheeses, sliced meats and dried fruits.  They just seemed like really healthy ways to start your day off.

My favourite food by far was the Russian dish known as Shashlik.  It is a form of Shish Kebab that is usually made from lamb meat and fat that has been soaked in an acidic marinade of some sort.  The result is deliciousness, though the fat content is pretty high.

A cup of warm Kumis

Most of the foods we ate were good.  Even the horse meat was good (yes, I ate horse, get over it!).  But one thing that I think many of us on the tour might pass by again was the infamous Kumis, which is fermented horse milk.  Some of us reacted strongly to this drink, while others not so much.  The most accurate way to describe this drink is to imagine yourself gulping down room temperature carbonated sour milk mixed with lemon juice, but that is just the initial taste of many to follow.  When you have swallowed it and finally breathe through your nose, a mellow wave of vomit mixed with sour milk and smoke fills your mouth.

Does that sound appealing?  Well, the Kazak love the stuff and use it at every gathering and party.  I think some of us even saw some of the roadies with water bottles filled with the stuff at various shows.  They are brought up on it from a young age and love it by the time they are adults.  We were told that many Russians were not so fond of it, but then again our host was Russian and totally crazy about the stuff.

Continued…

Kazakhstan Reflections Part 1 - Introduction

On the fifth of May, 2012, I went to Kazakhstan on a two week trip….

…and came back changed in some way.  My first challenge, aside from remembering what transpired during the trip as I re-assimilate into western culture, is to compile and explain my trip to friends, to family, to my church…

It has been some time since my return and I admit that then transition back into Canada was hard.  I went straight from work into the missions field and then straight back to work again.  I didn't get time off to think about what I’d just gone through and I had little spare time to spend reflecting on all of the things I had just experienced.  I went right back into my old schedule and routine.

What made this even more difficult was the two week period of isolation that I experienced.  My work schedule and other circumstances resulted in two weeks of isolation from my friends, family, and church.  During that time, I didn’t see anyone, let alone talk to anyone.  It was a rough two weeks because I had a lot in my head that I really wanted to digest and share.

Eventually, however, that period of isolation ended and I was able to begin sharing my experiences and thoughts.

I expected that one of the first things to come out of people’s mouths when they saw me was “How was Kazakhstan?” or “How did the trip go?”.  These questions seem like very easy questions to answer, but I find them very challenging questions.  It is very similar to someone asking a painter “What does this painting mean?”.  Often there is an answer, but the painter has difficulty communicating the meaning of his painting to other people.  This is because there are dozens of layers of meaning and emotion in the painting that the painter knows, thinks and feels when he sees his painting.  He remembers the layers of paint that he used as he created it.  He remembers layering paint on top of paint in a way that perpetually formed the meaning of the painting to reflect the emotions of his heart and the thoughts of his mind.  These are maybe things that cannot be properly expressed through the use of words and so the artist painted the picture to communicate them.  So what can the painter say when he is asked what the meaning is of his picture? He will often simplify the answer into something that people can understand.

Like the artist’s painting my trip had many different layers, though they are not made of paint, but rather they are made of experiences.  There were good experiences and there were not so great experiences.  The layers seem to stretch so thick that to say “It went well” or “It was good” seems to subtract from this trip’s meaning in my life.  But if I were to, like the artist, simplify the answer to something that people would understand, I would end up with a statement like “Kazakhstan changed me!”

My pastor once referred to missions trips as “people changing events”.  He compared people to shapes depending on their culture.  Take for instance, Mr. Squarehead.  Mr. Squarehead was born and raised in his home culture of mostly square-headed people.  It is natural for Mr. Squarehead to have a squarehead because he has only really experienced interactions with other squareheads that make up the square society. 

Then one day Mr. Squarehead goes on a trip to another country.  There he sees few squareheads.  Instead he interacts with circleheads.  Eventually he immerses himself into the new culture of circle people that make up the circle society.  Over a period of time Mr. Squarehead begins to change.  His squarehead become less like a squarehead and more like a square-circlehead (or an octagon).  This has taken place as he has been assimilated into the circle culture.  He has begun seeing life through the eyes of circleheaded people.  And so Mr. Squarehead’s head ceases to be a square and becomes instead, an octagon.

What has changed people like Mr. Squarehead, is the experiences that they have had; how they experienced the language, the people, the traditions and rituals, the beliefs and values.  It is essentially how we interact with culture that shapes us (or rather how culture interacts with us).  We are by-products of our culture, no matter how much we want think otherwise.  When we experience a new culture, we soon find that we have to assimilate into it or else become victims of culture-shock.  It is then that the new culture will leave its fingerprint on who we are and how we think.

Of course there are other forces that change us as well, but none that shapes us on the foundational level as culture does.

And then there is God.  I know that in some capacity, I was brought to experience the things that I did because of God’s guidance.  He had brought me to a place where I finally was able to step out in faith and let go of the things that I was holding on to.  For me, going on this trip was a relatively easy decision to make (as I really wanted to go), but the process I had to go through leading up to the trip was not an easy thing to deal with; but I made it and the result of following God’s guidance has been tremendous uplifting.

In the same quality that Mr. Squarehead’s squarehead changed into an octagonhead, I believe that I too have changed.  I still am discovering the many ways that I have turned from a square into an octagon, but this blog series is not going to be about how I am now different from what I once was, but rather it is about the process of how I have come to be changed...