The Goodbyes Part 3: Ecik and the Swearing In Ceremony

“I…do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the United States Peace Corps on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

-Oath taken by Peace Corps trainees during the Swearing in Ceremony*

I’ve already said my goodbyes to my friends in Karabulak and Taldykorgan as well as to my fellow Kaz-20 volunteers who have already left Kazakhstan. The last part of my goodbyes was to my friends in Ecik such as my co-workers at Local Community Foundation (LCF), and the Youth Development trainees (who were sworn in as volunteers on Saturday).

The goodbyes at the LCF were hard because my director and counterpart were bummed out and I was in a bad mood. We submitted an application to Peace Corps to have a Youth Development volunteer (my replacement), but we were denied. The LCF is one of the most legit organizations I have ever seen in Kazakhstan, and would have benefited greatly from a new volunteer. Over the past year, we have been promoting youth development initiatives and projects in our region, and we did some really great things like coordinating a youth bank (teaching kids how to write grant proposals for self initiated projects) and organizing a summer camp on youth leadership. We also had summer internships that we offered to kids and created a base of volunteers to promote philanthropy during the holidays. And don’t get me started about the plans that they have for the future: starting a job shadow program to get kids exposed and interested in different vocations and jobs, in which they already won a 7,000 dollar grant (with minimal help from me).

On their own, the LCF is awesome. With a Youth Development volunteer aiding and augmenting their project ideas; they could be beyond amazing. However, when it comes to Youth Development and NGOs in Kazakhstan, there are always more organizations than available volunteers. Someone is bound to lose out. Even so, the fact that I won’t be replaced hurts, and I’m still a bit sore about it. Although we were all sad, we went out to lunch, and they gave me lots of Kazakhstan chocolate (about 5 pounds worth), and a picture book of plants and nature that is special to Kazakhstan, and lots of well wishes and advice. I’m going to miss them terribly, and will stay in touch with them through Skype and email. After that, I moved out my apartment, and left Ecik for Almaty.

How I'll remember Ecik: A dusty town, but in a very pretty location. Pictures by Jenni J.

The next day was the swearing in ceremony for the Kaz-22 group. The ceremony was about an hour long and involved speeches from the US Ambassador to Kazakhstan and a representative from the Ministry of Education of Kazakhstan. I always enjoy the speech from the Ministry because they usually pass along praise from organizations and schools whom have worked with a Peace Corps Volunteer. Although they are gone, the Kaz-20 teachers were praised heavily in the speech for the work they did in Kazakhstani schools and colleges during their two years. My favorite bit of praise was about a friend of mine who lived near Kyzlorda who was called “A teacher from God” by her principal. I wish I was that awesome.

Speaking of awesome people, I’d like to congratulate the newest volunteers in Kazakhstan, the Kaz 22’s, and especially the 8 Youth Development volunteers from Issyk. They are a great bunch, and I enjoyed working with them. I feel like they have the right qualities to be great volunteers: they are confident in themselves and their skills, but not cocky. They are optimistic about their upcoming 2 year service, but are realistic about what they can do. They are willing to work hard, but can also let loose and relax. They are dedicated, but not crazy. Well, not that crazy; they do tend to bust out in laughter for seemingly no reason at all. Because they have those qualities (even the laughing bit), I think they’ll be great and very successful as they begin to work with kids and youth organizations across Kazakhstan. I wish them well.

I do believe that if they keep working hard at it their Russian language skills will be better than mine.

After the ceremony they were shoved onto trains, taxis, and marshukas (vans) to travel to their sites all over Kazakhstan where they will begin their 2 year service. After that, there were more goodbyes: With my sitemate (whom I forgot to show this web based show. I think she’ll find it hilarious), and Kaz 21’s from close to Zharkent and Taldykorgan respectively. Then I ate some great Indian food, said some more goodbyes to the last pair of YD volunteers who would leave the next morning, and then slept for about 10 hours.

The YD training team from Ecik. We are so proud of the new volunteers! (and Shymkent!)

All of my goodbyes are done. My role as a trainer for the Kaz 22s is complete. All of my grants are turned in and approved. Tomorrow, I will be officially done with Peace Corps.

*This Oath is also used by anyone in the Armed forces or civil service; practically everyone involved in government except the President.

All of this has happened before

It’s been a wild and busy week, because I have been helping prepare Pre Service Training (PST) for the newest group of volunteers to Kazakhstan, the Kaz 22s. We designed sessions, set up general logistics, and drank lots of chai with host families and school directors. Although a lot of things are last minute, we still got enough done to get PST up and running for the first couple of weeks.

So with 4 other VTAs, we went to the airport on late Thursday night/Friday morning and met the Kaz 22’s. They are 75 people strong, and we spent Friday and Saturday going through orientation which involves getting vaccines, teaching Peace Corps acronyms, and other administrative stuff. I facilitated sessions on host families, basic culture and history of Kazakhstan, and safety and security. Talking about host families and culture were my favorite sessions because it was a reminder for me of how different my “normal life” is here. For example, I made the following chart:

DO

• Take off your shoes when you go inside
• Drink hot tea with your family, even though its summer
• Attempt to tell your host family your whole life story through pictures, even though you just met them an hour ago.

DO NOT

• Throw Toilet paper into the toilet…it clogs up everything and creates a disaster. Throw it in the garbage instead
• Shake hands with women. People just don’t do this.
• Freak out if your host family goes into the banya with you…and then gets disappointed when you don’t want to be hit with tree branches. It’s a cultural thing. And it doesn’t hurt. Much.

After a day and half of orientation, we all got into busses and went to our training sites. My training site is Issyk, so it was nothing new for me. As we got closer to town, I started to feel a feeling I haven’t felt in awhile: pride. I was proud because the trainees were not looking down at the dirt roads, wild dogs, or trash fires that usually frames the first impression of Issyk from a trainee point of view, but up at the hills and mountains nearby which are still snowcapped despite the summer heat. Several of them told me that Issyk was pretty. I was floored, because I’ve never heard a trainee say that before. In this blog I frequently mention how awesome Taldykorgan is for a variety of reasons (mainly, because it is), but I really do like Issyk. It’s a pretty place, a great place with great people, history and culture.

Shortly after arriving into town, the trainees met their host families. They were mobbed by their families, smothered in hospitality and curiosity, and then whisked away to eat. What was funny was that what was incomprehensible Russian and Kazakh two years ago actually made sense. Chatting with the host families was hilarious. Some of my favorite things they told me:

“She’s a vegetarian? They still eat meat, right? No? Well…we’ll work with her…but we will leave meat on the table, just in case she changes her mind.”

“He’s very tall. And very thin. We will feed him immediately.”

“An engineer? Interesting. We’ll feed her when we get home.”

And from my original host family during my PST, who also has a Kaz 22 trainee: “We understand why he is so thin, but you Kyle?! Shame! We are having dinner at 7. You will come too. We are having horse.”

Throughout orientation, I have been feeling quite weird, because I these are the exact same things that happened to me when I first arrived. Being hugged by strangers. Eating horse. Being injected with two needles in each arm at the same time. Learning how to say “hello” correctly. Learning how to poop while squatting correctly. And other things.

Perhaps this shows how big of a nerd I really am, but the reoccurring thought in my head today as I interacted with the trainees, answered questions, and just observed what was going on around me was this quote:

“All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again.”

And it did happen before to me…as of today I have been in Kazakhstan for exactly two years.

Oh Frak...Am I a Cylon?

"Wanna sing about it?" Ecik's Youth Leadership Camp

I spent the last week helping the Local Community Foundation to organize their first youth summer camp. It was focused on youth leadership and project design. 17 young people from all over the Almaty Oblast came to the camp, and my director and I showed them how to write a project proposal plan, a budget, and identify community resources. In short, it was kind of like the Project Design Management seminar I helped organize in Taldykorgan for Peace Corps, but for youth. And way more fun.

Why do good kids go bad? This poster has the answer. Too bad its a jumble...half upside down, half in Russian and Kazakh.

"Parts of a project" in Kazakh.

Although learning how to design a community project doesn't sound like a sexy theme for a youth summer camp, it wasn't all we did. We also had a couple of sessions on leadership and played a lot of team building and leadership games. The LCF partnered with an ecology camp in Ecik, and they organized several day trips for us to see many of the cool things around Issyk like the Golden Man, Lake Issyk, and the waterfalls behind Turgen, a small town about 15km from Issyk. Through them, I learned so much more about the history of Ecik and the Golden Man.

Lake Issyk. Located about 15 km from my house, it is a lake hemmed in by mountains, and also provides some water for the town. According to my director,about 50 years ago (I forget the exact date) the dam that held in the water broke, and all of the water rushed downhill, taking out the town below and killing a lot of people.

Opening the door to the "rock yurt". Yurts are traditional Kazakh homes, as back in the day Kazakhs were nomadic. Yurts are usually made of cloth, and are warm in the winter and cool in the summer. This yurt is special, because it's made of stone.

But what really made the camp enjoyable were the kids themselves. They were fantastic, motivated, and always interested. And they were very musical. Out of the 17 youth, 6 could play the guitar and dombra, 4 were enrolled in music schools, and all the rest had some musical ability.

Talent. She has it.

And they sang. And danced. And played dombras, drummed on tables and rocked out on the 3 guitars they brought. On their breaks they would have impromptu jam sessions. They would invent songs on the fly about anything: the weather, the food, how they were feeling. It was kind of like watching a 5 day Glee marathon. Although I had to physically cut them off so that we could continue our work, I enjoyed every minute of it.

We spent hours having conversations about the history of jazz music, and the stories behind some of the most popular Kazakh songs. It also made me realize how much I miss playing my saxophone. Since coming to Kazakhstan, I haven't been very musical, and I miss it very much. When I get back to America, finding a sax is going to be a high priority.

It was by far the most fun I've had at a camp, ever.

Hanging out

After the camp, I was exhausted. My director and I worked 8 days in a row setting everything up and doing the camp. And while I want to curl up on my couch and watch episodes of Dexter (my now second favorite TV show), I can't take a break quite yet. I have 15 days to close 2 grants, organize a session on fund raising for other local NGOs, and another summer camp session.

How to Hitchhike in Kazakhstan (How I get to work)

Every weekday I do the exact same actions of millions of Americans: I get up, eat breakfast, get dressed, and go to work. However it's the process of actually getting to work that serves as a daily reminder to me of exactly how far I am away from my home country: I stick out my hand and hitch a ride.

I am such a rebel. This goes totally against what I was taught as a child. It is engrained in American children to never enter cars with unknown persons, even if they have candy and a lost puppy. We are taught in America that if you hop in a stranger's car, you will be kidnapped and killed and you will never see your parents again and all people who hitch rides are crazy escaped felons from prison that will stab you in the neck while you drive and then steal your car. Yet, even with those reinforced principles in my head, I stand on the main highway with my hand out every day waiting for someone to pick me up. This is because hitching in Kazakhstan and especially in Ecik is the only way to get a taxi and the fastest way to travel. And it's part of the culture. In Kazakhstan and many Central Asian countries, any car is a taxi, and any person is a potential passenger.

In principle, this is something I think that we as Americans could adapt to our lives. Imaging driving to work every day, stopping once or twice to pick up 2 or 3 people who work in the same highrise or building. They pay you a dollar each way. That's could be lunch money at Wendys! It could revolutionize carpooling. Too bad that in America this would never work because we believe that hitchhiking = death.

I don't have to take a taxi if I don't want to. I could take the bus but they have become less frequent since school finished in June. If I see a bus I take it, as it is slightly cheaper than a taxi (40 vs 50 tenge), but waiting for a bus could make me hours late to work. Walking is another option. However, Ecik situated at the base of a mountain range, so I'd have to walk uphill to work. This takes about an hour and it's not very fun in bad weather. However my future nieces, nephews, and godchildren don't need to know how often I did this, as I'm not above lying. I already know what I'll tell them: "When I was in Peace Corps, I walked uphill an hour every day to work for two years through Siberian winters, and I wasn't even paid! So don't complain about how hard it is to hoverboard to school…"

So, how do I catch a taxi to get to work? It's not very hard, but slightly different than the American views of hitchhiking:

First, nobody in Kazakhstan sticks their thumb out to catch a ride. Instead, it is more common to point a finger, a hand, or in some cases, a whole arm. In Ecik, people use hand signals to communicate with drivers. For example, from my apartment, if I want to go to work, I point uphill. If I'm at work and wish to go home, I point my index finger toward the ground and circle it, because I live in the outskirts of town, where you'd have to turn around to go back to the center of town. If I wish to go to Almaty, I point to the direction of the city. If I don't want to get into a particular car, I shake my head once like a pitcher rejecting their catcher's choice of throwing a fast ball and it will pass me by. If the car is full, or if the driver doesn't want to stop they can do the same thing.

When a car stops, I stick my head in the window and scan the vehicle quickly while telling the driver where I want to go and how much I'm willing to pay to get there. What am I looking for? All of the things that our parents warned us about as teenagers: crazy drivers, alcohol, drunk people, cars with NOS, short shifters, and turbo boost meters seatbelts, loud music, and joyriders. This introspection goes both ways. While I'm looking at the driver, the driver is looking at me too to see if I am drunk or crazy. I've been in cars that have stopped for a person, then suddenly drive away because the person was drunk beyond belief. Nobody wants to take a drunk person anywhere, and nobody wants to ride with a drunk. On the particular day that I'm blogging about, I shared the car with a 9 year old girl who was going all by herself.

Is the car safe? I'm not a total gearhead, but examining the outside of the car while it stops and sticking my head inside, I can get sense of whether it and its driver can carry me to my destination safely. Is it falling apart or heavily dented? Held together by tape? Does it sound more like a lawn mower than a real car? Do the breaks squeal and the tires lock up…on dry pavement? If I see any of those things or if my gut says "don't get in", I give a head shake and wait for another car. It's not a perfect system and I've blogged about a car accident I was in a year ago, but since that time I've become more careful.

When the car stops is also when I negotiate how much I'm willing to pay. Metered taxis are rare to nonexistent, so haggling is common. Many towns have a fair price: in Ecik I can take a taxi for 50 tenge anywhere in the city limits during the day. In bad weather and at night the prices can be 70 to 100 tenge. Although it's usually 50 tenge, this doesn't stop taxi drivers for asking for more, especially if they think I don't know the standard rate (which I do). Anyone that overcharges me and refuses to budge gets a simple, "I've lived in Ecik since 2008. I know how much a taxi costs." Then I head nod them along and wait for another car. A little bit of patience goes a long way.

One good thing about my time in Kazakhstan is that it has made me a more direct person who is willing to speak up to get what I want and to stand up for myself. There is a big difference between, "I'm going to go to the center. Is 50 tenge ok?" than "I'm going to the center for 50 tenge.", although one would use the exact same words in Russian. As a non native Russian or Kazakh speaker, I've learned that intonation is important.

Talking about the price up front cuts down drastically on the chances of getting ripped off. Although this hasn't happened to me in a long time, if a taxi driver tries to rip me off, usually by not giving me change (which is why having exact change is valuable), it usually causes me to start yelling in rapid fire Russian about how I shouldn't be taken as an idiot and my opinions about honor and shame that would make my Karabulak babushka say "Great job!". For reasons I don't know, people get surprised and taken back when I start screaming. But this rarely happens. The only time I pay early is if the driver stops for gas. Why would a driver stop for gas? A professional taxi driver would always have a full tank. The answer to this is that not every taxi person in Kazakhstan is a professional, as all cars can be taxis. And not all cars have a full tanks of gas.

When I get to work, I pay the agreed price, and leave. After that, I walk around the corner and up the stairs into the Local Community Foundation's one room office, and begin my work day. Just like millions of other Americans

I just get there differently.

An Average Weekend

Whenever I talk to family and friends back in America, the question “what are you doing this weekend?” usually causes a sarcastic response from me. Not that I intend to be mean, but weekends are not a big deal for me in Kazakhstan. Usually I’m so exhausted from the week that I spend Saturday and Sunday as mental recharge days so I can go all out during the week. Earlier I posted about what an average weekday was like for me. I decided to do it again, but with what I did during this past weekend. It's not exciting...but it's what I do.

Saturday

8:30am – Wake up. Eat breakfast, yogurt with oatmeal. I don’t like to eat breakfast in the morning. I prefer it for lunch, or dinner, but as of late I’ve been getting hungry more often. It could be the new diet.

9:00am – Discovered that Saturdays are the day when Ecik doesn’t have water! During the summer, many large towns and cities have a day when they shut down the water systems to repair pipes or to divert water to local farms. My neighbor says that it will come on late in the day, perhaps around 5pm. I usually take Saturdays to clean and wash my clothes. However, it is impossible without water so I need to find something else to do.

10am -9pm – Instead of cleaning, I watch the 1^st and 2^nd seasons of Arrested Development, and read Ivanhoe. I’d like to say that I’m doing “Peace Corps things” on the weekend like teaching kids, saving the world, or whatever people imagine the ‘ideal Peace Corps experience’ is, but truthfully on weekends that I’m not traveling or working I watch recorded TV shows or read books.

Sunday

8:30am – Wake up.

9am-3pm – Watch the rest of the 2^nd season, and parts of the 3^rd season of Arrested development

4pm – the water is back on! Actually it came on yesterday after dinner, but I was busy watching Arrested Development. I washed my clothes, mopped my apartment, and cleaned everything.

5pm – Went to the local store to buy potatoes. Along the way, I came across some little girls that have befriended me. They told me that some boys were throwing rocks at them, and this was very painful. I told them that in America, boys trouble girls because they like them, but if I saw the boys, I’d tell them to stop. Along the way to the store, I did see the boys, and although I’m a fan of rock throwing (at dogs that try to eat me, not girls) I told them the exact same thing: that it’s a tradition in America that boys trouble girls that they like. At the store I bought potatoes (2 kilograms = 1 dollar)

5:30pm – while walking back the girls came to me and thanked me and said that the boys have stopped throwing rocks. They asked me what I said to them. I said it was a secret between men and that they’d learn when they were married and had kids of their own.

7:00 – Although I’ve hinted that my time in Kazakhstan has enhanced my cooking skills, I can now say that I think I have mastered potato soup from scratch. I’ve been tinkering with it for many months, and I think I’ve now perfected my recipe! If you give me water, potatoes, flour, milk, and some salt and pepper, I can make a mean pot soup!

7:00-8:30 – Read more Ivanhoe. It’s not the best book I’ve read in Kazakhstan, but very interesting, and reading makes me feel more productive than watching episode after episode of Arrested Development.

8:30-12am – type out emails on Outlook while watching the Italy/New Zealand, and Brazil/Ivory Coast games on repeat and get ready for Monday.

“April Showers brings what?”

Life has slowed down significantly since I arrived back in Ecik. After the whirlwinds of Shymkent, Almaty, and Peace Corps seminars, adapting to life in Ecik again was a little bit disorienting. My counterpart and director were happy to see me after almost 3 weeks. In my absence, they have been extremely productive, collaborating with a local youth organization to start a summer camp, beginning the application for a new volunteer, and preparing to go to a personalized seminar on fundraising techniques in Ukraine. I'm really happy for their successes.

The only thing of interest this week is the weather. Since Sunday, it has rained or snowed every day in Ecik. Going multiple days without seeing the sun has made me miserable. With it expected to rain all the way through next Monday, I'm also facing a clothes drying crisis. After three weeks on the road, all of my clothes are dirty, and the highlight of my weekend was going to be washing all of them. That'll be the easy part, but I air dry my clothes, and rainy weather isn't good for that. I'm sure they exist somewhere, but I have yet to see a dryer in this country.

I don't think that the popular American phrase "April showers brings May flowers" doesn't translate properly into Russian. Or if it does, I'm not saying it correctly. I spent over 10 minutes trying to explain the phrase to my organization the other day, and failed.

With no other interesting developments in my life or work worth mentioning this week, I wanted to pass along a couple of links that are way more useful:

1. My pal Michael's blog. Recently he had a friend visit him in Kazakhstan from America, and his friend is currently guest blogging about the things they did while he was here. It's a good read. Kazakhstan is a very unique and interesting country, and it has been a point of frustration to me that no amount of pictures or stories can fully explain what this country is about. The only way to really understand what it's like to bathe in a banya, sit on a train for over 2 days straight and eat beshbarmak until you burst is to visit and actually do those things. If coming to Kazakhstan is out of the question for you, then reading his account may be the next best thing.
   

   
   

2. My friend Erica's post on the Peace Corps application process. About once a month I receive a question from a friend or acquaintance back home asking about the Peace Corps. Her description and tips about getting through it are pretty much right on, and I don't think I could describe the long Peace Corps application process better than her. For anyone considering the Peace Corps, or people who are curious about what it takes to join, I'd recommend to take a look.

When I fought Satan

I love dogs. They are nice and cuddly, loyal friends and I never get tired of watching dogs chase things. However, since I've arrived in Kazakhstan, I've had the problem of dogs trying to eat me for lunch. Many volunteers in Kazakhstan at one point or another has some sort of alteration with a snarling angry dog. After comparing notes with friends, I believe that I have more dog problems than the average volunteer. This is something that I don't understand. I love dogs (and cats too), but I've never had problems with dogs until now.

The first couple of months were the worst. Dogs would chase me down the street, bark at me for no reason, or start snarling even before I was in their line of sight. Because of my problems, I started carrying a "doggie rock": a rock that fit in my palm well, but dense enough to cause some damage if it hit a maruading canine (Yes, this was my exact thought when I found this rock).

My doggie rock actually saved my life. On my first night in Karabulak, I slammed the rock on a dog's head. It’s not like I did this for fun. It tried to sneak attack me while I was doing my business in an outhouse. It lived, but I think I gave it brain damage because it didn't walk in a straight line after that and was a bit crosseyed. My host was really puzzled about the dog's actions, but just chalked it up to someone else throwing a rock at the dog. I never told her it was me.

When it comes to pitching rocks, I don’t have an arm like Randy Johnson, but I’m getting more accurate. And just to be clear, I don’t like throwing rocks at dogs. But I don't want to become lunch.

Aurora and Capt. Jack with my brother and I. These puppies are so cute, and actual proof that I love dogs! Perhaps when they are older I'll throw marshmellows at them, but never rocks. But on the other hand they wouldn't try to eat my soul.

After training, my relationship with canines in Kazakhstan got slightly better. My host family in Karabulak had a dog called “Omega”. I taught him how to play fetch, and he was really well behaved, although he would steal my shoes and bury them behind the banya.

However, Omega was a rebel, and he eventually ran away to join the “dog fleet”: a mass of 20 wildish (or unchained dogs) that would go rampaging around the town at dusk eating chickens, other dogs, and anything else they could find. I saw Omega one day a couple months later, eating garbage. Although we had a good rapport when he was at my host families house, I steered clear of him after that.

When I moved to Esik, I decided to take another strategy regarding dogs. For the first time, I was going to be nicer to them and not go flinging rocks every time one of them looked at me like I could be lunch. Esik doesn’t have a dog fleet, although there are 3-4 dogs that hang around my apartment. While they don’t belong to anyone, they have never barked at me or gave me any trouble, although I wouldn’t pet them. I did throw chicken scraps at them every once in awhile, to keep to the peace. The arrangement worked quite well.

Then Satan showed up.

Satan is a small black mutt with Death Star laser beams for eyes, a permanent scowl of a mouth, and can probably consume your soul faster than I can eat a fun pack of jellybeans. On a Friday I came home to find Satan camped out in front of my apartment door, snarling at me. I brandished my "doggie rock", and he backed off enough that I could sneak inside my door. Satan growled at my door for about another half an hour. The good news: I was safe. The bad news? I was under siege by an evil soul gnawer. It paced outside of my door for awhile, and eventually lay down on my doormat. With a good steel door between me and doom, I didn’t think much of the dog until the next day, when I opened my food cabinet and realized that with the exception of two eggs, the Ramen package was the last of my food.

Satan. I took this picture by opening the door a crack and blindly snapping a photo while praying that Satan wouldn't wedge open the door, fly inside, and feast on my soul. I also took this picture so that if Satan ate me, people would know the truth.

This particular week, I worked more than 50 hours at the Local Community Foundation creating their first annual report, so I didn’t have any time to go shopping. I was planning on doing this on Saturday. I made a dinner of Ramen noodles (my last package), and went to bed. When I woke up the next day, Satan was still there. And still very angry.

For the next 20 hours, Satan laid siege to my door. I couldn’t leave. Every time I opened the door, Satan was there, baring teeth. I wanted to go to the store, but with a snarling dog at my doorstep, I really couldn't go anywhere. I ran out of food at lunch. Satan stayed.

Closer to dinner time, I heard my neighbors. They were returning home. Then there was some growling, a couple of swear words in Russian, and when I looked out again, Satan was gone. After over 20 hours of being locked in my apartment I was saved.