Where is Moldova, anyway?

Looks to me like dandelions are winning... doing their part to make sure no one has the competitive edge in this town.

I will of course continue monitoring the situation with the utmost objectivity, as I take seriously my role in bringing this new competition, a great example of cross-cultural exchange, from Roosevelt Ave to Moldova.

Math. Music. Love, even, if you are of that persuasion. Add another one to the list. How The international language of “there-is-a-cop-up-the-street-waiting-so-slow-down-down.” This is a language spoken without words, without accents, without dialects – just with the simple, quick, flick of the headlights towards oncoming cars.

I saw this for the first time in Moldova a few months ago, when a passing bus flashed its lights at our bus during the middle of the day. The driver, of course, cut his speed by a bout a quarter, and 2 minutes later we rolled slowly by a police car. Once I started paying attention, I saw it more and more.

Necessity is the mother of invention, as they say. No one wants a speeding ticket, Moldovan, American, anyone.

Welcome to the Moldova version of Orthodox Easter. For argument’s sake, I’m going to refer to it also as the “hardcore” version – based on length of service, lack of chairs, lack of the ability to have the service inside a building, and finally lack of olives and feta following the service… intrigued? Read on. Because I was lucky enough to be home last year for Easter (or unlucky enough to be sick), I didn’t get a chance to experience Easter in Moldova, without question the biggest celebration of the year here.

Preparations for Easter started 3 weeks ago, when, as if out of no where (to the outside observer, me), EVERYONE (and I mean everyone) went on a gigantic 2 and a half week long cleaning spree. They cleaned everything. The sides of buildings that had been mud covered all winter, shook out rugs, swept the streets (a hard thing to do considering the streets are made of dirt anyway), moved around everything in every house / store / office to get ready for Easter. Trees were planted, gardens raked, children given hair cuts. I asked my host mom what the rush is, why don’t we do a little now and a little after Easter (the weather hadn’t been good enough to put things outside at this point). She just said, this is what we do – everything needs to be clean for Easter.

Personal preparations for Easter also took place through fasting, the same regimen as Orthodoxs in America hold. Although here, while they gave up meat and animal products (which is hard to do on a Moldovan based diet), I didn’t really feel like anyone was fasting. As in, yes they were abstaining from some food groups, but we went to parties that had many deserts “for the fast” that were okay to eat, cookies were made so they are okay to eat, etc etc. I guess it just didn’t feel “fasty.” Almost everyone holds the fast, so I guess there is a huge market for these “altered” foods that are okay to eat before Easter.

I, personally, did not fast. If you are reading this blog, and you know me, you are aware that my time in Moldova has been riddled with stomach problems, ghiardia and bad water caused infections. I am now finally feeling a lot better, and am on a strict diet prescribed by my Peace Corps Doctor. She advised me to not follow the fast, something my host mother agreed was a good idea. So I really didn’t have any problems during the fast, I wouldn’t eat with my host mother because I felt bad eating meat in front of her. But about a week ago, I was coming back from a presentation in another village, waiting at the bus stop for the bus, eating my lunch, and I was verbally attacked by some old lady (babushka we call them here) for eating a yogurt. AND she took my yogurt!!!

The conversation went like this:
Lady: Dear one, what are you doing here?
Me: Waiting for the bus.
Lady: No I meant in general, with your life, Don’t you believe in God? Don’t you want to be
good?
Me: Excuse me?
Lady: You clearly can’t believe in God because you are eating yogurt during holy week.
Me: I do.
Lady: You don’t!!!!!
Me: You don’t know what I believe.
Lady: I do, I see you eating that, God forbid (crosses herself).
Me: (being defensive at this point) You don’t know anything about me, or how I live my life
every day.
Lady: I read in the bible that the anti-christ is coming, you will probably end up following
him even though you see the mark of the 6’s on his face.
Me: Huh?
Lady: You don’t believe me!? I read it in the bible!!!
Me: I’d rather not discuss this anymore.
Lady: Americans worship the devil.
Me: (nothing)
Lady: My priest told me so.
Me: (nothing)

Edited for your convience- We then dove into a long debate about God, lifestyles, Americans vs. Moldovans in terms of faith, and using the priest as a venue to speak to God. Lesson Learned: don't have a theological debate in your non-native tounge until you are 100 percent fluent. Resume actual conversation between me and said lady.

Lady: You should change your life, go talk to a priest.
Me: You know nothing about me. And even if I am a bad person, it’s not for you to judge.
Lady: I’m not judging you, I am helping you. (takes my yogurt from my hand).
Me: (I leave and wait for the bus in the rain, unwilling to listen to her anymore).

That was a little detour into the world of spiritual lectures. Personally, this month I was a little fed up with people claiming they are Christians because they hold the fast, or follow this or that rule (not working on Sunday), but who don’t act like Christians in their daily life, and don’t take care of people around them. So, I couldn’t really be that patient with her….

Now for the main event, Easter!

The day before Easter we prepared lots and lots of food, and dyed eggs. We dyed some bright red to bring to church, and died another bunch a deep reddish-brown for us to eat. The ones we dyed for us to eat we didn’t use dye, but instead used onion peels. It worked really really well.

The night before Easter we gathered in the woods around a fire, which started around 6pm. It seemed like the whole village was there. The idea behind the fire, as I understood it, is burning away the bad. Then we all went home and cleaned up for the church service, which began at 8pm. I went, head covered of course (women have to cover their heads in churches in Moldova), with my host brother. We stayed for 4 hours, and did many of the same rituals that we do at St. Anthony’s (it’s always interesting to me to see the same actions and traditions performed but in different languages and settings). Walked three times around the church, knocked on the door, etc etc. We went home at midnight, the service not being even near to over (there are no benches in this church). Got home around 12:30, and slept for two hours. Then we woke up and walked back to the church around 2:30 am. This time we took with us not only candles, but a basked filled with meat, died eggs, “Easter Bread”, fruit etc.

The problem is that almost the whole village (90%) is Orthodox, and the church is very small. So when we got back to the church, people had already started to line up and stand around the church. Moldovans hold orthodoxy very tightly as a religion/culture thing, but not many go to church weekly (in fact, very few go), so space isn’t normally a problem. The second half of the Easter service was held outside, from 3am – 7:30 am. People stood around the church, in the street, etc – with their basket of food placed in front of them. Even on Easter, not everyone can come to church – only a few representatives from every family, there just isn’t room.

I have been to these services before, and always grown tired of holding a candle for THAT long. However, here in Moldova, I appreciated the candle-holding because it kept me warm (or at least warmer!). Towards the end of the service, the priests walked around and “blessed” us and our food with holy water. This was no sprinkling from the aisle. In fact there are no aisles. This was an in your face, now you are soaking wet holy water dosing. I think I’m good for the next 3 years, actually. I think it’s both their tool (a huge bush thing, and a bucket – no whimpy official holy water holder) and their attitude, they know everyone so they get right up in your face, smile and douse you. They have good arc, aim and pitch, too.

After receiving the blessing everyone packs up their food and heads home. We (my host brother and I), then met with my host mom at our house, where we ate the blessed food. Then we, of course, had an egg breaking contest. (Interesting discovery, there is a word in Romanian that I thought meant “to toast” because it was always used when someone proposes a toast and everyone clink’s their glasses together. But we used that same word for knocking the eggs together, so know I know it means “to knock together.” Learn something new every day). I won for our house!!! This then led to us all leaving the house and walking around the neighborhood egg-brawling with the winners from the neighbors house. As you do it, when you crack someone’s egg you get to keep it. I ended up with 8 or so eggs. Yummy!!!

Then finally, when I lost, as all good (non-wooden, TATIE!) eggs do, we came back into the house and washed our face with a red egg, a white egg and some coins – to make sure we are healthy, prayerful and have enough money for the next year. Or so the tradition goes. We ended the day (at around 10am now) by going to sleep until 1 or 2, and then waking up to eat, of course, lamb. I really enjoyed Easter here, even without peeps or chocolate (seriously, I didn’t eat one morsel of chocolate all day. Can you believe that). It was very peaceful, very beautiful the ceremony outside, under the stars, and interesting how it was a celebration that the whole entire town took part in, something that you don’t find in America too often – although it was very, very tiring. I don’t know if I would have made it had we stayed for the entire ceremony, those 2 hours of sleep were golden to me.

I even had a special treatment at church when the priest looked at me and said “Christ is Risen” in English, throwing off the alternating between Russian / Romanian rhythm. I appreciated it though. Now, for the next 40 days, people will use the “Christ is Risen” / “Truly He is Risen” refrain to say hello and greet each other, on the street, on the phone, etc. It’s interesting to listen to. I am already forgetting, one day after Easter.

All in all it was a good day- Happy it didn’t rain on us, standing outside at Church. Sad I couldn’t be home though – and that I didn’t get to call either! Next year. But until then.

Al'Masiah qam!

'

Spring in Moldova is a gorgeous, and fickle, season. Everything turns from brown, to green, a very alive shade of green. The trees start to blossom, especially the cherry trees - whose white petals cover the ground and look reminiscently like snow. People start to come out of their houses, start to de-thaw, start to dress in less than 5 layers of clothing-- putting out their rugs and blankets under the sun. I missed experiencing this time of year in 2007, becuase I was busy being sick in Washington, DC. While yellow characterizes the summer here (fields of wildflowers, rows and rows of sunflowers); green and gray characterize the spring. The vibrant green contrasts with the ever changing and stormy April skies. Hope that comes out in these pictures, some of my favorites I've taken this spring.

Today I came home, from a nearby village, tired, tired of speaking in Romanian, and physically tired to the core. I wanted to cancel my weekly Romanian lesson, and lay in my bed. But I couldn't, becuase my tutor doesn't have a phone -- making last minute cancellations impossible. Even if she did have a house phone, calling her a half an hour before the lesson would do no good, becuase she would have already left her house, heading here.

I'm glad I didn't (couldn't) cancel. Every lesson that I go into tired, angry, and distracted - I come out of in a better mood. (poor her though, when I'm agity, I don't want to learn, and usually have a scowl on my face). I don't know what it is about her -- we really understand each other, have great conversations, and spend most of our lesson time reading stories and poems. She loves literature, and loves explaining it (she is a literature teacher at the school), and I love watching how excited she gets about words -- specific words. From her my vocabulary has gotten very rich -- maybe I don't use the words I learn that often, or in everyday situations, but when I use them, they are fitting. It's nice to have the exact word you want to say now and then.

I was describing my relationship with my tutor to another volunteer right before he met her. He was confused, becuase he said by my description, he thought she would be much younger (She's 62, and lives with her grandson). I don't know what it is, but we just connect, and she always helps me relax, and want to learn -- even when I'm exhausted and it's cold outside. But most importantly she makes me feel connected. Like someone knows me as a person, not just as the American. Yes, more than one person here really knows me. I'm not saying that. It's just every time I talk to her, through her words, she reminds me that she knows who I am, and understands a bit about how I work. And I like that.

When I arrived in Moldova, in September 2006, a loaf of bread was 2 lei. Now, one and a half years later, the cost is 4 lei for the same basic loaf. It's an easy math problem, even for those of you bad at algebra- the cost has gone up 100%, this is, of course, in the context of the international wheat shortage / price hike -- that is affecting everywhere.

Unfortunately, the story has been the same throughout Moldova this past year -- price increases, increases and increases. Last year's drought was the worst one in the history of Moldova (or at least in the people's memory). While I have been waiting, anxiously, for spring to bring vegetables and fruit back into my diet, my host mom and her friends have been fretting over the lack of meat available, which they say will further dwindle as summer comes. The supply has, apparently, run down, way down due to a lack of births last spring / summer, and an inability to feed the animals through the winter (most were slaughtered then). To add to the list of worries this year, is the currently expected crop of veggies and fruit -- due to the weird weather patterns we have been having, the trees bloomed and then it frosted -- there are no bees, because it is too cold, which means no pollination, etc. At least, for now, thank God we have rain.

Transportation also went up as of April 1st, and all transportation costs are now 33% more expensive. (I wish somewhere they had learned the importance of slowly implemting price increases). Gas, heating and coal went up this year too, partly because of relations with Russia and partly because of the worldwide crunch, with Peace Corps having to significantly increase the amount we pay our host families to stay warm - with some host families having to stop hosting volunteers becuase they couldn't afford to heat another room.

What has not gone up here is salaries. My host mom, as the head accountant at the bread factory in our village, receives 1000 lei a month. That's less than 90 dollars for a highly skilled position. Teachers, covering a full load of classes receive 600 - 700 lei a month. My counterpart, who is the youth specialist for the town, receives 500 lei a month. It seems like an unsolvable math equation. It just doesn't add up -- the cost of life here (not even going out and having fun -- simply eating, dressing, and not freezing to death), and the salaries the people are paid.

Most families get by from remittances. Out of all of the people I know in my village, I would say around 75 percent of them have at LEAST one relative working abroad -- it really throws off the population statistics too, and leaves many kids being raised by grandparents or a single partent. Whether it be in Italy working as a housekeeper illegally, or in Russia doing construction, or in Turkey doing God knows what -- remittances are keeping this country alive. (Editor's note: I know nothing about the economy, ours, theirs, in general. I don't claim to be any type of economist. I just don't know how Moldovans would live without the money pouring in from abroad. It acts, in my opinion, as a crutch -- the money from abroad helps Moldovans in Moldova pay for their necessities -- plus things like cell phones). If people actually couldn't afford their day to day life-- which I don't think they could on their Moldovan salaries -- then the system might be jolted into changing. Right now, the crutches seem to be allowing it to stumble along).

In fact, Moldova is now, in 2008, the world's leader in cash remittances from abroad, with money from abroad representing 36% of the national GDP. See the official report here.

I know Moldovan doctors who are working in Italy because they make more money taking care of an elderly person than they would working as a doctor in Moldova.

In the next month there are 5 major holidays coming up (Orthodox Easter, Easter of the Dead, Hram - "village day celebration, " Workers' Day and Memorial Day). And if you have been reading my blog, you know how elaborately Moldovans like to celebrate holidays. Putting an additional crunch on the budget.

Tonight we were talking about the price of bread because my host mom had just finished her "investigation," as she calls it, into the cost to produce a loaf of bread at their factory. Apparently, they are loosing 50 banuti (like cents) on every loaf they sell. Why don't they raise the price? She claims that it is a political thing, tied into the Communists and their way of governing -- to create an illusion that everything is still okay, or at least border-line normal.

As she puts it, when prices go up, people complain. When bread goes up, people riot.

Two nights ago, my host brother, who is "grown-up" and lives in Chisinau with his own family, was on tv. He is the vice-director of the anti-corruption unit within the police force of Moldova. Pretty tough stuff, and pretty political. He spoke freely and openly, and defended well, in my opinion, the new anti-corruption measures Moldova is trying to take to make its police force more transparent, including his new, independent branch of the police (compartmentalizing), and a 24 hour, anonymous tips hot line for reporting corruption.

Anyway. The point of this blog entry is not what he said on tv. It is the fact that he was on tv. He called us during the day on Friday and said he was going to be on tv. I told my host mom. She called a bunch of her friends. We all went to the neighbor's house to watch it -- a boy from a small village, now in such an important post, talking to a panel of international monitors -- he made his host mom, and neighbors very proud.

Many questions came up that night. Why did he get appointed to this post? Will he get a bigger salary? How will the work be? Etc etc. The question that did not come up, while my host mom was announcing to others to tune into the program, was "what channel?". Moldova, has one television channel, "Moldova 1". If someone says turn on the TV, there is only one place to look.

Sean, this is a post to you. When I come home (in 7 months!!!), and you are watching direct tv, or whatever type of tv we now have in the family room, and you tell me "nothing is on", on 300 plus channels, I am going to hit you on the head with a newspaper. Love, Sharon.

Yesterday was "International Roma Day," a day dedicated to celebrating the Roma culture, as well as drawing attention to the still-existing prejudice and discrimination that exists against them.

In our village, the Roma people (around 75 of them that live here) put on a showcase of traditional dancing and singing. Not too many people came to see it that weren't Roma themselves.

Moldova, despite its small size, is the home to many different ethnic minorities (many of whom have been displaced, and displaced again, and again), Roma just being one of them. And unfortunately, diversity is not encouraged or valued very much here. Moldova, like many other places, often falls into the "us" vs. "them" state of mind, which is not surprising for a country that has been ruled/invaded/bossed around by so many outside entities throughout history.

Before going to the concert, my host mother warned me to take extra care of my belongings, so that "no one would steal them."

It is hard for me to talk to people about stereotypes here. Partly because there is a vivid fear of the outsider, partly because people here haven't been exposed to any real form of diversity (whether it be ethnicity or religion). My usual approach is to ask them what they thought of Americans before they met me, and to see how I meet / don't meet their expectations (tall, from a city, very rich, arrogant, loud, stylishly dressed). And they end up saying, usually, but "you are an exception..."

I'm done with this post, as I can't finish my train of thought. Sorry. Here are a few pictures from the Roma Day event, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

After 12 days of mud, rain, mud, gray skies, mud, downpours and more mud, the sun has finally come back to us. Now onto the business of cleaning the layers of caked mud from my boots...