Kavkaz Extreme!

My final month in Adygeya is not going by tame or uneventful. Apparently, it’s been  “Ekstrim” (Extreme). At the beginning of the month, Mike and Sarah came to visit (a former Oberlin classmate and a current Fulbright ETA, respectively) and I got to show them around the Republic. My friend Katya brought us to Guzeripl for some “Ekstrim” rafting (Extreme it was not; I only fell in the water once by accident, even after Ruslan, our instructor, told us of rapids that had a 50/50 chance of overturning the raft). The next day I led them around the Rufabgo waterfalls where we passed an “Extreme Park”… a tree zipline of about 10 feet. This trip was not complete without some overpriced shashlik and cheese and a thunderstorm. Although my friends had no time to visit the university, they did get the chance to meet Nart (His name is NART?!) and Timur.

I am leaving this Wednesday… unfortunate for many reasons, but yet another reason is because in August there will be an event called “Kavkaz-EXTREME” (Seriously, WHY is everything supposed to be “EXTREME” here??), a Mountain Marathon which features 50 kilometers of high-altitude trails around the highest peaks in Adygeya. I will be long since gone by then, but if I were here, I would absolutely enter this race. Of course, to most it sounds like hell, and even though I have been distance running for ten years, I am not exactly confident I could finish such a challenge in one piece. Even so, I’d do it anyway.

This week, as my classes have long since ended and exams have begun, I helped out two of the English teachers at the language camp for school-aged children. The week was divided into Britain Day, American Day, Games and French Day, German and Italian Day, Arabic Day, and a final concert and talent show. Tomorrow, we are scheduled to go to another place in the mountains that I haven’t been to, unless of course more thunder and hail storms interrupt our plans. I taught the Spanish Master-Class, and also held a “Press Conference” where I got to answer some funny questions, like “Do you have a pet rabbit? Why not?” “Have you been to Grozny? Would you like to?” and ”Are you good or bad?” Some of the most memorable children include Elina, who seemed to think that Pushkin was the answer to every question even though this week had nothing to do with Russian literature;  and two young, potbellied Adyghe kids- Azamat, who walked around always looking just about to break into a Lezginka; and Timur, who reminded me of my best friend here… same name, same appetite.

To finish this up, I’d like to define some of the words I have used and that are often heard and overused around here.

Kavkaz: The word “Caucasus” in Russian and other local languages.

Krasavchik: A handsome young man, or someone who does something unusually awesome.

Shashlik: Barbecue meat on a skewer, usually lamb but can be pork or beef or chicken.

Bombita: A girl with smudgy red lipstick, fake designer accessories, too much make up. Lots of times they wear a hejab or headscarf to show that they are “Muslim.” Any pictures of them on the internet will be taken in a mirror with an iPhone 5, always with a duckface.

Priora: A newer LADA model that young Caucasian guys like to drive, preferable white, sometimes black. Always with low seating and dark windows.

Bor’ba: Literally, “fighting sport.” Wrestling, judo, boxing… the favorite sport for men around here.

“Spustilsa s Gor” (‘came off the mountain’): The equivalent of “FOB/Fresh off the Boat”. A Caucasian guy that came to a city right out of an aul who has yet to acclimate himself to urban behavioral standards.

Ponty/Pokazhukhi: Show-offs, generally of the hypocritical variety. This includes the previously mentioned kind of person who will adorn his car with Islamic medallions and greet his friends with “Salam Alaikum” while drinking a beer.

Aul: A village in the mountains, or a village where people mainly of a Caucasian nationality live.

Dzhigit: Formerly, a man who can perform elaborate tricks on horseback, also means “brave.” Now has the same meaning as “krasavchik” but used less frequently in speech (more in song lyrics).

Adyghe Pshashe: Literally means “Adyghe Girl,” but often used in such a way that it doesn’t mean just any girl of Adyghe nationality, but of a certain local ideal of women: Beautiful, young, modest but at the same time a bit arrogant (hard to explain), generally with long dark hair and fair skin, face with a sort of haughty look about it with nose turned up and eyes turned down with a frown of disapproval. The idea is even if she is interested in a man, she has to pretend to be not interested and not even give him the time of day.

FOOD:

Ayran: A milk product that is more sour than yogurt, less sour than kefir. It is delicious and good for you.

Halva: A sweet sort of powdery-textured… thing… that is made from sunflower seeds. It is also delicious but many do not like it at first. Best if also eaten with ayran.

Schips: An Adyghe national dish, a sauce that is made from chicken broth and various spices. Best when eaten with pasta (pasta is how it is pronounced in Adyghe, it has nothing to do with the Italian food pasta), another dish made from porridge.

Adzhika: A mix of spices which I think is originally from Abkhazia. It can be spicy or not spicy, in a powder or in a paste.

Kardanchiki: Something I invented. It’s like a pizza dumpling with adzhika powder mixed in the dough, vegetables and Adyghe cheese in the middle with more adzhika. They are named Kardanchiki because the majority of them have been eaten by Timur Kardanov.

Red Moccasins: A fashion statement of young men from the Caucasus. Actually, red moccasins appear to have gone out of style in favor of regular Adidas shoes. People who wear red moccasins usually drive white Prioras.

“My Life, My Rules.”: A popular slogan of local young men. I guess it’s kind of the rationale they have that young men can do as they please and always be right. See previous blog entries for modern day interpretation of Adyghe Habze. “My Life, My Rules” is often written on the bumpers of while Prioras driven by people wearing red moccasins. It is also worth mentioning that a related slogan happens to be the national anthem of separatist Chechnya: “Freedom or Death.” Compare with the motto of New Hampshire, “Live Free or Die.” I think they are on to something…

Kalym: In the past, a sort of male dowry. According to tradition, a man must pay a woman’s parents a kalym in order to take their daughter’s hand. If the kalym is not paid, the man does not have official permission to take his bride and therefore must steal her. This is how bride stealing became so common among young man in the villages. Nowadays, the idea of kalym is completely put aside and man just go ahead and steal their brides anyway. 

On Women, Gender, Sex, and Relationships in the North Caucasus

By the Western, American, or at least the Oberlin College definition, I am most likely NOT a feminist.
First, I do not find most benign comments, "sexist" jokes, or modern remnants of "antiquated, patriarchal traditions" (for example, wearing a veil at your wedding, taking your husband's last name, being escorted through a door and helped with your coat) offensive. One could potentially research the origin of many phrases or names for things or common habits and find an "offensive" history behind it. (Many would find the Russian language itself inherently sexist and homophobic). Second, I believe that men and women are physically, biologically, psychologically... just, logically... DIFFERENT, and that they should be. Do I believe men and women are equal? It depends on what aspect of life you are referring to. All people, regardless of gender, have strengths and weaknesses. Statistically, some activities are more of a strength for men and a weakness for women, and vice versa. I do believe in equal pay for equal work; this is just logic. A result is what it is, whether the work was done by a man or a woman.
I am a woman, I enjoy being feminine, looking and dressing feminine (for myself AND for a man I may be dating or interested in), and well... woman things.

So, I have decided to write a rather lengthy blog post today on what's probably a sensitive and controversial issue for some: the issue of being a woman in a traditional society. Of course, I am not subject to the same cultural norms as the locals, because I'm a foreigner and am only here temporarily, but I've still got a decent inside look. In this blog, I will reveal to you my perspective of what is known to be a VERY male-dominated, patriarchal society, and the complexities within it. I'll most likely explain things as a sort of champion of the Golden Middle, albeit in a rather politically incorrect way. So brace yourself :)
Also, I might add that using the words "Sex" and "Caucasus" in the title will probably get me twice the page hits as the rest of my entries.

Adyghe Habze (a word that means language/tradition/custom/way of being all combined) indeed defines specific gender roles. Historically, men were the warriors that defended their homeland, and women were the gentle homemakers. Today, now that most men are not  fighting in any kind of battle, men are favored to go out and find leadership positions or more high-earning professions, while women are preferred to be more domestic or hold "softer" jobs. The problem is, that the economy of Russia and Adyghe Republic has a shortage of high-paying positions for non-oligarchic normal people, so one salary is never enough for a whole family to live on. This means that women are expected to take care of the home AND hold a job or two. In the context of more women pursuing careers, however, the expectation that women should be quiet, shy, modest, and submissive remains. Some women are wary of taking on a profession that involves a life that is too "public", as their husbands might get jealous.
So how does the Caucasian gender structure differ from that of other traditional societies? The difference mainly has to do with Caucasian men. Russians stereotype the local men as goryachy... or hot blooded, tempermental, easily sexually aroused... that sort of thing. It's something to do with the mountain air, warm sun, physical health and attractiveness of people... many reasons have been referenced. Judging by the behavior of my rowdy neighbors, the way local young men drive their cars, and the random messages I have gotten on Odnoklassniki... there is definitely some truth to this. This context not only shows how the patriarchal "The Man is Always Right" attitude has continued, but also shows how Caucasian women have continued on to show a constantly higher level of maturity, grace, cleverness, and emotional strength.

How on earth do I figure that? It's best to use the Lezginka itself as a metaphor. In this blog post that references Chechen folk dance, the Lezginka does an excellent job to explain the local gender interactions and the complexities below the surface:

"The man stamps and struts, while the woman glides. At first you think it is chauvinist, that the man is having all the fun, and that the woman is a chattel or an accessory for his enjoyment. But the more you watch and understand, the more you realise it is far more complex than that. The woman, by ignoring the man completely and dancing to herself while he flashes with all his macho art, can make him look ridiculous. By acknowledging a dancer who is enthusiastic but not skilful, she can make him glow with pride. It is a subtle and impressive interplay between the sexes, enjoyed by both men, women and even this spectator who has never been brave enough to join in."

 Women, by tradition, hold a different kind of power. If you look at it a certain way, this power is held above the power of men, no matter how much he says he is "always right about everything." According to an old Adyghe tradition, if two men are in a duel, a woman can drop her scarf between the two fighting men and they absolutely MUST stop. I'm not sure if this still holds true today, but I do know that the older women seem to be the most powerful figures around. One example of proof involves another episode from my beloved Chechen neighbors. Two men were having a very intense street fight, and one of them appeared to pull out a gun. Suddenly, a Babushka showed up, and the two men just backed off from each other and quietly walked away.
To offend any woman, especially an elderly woman but young girls are counted as well, could result in her father, her brothers, her uncles, her cousins, you name it, the entire clan... all seeking to publicly shame you, or worse. Your life could be in danger, according to some.

Another thing I have noticed about Adyghe and other Caucasian women... I must admit, comes from my more sentimental, romantic side... is their sheer femininity and grace, and their beauty... not only their physical beauty, but their naturally beautiful way of carrying themselves. Their clothing is, for the most part, both modest and fashionable... meaning, it is purely elegant, without the need to show cleavage or too much thigh. Their clothing also looks so well taken care of... which frustrates me, as someone who really seems to wear out her clothes to the extent they look just frumpy, no matter how nice and expensive they are. They wear makeup, but know how to use it so it never looks smudged or caked-on or just... fake. They somehow never seem awkward or clumsy in their behavior. These observations may just be me feeling overly self conscious, but I really think there is something to be said for the way local women, especially young women, look, dress, and act. Perhaps Western women enjoy more freedom, but this freedom is accompanied by, in my opinion, too much comfort and casualness. I remember how in college I was sometimes mocked for wearing dresses and heels ("Who is she trying so hard to impress? Why can't she just wear jeans and sneakers like a normal person?") and feeling turned off by what I perceived as far-too-candid conversations (and even demonstrations!) by girls about their sexual experiences, bodily functions, and drunken stupors in front of young men. Again, this is just my opinion, but such topics, if they must be mentioned at all, should be left for one's closest, best friends of the same sex.

And now, I'm going to talk about sex. Or rather, virginity and marriage. I would give a warning here about "adult content", but I highly doubt that any child is reading this or has read this deep into my blog. So here we go.
Basically, the Virgin Bride is a standard. At first, this actually did surprise me. In most Western countries, saving one's virginity for marriage is assumed to be something that only really conservative, usually religious people do. Here, in Adyghe Republic especially, as I have mentioned before, the practice of Islam among the local population varies, but with the majority of people being only nominally Muslim. Since bridal virginity is not one of the Five Pillars of Islam, which most people don't even follow here anyway, why has it remained so important? The short answer that most people would give you is: "Tradition."
In this discussion on a YouTube show, the two major reasons why female virginity is still so highly valued across the globe (and while male virginity isn't so much). Paternal certainty, for one, and the alpha-male idea that the woman wouldn't.... compare his performance to others, and decide he doesn't... measure up.
Some traditional societies who uphold this standard are criticized by the West for the idea that being a Virgin Bride is all that a woman is good for. As I have described in my discussion above, in Adyghe society, this isn't really the case. I also wouldn't even imagine that it's a particular desire for local men... since deflowering your Virgin Bride is a thing that really can only happen once... and from a physical standpoint, also isn't necessarily the epitome of pleasure.
Here, the rationality behind this tradition has more to do with devotion, and about proper behavior. Concerning the idea of devotion to your husband, I do not have anything against this, in fact, I admire it and agree to a certain extent. Regarding virginity as a measure of proper behavior, however, I view it as logically flawed... for the specific reason of it being something to "measure."
Circassian culture, as well as the culture of other North Caucasus ethnicities, has been under assault by Russian and Western dominance, and so locals (understandably so) do what they can to preserve what they have. The problem as I see it lies when the preservation of culture is dependent on arbitrary, tangible things that can be measured. Maybe you can't measure how well someone speaks the language or how well they respect their elders, but you (or at least people think) can measure or determine whether a young woman's hymen has been broken before marriage. What does that say then, when someone appears to not be a virgin, just because she had done a lot of physical activity such as gymnastics? Or when someone appears to be a virgin, because she has had a certain kind of surgery (which DOES happen here)?

I'm going to once again be the advocate of the Golden Middle, and argue that real intimacy is not the same as promiscuity. Acting on sexual feelings where there is emotional connection, trust, and passion, is human nature... whether or not the idea of marital commitment down the road is certain or even realistic. This is not to justify the emotionless, empty "casual hookups" of the American college campuses. The local virginity standard, like other conservative mentalities that exist in the West, also comes with the argument that marriage should be more than sexual attraction; that is, you shouldn't marry someone just because you like having sex with them. Again, this theory is admirable and holds a good guideline, but when combined with the ultimate virginity standard and human nature... you get people who marry at 17 because they "just can't wait." This happens both here and in the West.
All I can say is, I don't even remember who I might have wanted to marry when I was 17, but I'm sure glad I didn't. In my opinion, people change too much in their 20s to marry that early.

Continuing a bit further on the subject of behavior standards for Caucasian women, it is worth mentioning that some ethnicities, or some clans that live mainly in the villages, hold this standard to more than just virginity. Some believe that it is not acceptable to kiss, hold hands, or even be alone with someone of the opposite sex until marriage. All courtship must take place by phone or over the internet. Although I'm sure that many are not hypocrites and may take the whole idea behind this practice seriously and don't want to discredit them entirely... but I'd be interested to know the amount of "sexting" that goes on in the region...
This all being said, the concept of only allowing "talking" before marriage is one that I cannot justify to myself; it is something that will remain foreign to me. It's not that there isn't a noble idea behind it; it's that it just seems to be against human nature... just as extreme feminism, that sees femininity as vice and a symbol of oppression also goes against human nature.

Personally, I am a strong advocate of the preservation of Adyghe customs and others from around the Caucasus that make each nationality unique, and I do see it as a shame that the number of people themselves and their customs against the background of everyday life in the Russian Federation have diminished... but if the main efforts to preserve a culture are from measurements of simpler, more tangible aspects that have to compete with human nature, I'm afraid the culture is already lost.

Adventures

In Russia, the month of May, somewhat like January, is hardly a productive month. On paper, there is to be business as usual with the exception of the days surrounding International Workers' Day (May 1) and Victory Day (May 9). In reality, Russians are quite susceptible to holiday inertia, and it pretty much takes until the end of the month to really get the ball rolling again. The people here in the South are even more this way.
I remember last year not traveling anywhere for May holidays, mainly because of the inconvenient schedule given by the university (somewhere along the lines of two days off, then two days of class, a day off that was to be made up on Saturday which everyone hates, then three days off, then back to work again). This had been a mistake, because everyone else seemed to leave town anyway, while I was left alone. This year was not the case. This year's May Break contained some adventures.

For the first half of the holidays, my friend Rachel, a Fulbright ETA in Astrakhan this year came down by car with her Russian friend Vadim. The first day they were here, I figured we'd take advantage of the fact that he had his own car and we could finally go to Lago-Naki, the mountain that everyone tells me I must go to but never actually wants to go to themselves. On the road, however, we apparently missed a major road sign, and instead ended up in a resort town called Guzeripl. There was not much to do besides just walk around the area; in order to really hike, you have to start early in the morning.
The next day, however, we took off for the weekend to go camping. We drove further south through Apsheronsk region of Krasnodar Krai, to another place I had been to before, Guamka Canyon. I had never been hiking around this area before, so we decided to plan our route and spend the next few nights camping. An old man at the bottom of the mountain told us of a seemingly straightforward route and directed us to camp overnight at the river. The trail ended up being nothing like the old man had said... in fact, it kind of just disappeared. Eventually we were just scraping through the woods in the general direction "UP", figuring that when we got to the top of the mountain, it would all make sense. As one might expect, this was easier said than done. When we eventually DID find another trail on the way down, it was such that any wrong step would cause an avalanche of rocks to fall on top of us.... all this added to the fact that the majority of the hike was at a steep, 70 degree angle, whether up or down. We ended up spending the night in a cave on the edge of a cliff.
Vadim, who could not find the right words or was too shy to try to speak to us in English, could still impressively understand almost all of what Rachel and I were talking about... from our beloved Fulbright director Oksana to liberal arts colleges to the Caucasus to 1990s nostalgia... some things just cannot be expressed so well in Russian, no matter how well we know the language. Vadim mentioned, on many occasions, that I seemed to him (for better or for worse) like a local, and that I had "spent too much time in the Caucasus." I'm not sure what to make of that...
Our last day on the road trip took us to Dzhubga, a town on the Black Sea. The driving there was in itself an adventure; there was absolutely no such thing as a straight road. All the roads took hairpin turns around mountains with steep cliffs that didn't really have any kind of railing, and that at any time could turn into a Priora racing ground for careless young men from Dagestan. Dzhubga (which in Adyghe means "wind") was a nice, relaxing Black Sea town, but we didn't really see much of it before we set up camp. To be honest, the Black Sea is not exactly a beautiful vacation spot. The water is dirty and full of garbage (and this being before the actual tourist season, when apparently once can't even find a few empty square inches on the beach to rest), and absolutely teeming with jellyfish. I wasn't sure if they were the kind of jellyfish that sting or not, but I wasn't about to find out.
The next day, we drove back to Maykop, where I would shower, rest, and have one morning class before taking off for May Break Adventure, Part II.

Well, I guess I wouldn't call this trip an "adventure" in the same was as the camping trip. It was definitely more low-key and relaxing. I was invited back to Kosh-habl (Timur's aul), in Karachaievo-Cherkessia Republic. I had to take the bus over alone, because I was expected to participate in a concert that morning and Timur had class and would get a ride from his friend in the evening. The ride was fine, even though there was a checkpoint. I was anticipating the awkwardness of flashing an American passport around the marshrutka, where I prefer to be silent and inconspicuous... but the border patrol didn't even open my passport. He just saw the cover, (I have a generic maroon passport cover that just says "Passport") figured it was an international passport of some kind or other and gave it right back to me. He seriously didn't even open it to see where I was from. Fine with me.
When I got in to Kosh-habl, Timur's mother Zarema met me and her colleague drove us to the nearby aul Habez (I also happen to have another friend from this aul) to watch a concert. At the end of the concert, I was told, unexpectedly, to "Get up on stage and sing that song in Kabardian." I guess it sounded all right, because people gave me flowers, called me what I guess meant an Honorary Adyghe Pshashe and took me to an elaborate dinner.
For most of the week, I went around with Zarema to visit with the neighbors while Timur slept all day. The neighbors we visited the most were a kindly woman named "Auntie Fatima", who lived with her mother, a frail babushka nearly 90 years old with striking blue eyes. The old woman didn't seem to understand Russian, or to be able to speak at all, so I talked only briefly to her with my oh-so-extensive Kabardian-Circassian vocabulary.
Another neighbor who visited us was Ludmila, (she's also Circassian but with a Russian first name) who told me all about her twelve-years-and-counting Skype romance with a British man named Richard. Her English was impressive; she was obviously eager for practice with another native speaker.

The Kardanov house hospitality was enough to make a bit uncomfortable at first. I originally did not want to come, figuring that I would be another financial burden, but Zarema just would not hear of it. She also just would not hear of me refusing food at any time. As usual, no one would allow this to happen. It didn't matter that I just had lunch with Zarema, then went to a neighbor's for "tea" which is accompanied by more food than I would usually consider a meal, and then left just in time to come back for dinner. Each time, I was told that I would not be allowed up from my seat until I cleaned my plate. Once, Zarema asked me, "Why don't you eat as much as Timur does?" I couldn't help but laugh. I don't know... maybe because TIMUR is a GUY and he's CAUCASIAN and SIX FOOT FIVE?!
My parents had suggested that I give some kind of nice, expensive gift or help out in some way financially... but this is just not acceptable from a guest in the Caucasus. It would actually be taken as an insult. Eventually, I ended up doing my part by helping out a lot in the garden. (Normally, a guest is not permitted to do any kind of work, but at this point I was not really considered a "guest" but like "family"). Even Timur helped out considerably as there was a lot of work to do. At last he stopped being lazy and did something to justify his enormous appetite. Zarema has many, many animals to take care of... several turkeys including many newly hatched, two dogs, two adult cats and a poor little one-eyed kitten named Odnoglazik.
On our last day, I went in to Zarema's work at the studio to give an interview. I recited poetry and sang two songs in Adyghe and Kabardian, and talked about my impressions of Circassian people and culture, the North Caucasus and how I got here. It will be (or may already have been) aired on Karachai-Cherkessia Republic television this week. The interview went well I think, it was in Russian and Circassian. Only two things sort of bothered me with the result. First, that I was told to say to the cameras, "The North Caucasus is a peaceful and safe and stable place." Second, my hair looked absolutely horrible.

On Monday morning, Timur and I left the same way we did back in January- at 5 am with his truck driver friend Kazbek. This time, the sun was already on the rise, and we could see Mount Elbrus from the highway.  The ride was free (Almost. Kazbek took us to Labinsk where we got the bus back to Maykop) and we basically slept the whole way, but we were glad to get back to the dormitory. It's been enough traveling for a while. The next big trip I make, I imagine, will be back to the USA. 

More serious thoughts..

It's been a while, I know, but first I feel I should discuss some aspects of life here in the context of the Boston Marathon terrorist attack. I must say, hearing about who the suspects were was bizarrely ironic. As soon as the pictures of the Tsarnaev brothers were released, pretty much everyone was asking (whether they like to admit it or not), "Are they Muslim or White?"
As it turns out, they were both.
As a matter of fact, I sort of guessed that from the beginning, seeing the pictures, I thought to myself, "They actually look Chechen"- it not occurring to me that they could actually BE Chechen. What do Chechens have to do with Boston anyway?
Well, what do you know. I log into Facebook and see people who aren't me, posting articles about Chechnya.
The general discussion now, among Americans, is how much the Tsarnaev brothers actually had anything to do with the situation in Chechnya- which is apparently next to nothing.
Here though, the discussion is different. It is about how Americans are now going to crack down hard against the wrong kind of Caucasians. As far as it affects me, I've broken the news to Timur and his family about the near impossibility of his ever obtaining a visa.
In general, while in Russia, I avoid the subject of American tragedies. Last year, I made the mistake of talking about September 11th to the Vice-Governor of Chelyabinsk, and the first thing he asked was whether or not I knew the "truth" about the Twin Towers, that it was all pre-organized by the Bush administration!
It turns out that most people here believe in these kinds of "conspiracy theories." One university worker even went as far as to suggest that the mass shootings of this year were planned by the Obama administration in order to gain support for gun legislation. Even the most otherwise reasonably-minded people expressed that they believed the government or the CIA was behind every known terrorist attack or other tragedy that has taken place on American soil. I have come to not let this bother me so much, as I found out that the reason was that they expect the same kind of behavior from their OWN government. I also reassure them, that I of course do not believe everything I read or hear from our news sources. "Americans believe what they want to believe, or what is simplest for them to understand," I was told.
It is also not a good idea even to mention such terrorist attacks simply to mourn the victims. A response would be, that in Boston, three people died, but in Syria, such events are happening on a weekly basis, and the whole world doesn't make such a fuss... let alone the American-instigated drone strikes in northern Pakistan. Yes, 28 died in Sandy Hook, but comparable massacres have happened over the years in Nalchik and Vladikavkaz, to which the news media responds with simply attributing these attacks to "militants and bandits," without a months-long public psychoanalysis and solidified notoriety of the perpetrator.
My response? A tragedy is a tragedy, whether it happens to three or three thousand people- in the urban US or in the North Caucasus- civilian lives are lost. Of course, debate will continue as to what preventive measures should be taken... but as far as our reaction goes, to solidify the fame of the perpetrators- plastering their names and photographs everywhere, essentially immortalizing them- do we really think that, in a sick way, this isn't what they really wanted? That it wouldn't encourage other losers to do the same?
And yes, I realize that just now I have only contributed to the problem.

Another thing I feel I should mention is the local practice of Islam. Of course, now I am making the same mistake as the American news media, by discussing Islam right after mentioning terrorism, but its relevance to this region is worth telling about. The younger Chechen brother was known to have not really practiced his religion at all. This is also definitely true of some of the people I know here- although there really is no way to describe what is the "Adyghe practice of Islam." If I were to make a generalization, I would say the more a person talks about Islam, the less they actually adhere to it. There are some that are polar opposites. One of my friends, for example, to whom practicing Islam is very important, very rarely talks about religion or criticizes others from a religious standpoint. She dresses more or less conservatively (although doesn't ever wear hejab), maintains Islamic and Caucasian standards of family relations and respect for elders- but the more superficial (in my opinion) aspects, such as whether or not your hair is covered or what music you listen to- do not dictate her life. On the other hand, I've seen plenty an Adyghe or other Caucasian man, leaning upon their cars adorned with "ALLAH" pendants hanging from the mirrors, while greeting their friends with "salaam alaikum," while drinking a beer.
Still another person I know follows Islam to the most (as we would consider) the most fundamental, strict interpretation. Dressed in complete hejab, she dreams of becoming an Arabic teacher in a local madrassa. And then there are those who seem to be more or less "Muslim, by Adyghe/North Caucasian ethnicity, but we don't really know what we're supposed to do with that." (We're not supposed to have pork shashlik and drink wine?) In short, the locals in Adygeya practice their religion like Western Christians do. Все по разному. It varies. For the most part, it's something that is mainly tied to one's ethnicity. The Adyghe people have been Muslim for only a few centuries. Before that, they were Christian for a brief period, and  before that, they were pagan. Many pagan traditions remain in Adyghe/Circassian culture, such as anything related to the Nart legends. Basically, this history could leave anyone religiously confused.

This North Caucasian Life

I have mentioned this before. Adyghe people really like the male given name NART.
I have two friends/students who are named Nart, two other acquaintances named Nart, and, one time last month, my eyes were hurting so I left my contact lenses out for the day, and I thought I saw one of my friends named Nart and called out to him. It turned out to be the wrong guy, but he also happened to answer to the name Nart.

In Karachaievo-Cherkessia, you don't really come across this name. You do however come across the name Sousruko, which, according to legend, is the name of the most famous, Prometheus-like nart. You also hear the names Setenai and Adyif among women. Setenai was Sousruko's mother, and Adyif was his wife. All were apparently giants.

Last month, although only for one night, I had a new set of neighbors in the room next to me. They were from the local dance ensemble who had just returned from winning a championship in Europe. The name of the ensemble? NART.

The accordion player in the ensemble had stayed in the room a week and a half before. I had only noticed him as the strange man from Chechnya who slept during the day with his door wide open and who cooked himself a dish of something and forgot about it on the kitchen table when he left for Europe. I got back from Moscow to find it covered in mold. The dish is still outside on the balcony to this day.

That one night, when the entire ensemble was staying in that room, the ensemble director had recognized me already, through Susanna Rashidovna. He told me his name was Kazbek and invited me to join them for food and drink. I resisted the offer twice- in the North Caucasus, it is generally unacceptable for a young woman to be eating and drinking alcohol in an otherwise exclusively male company. Eventually, I gave in, after they convince me that they were sovremenniye ("modernized"). Even so, I sat there like a very shy and awkward pshashe. That is, until I was "coerced" into dancing Lezginka.

The men then requeste that I sing for them the songs I know in Chechen and Adyghe, with which they played along, amazingly in the right key. Strangely enough, I, as the American there, was the only person able to translate a few phrases from Chechen to Adyghe (my eclectic music taste must have come to use in some way or another). After a few hours of multilingual comeraderie, they decided that my local name would be Halimat, and that I was pretty much an honorary pshashe.

This was a good thing to know, because, a month later, I was to take this image to the stage.

THE Concert.

Susanna Rashidovna, as I have mentioned, writes songs and composes music and designs clothing. Last Tuesday was her grand performance night to show off all her work, in honor of her father, the university head, who has just celebrated his sixtieth birthday. I was to have two songs; the first, a duet in Spanish with a girl named Zamira, which we had been rehearsing for months; the second, an Adyghe traditional song that Susanna had re-written. The song, Си Къасей, has a verse in English and a verse in Adyghe. I had known and practiced this song all year. A few weeks before, however, there was a change of plans. A celebrity from Nalchik, Sati Kazanova, was to arrive, and she wanted to perform this song, so I was to perform a different song- a cappella, a very old Kabardian song that I had recorded before. This meant I had to memorize it well enough to perform on stage in front of hundreds of people.

Believe me, I really tried to memorize this song. I practiced every day, in front of the mirror, in the shower, in front of my friends... I had Timur translate the song word by word into Russian so I had a better idea of where to express the emotions and how to memorize full long phrases.

At the concert, I got to wear the traditional Adyghe sai, a beautiful long gown that is worn at weddings and for dancing. It fits perfectly around a woman's figure, accentuating a small waist. I kind of want to have one of my own, but they are expensive.
The concert as a whole went well, although not as well as it could have gone. Most people were unhappy with some kind of mistake they had made. Our Spanish song went well, but my Kabardian song left much to be desired. People in the audience complimented me, but I know I can do, and have done, much better. The problem was that I was so nervous that I might forget the words (and this time, people in the audience could understand the language and would notice the mistakes) that my entire body and voice was shaking. Instead of a powerful, emotional voice to carry the meaning of the lyrics, a frightened, shaking voice came out, and I clearly had rushed through the words just to get it over with. Needless to say, I was very disappointed with my performance, after anticipating it so much.

The lesson learned was that when you memorize a song to perform, you really have to know it "a 6 out of 5". It needs to be not only memorized, but internalized, so that you take the words not from your cluttered brain, but from your soul. That way, there is no chance to forget the words, and the energy can be focused on the vocal expression rather than recalling every word and getting nervous about not being able to do so.

That evening, I must admit, I was incredibly down on myself, almost comically. What didn't help was the fact that Sati Kazanova also performed THAT song as well, in a way I wished I had, and another girl singer that Susanna works with, the tall, skinny, glamorous Milana had probably blown everyone away with her stage presence. I was so upset that when I got back to my room, I tore off my new necklace and threw it onto the floor and broke it, and yelled at Timur at two in the morning (because, obviously, this was his fault?)

Wednesday, however, was a new day that brought a new mood and another chance. I was to perform in a restaurant for the university head's private birthday celebration, and many important people were to be there.
This time, I was not so nervous, but I did have to wait quite a while for my turn on stage. It was the quintessential Adyghe event... about twenty or so long-winded toasts and copious amounts of food. (Something that I should have learned by now: when you sit down to eat, be careful not to get too full on the salads... because soon the meat courses will come, and you may very well be force-fed shashlik). The highlight of the night was seeing Tamara Nekhai and Aslan Tlebzu again, and talking and having tea with Said Bagov and Murat Kukan, an Adyghe actor who has had many roles in Russian action films. The President of Adyghe Republic was also there, Aslan Kitovitch Tkhakushinov, but I think he may have left before too long.

All I can say is, I'm always happy to live in a place where a 60th birthday party lasts until 2am. Timur had warned me against singing in restaurants, especially so late at night, because he feared someone might kidnap me as a bride. Incidentally, the dormitory security workers seem to think Timur will steal me as a bride. Bride-stealing, as it is in Adygeya, is really only a nod to tradition. Instead of all the time and money that goes along with engagement rings and months upon months of elaborate wedding plans, the groom "steals" the bride with his friends and they are married within the week. The bride knows beforehand that this is going to happen. Usually.

The next day, I helped out at an English Club lecture about cultural stereotypes of Russians, Americans, Arabs, and Caucasians. The lecture and workshop was rather predictable... people showed me how they no longer believe that all Americans are fat or stupid, and then showed the new Arabic teacher how they don't believe all Arabs are terrorists who cover their women in burqas... the interesting part was how the discussion worked in reverse. I made a point of immediately warning that if anyone asked the question, "Do Americans really think that in Russia, bears walk on the streets and people wear shapka-ushankas and drink vodka and play the balalaika all the time?" that I would jump out the window. For some reason, Russians often believe that all Americans think this about them! After I said that, everyone laughed, and the question was avoided. We then worked together to make a list of guidelines for foreigners visiting the North Caucasus, which went more or less like this:
1. Respect elders.
2. EAT.
3. Be careful of horrible drivers.
4. If you are a woman, do not go out alone at night and pay no attention to "compliments" from strange men.
5. Don't be afraid. It really isn't a war zone.

I guess this says it all in a nutshell. Although, as far as stereotypes go, many people don't appear to try very hard to avoid reinforcing them. For example, my "favorite neighbor" is a short, bearded guy from Dagestan who drives a white Priora with opaque tinted windows, with the words "DAGESTAN" and "MY LIFE MY RULES" on the back, who drives back to the dormitory every night at 3 am listening to the same Elbrus Dzhanmirzoyev song at full volume, and is always wearing matching sports clothes and red dress shoes. In other words, a caricature of a young Caucasian man.
I haven't actually met him, but I am going to guess his name is Maga.

New Years in Karachaievo-Cherkessia Republic

In Russia, New Years is the major winter holiday instead of Christmas. This comes from the Soviet times where anything related to religion was downplayed. Of course, Orthodox Christmas on January 7th is recognized and also a day off from work, but the major gift-giving and tree-decorating holiday is New Years Eve. Unlike in the West, where New Years is commonly celebrated out with friends, New Years Eve in Russia is entirely a family holiday. With my family back in America, who was I to spend this holiday with?

The Kardanov family, of course. 

It turned out that months ago, Timur had asked his family to invite me to stay with them in their aul, Kosh-habl. Despite the complications associated with getting permission to go into Karachaievo-Cherkessia (if you recall the seven North Caucasian republics, KChR is the next one over), it worked out that I would go with Timur for the whole week. The unfortunate thing was that Marina was not able to come because of her work schedule. Even so, I was excited to finally meet Zarema and to see a whole new place, finding out for myself what life in an aul is like. 

The first thing worth mentioning, or repeating, rather, is the amount of FOOD the locals eat, and that guests are expected to eat. Before I left, I joked with my friends about how much weight I would probably gain from being a guest in an aul. I imagined that I would be practically force-fed. I imagined correctly. 

The second I arrived, Zarema (Timur's mother) said, "You are so skinny. Do they not feed you well? Come in and eat something." Sure enough, the table was already set with salads, Adyghe "schips" and "pasteh" (a soup and breaded thing you dip into it) and various meat. I figured this was the New Years Eve dinner... but then a few hours later, Zarema asked, "So, are you ready for dinner?" and even more food was to come.

After the clock struck 2013, Timur and I went outside to watch the fireworks. It was spectacular, but cold. Soon after that we went our separate ways; he with his old school friends, and I with his brother and his friends, who literally shoved shashlik down my throat. 

The next few days were more or less the same, food-wise. Zarema introduced me to several of her neighbors, each of which insisted that we come in for an elaborate dinner. In the Caucasus, this is culturally expected- a guest absolutely must be treated to the very best, and to resist is insulting. 

So how does one properly draw the line, and make the binge eating stop, without offending someone? The next day, I finally found the answer: Get sick. 

As some kind of bad reaction to home-made wine, along with the inability to keep up with the Caucasian eaters, I found myself lying in bed most of the day, unable to keep any more food down. I was not able to eat anything for the next three days. As it turned out, I did not gain weight from this trip at all.

2am shashlik.

On one of my "sick" days, Timur took me to the city, Cherkessk. The roads from Kosh-habl to Cherkessk are surreal- winding, hair-pin turns (around which people drive at LEAST 60mph) overlooking swirls of hill and snow, with a view of Mount Elbrus. Cherkessk itself is a small city, but loud. There are a lot of cars, and locals enjoy setting off random small bombs and fireworks, just for fun.  The center appears very European, with a park surrounded by main streets lined with shops and cafes. We took a walk through another park that had working rides (neither of us wanted to go on them) and a frozen over pond for skating in the winter and (for those foolish enough) swimming in the summer. We then took a walk down by his old school's stadium, and finally ended up at his favorite pizza place. (Timur ordered for the two of us a large pizza and a milkshake; I stomached one piece and one sip, he inhaled the rest). Another thing that was striking was how on the way back, the marshrutka driver announced all the stops and instructions in Kabardian, not Russian. This was the first place I have been where Russian was not the default. Everyone spoke Kabardian.

 The stadium "NART"

Си мыщэ))

The monument to the unification of Russia and Kabarda.

The next few days I spent mainly with Zarema around the aul. When I got over my stomach ache, I went with three of the local children- Zaur, Tamerlan, and Imran, to go sledding. There wasn't really enough snow to sled very far and there were thorn patches everywhere, but the view over the aul was beautiful, and they managed to teach me how to dance Lezginka on ice. Three-year-old Imran came with a bag of "bombichki" and set off about six of them. I was assured that this was normal, that all North Caucasians like to do this around New Years. Who knew.

The view of the aul from the hill.

Haliwa. Zarema took me to her neighbors to see how this was made. It is a VERY sweet dessert that people eat at weddings (more about the wedding later).

On Friday, Timur and I went to the location of Adiyukh Palace, in Habez district. The "Palace" is actually an extremely expensive ski resort, and the land behind it is technically for resort guests only... but Timur managed to say something to the security guard in order to let us through. The place known as "Adiyukh" is an ancient tower (no one knows how old it is, Timur says "it's been here as long as history can remember") overlooking the Zelenchuk river known for a tragic legend, involving a beautiful princess named Adiyukh (direct translation, "white hands"), Psabidy ("hardened soul") the man who loved her but brought with him only night, and the Nart, Sousruko. We climbed the 800 icy stairs to the top, walked along the top of the hills, pretended to push each other off cliffs, and explored the inside of the tower.

On my last day in Kosh-habl, I found myself at the wedding of Timur's neighbor's cousin. It is quite normal for the entire aul to be invited to a wedding. 

From what I gather, a Circassian wedding, like this one, goes like this:

One day (this time, it happened to be New Years Eve), the groom and his friends go to "abduct" the bride. This "abduction" is a stage; she already knows that it's going to happen sometime soon, just not exactly. The groom's friends take her in their car to the groom's relatives, where she will live for a few days. Often, the bride pretends to "resist". For the next few days, wedding preparations are made, and then in some cases (I don't think it happened this time around though, the groom is abducted by the bride's family, or some kind of official meeting occurs. On the day before the wedding, the haliwa is made, and the house is prepared for the wedding.

For this couple, Kurman and Fatima, the wedding was held on Sunday. It began with all of us getting in a parade of cars... usually a decorated Lada Priora with loud Lezginka playing through the windows... which go pick up the bride, and then take everyone into Cherkessk to the ZAGS where the actual wedding ceremony is held. After the vows were exchanged, the couple danced, took pictures, and we all got back into the cars. 

When a wedding procession happens in the Caucasus, everyone must get out of the way or risk their lives. The cars may drive on any part of the road and as fast as they wish. We rode back through the auls and eventually back to the groom's family's house, where the older relatives had already eaten and the second dinner was made for the younger guests. While the female relatives prepared the dinner, the other girls danced inside. I wasn't sure where the men went. I was told they were with the groom somewhere. 

Then began the dinner for the younger guests. I wasn't really sure how or why I ended up there; I had absolutely nothing to say, and the Tamada (person who directs the toasts and everything) spoke entirely in Kabardian. Timur was nowhere to be found, and no one in the room knew who I was or where I was from. Once that awkward dinner was over, everyone went outside to dance Lezginka (or rather, stand their freezing and looking awkwardly in the center of the circle, where only those either drunk enough or old enough not to care were dancing) It got more fun after a while, until one particular guy asked me to dance for the fifth time, and Timur finally appeared and conveniently decided it would be a good time to leave. Most of the other girls there also went home, and the guys went inside to get drunk. 

I must say, I had mixed feelings about the whole wedding event. Yes, it was fun, it was loud, it was a good time for pretty much everyone, and to be honest, I prefer this kind of wedding to the expensive American weddings that must take place in some high-end location, with catering and DJing and all that... but the fact that the couple was so young made me (and even Zarema) feel uncomfortable. Here, especially in the auls, among those who follow tradition, relations between men and women (or boys and girls) are VERY strict. The concept of the virgin bride is a rule (again, among those who follow tradition... there is an understandably increasing number of those who don't, though) and some find it improper to even hold hands before marriage. If a man chooses to marry a non-Circassian, which is becoming increasingly common (incidentally, it is far more acceptable to marry a foreigner than a Russian or a Karachai), the foreign bride is not expected to follow the same rules. Even I, as an outsider, have mixed feelings toward inter-ethnic marriage by Circassians. If two people of different nationalities love each other, then by all means, they should get married... but if Circassians continue to intermarry with others, a lot of their culture would likely be lost, and the new generation might not know the language at all. 

We both managed to squeeze in two hours of sleep before leaving at 5am the next morning for Maykop. Our free ride was Timur's friend, a truck driver, who delivered produkty to just about every grocery store in every aul in Karachaievo-Cherkessia. We finally made it past the checkpoint and over into Krasnodar Krai, where we were dropped off in the town of Labinsk five hours later. We had to wait another hour and a half for the bus to Maykop, which was loud and uncomfortable and not conducive for any kind of nap. As one would expect, we had gotten pretty sick of each other at this point, picking arguments with each other about mobile cameras, my luggage, and earphones. We were pretty happy to finally make it back to Maykop and take a very long, much needed nap. Annoying moments apart, it was a good trip, yet another interesting adventure. 

Zarema, playing the accordion.

Beautiful People

Over this month, I have decided to share the stories of the interesting, diverse, and beautiful (inside and outside) people I have met. I have finally, at last, gotten around to writing it. Of course, there are many others on the list of Adygeya's cast of characters, but these people particularly stand out in my mind;  they have defined my experience here so far.

SUSANNA RASHIDOVNA. 
She is the chair of the English department and one of the younger faculty members, in her early thirties, the same age as one of my sisters. She also has two children, about the same age as my nephews. Susanna Rashidovna is the daughter of the University Rektor (or head, president), and married to a Russian man, which is unusual for an Adyghe woman. She also has a very unique fashion sense... both elegant and creative. Some have mentioned that she dresses more like someone from America or Western Europe than Russia. She has come to work in cowboy boots, an outfit that featured a Mexican-style poncho, and a kimono (not all on the same day, obviously). Her hair is cut just above the shoulder, which is also unusual here; most girls grow their hair very long.
As unusual as Susanna may be, this does certainly not make her less of an Adygeika. She, like many others, is fluent in the Adyghe language, knows many of their national songs, and has close connections with locally famous musicians like Aslan Tlebzu and Tamara Nekhai (more about them later). In addition to Russian and Adyghe, Susanna speaks English, French, and German, and has been learning some Spanish.. she has even written her own songs in Spanish, English, and French. Recently, at a talent show for the Foreign Languages Department, I performed a folk song that she re-wrote and translated.... Si Qasei, a very old Adyghe song that she had remixed into a European-style song and translated a few of the verses into English. She wishes to make this song enter the Eurovision contest someday. We'll see.
When I first arrived here, I was afraid that I would not have any "mother figure" or guiding colleague like I had with Svetlana in Chelyabinsk. I was wrong... the whole faculty has been there to help me and explain to me. Susanna Rashidovna has felt like an older sister, in a way. She has provided for me many opportunities to do things that I had dreamed of doing here, but never imagined I'd have the time or the chance to do. Already, I have sung in a talent show and in a restaurant in Adyghe, met the local musicians I have been listening to for years, given an interview for the television, and recorded a song in Kabardian. All of this she has made possible.

ASLAN TLEBZU AND TAMARA NEKHAI. 
These are the two local celebrities I have met. They actually turned out not to be real "celebrities" in the Hollywood sense... I thought they were famous throughout all of Russia, but I guess they are only well known in the North Caucasus or among people who listen to Caucasian music. Aslan Tlebzu is an accordion player whose most famous song is Chernye Glaza, a song that was overplayed on all of Russian radio, I think around 2005. Now, he has his own record label, Tlebzu Records, and I had the opportunity to sing in his studio a few weeks ago. As predictable, Tlebzu has deviated considerably from the usual Caucasian sound and focuses on recording more "mainstream" genres, but not to the extent that he has forgotten his roots completely (looking at you, rock band from Ingushetia who shall not be named!) Meeting Aslan Tlebzu, you would never realize that he was a mega-hit in the Russian pop scene... he is short, shy and reserved, unassuming and very non-pretentious. He was nice to me, but didn't really seem to understand why I was so star-struck at first.
Tamara Nekhai has arguably the most beautiful voice in the Caucasus. I have recently posted a video clip of her music. A natural soprano, Nekhai sings almost exclusively traditional Adyghe folk songs. She was very blunt and opinionated about the changing of music styles, how American influences have penetrated music too much and have made music from other countries sound like bland pop music. When Susanna Rashidovna showed her some of the remixes and songs that she made, Nekhai was rather critical. She also seemed unimpressed when I sang for her the first time, our English-Adyghe song, saying that I had a good, clear voice and good pronunciation, but that I was clearly "not a singer." Her opinion changed, though, when I sang the Kabardian song which had a melody and key more suitable for my voice. Tamara Nekhai struck me as an intelligent woman, opinionated, not ready to sugar-coat anything for anyone when it comes to music- someone who is very much needed in today's globalized, American pop-dominated world.

AZA PETROVNA.
Everyone knows I love languages- but if there is a lover of all things linguistic, it is Aza Petrovna. To the students, she is the oldest, strictest, and probably the most feared teacher in the English faculty. To me, and to the rest of the faculty, she is a wise, remarkable, and interesting woman. In her early seventies, Aza Petrovna also has a healthy lifestyle, enjoying early morning walks in the fresh air and rarely eating sweets. Although she is an ethnic Russian, her first name is of either Adyghe or Arabic origin. Aza Petrovna will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about the history of all Germanic languages, Russian language (she can read pre-Revolutionary Russian with no problem, and can even read Old English) and even Caucasian languages. She has studied Adyghe and Abkhaz, even if others might tell her that it is not practical. While languages and linguistic history might not be all so interesting to everyone, Aza Petrovna's life passion shows an important example of not merely cross-cultural tolerance between Russians and Caucasians, but a genuinely pursued interest- a solid ground for mutual understanding.

THE KARDANOV FAMILY.
In one of my first classes at the university, back in October, a very tall, dark, and handsome, what I assumed to be graduate student wanting to practice English sat down in the classroom and watched me silently. It turned out that he didn't speak a word of English, not even enough to tell me his name. His friend Nart introduced him, said his name was Timur, from the nearby Republic of Karachaievo-Cherkessia, and to my surprise, was a first-year student and only 18 years old. The following weekend, I organized an outing in the park with some students to tell Halloween stories in English. Surprisingly, Timur also came, even though he didn't understand anything. After the others left, he stayed in the park to tell me (in Russian) the stories of Sousruko, Satanai, and the Narts (Adyghe, Caucasian legends). We rode the marshrutka home together as we turned out to be neighbors, living in the same dormitory. On this day, we agreed to help each other. I would give him private lessons in English, and in return, he would teach me Kabardian, his dialect of Circassian. We also developed our own project- a speech on the need for English language instruction in the North Caucasus- Timur being from an aul, where the English instruction in schools is next to nothing. Over time, we have become close friends, going hiking together in Hadzhokh, and working on our projects. He has also been around to help me with things, and be sort of a protective male figure that young women in the Caucasus are thought to need. (WHERE is this kind of chivalry in the US?) He has also told me of his dreams to make a living for himself in America, where he wishes to open a business, "Something related to the Caucasus... either a restaurant, or clothing store, or teaching our national dances...some way to show Americans who we are, and to somehow make money."
Now, I have also gotten to know his family. His sister, Marina, has recently moved to Maykop to find a job as a waitress, after two years of sitting at home back in Cherkessk with no employment to show for her hard-earned law diploma from Krasnodar. Marina and I also came to be good friends, as during her first week here, she lived on my floor of the dormitory. Together, the three of us talked on a wide range of subjects, in Russian and Kabardian: Food, the Caucasus, the end of the world, black holes, dark matter and anti-matter, parallel universes, Barack Obama, wine making, and how she wishes to be a film critic. It was sad when she had to move out- this dormitory is reserved for students and faculty and staff in the University.
For New Years, I am invited to go with Timur to stay with his family. Then, I will finally be able to meet their mother, Zarema. A single Kabardian mother, separated from her Georgian husband, Zarema has not had an easy life. She raised three children in a village in Khabez district outside of Cherkessk,where there is very little economic opportunity. She now works as a journalist- a risky occupation in this region, especially for a woman- and as a teacher of her native language (which she plans on helping me with). So far, I have only talked to Zarema on the phone, but she is really eager to meet me as well.
Both Zarema and Marina have high hopes for Timur, that he may move as soon as he can to America and find himself a living there. They know of his business ideas, but they really wish for him to go into acting or modeling. I don't want to say that getting such a visa or permanent residence is impossible, as these are my friends and I care a lot about them- but it is VERY unlikely and would take a LOT of hard work. Having a great personality and strikingly good looks can help you in some ways, but in the cruel world of bureaucracy, it does nothing in the way of getting you visas.

NATASHA.
Natasha is a arguably my best student. I am afraid to admit it, but she may be more well read in English literature than I am,. In a country where most students do minimum work to get by, Natasha puts her heart and soul into everything English and American related. In one class, students were to present on a US state of their choice and identify a famous tourist location they would like to visit. It was a very simple assignment, although most students either "forgot" or just printed something off Wikipedia. Not Natasha. She prepared a whole powerpoint presentation not on one state, but the many states all along America's historic Route 66.
I am not just praising Natasha for being a perfect student nor do I see her as a "brown noser" or "teacher's pet". My classes are ungraded (in Russia, this means: optional). From Natasha, I see a genuine interest. It really touches my heart to see someone, who, through her studies, has reached beyond the glamour and money and commercial image of America- and seemed to really develop an appreciation for the real America. Good work, Natasha.
What's more, is she pretty much saved the day on the Victorian Era event I was in charge of. I was afraid the students would have nothing to contribute because of such short notice, but Natasha pulled through with two presentations and organizing the other students into their own Victorian romance-style skit. Again, good work, Natasha. You didn't even have to do all this.

NART AND SATANAY. 
As I may have mentioned, most Adyghe people do not live in the Caucasus. The Circassian diaspora lives mainly in Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Israel, the Emirates, and oddly enough, New Jersey.
Recently, though, the Russian government as agreed to gradually allow some ethnic Circassians return to their homeland. Two of my students are ethnic Circassians from Syria. Especially in light of the recent turmoil in Syria, many Circassians have tried to find any possible way to flee to Adygeya- including these two students, Nart and Satanay.
First, a bit about their names. As I have said, we have many guys named Nart. It's a very popular name here. This particular Nart, we call Nartik- a diminutive, even though he is bigger and older than our other close friend Nart (Nart is 17, Nartik is 24). "Nart" means basically "mountain giant," many Adyghe legends are about various Narts. The most famous of which is Sousruko (a popular boys' name in Nalchik), a Prometheus-type hero who gave fire to man, among other things. Sousruko's mother was the beautiful Satanay- the name of the other Syrian Adyghe student.
Nartik, I have gotten to know through our dance recitals. He has a very friendly, laid back personality- but it is hard to find a common language. He speaks mainly Arabic, not Russian. To each other, we speak a mix of broken English, Russian, and Circassian.
Satanay also doesn't speak much Russian, but her English is good. She is trying to apply to some schools in America where she has relatives. Another interesting thing is she is one of only two Adyghe girls in the University who wear the hejab. She grew up in a mainly Muslim country where Arab traditions dominate the comparatively liberal Circassian traditions.

YOGA BABUSHKA. 
On most days, I start my classes in the afternoon, so I use the mornings to do my running. Once again, I luck out by having a place to run right across the street. The Ippodrom is a dirt track for horse racing, but since only once have I actually seen horses there, it's pretty much just a place for walkers or runners- few that there may be. It may seem boring to run around in circles every morning, but it is actually very beautiful. When the sky is clear, I can see the high peaks of the Caucasus, long since covered in snow.
In general, people in Russia recognize their country's cold climate, and dress accordingly. They fear the slightest hint of a cool draft reaching one's skin, and fear it will cause instant sickness. In fact, as soon as leaves start falling from the trees, children are already bundled up in clothes we usually reserve for a day on the slopes. The most strict adherents to this rule? Babushkas. Except one.
Several mornings in a row, I saw a Babushka doing yoga in only a leotard and a sports bra. After seeing me run for the third or fourth day in a row, she congratulated me on having such a healthy lifestyle, and that because of it, I would always look young.
She looked about sixty, but it turned out she was in her mid seventies. After a bit of conversation, I found out that she had lived in Barcelona and knew some Spanish. I have seen her a few more times since that day, always doing her yoga and some other exercises. We always make sure to greet each other with "Buenos dias!" each time. I guess, maybe being a bit under-dressed and allowing yourself to feel a bit of the brisk, mountain morning air can be good for the body and mind, and not cause immediate meningitis after all.

IRINA. 
A few weeks back, I started what would have been my well-paid work at a snazzy language school called Mr. Language. Unfortunately, because of my type of visa, I am not actually allowed to work there. If the Migration Services found out, I could be deported. They tried to convince me to work "under the table", but I decided I was not ready to play at that level of bending the rules. In this case, it is better to be safe than sorry. Afer the one evening class of my short Mr. Language stint, I went for coffee with one of the directors, Irina.
Irina is an example of a Russian woman who strongly warns me about "the dangers of Caucasian men." Her words- that the local men will never value women of another nationality, that any sweet words they say are a trick, that Russian or foreign women will only be something to have fun with and that they always end up marrying "their own"- left no room for argument, she spoke them as if they were a rule set in stone. A Western woman, according to Irina, should never even consider having a serious relationship with a non-Western man. The very idea was a taboo to her, even as it concerned Russian men.
She herself is divorced, and now unsatisfied with even the idea of marriage. She has a lover/boyfriend from Italy who she sees every few months. This arrangement was what she was happy with- no commitments, no stress, more independence.
As for me, I understand her mentality and respect her opinion, and I am glad that she found herself satisfied in her current situation, but I did not really like how she did not leave any room to disagree. Does the West always have to be the answer, even in love and romance?
In general, I know she means well, but people like Irina often rub me the wrong way in how the underestimate my ability to adjust. This attitude came across in other contexts as well in our conversation- as if, because I happen to be an American, I automatically come with a set of mentalities and needs that make the Caucasus a hostile, uncomfortable, and awkward place to live. I couldn't disagree more, however respectfully.

AMINET.
Besides Satanay, there is one other Adyghe girl who wears Islamic dress. Let's call her Aminet (this is not her real name). Aminet stays completely covered, from head to toe, revealing only her face. Her Islamic dress though does not strike me as a symbol of oppression- on the contrary, it is something beautiful, that she has made all her own. Tall and beautiful, Aminet's choice of Islamic clothing is very stylish, creative, and well put-together, with matching or carefully coordinated long dresses and head covering of varying colors and designs.
Aminet's English is pretty much perfect, except when she confuses it with Arabic. She had lived for several years in Saudi Arabia, where she married and had two children. She returned to Adygeya, she told me, to complete her education and to "correct her mistakes." I have since wondered what she means by that. She hopes to invite me to her family's aul for a weekend, high in the mountains, but has not been able to because of the repairs they are doing in her home. Maybe sometime in the spring we'll go.

KHAVA.
I know I keep commenting over and over again that the people here are so beautiful, but I am not exaggerating. The population is generally very physically attractive, in a natural, not plastic or overly made-up way. Khava, a beautiful girl with brown hair and green eyes, is a fifth-year student from the Republic of Ingushetia. Located between Chechnya and North Ossetia, Ingushetia is generally agreed to be the poorest and most dangerous region of Russia. They have conflicts on all borders: With the breakaway South Ossetia and Georgia, with the remainders of Chechen spillover from the wars, and with an ongoing ethnic hostility with North Ossetia.
This is not what we talked about when she came over to visit yesterday. We shared a lot more in common when it comes to music, both agreeing that our favorite Ingush band really sold out when they gave up their uniquely Caucasian sound and really went out of their way to hide their roots in order to become popular in Moscow. Their new music is hardly distinguishable from Russian pop, and features almost-naked models in their music videos (for that reason, they are no longer invited to perform in Ingushetia). We listen to their old songs, however, some of which have really funny lyrics that sent us literally rolling on the floor laughing.
Another thing I love about Khava is that she does not hesitate when it comes to food. In most places in Russia, girls eat next to nothing in order to be thin. Russia is not the place for anyone who has body image issues. I had heard people back in Chelyabinsk say things like "Oh, I have eaten so much, as if I have already found a husband!" or, "All I need to eat is apples and kefir. Anything else will make me fat!" Russian men have also bought into this image (many of them being just as skinny themselves), saying things like "A young woman must be thin. I would take anything but a fat girl!"
Khava herself has a slender figure, similar to mine if not thinner. But she still loves to eat. She joked to me (in response to the popular Russian "don't eat after 6pm" diet): "Oh yes, of course, you should never eat after 6! But after 7, you can eat everything!"
Adygeya does have a lot of slender women, but here, thinness is not nearly to the extent of other regions in Russia, where my massive 55 kilograms seems too much. There are just as many voluptuous women as there are skinny women. Caucasian men do not share the same opinion as Russian men. Timur said once, that "it is much better to... have something, than to have nothing at all. Skinny women are not attractive."

So, there you have it, a look at some of the people I have met. I am often asked if I am bored here, because Maykop is such a small city. I say to them, of course I am not bored, and the people described above are the reason why.